John Lothrop Motley to Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr., November 15, 1861

Vienna, November 14, 1861.

My Dear Holmes: Your letter of October 8 awaited me here. I need not tell you with what delight I read it, and with what gratitude I found you so faithful to the promises which we exchanged on board the Europa. Your poem,¹ read at the Napoleon dinner, I had already read several times in various papers, and admired it very much, but I thank you for having the kindness to inclose it. As soon as I read your letter I sat down to reply, but I had scarcely written two lines when I received the first telegram of the Ball's Bluff affair. I instantly remembered what you had told me — that Wendell “was on the right of the advance on the Upper Potomac, the post of honor and danger,” and it was of course impossible for me to write to you till I had learned more, and you may easily conceive our intense anxiety. The bare, brutal telegram announcing a disaster arrives always four days before any details can possibly be brought. Well, after the four days came my London paper; but, as ill luck would have it, my American ones had not begun to arrive. At last, day before yesterday, I got a New York “Evening Post,” which contained Frank Palfrey's telegram. Then our hearts were saddened enough by reading: “Willie Putnam, killed; Lee, Revere, and George Perry, captured”; but they were relieved of an immense anxiety by the words, “O. W. Holmes, Jr., slightly wounded.”

Poor Mrs. Putnam! I wish you would tell Lowell (for to the mother or father I do not dare to write) to express the deep sympathy which I feel for their bereavement, that there were many tears shed in our little household in this distant place for the fate of his gallant, gentle-hearted, brave-spirited nephew. I did not know him much — not at all as grown man; but the name of Willie Putnam was a familiar sound to us six years ago on the banks of the Arno, for we had the pleasure of passing a winter in Florence at the same time with the Putnams, and I knew that that studious youth promised to be all which his name and his blood and the influences under which he was growing up entitled him to become. We often talked of American politics, — I mean his father and mother and ourselves, — and I believe that we thoroughly sympathized in our views and hopes. Alas! they could not then foresee that that fair-haired boy was after so short a time destined to lay down his young life on the Potomac, in one of the opening struggles for freedom and law with the accursed institution of slavery. Well, it is a beautiful death — the most beautiful that man can die. Young as he was, he had gained name and fame, and his image can never be associated in the memory of the hearts which mourn for him except with ideas of honor, duty, and purity of manhood.

After we had read the New York newspaper, the next day came a batch of Boston dailies and a letter from my dear little Mary. I seized it with avidity and began to read it aloud, and before I had finished the first page it dropped from my hand, and we all three burst into floods of tears. Mary wrote that Harry Higginson, of the Second, had visited the camp of the Twentieth, and that Wendell Holmes was shot through the lungs and not likely to recover. It seemed too cruel, just as we had been informed that he was but slightly wounded. After the paroxysm was over, I picked up the letter and read a rather important concluding phrase of Mary's statement, viz., “But this, thank God, has proved to be a mistake.” I think if you could have been clairvoyant, and looked in upon our dark little sitting-room of the Archduke Charles Hotel, fourth story, at that moment, you could have had proof enough, if you needed any fresh ones, of the strong hold that you and yours have on all our affections. There are very many youths in that army of freedom whose career we watch with intense interest; but Wendell Holmes is ever in our thoughts side by side with those of our own name and blood. I renounce all attempt to paint my anxiety about our affairs. I do not regret that Wendell is with the army. It is a noble and healthy symptom that brilliant, intellectual, poetical spirits like his spring to arms when a noble cause like ours inspires them. The race of Philip Sydneys is not yet extinct, and I honestly believe that as much genuine chivalry exists in our free States at this moment as there is or ever was in any part of the world, from the crusaders down. I did not say a word when I was at home to Lewis Stackpole about his plans, but I was very glad when he wrote to me that he had accepted a captaincy in Stevenson's regiment. I suppose by this time they are in the field.

There, you see how truly I spoke when I said that I could write nothing to you worth hearing, while I, on the contrary, should be ever hungering and thirsting to hear from you. Our thoughts are always in America, but I am obliged to rely upon you for letters. Sam Hooper promised to write (I am delighted to see, by the way, that he has been nominated, as I hoped would be the case, for Congress), and William Amory promised; but you are the only one thus far who has kept promises. I depend on your generosity to send me very often a short note. No matter how short, it will be a living, fresh impression from the mint of your mind — a bit of pure gold worth all the copper counterfeits which circulate here in Europe. Nobody on this side the Atlantic has the faintest conception of our affairs. Let me hear from time to time, as often as you can, how you are impressed by the current events, and give me details of such things as immediately interest you. Tell me all about Wendell. How does your wife stand her trials? Give my love to her and beg her to keep up a brave heart. Hœc olim meminisse juvabit. And how will those youths who stay at home “account themselves accursed they were not there,” when the great work has been done, as done it will be! Of that I am as sure as that there is a God in heaven.

