Diary of William Francis Bartlett: Monday, July 1, 1861

Palfrey came to me and said, “Charley Peirson has been offered the adjutant's office for the Twentieth Regiment. If he does not accept it, would you like it?” I was rather taken aback. I told him I would accept it if he thought me capable of qualifying myself for it. He said he thought I was.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 4

Diary of William Francis Bartlett: Friday, June 28, 1861

Palfrey came up to me on the Common, and said he had received the Lieutenant-colonel's commission of the Twentieth Regiment; that he had several commissions at his disposal, and asked me if I wanted one. I replied in the affirmative. I take it as a compliment, his coming and asking me, when there are so many begging him for them.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 4

Charles Lawrence Peirson

Charles Lawrence Peirson. who died at Boston, Jan. 23, 1920, was born in Salem, Jan. 15, 1834, the son of Dr. Abel Lawrence Peirson and Harriet (Lawrence) Peirson. He studied engineering at the Lawrence Scientific School, and after receiving the degree of S.B. in 1853, practised in Minnesota the calling of a farmer and the profession of a civil engineer. At the outbreak of the Civil War, having returned to Boston, he volunteered for service and was commissioned first lieutenant and adjutant of the Twentieth Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry. In the first engagement of the regiment, Oct. 20,1861, at Ball's Bluff on the Potomac River, he was taken prisoner and sent to Libby Prison, Richmond, where he was confined until late in the following January. He shared in the distinguished record of his regiment, including the battles from Yorktown to Malvern Hill, and served on the staff of General Dana and that of General Sedgwick. In August, 1862, he became lieutenant colonel of the Thirty-Ninth Massachusetts Volunteers, and in July, 1864, colonel of that regiment, taking part in the operations of the Wilderness, Spottsylvania, Petersburg and the Weldon Railroad, where he was severely wounded. In March, 1865, he was commissioned brevet brigadier general United States Volunteers. After the close of the war he formed with General Robert H. Stevenson the firm of Stevenson & Peirson, iron merchants, and continued a member of this firm and of its successor, Charles L. Peirson & Co., until his retirement from business, more than ten years ago. He was also for a period of years treasurer of the Lowell Machine Shop. In 1898 he received the honorary degree of A.M. from Harvard University. He married, in 1873, Emily Russell, daughter of George R. Russell of Boston. Mrs. Peirson died in 1908. There are no children.

SOURCE: The Harvard Graduates' Magazine, Volume 28: 1919-1920, No. 111, March 1920, p. 492-3

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, August 16, 1864

August 16, 1864

I have been well content to get your letter this afternoon. In regard to what you say for the troops for the assault,¹ it is true that General Meade should have ordered in the best — and so he did. Express orders were given to put in the best troops and have the division generals lead them if necessary. General Meade made examinations in person of the enemy's lines, and the orders drawn up by General Humphreys were more than usually elaborated. People have a vulgar belief that a General commanding a great army can, and ought to arrange in person every detail. This is not possible, nor is it desirable; the corps and division commanders would at once say: “Very well, if you have not enough confidence in me to let me carry on the ordinary business of my command, I ought to be relieved.” I see great discussion in the papers as to the conduct of the negroes. I say, as I always have, that you never, in the long run, can make negroes fight with success against white men. When the whole weight of history is on one side, you may be sure that side is the correct one. I told General Meade I had expressed myself strongly, at home, against the imported Dutchmen, to which he replied: “Yes, if they want to see us licked, they had better send along such fellers as those!” As I said before, the Pats will do: not so good as pure Yanks, but they will rush in and fight. There was a report at first that Colonel Macy of the 20th Massachusetts was mortally wounded, but I have since heard that it is not so. On Sunday, he had command of a brigade, and had his horse killed: he then came back, got another horse from Barlow and returned to the front. This horse either was shot or reared over with him, frightened by the firing, and crushed him badly. Let me see, I told you this before; never mind, you will be sure now to know it. Sometimes I get rather mixed because I write often a few words about a day, on the eve of the same, and then detail it more at length afterwards. The Rebels got well alarmed about Hancock and sent reinforcements, recalling troops that had started to help Early in the valley; an important point gained. Hancock had some hard fighting to-day, with considerable success, taking several hundred prisoners and driving the enemy. The Rebel General Chambliss was killed, and we found on him a valuable map containing the fortifications of Richmond. They also are said to have killed a General Gherrard; but I have an idea there is no such General in their service.² Perhaps he was a new appointment, or a colonel commanding a brigade. As to giving you an account of the engagement, it would be out of the question; as it is a perfect muddle to me. I only know that Gregg, with a cavalry division, went out on the Richmond road, to within six and one half miles of the city, and encountered a big crowd of infantry and had to come back. Barlow had to leave his division, sick, and go to friend Dalton, at City Point.

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¹ When the mine was exploded.

² It was Brig. Gen. Victor J. B. Girardey.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 214-6

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, August 8, 1864

August 8, 1864

“What do you think of filling up with Germans?” you ask. Now, what do you think of a man who has the toothache — a werry, werry big molar! — and who has not the courage to march up and have it out, but tries to persuade himself that he can buy some patent pain-killer that will cure him; when, in his soul, he knows that tooth has to come out? This is what I think of our good people (honest, doubtless) who would burden us with these poor, poor nigs, and these nerveless, stupid Germans. As soldiers in the field the Germans are nearly useless; our experience is, they have no native courage to compare with Americans. Then they do not understand a word that is said to them — these new ones. So it has proved with the Massachusetts 20th (which has a perfection of discipline not at all the rule). Under the severe eyes of their officers the German recruits have done tolerably in simple line, mixed with the old men; but they produced confusion at the Wilderness, by their ignorance of the language; and, only the other day, Patten told me he could not do a thing with them on the skirmish line, because they could not understand. By the Lord! I wish these gentlemen who would overwhelm us with Germans, negroes, and the off-scourings of great cities, could only see — only see — a Rebel regiment, in all their rags and squalor. If they had eyes they would know that these men are like wolf-hounds, and not to be beaten by turnspits. Look at our “Dutch” heavy artillery: we no more think of trusting them than so many babies. Send bog-trotters, if you please, for Paddy will fight — no one is braver. It should be known, that ill-disciplined, or cowardly, or demoralized troops may be useful behind walls, but in open campaigning they literally are worse than useless; they give way at the first fire and expose the whole line to be flanked. At the Wilderness the 6th Corps would have been stronger without Ricketts's division; at Spotsylvania the whole army would have been stronger without Mott's division. Howland¹ has influence in recruiting; impress upon him, therefore, that every worthless recruit he sends to this army is one card in the hand of General Lee and is the cause, very likely, of the death of a good soldier. The trouble is this: we have not the machinery to work up poor material. They won't let us shoot the rascals, and few regiments have the discipline to mould them into decent troops; the consequence is, they are the stragglers, pillagers, skulkers and run-aways of the army. If you had seen as many thousands as I, you would understand what sort of fellows they are. I don't believe in recruiting another man! We have recruited already more volunteers than any country ever saw. Volunteers are naturally exhausted; and now we pay huge bounties to every sort of scoundrel and vagabond and alien. These men will not fight and you can't make 'em fight. But draft men and you will get good ones, without bounty. They will not want to go, but they have the pride of native-born Americans, and they fight like devils. The very men that desert the next day will fight the day before, for sake of avoiding shame. I have written quite a disquisition, but the topic is an important one, and I have the honor, in conclusion, to suggest to the honorable City of Boston that, when the Germans arrive, they should be let out as gardeners, and the poor remnants of the old regiments should be allowed to fight it out alone.

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1 His brother-in-law.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 207-9

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, August 6, 1864

August 6, 1864

I took a limited ride along our flank defences, where I discovered a patriotic sentry, sitting with his back to where the enemy might be supposed to come, and reading a novel! He belonged to the 7th Indiana. “What are your instructions?” say I. “Han't got none,” replies the peruser of novels. “Then what are you here for?” “Well, I am a kind of an alarm sentinel,” said this literary militaire. “Call the corporal of the guard,” said I, feeling much disposed to laugh. The sentry looked about a little and then singling out a friend, called out: “Oh, Jim, why, won't you just ask Jeremiah Miles to step this way?” After some delay, Jeremiah appeared. He was in a pleasing state of ignorance. Did not know the sentry's instructions, did not know who the officer of the guard was, did not know much of anything. “Well,” said I, “now suppose you go and find the sergeant of the guard.” This he did with great alacrity. The sergeant, as became his office, knew more than the corporal. He was clear that the sentry should not read a book; also that his conduct in sitting down was eccentric; but, when it came to who was the officer of the guard, his naturally fine mind broke down. He knew the officer if he saw him, but could not remember his name. This he would say, the officer was a lieutenant. “Suppose you should try to find him,” suggested I. Of course that he could do; and soon the “Loo-tenant” appeared. To him I talked like a father; almost like a grandfather, in fact; showed him the man's musket was rusty and that he was no good whatsoever. Loo-tenant had not much to say; indeed, so to speak, nothing; and I left him with a strong impression that you can't make a silk purse from a sow's ear. It is not ludicrous, but sad, to see such soldiers in this Army of the Potomac, after three years of experience. The man could not have been better: tall, strong, respectful, and docile; but no one had ever taught him. It was a clear case of waste of fine material, left in all its crudity instead of being worked up. And this is the grand characteristic of this war — waste. We waste arms, clothing, ammunition, and subsistence; but, above all, men. We don't make them go far enough, because we have no military or social caste to make officers from. Regiments that have been officered by gentlemen of education have invariably done well, like the 2d, 20th, and 24th Massachusetts, and the 1st Massachusetts Cavalry. Even the 44th and the 45th, nine-monthers, behaved with credit; though there was this drawback in them, that the privates were too familiar with the officers, having known them before. However, perfection does not exist anywhere, and we should be thankful for the manifold virtues our soldiers do pre-eminently possess. I see much to make me more contented in reading Napier, before referred to. After the taking of Badajos, the English allowed their own wounded to lie two days in the breach, without an attempt to carry them off. This is the nation that now gives us very good lectures on humanity. As to old Wellington, I suspect he was about as savage an old brute as would be easy to find.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 206-7

Captain Charles Russell Lowell to Henry Lee Higginson, February 15, 1863

Readville, Feb. 15, '63.

My Dear Henry, — I wrote you last a most “quaintly moral” letter.  . . . I think public opinion here is getting stouter, more efforts are making to educate the great unthinking. Good editorials are reprinted and circulated gratis.¹ A club is now forming in Boston, a Union Club, to support the Government, irrespective of party, started by Ward, Forbes, Norton, Amos Lawrence, etc., etc. This seems to me a very promising scheme. Clubs have in all trying times been great levers for moving events along. A similar club has already been started in Philadelphia under equally good auspices.

