Major Wilder Dwight: Thursday, November 21, 1861, 2:30 p.m.

Thursday, half past two o'clock.

Letter-writing after Thanksgiving dinner! What an absurdity! Yet here goes. I must rise on the wings of imagination, invoking also the exhilaration of champagne, to give you a glance at our day. The morning rose red and glorious. The camp was gay, and the men all jovial and willing. Last evening I published an order reciting the Governor's Thanksgiving order, and General Banks's order, and telling the Second Massachusetts that' Thanksgiving day would be observed and kept by the officers and men of this regiment. There will be religious services at ten o'clock, to be followed by the usual Thanksgiving dinner. It is hoped that the officers and men of the regiment will unite in reviving all the memories and associations which belong to the time-honored home festival of New England, and in public thanksgiving and praise for all the blessings which have followed them since they left the homes which this festival recalls.'

Such was my programme. At ten o'clock the sun was bright, and the morning like summer. We had a service. The reading of the Proclamation, the singing of praise by a full, deep-toned choir, a jubilant, patriotic awakening, exhortation from our chaplain, then a gay march by the band, which followed the benediction, hastened the steps of the companies as they returned to their quarters. I then immediately got into the saddle and rode off to see the Adjutant and Captains Savage and Mudge, whom I sent yesterday to the hospitable shelter of houses up at Darnestown. Found them all well and happy, and recovering. Came back, visited the kitchens. Turkeys and plum-pudding smoked and fragranced from them. Tables were built by some of the companies. A New England turkey-shooting was going on. Companies B and C bore off the crown of victory and the turkeys. I then went over to Colonel Andrews. Then I came back to half an hour's business, and so to dinner. A brisk, appetizing morning. But before I speak of our own dinner, let me give you the statistics, the startling statistics of our regimental dinner. Hear it: —

	Turkeys.	Geese.	Chickens.	Plum-Puddings.
	95 10½ lbs.	76 8½ lbs.	73	95
Weight	997½ lbs.	646 lbs.	164¾ lbs.	1179 lbs.

In other words, about half a ton of turkey, nearly as much goose and chicken, and more than half a ton of plum-pudding. There's richness, as Mr. Squeers would say. The statement shows at once, presumed digestion, appetite, and courage. It is hopeful, — or will it prove the rashness of despair? But then our own dinner, included in this general statement, was as follows: —

A twenty-pound turkey, etc., and a vast plum-pudding, and no end of apple-pies, etc. I ought to add, that many of the companies had their nuts and raisins and apples. What luxury! We sat down, a small party, — the Chaplain, the Doctor, the Chaplain of the Twelfth, and myself. Tony, or Antonio Olivadoes, our ambitious and clever cook, was radiant over the fire. He had spent most of the night in culinary constancy to his puddings and pies. He invoked attention to his turkey. 'Well now, Major, considerin' the want o' conveniences and fixins, I think it'll taste kind o' good'; and so it did. I opened a bottle of champagne, a present, and gave my toast, “Luck and absent friends.” So we drank it, and it cheered our somewhat narrow circle. The men are now playing ball, and it will not be long before dress-parade and company duty will replace our Thanksgiving sensations. Never mind, we've had a good time, and a good time under a few difficulties, which, I think, only sweetened our pleasure. Such is our Thanksgiving chronicle. I like to sit and fancy your home dinner, and to preside, in imagination, over the boiled turkey at the foot of the table. I hope our next Thanksgiving we may be all together; but if not, at least we can hope to be all as thankful as now. Tony, the cook, just puts his head into my tent, with conscious achievement in his eye: “Well, Major how you like de dinner? I was up all night, — five minutes chopping wood, five minutes cooking, — I did hope it would be nice.” I have just tickled his vanity, and he goes.

I think I may have a letter from you to-night, but this goes by the mail now. God bless you all at home, and good by.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 153-5

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, October 6, 1862

Maryland Heights, October 6, 1862.

Everything continues quiet with us. We have a nice camp and are beginning to make ourselves comfortable. I have a floor in my tent and a patent bedstead of Hogan's invention. Our mess gets on finely; we have plenty to eat and very good too. I know you will be pleased to feel that I am no longer in danger of starvation. You'd hardly believe we had suffered any hardships lately, to see us after dinner or supper, sitting or lying around my tent, enjoying our pipes and cigars, reading the papers or having a quiet discussion on some subject.

Last week, we had a visit from President Lincoln, accompanied by Generals Sumner and Howard and a large staff of other officers. He reviewed our regiment briefly, we receiving him with the customary honors. General Sumner paid our regiment the handsomest compliment that I have heard come from any officer of high rank. He said, in our hearing, to the President, “This is the Second Massachusetts Regiment, the first regiment that volunteered for the war. I have it on good authority, General Sedgwick, that it is the best regiment in the service.”

Such praise as this, coming from the source it does, is very pleasing. After the review, I was detailed (I suppose from my knowledge of the mountain paths and the fact that I had a horse), to guide the party to the summit of the Maryland Heights. I showed the way until we got to a path where it was right straight up, when Abraham backed out. I think it must have reminded him of a little story about a very steep place; at any rate, around they turned and went down the mountain. I gave “Uncle Abe” a few parting words of advice with regard to the general management of things, bade them farewell, and went back to camp.