What can I say to you of cisatlantic things? I am almost ashamed to be away from home. You know that I decided to remain, and had sent for my family to come to America, when my present appointment altered my plans. I do what good I can. I think I made some impression on Lord John Russell, with whom I spent two days soon after my arrival in England; and I talked very frankly, and as strongly as I could, to Lord Palmerston; and I had long conversations and correspondences with other leading men in England. I also had an hour's talk with Thouvenel² in Paris, and hammered the Northern view into him as soundly as I could. For this year there will be no foreign interference with us, and I do not anticipate it at any time, unless we bring it on ourselves by bad management, which I do not expect. Our fate is in our own hands, and Europe is looking on to see which side is the strongest. When it has made the discovery, it will back it as also the best and the most moral. Yesterday I had my audience with the emperor. He received me with much cordiality, and seemed interested in a long account which I gave him of our affairs. You may suppose I inculcated the Northern view. We spoke in his vernacular, and he asked me afterward if I was a German. I mention this not from vanity, but because he asked it with earnestness and as if it had a political significance. Of course I undeceived him. His appearance interested me, and his manner is very pleasing. Good-by; all our loves to all.

Ever your sincere friend,

J. L. M.

Remember me most kindly to the club, one and all. I have room for their names in my heart, but not in this page.

_______________

¹ “Vive la France.” A sentiment offered at the dinner to H. I. H. Prince Napoleon at the Revere House, September 25, 1861.

² Minister of Foreign Affairs.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 211-6

Captain William Francis Bartlett to Harriet Plummer Bartlett, Saturday Night, October 25, 1861

Camp Benton,

Saturday Night, October 25, 1861.

My Dear Mother, — . . . . I have not had time or heart to write you, who had such good news to hear, when I thought of those who could not get anything but bad tidings. I have been very busy during the whole week (which seems like one long day, or rather night), being in command of the regiment nearly all the time. To my great joy Lieutenant-colonel Palfrey returned in safety with his men Wednesday night, when all the forces were withdrawn from the Virginia shore by order of McClellan, who was here.

General Lander was brought here wounded in the leg that day, and when I went up to headquarters, I heard that McClellan had just been up to see him. It was cheering news for me, for I knew that we had by this time got four thousand men across, below our battle ground, at Edwards' Ferry, and I was in hopes some General would come who could take command.

In your letter of Sunday, which I got Wednesday, you hoped I should have a day of rest; you little thought that I should be the other side of the Potomac at two the next morning. I had neither food nor sleep from Saturday night until I got back to camp Tuesday morning. We crossed the river, Caspar and I, under command of Colonel Lee, in all one hundred men, in a whale boat that would carry sixteen, and two small boats holding five and four respectively. I went over first, and found a steep bank one hundred and fifty feet high, with thick wood on it. There was not room enough to form ten men, and the banks were so slippery that you could not stand. I formed the men in single file up the path, waiting for the Colonel and the rest of the men.

After they were all over, we wound our way up this precipice and formed on the open space above. The detachment of the Fifteenth, three hundred men, now moved up the road leading from the top of the bank inland. We were to remain there to support them, and cover their retreat. We gave the men distinctly to understand that they must stand fast if the Fifteenth came running down the road, wait till they had passed, and then cover their retreat. It looked rather dubious. The Fifteenth might get across, but we must check the advance of the enemy and get cut to pieces. We sent out scouts in all directions; three men under a sergeant composed each party.