Our black regiment is likely to provoke discussion also, and in that way, if no other, to do good. Bob Shaw comes as Colonel, to arrive to-morrow, and Pen Hallowell as Lieutenant-Colonel (been here some days).² I have no idea that they can get a full regiment in New England, but think they can get enough intelligent fellows here to make a cadre for one or more regiments to be raised down South. I do not know how much you may have thought upon the subject, and I may send you a few slips to show you how we feel. I am very much interested without being at all sanguine. I think it very good of Shaw (who is not at all a fanatic) to undertake the thing. The Governor will select, or let Shaw select, the best white officers he can find, letting it be understood that black men may be commissioned as soon as any are found who are superior to white officers who offer. The recruiting will be in good hands. In the Committee of consultation are Forbes and Lawrence;² in New York, Frank Shaw; in Philadelphia, Hallowell's brother. You see this is likely to be a success, if any black regiment can be a success. If it fails, we shall all feel that tout notre possible has been done. If it fails, it will at least sink from under our feet the lurking notion that we need not be in a hurry about doing our prettiest, because we can always fall back upon the slaves, if the worst comes to the worst. You remember last September, upon somewhat the same ground, we agreed in approving the Proclamation, however ill-timed and idle it seemed to us. We shall knuckle down to our work the sooner for it. My first battalion (five companies, 325 strong) leave on Thursday for Fort Monroe. The battalion from California will be here in March. We have only about 175 more men to get here to reach a minimum. Now that Stoneman is Chief of Cavalry, I think I can get where I want to, so you can see me before the end of the summer.

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¹ The New England Loyal Publication Society had this origin: —

Mr. John M. Forbes kept an eye on the newspapers or other publications, irrespective of party, for any strong and sensible paragraph, speech, or article advocating a vigorous prosecution of the war. In the midst of all his important public and private works, he had these copied and multiplied and sent, at his expense, all over the country, especially to local newspapers. When the work became too serious an undertaking for one man, he formed the society, which became an important and efficient agency, during the last three years of the war, for the spreading of sound doctrines in politics and finance. Party and personal issues were excluded. Mr. Charles Eliot Norton took charge of the work as editor, and James B. Thayer, Esq., was the secretary. The Executive Committee were J. M. Forbes, President; William Endicott, Treasurer; C. E. Norton, J. B. Thayer, Edward Atkinson, Martin Brimmer, Rev. E. E. Hale, Henry B. Rogers, Professor W. B. Rogers, Samuel G. Ward.

² Readville, near Boston, was then the principal camp of assembly and instruction, and the Second Massachusetts Cavalry and the Fifty-Fourth Infantry were camped side by side. The latter was the first coloured regiment that went to the war from New England. It was regarded as a dangerous and doubtful experiment, — by some persons as a wicked one. Part of the men were obtained in Massachusetts, but a great number of them from Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee, by the energy and patriotism of Major George L. Stearns. Braving much hostile public opinion and ridicule, the field officers of the regiment, and many of the line, left white regiments to make the Fifty-Fourth a success.

The Colonel, Robert Gould Shaw, had served with credit in the Second Massachusetts Infantry; the Lieutenant-Colonel, Norwood Penrose Hallowell, a gallant fighter of Quaker stock, had already served in the Twentieth regiment, and later became Colonel of the Fifty-Fifth, while his brother Edward succeeded him as Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fifty-Fourth.

Major Higginson in his address, at the dedication of the Soldiers' Field, said of Robert Shaw: —

“I first saw him one evening in our first camp at Brook Farm — a beautiful, sunny-haired, blue-eyed boy, gay and droll and winning in his ways. In those early days of camp life, we fellows were a bit homesick, and longed for the company of girls . . . and I fell in love with this boy, and have not fallen out yet. He was of a very simple and manly nature — steadfast and affectionate, human to the last degree, without much ambition, except to do his plain duty. You should have seen Robert Shaw as he, with his chosen officers, led away from Boston his black men of the Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts amid the cheers of his townsmen. Presently he took them up to the assault of Fort Wagner, and was buried with them there in the trench.”

³ Of the summer of 1862, Mr. Forbes wrote in his notes: —

“In that summer I had the satisfaction of getting up the Committee of a Hundred for promoting the use of blacks as soldiers, and acted as chairman of it.

“We raised, I think, about $100,000 by subscription among the most conservative Republicans.  . . . I was able to do something towards the choice of the right officers, as well as in raising the men.”

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 234-6, 414-5

Address of Reverend James Freeman Clarke at the Funeral of William Lowell Putnam, October 29, 1861

In the fatal battle a week ago, Putnam fell while endeavoring to save a wounded companion, — fell, soiled with no ignoble dust — “non indecoro pulvere sordidum.” Brought to the hospital-tent, he said to the surgeon, who came to dress his wound, “Go to some one else, to whom you can do more good; you cannot save me,” — like Philip Sydney, giving the water to the soldiers who needed it more than himself. And still more striking, as showing his earnest conscientiousness, is the fact that he refused to allow Sturgis to remove him, saying: “It is your duty to leave me. It is your duty to go to your own men, and leave me here.” And his friend was obliged to carry him away in spite of this protest.

How hard that these precious lives should be thus wasted, apparently for naught, through the ignorance or the carelessness of those whose duty it was to make due preparation, before sending them to the field! How can we bear it?

We could not bear it, unless we believed in God. But it is not any blind chance, nor yet any human folly, which controls these events. All is as God wills, who knows what the world needs, and what we need, better than we can know it. And the death of Christ has taught us that it is God's great law that the best shall be sacrificed to save the worst, the innocent suffering for the good of the guilty. This is the law, ordained before the earth was made; and every pure soul sacrificed in a struggle with evil is another “lamb slain from the foundation of the world.”

And do we not see, in these great sacrifices, that the heroism itself is already a great gain? Is it not something to know that we do not belong to a degenerate race? Is it not a great blessing to know that we also, and our sons, are still as capable as our fathers were of great and noble sacrifices, — that Massachusetts still produces heroes, — that these boys of yours, trained perhaps in luxury, can, at the call of their country, die cheerfully for their land?

SOURCE: Edwin Everett Hale, Editor, James Freeman Clarke: Autobiography, Diary and Correspondence, p. 274-5

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, May 16, 1864

Headquarters Army Of Potomac

Monday, May 16, 1864

I will continue the letter of this morning, describing our first day's fight. I had got as far as the death of General Hays and the wounding of Carroll. This was between five and six o'clock. Hays commanded one brigade of Birney's division. He was a strong-built, rough sort of man, with red hair, and a tawny, full beard; a braver man never went into action, and the wonder only is that he was not killed before, as he always rode at the very head of his men, shouting to them and waving his sword. Mott's division behaved badly (as you observed, it broke and came back). This is a curious instance of a change of morale. It is Hooker's old fighting division, but has since been under two commanders of little merit or force of character; then there was some discontent about re-enlistments and about the breaking up of the old 3d Corps, to which it had belonged; and the result has been that most of this once crack division has conducted itself most discreditably, this campaign. However, the fresh troops saved the day, and, at dark, we occupied our old line (the dotted one along the Brock road). . . .

It was long after dark when I rode back, and, with some difficulty, found our camp, now pitched in a dusty, ploughed field. The fight of this day had been an attack by parts of our three corps against the Corps of Ewell on our right, and of Hill on our left. The fight had swayed back and forth and ended in a drawn battle, both sides holding their lines. General Grant ordered the attack all along the line, the next morning at 4.30; but put it off to 5 o'clock on the representation that Burnside could not get up in time. He was ordered to get in position by daylight and to go in on Hill's left flank, where you see a dotted line nearly parallel to the Parker's Store road. We were all up right early on that Friday the 6th of May, you may depend. “Lyman,” said the General, “I want you to take some orderlies and go to General Hancock and report how things go there during the day.” It was after five when I mounted, and already the spattering fire showed that the skirmishers were pushing out; as I rode down the crossroad, two or three crashing volleys rang through the woods, and then the whole front was alive with musketry. I found General Hancock at the crossing of the plank: he was wreathed with smiles. “We are driving them, sir; tell General Meade we are driving them most beautifully. Birney has gone in and he is just cleaning them out be-auti-fully!” This was quite apparent from the distance of the receding firing and the absence of those infernal minie balls. “I am ordered to tell you, sir, that only one division of General Burnside is up, but that he will go in as soon as he can be put in position.” Hancock's face changed. “I knew it!” he said vehemently. “Just what I expected. If he could attack now, we would smash A. P. Hill all to pieces!” And very true were his words. Meantime, some hundreds of prisoners were brought in; all from Hill's troops. Presently, however, the firing seemed to wake again with renewed fury; and in a little while a soldier came up to me and said: “I was ordered to report that this prisoner here belongs to Longstreet's Corps.” “Do you belong to Longstreet?” I hastened to ask. “Ya-as, sir,” said grey-back, and was marched to the rear. It was too true! Longstreet, coming in all haste from Orange Court House, had fallen desperately on our advance; but he had uphill work. Birney's and Getty's men held fast and fought with fury, a couple of guns were put in the plank road and began to fire solid shot over the heads of our men, adding their roar to the other din. The streams of wounded came faster and faster back; here a field officer, reeling in the saddle; and there another, hastily carried past on a stretcher. I stood at the crossing and assisted in turning back stragglers or those who sought to go back, under pretext of helping the wounded. To some who were in great pain I gave some opium, as they were carried past me.

It was about seven o'clock, I think, that Webb's brigade marched along the Brock road, and, wheeling into the pike, advanced to the support of Birney. Among them was the 20th Massachusetts. Abbot smiled and waved his sword towards me, as he rode by, and I called out to him wishing him good luck; and so he went on to his death, as gallant a fellow as fell that day; a man who could ride into the fight with a smile on his face. Just before eight o'clock came one brigade of Stevenson's division (Burnside's Corps) which had been sent to strengthen Hancock; the other brigade came later and was put on our left, where we were continually paralyzed by reports that the enemy was coming up the Brock road to take us in the flank. This prevented proper mobility of our left, and, after all, they turned out to be a division of Rebel cavalry, who were defeated later in the day by our men. Stevenson's brigade was now put in to relieve the advanced lines that had long been under fire, and all other fresh troops were marched to the front. But Longstreet knew full well (they know everything, those Rebels) that Burnside was coming up with two divisions, on his flank; and knew too that he was late, very late. If Hancock could first be paralyzed, the day was safe from defeat, which now impended. Gathering all his forces, of both corps, he charged furiously. At a little after eleven Mott's left gave way. On the right the brigade of Stevenson, consisting of three raw Massachusetts regiments miscalled "Veterans," broke, on being brought under a tremendous fire.  . . . The musketry now drew nearer to us, stragglers began to come back, and, in a little while, a crowd of men emerged from the thicket in full retreat. They were not running, nor pale, nor scared, nor had they thrown away their guns; but were just in the condition described by the Prince de Joinville, after Gaines's Mill. They had fought all they meant to fight for the present, and there was an end of it! If there is anything that will make your heart sink and take all the backbone out of you, it is to see men in this condition! I drew my sword and rode in among them, trying to stop them at a little rifle-pit that ran along the road. I would get one squad to stop, but, as I turned to another, the first would quietly walk off. There was a German color-bearer, a stupid, scared man (who gave him the colors, the Lord only knows!), who said, “Jeneral Stavenzon, he telled me for to carry ze colors up ze road.” To which I replied I would run him through the body if he didn't plant them on the rifle-pit. And so he did, but I guess he didn't stick. Meanwhile there was no danger at all; the enemy did not follow up — not he. He was busy swinging round to oppose Burnside, and was getting his men once more in order. At half-past one I rode to General Meade and reported the state of affairs. The Provost-General went out at once and stopped and organized the stragglers. At two o'clock Burnside, who had been marching and countermarching, did attack. He made some impression, but it was too late, and he had not enough force to follow on. About this time I returned to General Hancock.¹ His men were rallied along the road; but regiments and brigades were all mixed up; and we were obliged to listen to Burnside's fighting without any advance on our part. In our front all was quiet; and I got permission to go back to the 2d Corps hospital and look up the body of Major Abbot. Two miles back, in an open farm surrounded by woods, they had pitched the hospital tents. I will not trouble you with what I saw there, as I passed among the dead and dying. Abbot lay on a stretcher, quietly breathing his last — his eyes were fixed and the ashen color of death was on his face. Near by lay his Colonel, Macy, shot in the foot. I raised Macy and helped him to the side of Abbot, and we stood there till he died. It was a pitiful spectacle, but a common one on that day. I left in haste, after arranging for sending the remains home, for the sudden sound of heavy firing told of some new attack. The Rebels (unquenchable fellows they are!), seeing that Burnside had halted, once more swung round and charged furiously on Hancock in his very rifle-pits. I rode at once to General Meade, to ask that Burnside might attack also. This he did, without further orders and with excellent effect. When I got back to the cross-road, I was told the enemy had broken through on the plank and cut us in two; this turned out an exaggeration. They did get into a small part of a rifle-pit but were immediately driven out leaving near sixty dead in the trench at the point.