I am afraid we have lost Colonel Andrews; he was detailed day before yesterday, to take command of a brigade of four new regiments; this is probably but an intermediate step before being commissioned Brigadier. Captain Cogswell is now in command; if neither Major Savage nor Captain Quincy ever come back, he will be Colonel, making Mudge Lieutenant-Colonel, and Russell, Major, and me second Captain, Curtis' old place on the left of the line.

Has the death of Major Sedgwick been spoken of in any of the Boston papers? You remember he was formerly a first Lieutenant in our regiment; he left us last autumn to go to his cousin's, General Sedgwick's, staff, where he was made Assistant Adjutant General and promoted to be Major. We have seen a good deal of him since we left Washington. He was one of the most interesting men in conversation I ever knew, full of stories and experiences of the Peninsular campaign, in which he took an active part, having been present at most of the principal battles. The night before Antietam, he was around at our bivouac. We were discussing the probabilities as to when Richmond would be taken; I made him a bet of a basket of champagne that it wouldn't be taken the 1st of January, 1863. This wager he accepted and registered in my pocket book and signed his name to it. The next day was the battle. General Sedgwick went into it with his division in Sumner's corps; Major Sedgwick received his wound in that terrible wood where our right wing suffered its heaviest loss. The bullet went through his body, grazing his backbone, instantly paralyzing the whole lower parts. He remained on the field two or three hours perfectly conscious, though suffering the worst pain. During this time he wrote several pages in his book, requests, etc. He was removed to Frederick, Maryland, where he died two or three days ago. He was only one among many, but he was one of the original “Second,” and a man I always liked very much.

I believe I have not told you about our old flag. Sergeant Lundy is color-bearer now (the old Crimean soldier of whom I sent the daguerreotype); he's a splendid fellow and plucky as can be; all through the action, he kept the flag up at full height, waving it to and fro. Well, on examination of it after the fight was over, we found twenty new bullet holes through the colors and three through the staff. The socket in which the butt rested was shot away close to the Sergeant's belt. Our old staff was shot in two at Cedar Mountain, and is now at home being mended. While I think of it, I must tell you of one most singular incident that happened the day of the battle. As we were advancing over one part of the field, which was pretty thickly covered by our dead and wounded, a man of Company F, Captain Mudge's company, suddenly came upon the dead body of his father, who was in the Twelfth Massachusetts Regiment and had been killed early in the day. It was a terrible meeting for father and son; they had not seen each other for over a year. The next day the son got permission to bury his father in a decent manner and put a head-board at his grave.

Have you made up your mind about the Emancipation Proclamation? At first, I was disposed to think that no change would be produced by it, but now, I believe its effect will be good. It is going to set us straight with foreign nations. It gives us a decided policy, and though the President carefully calls it nothing but a war measure, yet it is the beginning of a great reform and the first blow struck at the real, original cause of the war. No foreign nation can now support the South without openly countenancing slavery. The London Times, no doubt, will try to make out slavery a Divine Institution, but its influence does not extend everywhere. I think the course of that paper, since this war began, has been more outrageous than anything I ever knew of; you wouldn't think any paper could be so base as to say, as it has just said, that the President's Proclamation was published to produce a servile insurrection. It may have the effect to cause disturbances among the troops from the extreme Southern States, who will think, perhaps, that their presence is needed more at home than up in Virginia. There is no mistake about it, if the fact becomes generally known among the slaves of the South that they are free as soon as within our lines, there will be a much more general movement among them than there has been before. It is evident that Jeff Davis is frightened by it, to judge by the fearful threats of retaliation he is making.

Yesterday, Bob Shaw and I took a fine horseback ride of about twenty miles, visiting the vicinity of Antietam. Most of McClellan's army is encamped near there. We expected to find the First Massachusetts Cavalry, but they had moved up the river to Williamsport. My horse is in fine condition, now; she seemed to enjoy the exercise yesterday as much as I did.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 95-9

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, September 1, 1861

Pleasant Hill, Md., Sept. 1, 1861.

Since writing my last letter, we (General Banks' division) have moved some fourteen miles, so that we are now within twenty miles of Washington; you need not be surprised if my next letter comes from the latter place, although we know nothing at all of our movements until we get marching orders. These are given us, say, at nine o'clock at night. “Reveille” is ordered to be at four A. M., and the cooks are directed to cook a day's rations. At four, everybody is tumbled up, men get their breakfasts, pack their knapsacks, and have their day's rations served out and put in their haversacks. At six, the “general” is sounded, and at the last roll of the drum, every tent comes down as if by magic. It is the greatest change you can imagine; one minute you see the field covered with these great Sibley tents, the next nothing but a mob, apparently, of men. By seven, the wagons are packed, the line formed, we wheel into columns, regiment joins brigade, brigade joins division, the column is formed and we start.

By the way, I never told you anything about “our” brigade. It is the ‘Second,’ under command of Colonel Abercrombie, an old army officer who has seen a great deal of service; it consists of the Second and Twelfth Massachusetts and the Twelfth and Sixteenth Indiana regiments. We have the right of the line. We are camped now on the top of a hill close by General Banks' headquarters; the rest of the brigade is in the same field with us; on the other side of the road are two or three other regiments, and several more within sight. At night it looks like a great city; every tent is illuminated and hundreds of camp-fires are all about us. It is a fine sight. Then, too, there is continual music from the various bands which play until “tattoo” stops them.