My First Sergeant Riddle went out on our right. At this time we did not know how many of the enemy there might be within gunshot of us. It was now about sunrise, when we heard three or four shots in rapid succession on our right. In a few minutes my First Sergeant (Riddle) was brought in, shot through the elbow. He was fainting from loss of blood. We tied a handkerchief around his arm and sent him down to the river. (I might as well finish with him here. It was a sad opening for me, he was the best sergeant in the regiment, a favorite of both the Colonel and General Lander, and perfectly invaluable to me. He is now at the hospital, and I am in hopes of saving his arm; the bone is shattered; he has great pain but good spirits.) It was nearly nine when we heard a splendid volley in the direction of the Fifteenth. We knew we were in for it then. Soon wounded men were brought down the road mentioned. How large a force they had met we did not know, but we learned from the wounded that the volley was from the enemy. We expected now to see the Fifteenth falling back on us. The firing ceased and we were in suspense, thinking that they might have been surrounded, and waiting to see the enemy come down that road and sweep our hundred men into the river. We were then deployed as skirmishers across the road, Company I on the right, Caspar on the left, an opening at the road to let the Fifteenth pass through to the river, and then check their pursuers until they could get across. I never expected to see Camp Benton again, then, and I remember being sorry that my bundle had not yet come from home before I left camp, and that there would be no one there to open it when it came. I wondered what you were thinking of at the time, and was glad that you little dreamed of our critical position.

At ten A. M. Colonel Devens with his men came down the road in good order. He reported that there were three to four regiments of the enemy, besides cavalry. Our case was looking rather unpleasant, to say the least We were not attacked, the enemy fearing that we might have a larger force. They seem to refuse a fight unless you give them odds. At eleven, the remainder of the Fifteenth came over, and they went back up the road again, six hundred in all. The rest of our regiment which crossed over on to the island with us the night before, — the island, Harrison's, is midway between the two shores, low and flat, — now came over to us, making with Caspar's company and mine three hundred and eighteen. The California Regiment, of Philadelphia, now began to get over, and the prospect for a more even fight looked better. But you can imagine what a long morning it was, waiting either for reinforcements or the order to withdraw, with nothing to eat since dinner the day before. My company being deployed as skirmishers, I had given the order “Lie down,” and I myself reclined on my elbow and dozed for half an hour. I woke up and found that nearly all my skirmishers lying down had taken the opportunity to go to sleep, poor fellows. I couldn't bear to wake them until the first volley of musketry was heard from the woods near us. It shows that the boys were either indifferent to danger, or were worn out with fatigue, to go to sleep on the field, where balls were occasionally dropping in.

General Baker arrived with his regiment (California it is called, composed of Philadelphia men). He disposed the troops under his command as follows: —

The Twentieth, three hundred and eighteen men, in the open space, their right up the river. The Fifteenth, six hundred, in the edge of the woods on the right. The California Regiment, part of it, on their left, touching at right angles our right.

A part of the Tammany Regiment was placed in front of us by Baker, but I am sorry to say that after the first volley there was nobody in front of us but the enemy; they broke and fell in behind us.

The following plan will show you our position after one or two volleys had been fired on us. [See Plan.]

Well the first volley came and the balls flew like hail. You can see from our position on the plan that we were exposed to their full fire. The whizzing of balls was a new sensation. I had read so much about being under fire and flying bullets that I was curious to experience it. I had a fair chance. An old German soldier told me that he had been in a good many battles, but that he never saw such a concentrated fire before. They fired beautifully, too, their balls all coming low, within from one to four feet of the ground. The men now began to drop around me; most of them were lying down in the first of it, being ordered to keep in reserve. Those that were lying down, if they lifted their foot or head it was struck. One poor fellow near me was struck in the hip while lying flat, and rose to go to the rear, when another struck him on the head, and knocked him over. I felt that if I was going to be hit, I should be, whether I stood up or lay down, so I stood up and walked around among the men, stepping over them and talking to them in a joking way, to take away their thoughts from the bullets, and keep them more self possessed. I was surprised at first at my own coolness. I never felt better, although I expected of course that I should feel the lead every second, and I was wondering where it would take me. I kept speaking to Little, surprised that he was not hit amongst this rain of bullets. I said two or three times “Why Lit., aren't you hit yet?” I remember Macy was lying where the grass was turned up, and I “roughed” him for getting his coat so awfully dirty. Lit. was as cool and brave as I knew he would be. The different companies began to wilt away under this terrible fire. Still there was no terror among the men; they placed implicit confidence in their officers (I refer to our regiment particularly), and you could see that now was the time they respected and looked up to them. We were driven back inch by inch, towards the top of the bank. The rifled cannon was not fired more than eight times; the last time, the recoil carried it over the bank, and it went crushing through the trees, wounding many. General Baker was standing near me about four o'clock; he seemed indifferent to bullets. He said it was of no use, it was all over with us. A few minutes after, he fell, struck by eight balls all at once; so you can judge by this how thick they flew. No one took command after he fell; in fact the battle was lost some time before. At this time I came on Captain Dreher; he was shot through the head in the upper part of his cheek. I took hold of him, turned his face towards me, thought that he could not live but a few minutes, and pushed ahead. When we fell back again, he had been taken to the rear, and was got across. He is now in a fair way to recovery, the ball not striking any vital part. Lieutenants Lowell and Putnam and Captain Schmitt were now down, but were carried to the bank and taken across.