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¹ Lyman says in his journal: “1.15 (about). Back to Hancock. He alone, in rear of Brock road; and there he asked me to sit down under the trees, as he was very tired indeed. All his Staff were away to set in order the troops. They had now constructed a tolerable rifle-pit extending along the Brock and to the head of the cross-road. He said that his troops were rallied but very tired and mixed up, and not in a condition to advance. He had given orders to have the utmost exertions put forth in putting regiments in order, but many of the field officers were killed and wounded, and it was hard. At 2 P.M. Burnside, after going almost to Parker's Store and again back, made a short attack with loud musketry. Ventured to urge Hancock (who was very pleasant and talkative) to try and attack too; but he said with much regret that it would be to hazard too much, though there was nothing in his immediate front, which had been swept by Stevenson's other brigade, which marched from left to right.”

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 92-7

Captain Charles Russell Lowell to Anna Jackson Lowell, September 19, 1862

Headquarters, Army Of The Potomac,

Sept. 19, 1862.

We had a severe fight day before yesterday — a good many officers on our side wounded because the men in some brigades behaved badly. Frank Palfrey is wounded, not seriously, — Paul Revere, slightly wounded, — Wendell Holmes shot through the neck, a narrow escape, but not dangerous now, — Hallowell badly hit in the arm, but he will save the limb, — Dr. Revere is killed, — also poor Wilder Dwight, — little Crowninshield (Frank's son) shot in the thigh, not serious, — Bob Shaw was struck in the neck by a spent ball, not hurt at all, — Bill Sedgwick very badly wounded.¹ A good many others of my friends besides are wounded, but none I believe in whom you take an interest. None of General McClellan's aides were hit.²

This is not a pleasant letter, Mother: we have gained a victory — a complete one, but not so decisive as could have been wished.

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¹ This was the great battle of the Antietam, at Sharpsburg, Maryland. The friends here mentioned were officers of the Twentieth and Second Infantry, two of the best regiments that Massachusetts sent to the war. Colonel Palfrey of the Twentieth has already been mentioned. Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. (now Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States), was captain in the same regiment. His father, the Doctor, has told the story (“My Hunt after the [wounded] Captain”) in his works. Norwood P. Hallowell became colonel of the Fifty-Fifth Massachusetts (coloured) regiment. Dr. Edward Revere (a grandson of Paul Revere), a noble man and devoted surgeon in the Twentieth, after arduous work among the wounded under fire, was shot dead as he rose from operating on a hurt soldier. Lieutenant-Colonel Dwight, early in the war, wrote, after hearing of a military success elsewhere, “I had rather lose my life to-morrow in a victory than save it for fifty years without one. When I speak of myself as not there, I mean the Massachusetts Second in whose fortunes and hopes I merge my own.” He had been largely instrumental in raising that, the first three-years regiment from his State. His wish was granted.

Lieutenant Francis Welch Crowninshield was a youth of delicate constitution, whose great spirit carried him through the whole period of the war, although he was struck by bullets at Winchester, Antietam, Chancellorsville, and elsewhere. Yet he steadily returned to his regiment, the Second Massachusetts Infantry, which he encouraged to reenlist. He became a captain, shared in the actions of the Atlanta Campaign, and, in spite of his frequent injuries, marched through to the sea with Sherman. The year after the war ended, his constitution succumbed to the effects of wounds and exposure, and he died in Italy. Of Robert Shaw much has been already, and will be, said in this volume.

William Dwight Sedgwick, of Lenox, Massachusetts, a good and strong man, well born, and of excellent attainments, was practising law in St. Louis when the war broke out. Eager in his patriotism, he at once joined the Second Massachusetts Infantry as a first lieutenant. The next year he was placed on the staff of his uncle, the gallant and loved General Sedgwick, with the rank of Major and Assistant Adjutant-General. While carrying orders at Antietam he was shot in the spine, and died in the hospital ten days later.

The stories of all these officers are told in the Harvard Memorial Biographies.

²  Lowell said no word of his important service, as one of the aides of the general in command, in helping to rally General Sedgwick's division, of the Second Corps, broken and retreating before the terrible fire. An officer who recognized him said, “I shall never forget the effect of his appearance. He seemed a part of his horse, and instinct with a perfect animal life. At the same time his eyes glistened and his face literally shone with the spirit and intelligence of which he was the embodiment. He was the ideal of the preux chevalier. After I was wounded, one of my first anxieties was to know what had become of him; for it seemed to me that no mounted man could have lived through the storm of bullets that swept the wood just after I saw him enter it.” (See Professor Peirce's Life of Lowell in the Harvard Memorial Biographies.)

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 224-5, 409-10

Captain Charles Russell Lowell to Anna Jackson Lowell, July 18, 1862

Harrison's Bar, July 18, 1862.

Your two last letters have told me more about Jimmy than I had learned from his friends here — they seem to bring me very near to him and also to you and Father — nearer than I might ever have been, had the little fellow lived. It is very pleasant to have had him with you so entirely last winter. I wish I had seen more of him on the Peninsula.

I think that the officers of his regiment feel his loss very much, for besides being a gallant officer, they all tell me he was a good one, which is much rarer—his noble behaviour after he received his wound has impressed them very much. George will tell you about this; — even Palfrey cannot speak of him without tears.¹

Do, dear Mother, write to me a little oftener and try and help me to be a little more like what you saw me as a little child.

Your really loving Son.

_______________

¹ Major Higginson, in giving the Soldiers' Field, said of James Lowell: —

“One of them was first scholar in his class — thoughtful, kind, affectionate, gentle, full of solicitude about his companions and about his duties. He was wounded in a very early fight in the war, and after his recovery and a hard campaign on the Peninsula, was killed at Glendale.  . . . Hear his own words: ‘When the Class meets, in years to come, and honours its statesmen and judges, its divines and doctors, let also the score who went to fight for their country be remembered, and let not those who never returned be forgotten.’ If you had known James Lowell, you would never have forgotten him.”

I add this account of James Lowell's parting from life, given by Professor Francis J. Child in the Harvard Memorial Biographies:

“When our troops moved on, and orders came for all who could to fall in, he insisted on Patten's (his 2d lieutenant) leaving him.  . . . ‘I have written them all. Tell them how it was, Pat.’ The officers of his regiment who went to bid him farewell tell us that the grasp of his hand was warm and firm and his countenance smiling and happy. He desired that his father might be told that he was struck while dressing the line of his men. Besides this he had no message but ‘Good-bye.’ He expressed a wish that his sword might not fall into the enemy's hands — a wish that was faithfully attended to by Colonel Palfrey,² through whose personal care it was preserved and sent home. . . .

“Two of our surgeons, who had been left with the wounded at the farm, were much impressed with his behaviour, and one of them told the Rebel officers to talk with him, if they wished to know how a Northern officer thought and felt. . . .

"While the soul of this noble young soldier was passing slowly away, his sister, who had for some time been serving as volunteer nurse on a hospital steamer, which was lying at Harrison's Bar on the James River, only a few miles off, heard of his dangerous wound, and tried every expedient to get to him, but without success.”

² Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Colonel of the Twentieth Massachusetts Infantry, and later brevetted Brigadier-General U. S. V., a good soldier, and the author of the volume Antictam and Fredericksburg, No. V, in “Campaigns of the Civil War.”

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 221-2, 407-8

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, February 24, 1864

Headquarters Armt Of Potomac

February 24, '64

. . . I went yesterday to a review of the 2d Corps gotten up in honor of Governor Sprague. It was some seven or eight miles away, near Stevensburg, so that it was quite a ride even to get there. General Meade, though he had been out till three in the morning at the ball, started at eleven, with the whole Staff, including General Pleasonton and his aides, the which made a dusty cavalcade. First we went to the Corps Headquarters, where we were confronted by the apparition of two young ladies in extemporaneous riding habits, mounted on frowsy cavalry horses and prepared to accompany. General Meade greeted them with politeness, for they were some relations of somebody, and we set forth. The review was on a large flat (usually very wet, but now quite dry, yet rather rough for the purpose) and consisted of the Corps and Kilpatrick's division of cavalry. When they were all ready, we rode down the lines, to my great terror, for I thought the womenkind, of whom there were half a dozen, would break their necks; for there were two or three ditches, and we went at a canter higglety-pigglety. However, by the best of luck they all got along safe and we took our place to see the troops march past. We made a funny crowd: there were the aforesaid ladies, sundry of whom kept chattering like magpies; then the Hon. Senator Wilkinson of Minnesota, in a suit of faded black and a second-hand felt that some officer had lent him. The Honorable rode bravely about, with a seat not laid down in any of the textbooks, and kept up a lively and appropriate conversation at the most serious parts of the ceremony. “Wall, Miss Blunt, how do you git along? Do you think you will stan' it out?” To which Miss Blunt would reply in shrill tones: “Wall, I feel kinder tired, but I guess I 'll hold on, and ride clear round, if I can.” And, to do her justice, she did hold on, and I thought, as aforesaid, she would break her neck. Then there was his Excellency, the Vice-President, certainly one of the most ordinary-looking men that ever obtained the suffrages of his fellow citizens. Also little Governor Sprague, a cleanly party, who looked very well except that there is something rather too sharp about his face. Likewise were there many womenkind in ambulances discreetly looking on. The cavalry came first, headed by the valiant Kilpatrick, whom it is hard to look at without laughing. The gay cavaliers themselves presented their usual combination of Gypsy and Don Cossack. Then followed the artillery and the infantry. Among the latter there was a good deal of difference; some of the regiments being all one could wish, such as the Massachusetts 20th, with Abbot at its head; while others were inferior and marched badly. Thereafter Kill-cavalry (as scoffers call him) gave us a charge of the 500, which was entertaining enough, but rather mobby in style. And so home, where we did arrive quite late; the tough old General none the worse.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 75-6

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, October 19, 1863

HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF POTOMAC

October 19, 1863

It seems to me I had got to Sunday morning, the 11th, when we began to march back. We started from Headquarters and passed through Brandy Station, forded the Rappahannock, close to the railroad, and took up our camp near the railroad and about two miles from the river.  . . . This move, though in the wrong direction, was, without question, a good one, as it bothered the enemy and caused them to hesitate. ... In the morning we got off about ten (for the General does not mount till he has heard that the army is properly under way) and rode along the north side of the railroad, past the camp I first came to (H.Q. near Warrenton Junction), and so to Catlett's Station, where we found the 1st Corps taking their noon rest; also their chief, General Newton, and General (Professor) Eustis, partaking from a big basket. A spy came in also, who gave such information as showed that the Rebels had made less rapid progress than we supposed. Going a mile or two on, we saw a spectacle such as few even of the old officers had ever beheld; namely, 2500 waggons, all parked on a great, open, prairie-like piece of ground, hundreds of acres in extent. I can compare it to nothing but the camp of Attila, where he retreated after the “Hun Schlacht,” which we saw at the Berlin Museum. They were here got together, to be sent off to the right, by Brentsville, to Fairfax Station, under escort of General Buford's division. How these huge trains are moved over roads not fit for a light buggy, is a mystery known only to General Rufus Ingalls, who treats them as if they were so many perambulators on a smooth sidewalk! We turned off to a house, two miles from Catlett's, and again pitched our movable houses, on a rocky bit of a field. . . .