Our last march from Hyattstown was through a pouring rain all day and any quantity of mud. To top off with, we had no tents for the night. You would have thought that if ever men might grumble, it was then. I did not hear one of our company open his mouth to complain, although they, as well as we, had to lie down on the ground without any hot suppers. Camp-fires of rail fences were a comfort that night. I got along very well by taking two fence rails, laying them parallel and filling the space between them with straw. Towards morning, the fire got low, and I had to burn my bedstead to keep it from going out.

You know I said something in my last letter about the baggage being reduced. The Brigade Quartermaster made us a call yesterday and cut off our mess chests and the Captain's bedstead. We do not lose them; they are being taken to Frederick and receipts given for them. In case of our being in barracks this winter, we shall have them again. We saved our tea, coffee, tea-kettle and our little coffee machine which is worth its weight in gold. The people at the north, I think, have no idea what a fine army ours is becoming under McClellan's influence. The men are being thoroughly drilled and they, as well as the officers, are kept under the strictest discipline. Everybody here is getting confident and longing for the next great event, which must take place before long. We are now within a day's march of Washington, so that, in case of an advance, our chance is good of sharing it.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 20-2

Major Wilder Dwight: July 31, 1861

MARYLAND HEIGHTS, DEP’T OF THE SHENANDOAH,

July 31, 1861, in Camp.

Three letters?! Yes, one from you, one from father, one from C. Blake, — all at once. The sun shines less fiercely, and the glaring afternoon has lost its power, or is forgotten. I write in the memory of yesterday. This morning the rattle of the rain-drops on my tent roused me before the regular reveillé of the drum, and I am writing now, after breakfast, to the same cool music. If you really like to listen to the monotony of our eventless experience, I cannot do less than to write it for you. Yesterday was a busy day. Battalion drill after breakfast, and then a ride with Colonel Gordon over the mountain to head-quarters. We climbed, by a rough path cut two months ago by the Rebels, to the very top of the mountain. There we found a picket from the Twelfth Massachusetts Regiment (Colonel Webster), and upon the lookout floated the American flag. After a wide survey and a view most glorious, we descended the other side of the mountain to head-quarters. There, business and a short chat with Major Doubleday, whose battery is there in position. By the new organization of brigades, Doubleday is in ours. He is of Fort Sumter fame, as you know, and is a fine fellow with a grand battery.

I wrote thus far yesterday evening, and was expecting a quiet rainy day, when out blazed the sun and kindled our work again. Rations were to be issued, &c., then, at noon, came the sudden order: “Pack wagons with everything, and prepare to bivouac for several days.” It seems head-quarters got frightened about our wagons. The road is so exposed that, in case of attack, they would certainly be lost. Our pretty encampment had to yield, therefore, to the necessities of war. It made a long afternoon, and when the tents were struck, the wagons loaded, and the balking and unwilling teams made to draw, we were enjoying another sunset. The men were sent into the woods to cut brush for huts, and there sprang up a camp of green leaves, as if by magic. I am now writing under a bower of chestnut leaves, and am quite fascinated by my new quarters. The inconvenience of sending off all your luggage, most of your bedding and camp furniture, is not a slight one. In the absence of other hardships and perils, one can make a hardship of that. Last night we had an animated time. Just after taps one of our pickets fired, and it turned out that a man was prowling through the bushes. Soon after an excited Indiana picket fired on our men in a small picket down the hill, and that kicked up a small bobbery. But the morning makes all quiet again. The mists are lifting from the river and hillsides, and the day is already started on its uncertain course again. The kitchen fires are smoking, the axes are ringing in the wood. “Jim along Josey,” or sick-call, has just sounded. The thoughts turn fondly on breakfast. Good by. Love to all.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 64-5

Major Wilder Dwight: Sunday, July 28, 1861

Head-quarters, Harper's Ferry, Sunday, July 28, 1861.