Captain John Putnam, I forgot to say, was brought down by where we were from the right, where he was skirmishing, in the very first of the fight. I remember how I envied him at getting off with the loss of an arm, and I wished then that I could change places with him. For I knew then, that we should either be killed or taken prisoners. The field now began to look like my preconceived idea of a battle field. The ground was smoking and covered with blood, while the noise was perfectly deafening. Men were lying under foot, and here and there a horse struggling in death. Coats and guns strewn over the ground in all directions. I went to the Colonel and he was sitting behind a tree, perfectly composed. He told me there was nothing to be done but “surrender and save the men from being murdered.” Most of the men had now got down the bank. I thought it over in my mind, and reasoned that we might as well be shot advancing on the enemy, as to be slaughtered like sheep at the foot of the bank.

I called for Company I for one last rally. Every man that was left sprang forward, and also about six men (all who were left) of Captain Dreher's company, and ten men of Company H under Lieutenant Hallowell, all of whom followed me up the rise. As we reached the top, I found Little by my side. We came upon two fresh companies of the enemy which had just come out of the woods; they had their flag with them. Both sides were so surprised at seeing each other — they at seeing us coming up with this handful of men, we at seeing these two new companies drawn up in perfect order, — that each side forgot to fire. And we stood looking at each other (not a gun being fired) for some twenty seconds, and then they let fly their volley at the same time we did.

If bullets had rained before, they came in sheets now. It is surprising that any one could escape being hit. We were driven back again. I had to order sharply one or two of my brave fellows before they would go back. Everything was lost now.

One of the Philadelphia papers says, “After everything was given up as lost, a captain of the Fifteenth Regiment rallied the remnants of two companies, and charged gallantly up the rise, but was driven back by overpowering numbers, after delivering a well directed volley.” So far so good. Then it says, “but seeing the hopelessness of the case, he tied a white handkerchief on his sword and surrendered himself and the remnant of his regiment.”

The officer in question did not get quite so far as the last part of the story, nor did he belong to the Fifteenth Massachusetts, . . . .

When we got back to the bank, we induced the Colonel to go down and try to escape. The Adjutant took his left arm and I his right, and we got him down the bank unhurt. Here was a horrible scene. Men crowded together, the wounded and the dying. The water was full of human beings, struggling with each other and the water, the surface of which looked like a pond when it rains, from the withering volleys that the enemy were pouring down from the top of the bank. Those who were not drowned ran the chance of being shot. I turned back and left the Colonel, to collect the remnant of my company, and when I returned he was gone. I asked for him, and they told me that he, the Major, and Adjutant had got into a small boat and gone across safely. I looked, and saw a small boat landing on the other side, and took it for granted they were safe. I then, being in command, collected what I could of the regiment, and told those who could swim, and wished to, to take the water, it was the only means of escape. Nearly all my company could swim, and I made them stop and take off their clothes. We sent over reports and messages by them. Little and I thought it our duty to stay by those men who could not swim. I allowed Macy to go, hoping that one of us might get home to tell the story. Little sent his watch over by Kelly, the bravest boy in our company, and I told him to go to Boston, and go to you and tell you that your son was probably a prisoner. What should you have said to the news? Little did you think or know what was taking place on that Monday afternoon, when

Volleys on right of us,

Volleys on left of us,

Volleys in front of us,

Battled and thundered.

I now determined to get the men out of this fire, and surrender without any more loss. I started up the river, followed by about twenty men of the Twentieth Regiment, twenty of the Fifteenth, and forty of the Tammany and California regiments. Captain Tremlett, Company A, Twentieth, Lieutenant Whittier, ditto, and Little Abbott went with me. An officer of the Fifteenth also was with the party. We followed up the edge of the river, and came to an old mill which we knew was up in this direction. It was owned and run by a man named Smart, who lived in Leesburg, so the negro told me, whom I questioned as to who was there. We expected to stumble on a party of the rebels every step. I asked him where his boat was. He wondered how I knew that they had one, and said it was up in the mill-way.