At daylight next morning, every corps was in motion, tramping diligently in the direction of the heights of Centreville, via Manassas Junction. We of the Staff had hardly dressed, when there was a great cracking of carbines in the woods, not a mile off, and we discovered that a Rebel regiment of horse had coolly camped there during the night, and were now engaged with our cavalry, who soon drove them away. Pretty soon the sound of cannon, in the direction of Auburn, announced that the Rebels, marching down from Warrenton, had attacked General Warren's rear. He, however, held them in check easily with one division, while the other two marched along, passing our Headquarters at 9.30 A.m. As they went on, I recognized the Massachusetts 20th, poor Paul Revere's regiment. And so we jogged, General Meade (who has many a little streak of gunpowder in his disposition) continually bursting out against his great bugbear, the waggons; and sending me, at full gallop, after General Sykes, who was a hundred miles, or so, ahead, to tell him that the rear of his ambulance train was quite unprotected.  . . . The 15th was employed in feeling the intentions of the enemy and resting the exhausted men. On the 16th came on a deluge of rain which spoiled our contemplated move next day. On the 18th, yesterday, we got some information of reliable character for the first time, viz: that they had torn up the railroad and were falling back on Warrenton. Before that there was every kind of report: that they were going up the Shenandoah Valley; marching on Washington, and falling back on Richmond; and they keep so covered by cavalry, that it is most difficult to probe them. Thus far in the move they have picked up about as many prisoners as we, say 700; but we have the five guns and two colors, they having none. To-day we all marched out at daylight, and are now hard after them, the General praying for a battle. Our cavalry has been heavily engaged this afternoon, and they may make a stand, or indeed, they may not. I think I was never so well and strong in my life. General Buford came in to-day, cold and tired and wet; “Oh!” said he to me, “do you know what I would do if I were a volunteer aide? I would just run home as fast as I could, and never come back again!” The General takes his hardships good-naturedly.

[The result of the manoeuvres brought the army toward Washington, which caused uneasiness and dissatisfaction at the Capitol. “At Centreville,” writes Lyman, “we had a set-to between Meade and Halleck. Meade had asked, by telegraph, for some advice, and stated that he was not sufficiently assured of the enemy's position to risk an advance; so conflicting were the reports. Halleck, apparently after dinner, replied in substance, ‘Lee is plainly bullying you. If you can't find him, I can't. If you go and fight him, you will probably find him!’ General Meade, much offended, prepared a reply in some such words as these: ‘If you have any orders, I am ready to obey them; but I must insist on being spared the infliction of such truisms in guise of opinions as I have recently been favored with. If my course is not satisfactory, I ought to be and I desire to be relieved.’ He had written ‘bunsby opinions,’ and consulted me as to whether it would do; to which I replied that the joke was capital, but not in accordance with the etiquette of a commander-in-chief; so he substituted the other. Poor General Meade! Said he, ‘I used to think how nice it would be to be Commander-in-Chief; now, at this moment, I would sooner go, with a division, under the heaviest musketry fire, than hold my place!’” Lee, finding that he could not outflank Meade, fell back, and Halleck apologized.]

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 33-6

Governor John A. Andrew to Captain Robert Gould Shaw, January 30, 1863

commonwealth Of Massachusetts, Executive Department,

Boston, January 30, 1863.

Captain Robert G. Shaw,

Second Regiment Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry.

Captain, — I am about to organize in Massachusetts a colored regiment as part of the volunteer quota of this State, — the commissioned officers to be white men. I have to-day written to your father, expressing to him my sense of the importance of this undertaking, and requesting him to forward to you this letter, in which I offer to you the commission of Colonel over it. The lieutenant-colonelcy I have offered to Captain Hallowell of the Twentieth Massachusetts Regiment. It is important to the organization of this regiment that I should receive your reply to this offer at the earliest day consistent with your ability to arrive at a deliberate conclusion on the subject.

Respectfully and very truly yours,

john A. Andrew,

Governor of Massachusetts.

SOURCE: Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Editor, Harvard Memorial Biographies, Volume 2, p. 201

From Boston

BOSTON, April 30.

Col. Lee and Maj. Revere, of the 20th Mass. regiment, have been exchanged, and start to join their regiment at Yorktown immediately.

The steamship North America passed Farther Point at 11:15 last night for Quebec.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Thursday Morning, May 1, 1862, p. 1

Edward Hutchinson Robbins Revere

Assistant Surgeon 20th Regiment Mass. Vols. (Infantry), September 10, 1861; killed at Antietam, September 17, 1862.

A PRINTED memorial of Dr. Revere seems proper only as part of a design which has a wider and more public purpose than the memory of an individual. He is remembered without a printed or written sentence, by truthful words, kind deeds, steadfast friendships, faithful services, and manly honor, — as widely as he would wish, and in the only way he would desire. Even had his life found less completion, and had he not been permitted in its closing years to show how nobly and usefully he could plan, and how much and how well he could accomplish, he would yet have desired to be remembered only by what he had done.

Edward Hutchinson Robbins Revere, son of Joseph W. and Mary (Robbins) Revere, and grandson of Paul Revere of Revolutionary memory, was born at Boston, Massachusetts, July 23, 1827. He was a boy of active temperament and cheerful temper. He had a robust constitution, was ardently fond of the sports of the field and river, and his love of country life was almost a passion. He loved the country, and the country loved and strengthened him, and gave him vigor of frame and [fullness] of stature. This, however, prevented his receiving the strict course of city schooling, and he attended different rural schools, receiving his final preparation for college from Mrs. Ripley of Waltham.

He entered the undergraduate department of Harvard University in 1843, but left it to begin his professional studies in Boston, in January, 1846, and finally took his medical degree in 1849, at the Harvard Medical School.

In August of the same year he went to Paris, where he remained a year, devoting himself with his fullest energies and the most constant application to the prosecution of his medical studies. Before he returned home he visited the South of France, travelled through England, went to Dublin, and finally visited Scotland, the country which, from early boyhood, he had most wished to see. From his early years he had felt great enthusiasm for Scott's novels and verses, which in after days extended more widely over Scotch poetry. This poetry he loved to quote, and he spoke oftener of what he had seen in Scotland than in any other place.

Dr. Revere returned from abroad fully determined upon a country life, and immediately began to look for a place where he could engage in his profession. He fixed upon Greenfield, Massachusetts, where he opened an office in August, 1850. In the fall of 1851 he married Miss Laura P. Jordan of Canton, Massachusetts, who, with their only daughter, now survives him.

In Greenfield his remarkable facility in forming acquaintances soon made him a home, in which he seemed like an old resident, and was surrounded with warm friends. His skill, kindness, and tender care and nursing, gave him the confidence and attachment of his patients, and the friendship of the neighborhood. The eager solicitude with which the people of Greenfield, after his death, sought to know the least fact in regard to his last days, was just the tribute to his memory he would have desired from them.

Dr. Revere afterwards returned to the eastern part of the State to reside, and spent the two years preceding the war with and near his father's family, filling up his time with the kindest efforts and services for those about him, always engaging in whatever came to him in his profession with such zeal and sympathy as to win the affection of all who received his attentions; and even now, expressions of gratitude from one and another person, whom he in those years relieved, come often to gratify his family and friends.

The war for the union, government, and institutions of our country now broke out, and Dr. Revere, true to his descent, his education, and his principles, looked to know where he was most needed. Perhaps he felt that the time had come when he could usefully employ all his physical and mental powers upon a field such as he had long desired, but had not found. He well knew that in his profession in the army he could not look for fame, and that at best all he could reap would be the reflection that he had been useful, and the happiness always brought by duty performed.

Dr. Revere at once brought his practical mind to bear upon plans for securing to our sick and wounded soldiers the necessary medical skill and care. He saw that physicians from the smaller towns must, to a large extent, be relied on to fill the position of regimental surgeon. He felt that they, like himself, needed some special preparation for such duty. A large experience of surgical accidents they could not often have had, while their toilsome daily labor had usually left them but little time for systematic study.

It was owing to his personal efforts, in view of these facts, that the special lectures in Boston on Military Surgery, which proved at that moment so valuable, were given. Coming to the city, he spared no exertion to urge upon the medical authorities the pressing need of such teaching, and readily obtained their consent. He had been anxious to express before the Society for Medical Improvement his sense of the importance of early professional action, to insure a supply of capable regimental surgeons; but being himself unable to remain in town long enough for this purpose, he persuaded one of his friends to bring forward the subject, the result being, that several leading surgeons were appointed to approach the State government in the matter. It is well known that the members of this committee were immediately, through the wise action of the Executive, constituted the State Medical Commission, and that no medical appointment was conferred till they, after full examination, had approved the candidate. To Dr. Revere belongs exclusively the credit of originating this plan.

Dr. Revere had at first proposed entering the service as an Assistant Surgeon in the Navy, and had received a permission (waiving the objection of his age) for examination for that position, but he was offered a position as Assistant Surgeon of the Twentieth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, of which regiment his brother, Paul J. Revere, was then Major, and he promptly accepted it. He was sworn into service on the 14th of September, 1861, and joined his regiment on the 17th of the same month near Poolsville in Maryland. He immediately entered upon the duties of his post, and with Dr. Nathan Hayward, the Surgeon of the regiment, and Dr. Henry Bryant, Brigade Surgeon, established a brigade hospital, where he treated with great skill and fidelity a large number of sick, the measles having become an epidemic in the brigade.

On the 20th of October, 1861, he joined a battalion ordered to Harrison's Island in the Potomac, preliminary to the battle of Ball's Bluff. When, about noon of the next day, the reconnoitring party which had crossed into Virginia on the night of the 20th, was by order of Colonel Baker reinforced, Dr. Revere accompanied a battalion of the Twentieth, under command of his brother, Major Revere, and reported for service on the Bluff, which was to be the scene of the contest.