There is so much of drag and so little of incident in my present life that a letter seems hardly worth while. The sunlight, as it breaks the fog this Sunday morning, discloses some of our batteries on the hills commanding our somewhat defenceless position. On Friday General Banks ordered all the wagons to be sent across the river, and all stores of every kind to be removed from our temporary storehouses. We have been in bivouac ever since, sleeping on hay, and indulging in every variety of soldierly discomfort. General Banks is unwilling to signalize his first military service by ordering a retreat; yet, unless we are promptly reinforced, there is no other way. I feel very sorry to desert the Union-loving men of this country. Our army never should retreat, because no sooner do loyal men under its protection avow themselves, than they are marked for the first prey by the rebels which our retreat allows. O for a strong will and a large energy and patience, till every preparation is made! Then we can walk to the Gulf and wipe out these villains. Yesterday we had scouting-parties out, and as our spies came in at night, they reported the enemy's pickets near our lines, and a movement of a large body making in our direction. So at eleven o'clock I took through the drowsy camp, rousing sleeping piles of humanity and blankets, an order for their action, in case of alarm during the night. No such alarm came. Yesterday the Massachusetts Twelfth, Colonel Webster, arrived on the other side of the river, and is now in camp there; so we are stronger by one regiment. I do not know how long we shall stay here, but suppose that either our wagons will come back or we shall join them soon. Indeed, a mere nominal holding of Harper's Ferry like the present one does not seem to indicate great strength. I am right in my conjecture. At this moment an order comes in from the commanding general directing the passage of the troops across the river to-day, and indicating the order of march. The order concluded, however, with the direction: “The Second Massachusetts Regiment will remain as a garrison to this place. The colonel of this regiment will so establish his pickets as to give him timely warning of the enemy's approach. For this object, twenty men of the cavalry and one non-commissioned officer will be left with the garrison of the place.” So we are to have the honor to be the first to occupy and the last to quit the sacred soil of Harper's Ferry. Well, we marched into Virginia full of hope and fight and purpose. We dinned the Star Spangled Banner into the unwilling ears of the startled villagers. We had doleful marches but delightful measures. “Grim-visaged war” had her front smoothed of its wrinkles, to be sure, but we thought to meet the front of fearful adversaries.

Now, however, instead of all this ecstasy of advance, we are employed in the anxious endeavor to retreat as little as possible. No matter, the fulness of time will bring only one result, and we can wait for it. Military glory, however, will not turn out to be so cheap an article as some of our holiday soldiers thought it. The price of it is rising everyday Doubleday's battery just went by with the long rifled cannon which throws a ball five miles, and now the air is full of the dust and music of the New York Twelfth, which is also on the march. They will soon leave us alone in our glory. We shall occupy the lower part of the town, near the ford, and shall only hold the place till some stronger force comes to claim it. This duty will exact a lively vigilance, but it is free from danger, I think, and my own strong belief is, that, with our cannon frowning from the hills, the Rebels will not think it worth while to claim the town, especially as it is utterly worthless for any military purpose.

I think of you all enjoying a quiet Sunday morning at home, and should like to join you for a time; but I am getting, in the presence of these outrages, to desire only the results of war. Cavalry and artillery, — we must have these before we can be completely effective.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 58-60

Major General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Meade, December 16, 1862

OPPOSITE FREDERICKSBURG, VA., December 16, 1862.

I hope you received my telegram sent on the evening of the 13th inst., announcing my safety.¹ It was out of my power to write, and no mails were permitted to leave the camps, and the telegram I only smuggled through the kindness of Seth Williams. I almost forget when I wrote you last, but I think it was on the 10th inst. The next day we moved down to the river bank and commenced throwing over bridges at two points, one opposite the town, the other about two miles lower down. Franklin's grand division was assigned to the last position. The bridges were finished by the afternoon of the 11th without any opposition at our place, but with much trouble and quite severe loss at the town. On the 12th we crossed. Sumner at the town, Franklin below, and Hooker remaining in reserve. On the 13th it was determined to make an attack from both positions, and the honor of leading this attack was assigned to my division. I cannot give you all the details of the fight, but will simply say my men went in beautifully, carried everything before them, and drove the enemy for nearly half a mile, but finding themselves unsupported on either right or left, and encountering an overwhelming force of the enemy, they were checked and finally driven back. As an evidence of the work they had to do, it is only necessary to state that out of four thousand five hundred men taken into action, we know the names of eighteen hundred killed and wounded. There are besides some four hundred missing, many of whom are wounded. All the men agree it was the warmest work the Reserves had ever encountered. I cannot enumerate all the casualties, but among them was poor Dehon,² who fell pierced through the heart and expired almost immediately. Yesterday, under a flag, we found his body, and Coxe has taken it this morning to Washington. I had become very much attached to Dehon for his many excellent qualities, and it does seem as if the good luck that attends me is to be made up in the misfortunes of my staff. I was myself unhurt, although a ball passed through my hat so close, that if it had come from the front instead of the side, I would have been a "goner." The day after the battle, one of their sharpshooters took deliberate aim at me, his ball passing through the neck of my horse. The one I was riding at the time was a public horse, so that Baldy and Blacky are safe. Our attack on the left failed; same result on the right, though with greater loss and without the éclat we had, because we drove them for some distance and took some six hundred prisoners. The fact being, as I advised you, they had prepared themselves, in a series of heights covered with woods, where they had constructed redoubts and connected them with rifle pits, so that it was pretty much one fortification. On the town side, the works were so near that our people could make no progress out of the town, they coming immediately under the fire of the works. The 14th and 15th were spent in reconnoissances and deliberations, the result of which was, that last night we had the humiliation to be compelled to return this side of the river; in other words, acknowledge the superior strength of the enemy and proclaim, what we all knew before, that we never should have crossed, with the force we have, without some diversion being made on the James River in our favor. What will be done next I cannot tell. Burnside, I presume, is a dead cock in the pit, and your friend Joe Hooker (fighting Joe) is the next on the list, except that it is said fighting Joe recommended the withdrawal of the army. This operation was most successfully effected before daylight this morning, the enemy not having the slightest intimation until it was too late. I have seen George³ this morning; his regiment was over here nearly all the time, as there was no use for cavalry. Among the killed was poor Bayard, who was struck by a cannon shot while sitting under a tree. His loss is universally regretted. The day before we crossed, late in the evening, I got your letter of the 6th, and Mr. Stanton's important one dated November 29th, 1862.⁴ It was a very handsome compliment he paid you in transmitting it through you, which means, I should infer, that he would make you a major general if he could, and, that you had made me. Do you think major general sounds any better than brigadier?

__________

¹ Battle of Fredericksburg, December 11-15, 1862. Federal loss, killed, wounded, and missing, 12,653 (O. R.)

² Arthur Dehon, 1st Lieutenant 12th Rcgt. Mass. Vols., and A. D. C. to General Meade.

³ Son of General Meade.

⁴ Appointing him major-general U. S. Volunteers.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 1, p. 337-8

Brigadier General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Meade, October 29, 1862

CAMP NEAR BERLIN, MD., October 29, 1862.

I am very glad you were so much pleased with Mr. Dehon. His visit to you was in truth a great compliment, because it was the sole cause of his stopping in Philadelphia. His son is a very clever young man, about twenty-two years of age, whom I accidentally encountered when I was in command of the Army Corps, and very much in want of staff officers. He was recommended to me by young Williams,¹ on Rickett's staff, who simply said he was a gentleman. I have been so much pleased with him, that after my return to the Division, I retained him, although I hardly had that right, he belonging to another division. His father, who has been a Boston democrat, was very prominent in getting up the Twelfth Regiment for Fletcher Webster. I presume this favor to him, for it was a favor, did much towards impressing him agreeably in regard to me. Now you will say this is my modesty and usual underrating of my exceeding great abilities. I must confess I was not aware that I was such a hero as you say the public declare me to be, and I fear it will take more than newspaper correspondents and your great love to make me believe I am anything more than an ordinary soldier conscientiously doing his duty. One thing, however, I am willing to admit, and that is, that I consider myself as good as most of my neighbors, and without great vanity may say that I believe myself to be better than some who are much higher.

As to the termination of the war, I see no prospect of such a desirable result. A war so unnecessary must last till one or the other side is brought to its senses by the oppressive burdens that ensue. As yet, this state of affairs has not been reached. The South accepts ruin, and is willing to have all its material interests destroyed if it can only secure its independence. The North, owing to the villainous system of paper money, the postponement of taxation and of the draft, has not yet realized the true condition of the country.

__________

¹ John Worthington Williams, of Philadelphia.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 1, p. 322

Brigadier General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Meade, October 1, 1862

CAMP NEAR SHARPSBURG, MD., October 1, 1862.

I note the canard about General Sickles taking command of Hooker's corps, which arose from the fact that General Sickles has been placed in command of Hooker's old division. So, also, I saw a brilliant account in Forney's "Press" of the battle of Antietam, in which the writer, confusing Hooker's division with his corps, speaks of the gallantry of Generals Patterson and Grover in leading the men; whereas Hooker's division was at Alexandria, when Grover was with it, and Patterson has been for some time in Philadelphia. But such is history.

When Hooker placed me in command of the corps on the field, I immediately sought out Ricketts, told him I presumed there was a mistake, Hooker not knowing that he (Ricketts) outranked me, and I turned over the command to him, and only resumed it after getting the peremptory order from McClellan, which I sent you. Ricketts appreciated my course, and said there was no one he was more willing to serve under than myself, and that he only made his protest because he considered it a matter of principle. In this I think he was right, and I should have done the same thing myself, for I do not believe McClellan had the right to do as he did.

I am very much flattered to hear that Mr. Binney¹ and other citizens desired to have me to defend Philadelphia. It was just as well, however, that they were refused; the service would have been temporary, and I should have lost the brilliant chances of the two battles. I envied Reynolds when he left for Harrisburg, and secretly thought the Governor might have applied for me. Afterwards — indeed, the next day, after South Mountain — I was grateful beyond measure that I had been overlooked. In reference to George,² I think he had better accept the appointment in Averill's regiment, and not wait any longer for Rush.³ In regard to my own staff, I have received a letter from Mr. Coxe,⁴ in which he says his last hope is being elected into one of the Pennsylvania Reserve regiments. This amounts to nothing, because Seymour and Reynolds have prohibited elections in the division, and there have been none for some time. In the meantime, I have had two young men serving temporarily on my staff. One is a Mr. Mason, belonging to one of the Reserve regiments, and the other Mr. Dehon, of Boston, belonging to the Twelfth Massachusetts (Fletcher Webster's regiment). They are both very clever and active.

In regard to Willie, your brother, I will see what can be done. The trouble is, both Seymour and Reynolds have got into a snarl with the Governor about elections, the Governor maintaining that he will not appoint without elections, and they (in orders) prohibiting elections and getting McClellan to give acting appointments, subject to the approval of the Governor, which appointments are never submitted to the Governor for his approval. The consequence is there are a number of officers appointed who have never been commissioned by the Governor, and who in reality have no commissions. This makes it very difficult to know what to do, and how to unravel the snarl that Seymour and Reynolds have got into.