During the first three or four hours of the final action of that day, Dr. Revere had his post a few feet in rear of the line of battle, being at all times under the fire of the enemy. The only assistance which he had was from his hospital steward, with such remedies and appliances as the hospital knapsack afforded. No other medical officer was on the field during the day.

This was Dr. Revere's first experience upon the battle-field. His cool, self-possessed deportment, his well-directed energy, and his self-forgetfulness were remarked by all who observed him. He had his post beside a narrow path which led from the Bluff to the river-side, where he gave such care to the wounded as their immediate necessities required, so that their lives could be saved; and they were then sent across the river for better attention and care. The wounded were very numerous, and Dr. Revere's duties were, of course, very arduous, immediate and rapid treatment being required to get the wounded across the river alive. They showed, however, when they came under more deliberate care, that Dr. Revere's duties had been well and tenderly done.

When, after the disastrous battle was over, Dr. Revere arrived at the river, two boats only were left for the survivors, both well and hurt. These boats soon becoming useless, he, with a few others, passed up the river to seek other means of escape. He was active in the endeavor to prepare for the transportation of the party in a small boat found near a flourmill, about half a mile from the battle-field, but they were driven from it by a demonstration of the enemy's cavalry. This was the same boat which, after dark on the same day, was found by Captains Tremblett and Bartlett, and in which they escaped to the opposite bank of the river. He also aided in the preparation of a raft for the same purpose, which, from the water-soaked condition of the rails of which it was constructed, sank under the weight of one man.

In the course of the evening Dr. Revere and his companions were captured by the enemy's cavalry, and taken to Leesburg; from which place, at two o'clock the next morning, they began to march toward Richmond. The rain fell in torrents during the whole day. Neither Revere nor his companions had eaten anything for thirty-six hours; and they now marched twenty-seven miles, through mud and rain, without subsistence of any kind, save one ration of half-cooked bread and bacon, to Manassas Junction. On Thursday morning, at about eleven o'clock, the detachment of prisoners reached Richmond, having been three days and three nights without any substantial food.

In Richmond the officers were placed in a tobacco warehouse, there being from seventy-five to eighty officers confined in a room some sixty feet wide by seventy or eighty feet long. Dr. Revere's solicitude and care for the invalids, his uninterrupted cheerfulness and kindness, won for him the respect and love of all. Said one who was confined with him: "He was the only man who never spoke an irritable word. The Confederate officers even treated him with great respect, and gave him their confidence, on account of his gentlemanly deportment and manly bearing."

With Dr. Fletcher of Indiana, he was permitted to leave the prison on parole, to look after our sick and wounded in the various hospitals. Their services to our wounded, sick, and suffering men were most timely and valuable, — procuring for them, as these surgeons often did, from their private means, many delicate and nourishing articles, not found in the prison rations. Our men were sick, wounded, neglected, dejected, almost without hope. His courageous, cheerful kindness roused and cheered their spirits; and the promise of preparing them to be removed gave them new life. At the end of three weeks, two hundred of them were, under his superintendence, embarked from Richmond for home. These services were especially appreciated by our men, and are still well remembered.

He wrote from Richmond to his wife: "No one could believe that there could be such a change in the appearance of patients, as there was in the sick here, from merely knowing that we were Yankee doctors. The patients sick with typhoid fever showed it more than any others. Although there was no material change in the treatment, it seemed to brighten them up, and a few words of encouragement did them more good than any medicine, and I think the whole disease took a favorable turn from our first visit; for there has been only one death out of one hundred and ninety-six patients, in the last ten days, and that was a man who was wounded at Manassas."

While devoting himself to these men, Dr. Revere was enabled to be of service to other prisoners, — loyal private citizens from West Virginia. These men were, if possible, in a more miserable condition, and suffered more from neglect, than the prisoners from the North. When Dr. Revere proposed to minister to them, the Confederate officers said, "Don't mind them, they are of no consequence: they are some of our traitors." But the Doctor kept on, and did for them what he could. They, with our own men, remembered these services with gratitude; and often afterwards, while he was at home as a paroled prisoner, some poor fellow came to thank him. He sincerely reciprocated this attachment of all the prisoners. November 23d he wrote: "Yesterday a large party of prisoners left for the South, — Alabama, I believe, — and twenty of the officers confined here went with them. One would hardly believe how hard it was to part with them: it seemed really like breaking up a family."

Dr. Revere, while in Richmond, became thoroughly convinced of what the country now knows, that there was a systematic determination among the Confederates to let our prisoners perish from neglect, and that this determination was stronger and more relentless against the loyal found among themselves than against Union prisoners.

Ten days after Dr. Revere arrived at Richmond, his brother, Major Paul J. Revere, was taken as one of the hostages for the privateersmen who were to be tried as pirates by our government. The fate of the privateersmen was to be the fate of the hostages. The order of the Confederate government in regard to them was, that they should be confined and treated in all respects like persons convicted of infamous crimes. It is difficult now to recall what was the feeling of the country then. Intelligent people could look upon these privateersmen in no other light than as pirates, and felt that, be the consequences what they might, it was beneath the dignity of our government to treat them otherwise. At this time Dr. Revere wrote home: "Paul and the other officers left us last Thursday for the jail, to await the trial of the privateersmen. There were seven in all from here, the rest of the fourteen being either in South Carolina or New Orleans. They are confined in one small cell, with two small windows. I hear from them every day, but am not allowed to see them. You can imagine our anxiety to hear what action the government will take when they hear of their imprisonment, for there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that whatever is done to the privateersmen will be meted out to our unfortunate comrades."

Yet he preserved his calm equanimity, and exhibited only the same cheerful and encouraging deportment to all about him. Said one of them, "He met it better than any of us." Yet, after his return home, he admitted that the agony of solicitude which he then endured had brought upon him a more serious tone of mind, which could never be removed.

Dr. Revere remained a prisoner in Richmond about four months, being released February 22, 1862, as a paroled prisoner of war. He returned home for a brief period, awaiting his exchange, which took place the last of the following April. He immediately set out for his regiment, and on the 2d of May reported for duty in the lines before Yorktown. He accompanied the Army of the Potomac in its advance upon Richmond, and was with his regiment at the battle of West Point, as also at the battle of Fair Oaks, May 31st and June 1st.

The casualties in this last battle were immense, five thousand seven hundred and thirty men having been killed and wounded during the two days' fight. When the battle terminated, the Twentieth Massachusetts found itself considerably in advance, surrounded by the killed and wounded of the enemy. Of the wounded were officers of high rank, among whom were General Pettigru, and Colonel Bull of Georgia. The medical labors were of course very arduous ; and it was not until the middle of the night that a medical officer could be spared to take care of the wounded in and around the front line.

As soon as the wounded of his regiment, who had been left in the rear, had been attended to, Dr. Revere hastened to the front, to take care of the wounded of the enemy. Here again, as at Ball's Bluff, he was the only medical officer present; and he gave his patient labors and skill to the care of the suffering, binding up wounds, and administering opiates to those mortally injured, with unremitting attention, never leaving such a patient until everything — the arrangement of the blanket, the rough couch, the position in every particular — had been carefully attended to, so that the last moments of the dying might be as comfortable as possible. There was a cheerfulness and kindness in the performance of his duty which brought many an expression of gratitude from those in the greatest agony.

The month of June was passed in and about Fair Oaks, in weather very unfavorable to health. Diarrhoea, scurvy, and malarial diseases, induced by the weather and exposure, prostrated the whole army. During this period the sick report of the Twentieth Massachusetts one morning contained the names of two hundred and twenty-one men, — more than one half of the regiment, — who were affected by the above diseases. How arduous must have been the duties of the Assistant Surgeon during this time can well be conceived.

Toward the last of June the Army of the Potomac began its perilous march in retreat to the James River. The Second Corps, of which the Massachusetts Twentieth was a part, constituted the rear guard, and upon it devolved the task of fighting all day and marching all night. The regiment lost heavily in killed and wounded. The wounded were of course left upon the field; but Dr. Revere bestowed upon them every possible care and attention, to make them comfortable until they should be picked up by the enemy. His great physical strength here enabled him to aid many a poor fellow, not severely wounded, to get away from the enemy. More than once he was seen with one such unfortunate man at each shoulder, assisting them to a place of security. His labors and services during this march were wonderful. It is the testimony of one who was with him: "His labors and his usefulness to us, in assisting and encouraging the men, no one will ever know. About every other surgeon broke down under the duties." Said another: "After the seven days' bloody work upon the Peninsula, at the battle of Malvern Hill he worked down nearly the whole medical force of the army, and performed more amputations and other operations than any other, as my surgeon told me, who worked at the hospital with him."

The services of Dr. Revere upon the Peninsula were appreciated by the medical officers of the army. His "zeal, ability, courage, and discretion" were stated, and he was recommended to promotion to a Surgeoncy by Dr. Dougherty, formerly Brigade Surgeon, Dana's Brigade, and Senior Reserve Surgeon, Sedgwick's Division; Dr. D. W. Hand, Brigade Surgeon, Gorman's Brigade; and Dr. John A. Lidell, Surgeon and Medical Director, Second Corps.

After the army reached the James River, the malarial poisons began again to develop their effects upon the systems of the men. Dr. Revere, though himself a sufferer from disease, would not yield to its debilitating effects; but continued with the army in the zealous and faithful discharge of his duties. He accompanied the Army of the Potomac when it moved north to join the forces in front of Washington, where the Twentieth Massachusetts, toward the last of August, was present at Chantilly, the closing combat of General Pope's disastrous campaign.

After the disasters under General Pope, the regiment fell back with the army across the Potomac to Tenallytown, in order to move upon the enemy, who had crossed the Upper Potomac into Maryland.

On the 17th of September, 1862, Dr. Revere accompanied his regiment in its advance under General Sumner, to follow up the charge of General Hooker upon the enemy's troops under General Lee. The latter general had taken position for the battle on the heights in front of Sharpsburg, between that place and the Antietam River. The Twentieth Massachusetts was in the hottest of the fight, and lost very heavily. Dr. Revere, as usual, followed close to the line, being of opinion that his duty to his men required him to be as near as possible, in case of any casualty, so that they should receive immediate attention. He had said that morning, as he was marching to the field, "I mean that to-day no man in our regiment shall fall behind, and that every man shall do his duty." He attended to his surgical work, aided the wounded, and urged and encouraged the men. He was last seen alive about noon, calmly and industriously occupied in the strict line of his duty, in a spot where, part of our soldiers being faced to the rear, the bullets of both armies were flying over his head. As he raised himself from performing an operation upon a wounded man, he was pierced by a bullet, and sank and died upon the field of battle, just one year from the day he joined his regiment. His body was left on the field, but was afterwards recovered, and buried at Mount Auburn.

Dr. Revere, in all his army practice, aimed to save both life and limb. He never permitted an amputation where he thought that there was a hope that skill, care, and patience could avert that necessity. More than once since his death have his friends been touched and comforted by a soldier's holding up an arm or foot, and saying, "Dr. Revere saved that for me. I should have lost it if I had not fallen into his care." He was led to perform his duties thus faithfully from the sense of a higher responsibility than his great reserve upon the subject permitted him to reveal.

Such is the memorial of one of the many sons whom Harvard University sent out to die upon the battle-field. Not one of them held his life more lightly in such a cause. Brave and courageous Nature made him. Gentle, honorable, and faithful he aimed to make himself, and he succeeded. Fame he did not ask for, and he knew it could hardly follow, however well he might discharge the arduous and perilous duties which he assumed. If this testimonial shall give to any one a juster appreciation of the debt the country owes to the medical staff of the army, it will be a service which he would have rejoiced to be the means of procuring.

SOURCE: Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Harvard Memorial Biographies, Vol. I, p. 115-25

Boston, March 1 [1862]

Col. Lee and Dr. Revere, of the 20^th Mass. regiment, arrived here last evening.  They were received at the depot by Gov. Andrew and staff, and a large crowd of citizens who greeted them with a hearty welcome and enthusiastic cheers.  The city government of Roxbury proposed giving Col. Lee a public reception some time since.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Monday Morning, March 3, 1862, p. 1

20th Massachusetts Infantry

Organized at Readville August 29 to September 4, 1861. Left State for Washington, D.C., September 4. Attached to Lander's Brigade, Division of the Potomac, to October, 1861. Lander's Brigade, Stone's (Sedgwick's) Division, Army of the Potomac, to March, 1862. 3rd Brigade, 2nd Division, 2nd Army Corps, Army of the Potomac, to March, 1864. 1st Brigade, 2nd Division, 2nd Army Corps, to July, 1865.

SERVICE.--Moved to Poolesville, Md., September 12-15, 1861. Guard duty along Upper Potomac till December. Operations on the Potomac October 21-24. Action at Ball's Bluff October 21. Near Edwards' Ferry October 22. Moved to Muddy Branch December 4, and duty there till March 12, 1862. Moved to Harper's Ferry, thence to Charlestown and Berryville, March 12-15. Ordered to Washington, D.C., March 24, and to the Peninsula March 27. Siege of Yorktown April 5-May 4. West Point May 7-8. Battle of Fair Oaks, Seven Pines, May 31-June 1. Seven days before Richmond June 25-July 1. Oak Grove, near Fair Oaks, June 25. Peach Orchard and Savage Station July 29. White Oak Swamp and Glendale June 30. Malvern Hill July 1 and August 5. At Harrison's Landing till August 15. Movement to Alexandria August 15-28, thence march to Fairfax C. H. August 28-31. Cover retreat of Pope's army from Bull Run August 31-September 1. Maryland Campaign September-October. South Mountain, Md., September 14 (Reserve). Battle of Antietam September 16-17. Moved to Harper's Ferry September 22, and duty there till October 30. Reconnoissance to Charlestown October 16-17. Advance up Loudon Valley and movement to Falmouth, Va., October 30-November 17. Battles of Fredericksburg December 11-15. (Forlorn hope to cross Rappahannock December 11.) Duty at Falmouth till April. Chancellorsville Campaign April 27-May 6. Maryes Heights, Fredericksburg, May 3. Salem Heights May 3-4. Gettysburg (Pa.) Campaign June 11-July 24. Battle of Gettysburg July 2-4. Advance from the Rappahannock to the Rapidan September 13-17. Bristoe Campaign October 9-22. Bristoe Station October 14, Advance to line of the Rappahannock November 7-8. Mine Run Campaign November 26-December 2. Demonstration on the Rapidan February 6-7, 1864. At Stevensburg till May. Campaign from the Rapidan to the James May-June. Battles of the Wilderness May 5-7. Laurel Hill May 8. Spottsylvania May 8-12. Po River May 10. Spottsylvania C. H. May 12-21. Assault on the Salient May 12. North Anna River May 23-26. Line of the Pamunkey May 26-28. Totopotomoy May 28-31. Cold Harbor June 1-12. Before Petersburg June 16-18. Siege of Petersburg June 16, 1864, to April 2, 1865. Jerusalem Plank Road June 22-23, 1864. Demonstration north of the James July 27-29. Deep Bottom July 27-28. Strawberry Plains, Deep Bottom, August 14-18. Ream's Station August 25. Boydton Plank Road, Hatcher's Run, October 27-28. Dabney's Mills, Hatcher's Run, February 5-7, 1865. Watkins' House March 25. Appomattox Campaign March 28-April 9. Crow's House March 31. Fall of Petersburg April 2. Sailor's Creek April 6. High Bridge and Farmville April 7. Appomattox C. H. April 9. Surrender of Lee and his army. At Burkesville till May 2. March to Washington, D.C., May 2-15. Grand Review May 23. Duty at Washington till July 15. Mustered out July 16 and discharged July 28, 1865.

Regiment lost during service 17 Officers and 243 Enlisted men killed and mortally wounded and 1 Officer and 148 Enlisted men by disease, Total 409.

SOURCE: Frederick H. Dyer, A Compendium Of The War Of The Rebellion, Part 3, p. 1254-5

Paul Joseph Revere

Major 20th Mass. Vols. (Infantry), July I, 1861 ; Lieutenant-Colonel and Assistant Inspector-General U. S. Vols., September 4, 1862 ; Colonel 20th Mass. Vols., April 14, 1863 ; died at Westminster, Md., July 4, 1863, of a wound received at Gettysburg, July 2.

PAUL JOSEPH REVERE was born in Boston, September 10, 1832, the son of Joseph W. and Mary (Robbins) Revere. His paternal grandfather was Paul Revere, of Revolutionary fame, and his maternal grandfather was Judge Edward Hutchinson Robbins of Milton. He was educated in the schools in Boston, with occasional periods of country life at school, making friends in every place, and forming warm attachments for life with many of his associates. An intimate friend writes: —

"When a boy, in that truest of all republics, the playground, his companions instinctively recognized in him a leader. There that keen sense of justice which seemed to be part and parcel of him was so conspicuous, that he was the well-known umpire in the boyish disputes of his companions, and we fondly recall the often-used expression, 'I’ll leave it to Paul.'"

In the winter of 1849 he entered Harvard University in the second term of the Freshman year, and he graduated with that class in 1852. While a Sophomore, he passed six months in the family of Rev. William Parsons Lunt, D. D., and there secured the regard of that intelligent and cultivated gentleman, with whose family Revere became connected after Dr. Lunt's death.

He left college without any taste for professional life; and in view of the necessity of following a calling, he decided on mercantile pursuits. In the summer of 1853 he went to Moosehead Lake on a hunting expedition, and travelled with an Indian guide to the source of the Saco River. He went several times to the Adirondacks, for his strong taste for active life was mingled with great love of nature and the spirit of adventure.

In 1854, at the wish of his father, he went to Lake Superior to inform himself in regard to the copper region. He had passed a month in pursuing this object, when all his mental and physical powers were taxed by an accident of no ordinary peril. He had crossed Lake Superior with two gentlemen interested in mines; and on their return, upon arriving at the lake, they found that there was a high wind, and the lake was like a disturbed sea. They were to take two boatmen to manage the boat during several hours' sail. Revere said, " This is against my judgment; let us wait." They said, "You have no experience here; we will go, and you may do as you like." Deciding to go, he took off his boots and his thick clothes, apprehending danger.

After rounding a point, the boat capsized, and all were thrown out. One of the gentlemen, Mr. Kershon, was asleep in the bottom of the boat, and was lost, as was one of the boatmen. The other, Dr. Pratt, was urged by Revere to cling with him to the bottom of the boat; but thinking that he could swim to the shore, made the attempt, and sank almost immediately. Revere diving after him, brought him to the surface, but found him dead. The others, after clinging several hours to the boat, reached the shore. Rohiscault, the old boatman, repeatedly gave up hope, and was only compelled by authority to maintain his hold; he says he owes his life to the persuasions of Mr. Revere, and relates that he held one end of the canoe, while Mr. Revere grasped the other, and, throwing himself on his back, guided the frail bark with rapid and undeviating course to land, and finally dragged his companion, half unconscious, on the beach. Revere, then discovering his overcoat still attached to the boat, took from the pocket his flask of brandy, and, having administered it, rolled the boatman on the warm sand until he was recovered sufficiently to show the way to a logger's hut.

The following year he undertook the care of an extensive wharf in Boston, and there exerted himself for the benefit of laborers and exposed women and children, until the neighboring police continually came to him as a friend to aid and protect the unfortunate about him.

In 1859 he married Lucretia Watson Lunt, daughter of Rev. W. P. Lunt, D. D., who, with two children, survives him. He had made a home near his aged father, thinking his comfort the highest duty; but the country's call was still higher, and that father's patriotic spirit aided him to engage in the cause. To the representations of a near and dear friend, who placed before him some family objections to a separation from home, he replied, "I have weighed it all, and there is something higher still. The institutions of this country — indeed free institutions throughout the world — hang on this moment."

To his mother he said, "I shall feel humbled to stay at home." The reply was, "Do as you think right."

With these convictions of personal and public duty, soon after the insurgent attack on Fort Sumter he offered his military services to the Chief Magistrate and Commander-in-chief of Massachusetts; and immediately entered as a pupil in the Military Club of Monsieur Salignac in Boston. On the 1st of July, 1861, Revere was commissioned Major of the Twentieth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers (Infantry), and soon after joined his regiment, then in camp at Readville. His devotion to his new duties was consistent with the high moral principle which had made him a soldier of the Republic. The regiment to which he was attached had in it elements which required strong and judicious government; the personal material which constituted its nucleus having been principally drawn from a disbanded and mutinous organization, and being thus demoralized. To bring these men to military subordination required the exercise of high moral power, and a strong will, which fortunately was found in Major Revere and most of his brother officers. Their efforts to establish and maintain order and good discipline were rewarded with success, the fruits of which were exhibited in the annals of the regiment from Ball's Bluff to the surrender of the insurgent army under General Lee.

Early in September the regiment was ordered to Washington, and from thence, after a few days' halt, to Poolesville, Maryland, where it reported to Brigadier-General C. P. Stone, in command of the corps of observation. Until October 20th the regiment was in the performance of picket and outpost duty, along the Potomac River, Major Revere taking his proper share of the service. On Sunday, October 20th, a battalion of the regiment was ordered to the river-bank, from which, during the night of that day, it crossed to Harrison's Island. This was preliminary to the battle of Ball's Bluff. On the morning of the 21st, at an early hour, two companies were sent into Virginia as the covering force of a reconnoitring party which had preceded them. Major Revere, who had accompanied the battalion from camp in Maryland, was left on the island in command of the force held there in reserve, and rendered a most important service in dragging round, from its east side to that opposite the Virginia bank, a scow, which added materially to the means of transportation, and was of great value in subsequent operations.