The news has just been brought into camp that the Southern Confederacy have sent Peace Commissioners to Washington. Alas, I fear, they have left it too late, and that the day has gone by for any terms to be granted them except complete submission! Either one extreme or the other will have to come to pass — the day for compromise, for a brotherly reconciliation, for the old Union, in reality as well as name, has passed away, and the struggle must be continued till one side or the other is exhausted and willing to give up. Peace — oh, what a glorious word, and how sweet and delightful would its realization be to me! And if such is the case, how desirable for thousands and thousands of others, who have not gained, as I have by war, distinction and fame!

__________

¹ Horace Binney, of the Philadelphia Bar.

² George Meade, son of General Meade and compiler of this work.

³ Richard H. Rush, colonel 6th Pa. Cavalry, known as "Rush's Lancers."

⁴ Alexander Brinton Coxe, of Philadelphia.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 1, p. 315-7

Fletcher Webster

Colonel 12th Mass. Vols. (Infantry), June 26, 1861; killed at the battle of Bull Run, Va., August 30, 1862.

FLETCHER WEBSTER, son of Daniel and Grace (Fletcher) Webster, was born in Portsmouth, NewHampshire, July 23, 1813. He was fitted for college at the Public Latin School in Boston, his father having removed to that city in 1816. He entered Harvard College in 1829, and graduated in 1833. Though not of studious habits, he held a respectable rank as a scholar. His generous character and cordial manners made him a general favorite with his classmates, and he was selected by them to deliver the class oration at the close of their collegiate life, — a distinction more gratifying to a social and sympathetic nature like his than the highest honors of scholarship would have been.

After leaving college he studied law, partly with Mr. Samuel B. Walcott, at Hopkinton, Mass., and partly with his father, in Boston, and was in due time admitted to the Suffolk bar, and began the practice of his profession in Boston. In the autumn of 1836 he was married to Miss Caroline Story White, daughter of Stephen White, Esq., of Salem, and immediately after his marriage put in execution a plan he had previously formed of trying his professional fortunes at the West, — a change which at that time required more enterprise and involved greater sacrifices than now. He went first to Detroit, where he remained till the close of 1837, in the practice of his profession, and then removed to La Salle, in Illinois, where he remained till 1840. During his residence in Illinois, he made the acquaintance of Mr. Abraham Lincoln, who immediately recognized Colonel Webster when they met in Washington in 1861, and recalled their former intercourse to his memory.

Colonel Webster met with fair success in the practice of the law, but the profession was not congenial to his tastes or in harmony with his temperament. He had the quick perceptions, the ready tact, and the easy elocution which are so important in the trial of causes, but he disliked the drudgery of preparation and was not patient in the investigation of legal questions. This repugnance might have been overcome, had he continued a few years longer in the practice of his profession, but such was not destined to be his fate. His whole course of life received a new direction in consequence of the election of General Harrison to the office of President of the United States in the autumn of 1840. Mr. Daniel Webster became Secretary of State, and Colonel Webster removed to Washington, where he acted as private secretary to his father, and occasionally as assistant Secretary of State. This was a sphere of duty congenial to his tastes. He was a clear and ready writer, and was fond of the discussion of political questions. His father has said that no one could prepare a paper, in conformity with verbal instructions received from him, more to his satisfaction than his son Fletcher; and this was a point on which Mr. Daniel Webster's parental affection would not have blinded him. He was very fond of his son, and was not only happy in having him near him, but his happiness was always imperfect if his son were absent from him. So far as the son's advancement in life was concerned, it might have been better that he should have been left to make his way alone, and that his father should have consented to the sacrifice of affection which such a separation would have required; but, now that both are gone from earth, who will not pardon a mistake — if mistake it was — which had its source in the best affections of the human heart ?

In 1843 Mr. Caleb Cushing was appointed Commissioner to China, and Colonel Webster accompanied him as Secretary of Legation. He remained in China till the objects of the mission were accomplished, and reached home on his return in January, 1845. In the course of the year after his return, he frequently lectured in public on the subject of China, and gave interesting reminiscences of his own residence there.

In 1850 he was appointed, by President Taylor, Surveyor of the Port of Boston, an office which he held by successive appointments till March, 1861, when a successor was nominated by President Lincoln.

Immediately after the firing upon Fort Sumter, and the attack by a lawless mob in Baltimore upon the Sixth Massachusetts Regiment, he responded to an appeal made to the patriotic citizens of Massachusetts by the following notice, which appeared in the Boston papers of Saturday, April 20, 1861.

"FELLOW-CITIZENS, — I have been assured by the Executive Department that the State will accept at once an additional regiment of infantry. I therefore propose to meet to-morrow at ten o'clock, in front of the Merchants' Exchange, State Street, such of my fellowcitizens as will join in raising this new regiment. The muster-roll will be ready to be signed then and there.

“Respectfully,

"FLETCHER WEBSTER."

The above call was seconded by the following notice, subscribed by the names of twenty-eight well-known gentlemen.

"There will be a public meeting to-morrow, Sunday, in front of the Exchange, State Street, at ten o'clock, A. M., to aid in the enrolment of the new regiment of volunteer militia called for by Fletcher Webster. Come all.”