Colonel Baker, having been ordered to the command of the troops which had crossed into Virginia, and the supporting force which lay on the island and the adjacent Maryland shore, had, on assuming command, ordered the reserve of the Twentieth Regiment, among other troops, to reinforce the battalions in Virginia. Accordingly, about noon, Major Revere crossed the river. The battle of Ball's Bluff followed. The aggregate Union force present during the battle — not including the Nineteenth Massachusetts Infantry, which remained on the island and was not engaged — was, exclusive of officers, sixteen hundred and three men. Major Revere bore an honorable part in this bloody and disastrous conflict, earning a high character for cool and disciplined courage. He was slightly wounded in the leg, while endeavoring to run into the river two mountain-howitzers which had become disabled, the cannoneers having been all killed or wounded; and he was among the last to leave the field when it was irretrievably lost. The means of transportation were very limited, and escape by the boats, in the rush and confusion which prevailed, appeared very uncertain. He therefore, with some brother officers and a few men, among them his brother, Surgeon Revere, passed up the river to seek other means of crossing to the Maryland side. A boat was found and secured, but coming under the observation of the enemy, the fugitives were compelled to abandon it, and pursue their way up the river. After it became dark, an attempt was made to construct a raft of fence-rails, but the rails were water-soaked, and the raft would not float. Revere was a practised [sic] swimmer, and could easily have reached the opposite bank; he, however, with that generous self-sacrifice which entered so largely into his character, refused to leave his commander, who was somewhat advanced in years and unskilled in swimming. About half past eight at night, a scouting party of the enemy's cavalry discovered the fugitives, who had no alternative but to surrender.

The prisoners were taken to Leesburg, where the Rebel commander received them and tendered them a parole, which was declined, its terms being ambiguous. On the following morning, at two o'clock, the column of prisoners, five hundred and twenty-nine men, including fifteen officers, commenced its long and weary march to Richmond. It rained in torrents, the mud was ankle deep, and the men had been long without food; while one small wagon, without cover or seats, was the only transportation provided for the sick and wounded.

Major Revere had said nothing about his wound, and now marched on uncomplainingly, refusing to take his turn in the wagon. It was six, P. M., when the column reached the stone house historically connected with the Bull Run battle-field, — its halting-place for the night . A ration of half-cooked corn bread and bacon was here served at ten, P. M. The next morning early the column was again in motion, and at ten o'clock arrived at Manassas, where it rested till six, P. M., when the prisoners were transferred to the cars for Richmond. While at Manassas, the officers were confined in a barn, closely guarded; they had many visitors of both sexes, some of whom indulged in remarks and reflections little in keeping with their claims of chivalrous breeding. A scanty ration was furnished in the afternoon to the now almost famished prisoners, who were also drenched to the skin by the heavy rain of the previous day, so that their condition was miserable indeed. But the demeanor of Major Revere, under these trials of temper and body, was most dignified and patient; he expressed to the officer of the guard a hope that the men would be properly cared for, but asked nothing for himself.

On the morning of the 24th the train arrived in Richmond ; and the prisoners, amid the jeers, taunts, and sometimes threats of a dense crowd, were marched to the tobacco warehouse assigned as their prison. The kind hospitality of fellow-prisoners, whom they found there, supplied their immediate wants; but days elapsed before they were established in any reasonable degree of comfort. Two ladies, true to their womanly instincts, — one of them, Miss E. A. Van Lew, moved also by her loyal attachment to the Union, — sought out and relieved the new-comers. Mrs. Randolph, wife of the Confederate General Randolph, and Miss Van Lew, were the ministering angels of this unlooked-for and grateful kindness, which is here recorded as a tribute to their generous and timely beneficence. Prison life in the Richmond warehouse was one of annoying discomforts: the petty tyranny of officials, — Wirz, of Andersonville notoriety, being first-sergeant of the prison guard, — the vulgar obtrusiveness of civilian visitors, and a densely crowded apartment, constituted a condition of existence which taxed its subjects almost beyond endurance. Major Revere bore these trials with manly fortitude. His deportment was dignified, but affable, in his intercourse with fellow-prisoners. The kindly traits of his disposition seemed warmed into a more lively exercise ; and while he did not join in the amusements most common in a community of such varied sympathies and habits, yet he had a cheerful word and look for all. Mindful of his religious duties, he daily sought counsel of The Father, in prayer and in the Scriptures.

We now pass to a period in the prison life at Richmond which was full of gloomy anxieties.

On the 10th of November, General I. H. Winder published an order of the insurgent Secretary of War, directing him to select hostages, to be confined in the cells allotted to persons charged with infamous crimes, to answer with their lives for the safety of the Rebel privateersmen, held by the United States government, under a charge of piracy on the high seas. In closing his order Secretary Benjamin said: —

"As these measures are intended to repress the infamous attempt now made by the enemy to commit judicial murder on prisoners of war, you will execute them strictly, as the mode best calculated to prevent the commission of so heinous a crime."

Major Revere was one of the hostages selected under this order, and he entered upon the ordeal with the equanimity of a brave soldier, who stood for his country, with its honor in his keeping. On the following Thursday, the hostages, seven in number, were transferred to Henrico County Prison, and placed in charge of its warden. The cell in which they were confined, and in which, for a considerable period of time, they were required to perform every function of life, was of most contracted dimensions, — eleven feet by seventeen in area, — faintly lighted and filthy with tormenting vermin. The situation was one almost too horrible and disgusting to contemplate. The hostages did not utter one word of complaint or remonstrance, although they felt that life could not long sustain itself in an atmosphere so foul. After a while General Winder modified this barbarous treatment, allowing a half-hour each day to prisoners for a visit to the prison yard; this half-hour being often extended into an hour by the commiserating turnkey, Thomas.

In this experience, dreadful as it was, Revere evinced the same patient manliness which had always distinguished his conduct. In a single instance only did he permit his indignation to master the habitual control which he exercised over his feelings. The circumstances of this were as follows. The prison in which the hostages were confined was surrounded by a high wall, which hid from their sight every outward object except the sky and distant house-tops. On the second Saturday of their confinement, while engaged in the simple pursuits of prison life, the hostages were suddenly startled by the sharp sound of a lash and an accompanying shriek of agony. It was "whipping-day," and the negroes were receiving their allotted lashes for violations of law and decorum. The cry of agony and the pitiful moans which followed, as blow after blow in quick succession gradually reduced the sufferer to a condition of comparative insensibility, came from a woman. Revere absolutely started to his feet, the hot blood coursing its quick way through every vein. It seemed to him a personal affront, a contrived indignity to Northern "prejudice"; he learned afterward, however, that Saturday was "whipping-day," and the court-house yard the place of punishment . A brother officer, who lay by his side, has said, that, during the night which followed the incident just described, Revere trembled with rage when alluding to it . He never forgot that "whipping-day," with its cry of agony. That moaning woman was to his heart the representative of an oppressed race. He did not turn a deaf ear to the appeal for mercy and protection.

Writing from Fortress Monroe the day of his arrival there, a paroled prisoner from Richmond, after speaking of the ill-treatment of the hostages by the Rebel government, he continues : —

"However, it does not matter much now, and they never for a moment, with all their outrages, made us forget our position as gentlemen."

It is certain that he never did forget what was due to his position as a gentleman, if manly fortitude and Christian bearing be typical of that character. A prison companion, writing to a member of his family after the fatal day of Gettysburg, spoke of his deportment, while confined as a hostage, in terms which will be understood and appreciated by all who were familiar with his characteristics : —

"In the cell of Henrico County Prison, with its horrible experiences and painful suspense, there was a moral grandeur in his conduct of which I can give no idea. All were strangers except Revere and myself. How much depended, how much of ordinary comfort even rested, upon decorum and self-respect in act and speech; how strongly yet delicately Revere restrained undue license in each!"

But Revere was reserved for future services to his country, and for a more glorious death than that of a constructive criminal. The government of the United States released the privateersmen as pirates, changing their status to that of prisoners of war; and on February 22, 1862, after four months' confinement, Major Revere returned on parole to the home from which he had been separated under such painful circumstances.

Observation and reflection, while a prisoner, had confirmed his original conviction, that the war of the Rebellion was a war for the supremacy or extermination of human slavery. He clearly saw that the institution of slavery was the salient point of the Rebellion, and that the success of the Union arms, even if it demanded "the last man and the last dollar," was an imperative duty. To a friend and brother officer who largely enjoyed his confidence, and shared with him the hardships of Richmond and accommodations of camp life, he often and earnestly spoke of this obligation, as due both to God and country. It was a conviction which had its birth in his soul.

With recruited health and strength came the desire for active service, but he was still under the military restraints of his parole, and the policy of the United States government did not seem, at that time, to encourage hope of speedy exchange. It was determined, however, to make an effort to obtain one, by personal application to Secretary Stanton. Accordingly, having selected Major McAlexander of Alabama, a prisoner of war confined at Fort Warren, and having arranged with him a plan of proceeding, Major Revere applied to the War Department at Washington for a leave of absence for Major McAlexander, permitting him to visit Richmond, on condition that he should return to Fort Warren within fifteen days, or should transmit to General Wool, commanding at Fortress Monroe, an order of the Confederate authorities, exchanging him for Revere. Secretary Stanton granted the application, expressing, however, strong doubts whether the Rebel officer or the exchange would ever be heard of again. But Major McAlexander was a gentleman of personal honor; and he successfully accomplished his mission. On May 1st Major Revere was en route to rejoin his regiment, then in the lines before Yorktown, Virginia. He reported for duty on May 2d, in season to move with the general advance of the army which followed the Rebel evacuation of Yorktown.

On May 7th he was present with his regiment at West Point, when the Rebel General W. H. C. Whiting made his unsuccessful attempt to force the position occupied by Franklin's division and Dana's brigade. The army was greatly hindered in its advance by the condition of the roads; and it was not till towards the last of May that General McClellan found himself within striking distance of Richmond, the objective point of the campaign. On the march up the Peninsula, Major Revere had greatly distinguished himself while in command of the skirmish line of a brigade, and intrusted with the duty of scouring the north bank of the Chickahominy, — thereby winning honorable mention from his corps commander, General Sumner.

The last days of May found the army massed on both sides of the Chickahominy, the communications between its wings being mostly maintained by temporary bridges, constructed by the troops. A sudden and violent rain, during the day and night of May 30th, had swollen the river to an unprecedented height, and greatly endangered the bridges. The Rebel general, acting upon the belief that the bridges would be swept away and the Union army divided, resolved to make a sudden and overwhelming attack upon Keyes's division, which lay at Fair Oaks, on the south side of the river, somewhat in advance of the supporting corps. In execution of this design, General Johnston concentrated, on the morning of May 31st, a heavy column under Hill, Longstreet, Smith, and Huger, intending to fall upon Keyes by early dawn; but the rain had proved unfriendly to his movements, as well as to those of the Union army. Smith and Huger were long behind the designated time in reaching their respective positions. At noon they had not appeared, and Hill and Longstreet moved to the attack of Keyes, without waiting for their expected diversion. The attack was sudden, vigorous, and overwhelming. Keyes was forced to retire, abandoning his camp, and losing many guns. The enemy pressed forward, encountering and overcoming a brigade of Couch's division, which sought to arrest the Rebel advance. Affairs looked very discouraging; a fresh column of the enemy was now moving against the right; and along the railroad, a heavy force, which had been held in reserve, was directing its march upon Fair Oaks.

In this critical condition of affairs, General Sumner was ordered to march rapidly to the scene of conflict; his corps lay on the opposite or north side of the Chickahominy, there being two hastily-constructed bridges for communication between the two portions of the army. The swift and swollen stream had swept away one of these bridges, that opposite the First Division; and the other, opposite the Second (Sedgwick's), was trembling and vibrating in its struggle for life. The division succeeded, however, in crossing, and pressed onward, for the unceasing cannonade in front still told of sharply-contested battle. The deep and miry morass, which formed the intervale of the river, had swamped all the artillery of the division, except five guns, beyond extrication ; and two infantry regiments — the Nineteenth Massachusetts and Forty-second New York — were detached to protect them and guard the river. As the column approached the field of battle, it was halted to load. "We are in luck to-day," said Major Revere; "we are not left in the rear to guard the river." This was not said thoughtlessly, or with levity, for no man felt more profoundly the solemnity of battle.

The division, weakened by the causes above mentioned, hastened forward, and late in the afternoon arrived upon the field near Fair Oaks. The column of the enemy which had advanced along the railroad was deployed in front of Sedgwick's division, when the latter came into line of battle. The safety of the army depended in a measure upon its ability to stem the tide of Rebel victory, to restore the lost battle. That it did so, after a sanguinary conflict, which terminated in the repulse and disorderly flight of the Rebel troops, is historical. To Major Revere the victory had an unusual charm; he had suffered, as a consequence of defeat on a previous occasion, cruel hardships, and while in Richmond as a prisoner had been often offended by the Virginia boasts of superior courage. He had now seen the backs of this vaunting chivalry, who, throwing away their arms and leaving their wounded behind, sought safety in flight. During the night, these wounded, who lay in great numbers on the field, in the vicinity of the position occupied by the division, (for the charge which broke the Rebel line and completed the victory had carried it forward some distance,) were carefully collected, and made as comfortable as circumstances permitted. Officers and men cheerfully surrendered overcoats and blankets to protect the poor sufferers from the cold night-air, and water-carriers were detailed to supply the ever-craving cry of "Water! water!"

Major Revere was most active in this work of mercy. The maimed and dying men, whose moans and cries so painfully rose upon the ear, were no longer public enemies, they were his suffering fellow-creatures. Many times during the night he visited that long line of recumbent wounded, to be sure that no faint cry for water should be uttered unheard or unheeded; and at earliest dawn he personally went in search of a surgeon, — for the medical officers of the Twentieth had been left in the rear to care for their own wounded.

The enemy having drawn heavy reinforcements from Richmond during the night, sought, on the morning of June 1st, to retrieve their fortunes in renewed attack; but failing to penetrate the Union line, after a fierce and long struggle, they returned discomfited to their defensive works. The month of June was passed in the usual manner, of an investing army, watching and waiting for the moment of assault. Major Revere shared with his regiment during this period the arduous labors of an advanced line, — being half the time within range of the enemy's sharpshooters, who inflicted some loss on the regiment.

On June 25th, the Rebel general moved in force against the Union right, which he succeeded in turning. A result of his success was to cut off McClellan's base of supplies at the White House, forcing him to fall back on James River. On the 29th, at an early hour, the Second Corps, which, with the Third and a division of the Sixth, constituted the rear-guard in this memorable movement, silently marched out of their intrenched camp at or near Fair Oaks. Major Revere had been detached during the night of the 27th, in command of a small battalion of the Twentieth, on special duty connected with the Ordnance Department, and was absent from his regiment when the retrograde movement of the Second Corps commenced. Sedgwick's division was halted, and fronted the enemy in line of battle at Peach Orchard, a mile or more from Fair Oaks, where it had a sharp skirmish, checking the Rebel advance.

Again in the afternoon at Savage Station, where Major Revere rejoined his regiment, the division was sent into action to arrest the enemy's advance, which had now become serious and threatening. It was late in the evening before the regiments were withdrawn from the ground they had held against the Rebel troops. About nine, P. M., the Second Corps entered upon its march through White-Oak Swamp. The night was dark and wet, and the narrow road, lighted only by the glare of a few lanterns, was most dismal and gloomy ; but the morale of the troops was wonderfully good. Encouraged by the example and voice of their officers, the men trudged along cheerfully and steadily, preserving excellent order and discipline.

Early in the morning of June 30th the column debouched from the swamp on the high ground which borders its southern side, and halted to get a few hours of repose. Major Revere, during this severe and trying night-march, exhibited the true and solid qualities of a soldier. His admonitions to "close up," and his cheerful words of encouragement, were judiciously bestowed from time to time, avoiding the unprofitable annoyance of what the men significantly call worrying.

The troops, after two or three hours of such rest as could be obtained in wet clothes on the wet ground, without shelter, were summoned to continue their march. An hour or two brought them to Nelson's farm, where they were halted to cover the Quaker road, the main line of communication with James River. Franklin's division had been left at White-Oak Swamp to protect the rear, and about noon had become engaged with the enemy. Two brigades, Dana's and Gorman's of Sedgwick's division, were hastily marched to Franklin's support, but upon a fierce and successful attack of the enemy made in the afternoon upon McCall's division of Pennsylvania Reserves, which occupied the position of Glendale, in front of the Quaker road, were sent back at double-quick to aid in recovering the position. It was an oppressively hot day, and the leading brigade, Dana's, was immediately hurried into action on its arrival from the swamp, for the exigency was most imminent. The men were panting with exhaustion; many of them had fallen out of the ranks, some senseless from sunstroke, and the regiments coming up separately went forward into the copse of wood known as Glendale, without much concert of movement. Major Revere exerted himself actively as an extemporized staff officer to remedy the last-named difficulty, and by his personal efforts partially succeeded in bringing the regiments as a united brigade in front of the enemy. Reinforcements were soon sent forward, and the ground was held by the Union troops; the loss in killed and wounded, however, had been very heavy. Major Revere, in the course of the operations in and around Glendale, had his horse killed under him, and was thrown violently to the ground, fortunately without injury. It will be undoubtedly in accordance with the general opinion of his brother officers to award to him, for his conduct on this occasion, a high degree of honor.

With night came the order to march again; and the morning of July 1st found the army occupying Malvern Hill, to make its last stand against the now desperate foe. The conflict was long and obstinate, but in the end successful, and the Army of the Potomac on the next day made its way unmolested to the new base of operations on James River. The new position of the army was not free from causes of anxiety; the enemy clustered around it on both sides of the river, keeping up a constant and annoying fire of artillery, and the poisonous malaria of the bottom-land began to develop its debilitating influence upon the health of the troops. The robust constitution of Revere seemed for a time proof against this insidious enemy, but about the middle of July disease began to manifest itself in painful neuralgic affections; he did not, however, report himself sick until the early part of August, when, being utterly prostrated and unfit for duty, he was compelled to seek restored health in the more salubrious air of his Northern home.

With the last days of August came the discouraging intelligence of Pope's disastrous campaign in front of Washington ; and Revere, scarcely recovered from sickness, hastened to his post of duty. He had, during his absence from the army, been appointed Inspector-General of the Second Corps, with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, and now reported at the headquarters of General Sumner in his new position. The Maryland campaign followed within the next two weeks, terminating with the battle of Antietam and the consequent retreat of the insurgent army into Virginia.

Lieutenant-Colonel Revere was wounded at Antietam, while endeavoring to rally and re-form some broken and flying regiments; but he nevertheless kept the field, aiding materially in bringing up and guiding into action the rear divisions of the corps. His wound forced him again to seek the repose and care of home, leaving, without knowing it, his brother dead on the field. There he remained till the following spring, a confirmed and suffering invalid.

In the mean time General Sumner had died, and as a consequence Lieutenant-Colonel Revere was mustered out of the service as Inspector-General of the Second Corps. He was now appointed Colonel of his old regiment, the Twentieth Massachusetts, and in May, 1863, reported at Falmouth, Virginia, on the north bank of the Rappahannock, as commander of the regiment. In June following, Lee led his army down the Valley of the Shenandoah, to repeat his exploit of the previous year, — an invasion of Maryland and Pennsylvania. The Army of the Potomac therefore broke camp, and moved north also, keeping the Blue Ridge between it and the enemy. Lee, by rapid marches, had reached the Upper Potomac, and crossed that river into Maryland, almost before General Hooker had penetrated his design, or felt safe to uncover the gaps, through which the Rebel troops could advance upon Washington. As soon as all doubts on this point were removed by the appearance of Lee's main army in Maryland, the Union columns were pressed rapidly forward. The Twentieth Massachusetts crossed the river near the old field of Ball's Bluff, its first battle experience. By June 30th the whole army was in Maryland, moving upon Lee, who had a week before occupied Hagerstown in force, with his advanced parties in front of York in Pennsylvania, threatening both Baltimore and Philadelphia. Major-General George G. Meade had only within a day or two relieved General Hooker, in the command of the army, and on July 1st had not arrived at the front. At this time the advanced corps (First and Eleventh) of the Union army were in the vicinity of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and while on the march were attacked and driven back, through that town, to a strong position on its south side, where they waited for the main body of the army to come up. During the night General Meade arrived at the front, and before morning, on July 2d, the whole army was once more in the presence of its old foe, the Army of Northern Virginia. Preparations for battle were at once made. Quietly and quickly the artillery and infantry took up their assigned positions; the men lying down in that solemn silence which precedes expected battle. Colonel Revere was here again, and for the last time, to renew his covenant with Union and Freedom. The offering of his life was to consummate the sacrifice.

The day of July 2d was passing away. The artillery on both sides had unceasingly hurled a destructive fire of solid shell and canister shot into opposing ranks, and the intermitting, rattling fire of musketry, which ever and anon reached the ear from the right, told rather of watchful observation than general battle. On the left, however, Sickles, who held a somewhat advanced position, had been fiercely attacked by Longstreet and forced to fall back more within supporting distance of the main line, after sustaining a heavy loss. But the Union army made no aggressive movement; for it was the design of General Meade to act defensively, to receive an attack from the Rebel commander in the strong position occupied by his troops.

About six, P. M., a canister shot burst a short distance above Colonel Revere, a bullet from which struck him, penetrating the vital parts, and inflicting a mortal injury, of which he died on the 4th of July following. He lived long enough to know that the Union arms were triumphant, that the enemy, after obstinate and vain efforts to force Meade's lines, had been repulsed.

In contemplating the character of Colonel Revere, we are at once and strongly impressed with the harmony of its moral proportions. The religious sentiment was marked and prominent; he habitually referred every question of personal conduct to the tribunal of conscience, able to abide the decision with unwavering trust. He believed that conscience was the light of God. Deliberate in his method of reasoning, and gifted with unusual powers of discernment, his conclusions did not suffer in comparison with the lessons of experience. A resolute will, too, enforced his convictions of duty against all obstacles of self-interest. What he thought to be right, he did. With all the sterner and rigid attributes of human nature, so necessary to overcome the rough places in the path of life, his heart was a deep and ever-welling spring of warm affection. Distress never called to him in vain for needed relief. Amid the din of battle he would kneel by a dying comrade to receive his whispered and choking accents of parting love to dear ones at home.

The remains of Colonel Revere were removed to Massachusetts and interred at Mount Auburn, amidst the verdant beauties of that Nature whose loveliness he never failed, even amid the stern scenes of war, to notice and enjoy.

SOURCE: Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Harvard Memorial Biographies, Vol. I, p. 204-20