At the appointed hour on Sunday, April 21st, an immense crowd appeared in State Street in front of the Exchange. Colonel Webster attempted to address them, but the place where he stood made it impossible for him to be heard except by those who were near him. Some one proposed to go to the Old State-House, at the head of the street, a few rods distant, and the suggestion was received with acclamation and immediately carried into effect. Colonel Webster then spoke from the balcony of the Old State-House, and, among other things, said he could see no better use to which the day could be put than for us to take the opportunity to show our gratitude to Divine Providence for bestowing upon us the best government in the world, and to pledge ourselves to stand by and maintain it. He whose name he bore had the good fortune to defend the Union and the Constitution in the forum. This he could not do, but he was ready to defend them in the field. He closed his remarks with an allusion to his father's devotion to the country, and expressed a hope that we should yet see the nation united, and our flag remain without a star dimmed or a stripe obliterated. He then announced that all who desired to enlist would find papers ready for signatures at the surveyor's office, at the Custom-House.

The meeting was then addressed by other gentlemen in a similar strain. Nothing could surpass the enthusiasm with which the remarks of all the speakers, and especially those of Colonel Webster, were received by the audience. And this was in no small degree owing to the impression made by the fact that it was the son of Daniel Webster who was ready to risk his life for the defence of the Union and the Constitution. The illustrious statesman had been but nine years in his grave; and, of the audience which listened to the son, probably nine tenths at least had seen the father and heard him speak. The scene before them recalled him. To the mind's eye, that majestic form and grand countenance seemed standing by the side of his son, and in the mind's ear they heard again the deep music of that voice which had so often charmed and instructed them. And there was yet another reason for the strong feeling that was awakened. Colonel Webster had been for some years identified with the great party which had been defeated in the election of I860, and he had been removed from a lucrative office by the administration of President Lincoln. But none the less zealously did he come forward in aid of his country in her hour of peril and distress, and the value of his example was appreciated and felt.

The enthusiasm of the meeting was not a transient flame, but a steady fire. The next day a committee of one hundred persons was organized to co-operate with Colonel Webster in forming and providing for his regiment, and among them were some of his own warmest personal friends, and some of the most zealous and devoted of the political disciples of his father. Money was contributed with lavish hand. So rapidly were the ranks of the regiment filled, that in three days the enlistment was completed and the lists closed. Five companies were enlisted in Boston, one in North Bridgewater, one in Abington, one in Weymouth, one in Stoughton, and one in Gloucester. Colonel Pessenden, a graduate of West Point, offered his services as military instructor, which were gratefully accepted. The classmates of Colonel Webster presented him with a valuable horse and equipments. The young ladies of Mr. Emerson's school in Boston made liberal donations to the company commanded by Captain Saltmarsh, which, in their honor, was called the Emerson Guard. The pupils of the Latin School made most generous provision for the equipment of the company commanded by Captain Shurtleff, a graduate of the school, and, in acknowledgment, the company was named the Latin-School Guard.

The three months after the organization of the regiment were spent in Port Warren, in the harbor of Boston, in the discipline and drill requisite to convert fresh recruits into steady soldiers. This was dull work for ardent young men, burning for actual service in the field; but the event showed that it was time well spent. On the 26th of June the regiment was mustered into service. On the 18th of July a splendid standard was presented to the regiment, on behalf of the ladies of Boston, by Edward Everett, who accompanied the gift with a patriotic and soul-stirring address, to which Colonel Webster made an appropriate reply.

On the afternoon of the 23d of July, the regiment left Fort Warren for the seat of war. They were received with enthusiastic welcome on their arrival at New York the next day. The officers were entertained at the Astor House by the sons of Massachusetts resident in New York. With a few stoppages, the regiment arrived at Baltimore about noon on Friday, July 26th, and were cordially received. Colonel Webster and his command proceeded to Harper's Ferry, where they arrived on Saturday, July 27th, and pitched tents on the Maryland side of the Potomac, about a mile from the ferry, calling their encampment Camp Banks. The regiment was soon after removed to Darnestown, where it remained until it was transferred to Cantonment Hicks, about four miles east of Frederick City, in Maryland, arriving there on Thursday, December 5,1861. At that place the regiment remained in camp until February 27, 1862, when it marched into Virginia for more active service.

For the next four or five months the Webster regiment, forming part of the division of the army under Major-General Banks, was mainly employed in guarding the Upper Potomac, and keeping vigilant watch upon the enemy, so as to prevent him from crossing the river into Maryland. It was an important, though not an exciting service, and was of essential value in completing their military training, and giving them that efficiency which is the result of mutual knowledge and mutual confidence.

During all this time Colonel Webster showed himself possessed, in no common measure, of the qualities of a good commander. His discipline was firm and uniform, but not alloyed by petulance or passion. His regiment acquired a good name from the neat and soldier-like appearance of the men, the quickness and accuracy of their drill, and the orderly arrangements of their camp. His men were warmly attached to their Colonel. They appreciated his manly frankness, his simplicity of character, his kindness of heart, and the cheerfulness with which he bore the hardships and privations of the service, though he had no longer the unworn energies of youth to sustain him.

In the early part of August, 1862, Colonel Webster obtained leave of absence for a few days, and came home. This was in consequence of the death of his youngest daughter, Julia, to whom he was tenderly attached, and whose death overwhelmed him with grief, and awakened in him an irresistible longing to mingle his tears with those of his wife and surviving children. It was during this brief absence that his regiment was for the first time set upon the perilous edge of battle in the disastrous affair of Cedar Mountain, August 9th, where that gallant and promising young officer, Captain Shurtleff, was killed, and where so many of our "beautiful and brave" of the Second Massachusetts Regiment poured out their precious blood. It was a source of regret to Colonel Webster that his regiment should have been led into their first battle by any one but himself; but, on the other hand, he had a right to be proud of their excellent conduct and steadiness under a hot fire of two or three hours.

Colonel Webster, on the 16th of August, rejoined his regiment, which was then encamped upon the Rapidan, near Mitchell's Station. It was a part of Hartsuff’s brigade, Ricketts's division, and McDowell's corps, forming a portion of the Army of Virginia, under the command of General Pope. On the 18th of August, the army began a movement towards the North Fork of the Rappahannock, and by the 20th the main body was behind the river and prepared to hold its passes.

On the 24th of August, General McDowell's corps was at or near Warrenton. On the morning of the 27th of August, he was directed to move forward rapidly on Gainesville, by the Warrenton Turnpike. And the required position was reached before the next day. On the next evening a brisk engagement took place at Thoroughfare Gap between the advance of the Rebel force under General Longstreet and the division under General Ricketts, in which the Twelfth Massachusetts Regiment took part, and behaved well, having six men wounded. "The Colonel did splendidly," said one of his officers, writing home immediately after.

The regiment was not on the field on the 29th of August, the first day of the second battle of Bull Run, but in the perils and disasters of the next day it bore a conspicuous part. It was stationed on the left, against which the main attack of the Rebel force was directed, where the fight was most severe and the slaughter most terrible. Colonel Webster led his men into battle with the utmost gallantry; and, encouraged by his voice and presence, they behaved admirably well. Many of them fell, but the survivors did not flinch. Late in the afternoon, some of the regiments on their left, overborne by superior numbers, began to give way, and the Twelfth fell back some twenty paces, to avoid being placed between the fire of advancing foes and retreating friends, but in good order and without breaking their ranks. Not long after this Colonel Webster was shot through the body. Lieutenant Haviland was near him when he fell, and with two men went with him to the rear. They had gone but a few paces when one of the men was shot, and the other, seeing the enemy close upon him, sought safety in flight. Colonel Webster was perfectly helpless, and Lieutenant Haviland, still suffering from an injury received from his horse having fallen upon him at Cedar Mountain, could do no more than find a place of shelter for the dying man under a bush in a little hollow. No one could be found to carry him away, and messages sent for a surgeon proved ineffectual. Colonel Webster desired his friend to leave him, but Lieutenant Haviland was determined to save him if possible; at any rate, not to desert him. Within a short time, a body of Rebel troops came upon them and took them prisoners. They would not carry away Colonel Webster from the spot where he lay, nor yet allow Lieutenant Haviland to remain with him. The officer in command promised to send an ambulance for him, but his pledge was not redeemed. He died on the spot where he was left, and we can only hope that his suffering was not long or severe. His body was recovered and sent home by the generous and courageous efforts of Lieutenant Arthur Dehon, as is told in the memoir of that promising officer and most amiable young man. His funeral services were held at the church on Church Green, Boston, on Tuesday, September 9,1862. The building was filled with a large body of mourning and sympathizing friends, who listened with deep feeling to the well-chosen words of the officiating clergyman, the Rev. Chandler Robbins, and the solemn and appropriate music of the choir. At the close of the services his body was taken to Marshfield and committed to the dust, in the family cemetery, by the side of his illustrious father.

Colonel Webster was long mourned and affectionately remembered by the officers and men who had served under him. And there were others, too, who grieved for his loss; for though not widely known, he had many faithful friends who had known and loved him from boyhood, and had stood by him in all the changes and chances of life. His own heart was warm, his nature was generous and open, and his temperament cordial and frank. His tastes were strongly social, and his powers of social entertainment were such as few men possess. He had an unerring sense of the ludicrous, his wit was ready and responsive, and no man could relate an amusing incident or tell a humorous story with more dramatic power. Nor was he without faculties of a higher order. His perceptions were quick and accurate, he was an able and forcible speaker, and he wrote with the clearness and strength which belonged to him by right of inheritance. The value which his friends had for him was higher than the mark which he made upon his times. The course of his life had not in all respects been favorable to his growth and influence, and he had not the iron resolution and robust purpose which make will triumph over circumstance. But when the golden opportunity came, he grasped it with heroic hand. He rose to the height of the demand made upon him, and dormant powers and reserved energies started into vigorous life as the occasion required them. Had he lived, he might have had a higher place, but it is enough for his friends to know that in the providence of God he was permitted to die a glorious death, at the head of his regiment, with his face to the foe, calmly confronting the shock of adverse battle, in defence of the Union, the Constitution, and the laws, for which his father had lived. Who could ask more for the friend of one's heart or the child of one's love?

Colonel Webster left a widow and three children, — two sons and a daughter. His eldest son has since died.

SOURCE: Harvard Memorial Biographies, Volume 1, p. 21-30