I went up there and found a skiff under water, twenty rods away from the edge of the river. It was capable of holding five persons. Those with me declared it useless and impracticable, and proposed going into the mill, get a good night's rest, and give ourselves up in the morning. I thought, though, that if I only got one load of five over, it would be worth trying; so we got it down to the river and began the transportation, expecting every minute to be discovered and fired at by the rebels. When the boat was put into the water, the whole crowd made a rush for it. I had to use a little persuasion by stepping in front of it, drew my pistol (for the first time, this afternoon), and swore to God that I would shoot the first man who moved without my order. It was the only thing that saved them. They were obedient and submissive, and avoided being shot by me or taken prisoners by the enemy. I selected five men of my own company and sent them across first, with a man to bring back the boat. So, by degrees, I got those of the Twentieth, next those of the Fifteenth (whose officer, by the way, sneaked off, got across on a raft, and left his men on my hands), and lastly those of the Tammany and California regiments. I sent Lieutenant Whittier over in the second load, to look out for the men as they came over. It was a tedious job. At last I went over with Tremlett and Little, and was once more back on the island. We thus saved eighty men and three officers from being taken prisoners. I learned afterwards that the Colonel, Major, and Adjutant were ahead of me up the river, had been to the mill, found the boat, thought it impracticable, and went on. They were afterwards taken prisoners. Lieutenant Perry and Dr. Revere were with them. We went down to the hospital opposite our battle-field, where we found the wounded being cared for. They had heard, and believed, that I was shot, and the welcome that the men gave me brought the first tears to my eyes.

I got to the Maryland side with all that I could find of my company (five men) about twelve, midnight. Then we had still that long walk down the tow-path and up to our camp from the river, where we arrived at three A. M. I got to bed pretty well tired out at half past three. When I awoke there were several waiting at my tent door for me to awake, to welcome me and congratulate me on my safe return.

On waking, I sent telegraphs to Jane by mail to send to Boston; did you get them?

By the time I was up, Colonel Palfrey had started off with the only remaining company of the regiment (Company K) to cross the river at Edwards' Ferry. He got back safe, as I told you, and relieved me from the command of the regiment.

The first night that I was here in command, I thought it best to have a dress parade as usual, both to let the men see that everything was not broken up, and to cheer them with the music. It had a very good effect. I published to them that night the following order: —

Headquarters Twentieth Regt. Mass. Vols.,

Camp Benton, October 23.

General Order No. —

It is the pleasant duty of the commanding officer to congratulate the men of the Twentieth Regiment on their admirable conduct in the late battle. Your courage and bravery under a galling fire for hours was only equaled by your coolness and steadiness throughout.

He laments, with you, the loss of so many brave officers and men; but hopes, with you, that the time may soon come when we may avenge that loss.

You have established your reputation for bravery, and gained honor, though you lost the victory.

By order Commanding Officer.

The men were quite affected, and the next time the Twentieth is engaged she will leave a mark that will not be lost sight of in history.

Out of twenty-two officers that were engaged, only nine returned safe. Of three hundred and eighteen men, one hundred and forty-six were killed, wounded, or missing; a loss which, in proportion to the number engaged, you seldom see. I send you a list of officers killed, wounded, and missing, and also of Company I, as they may send to you to learn.

Col. W. Raymond Lee, missing, prisoner (unhurt).

Major P. J. Revere, missing, prisoner (unhurt).

Dr. E. H. R. Revere, missing, prisoner (unhurt).

Adj. C. L. Peirson, missing, prisoner.

Lieut. G. B. Perry, missing, prisoner.

Lieut. Wesselhoeft, missing, probably drowned.

Capt. Babo, missing, probably drowned.

Lieut. W. L. Putnam, wounded, since died.

Capt. G. A. Schmitt, wounded badly, doing well.

Lieut. Lowell, wounded slightly (flesh), doing well.

Capt. Dreher, wounded in the head, doing well.

Capt. Putnam (John), wounded (lost right arm), doing well.

Lieut. Holmes (O. W.), wounded (breast), doing well.

A sad report, but it might have been worse.

Of Company I, forty-eight men were engaged, twenty (nearly half) were killed, wounded, or missing, as follows: —

Those that are missing were either shot or drowned in the river.

First Sergt. Riddle (W. R.), wounded, right arm shattered.

Corp. Thomas Hollis, wounded (finger shot off), doing well.

Private A. M. Barber, wounded (right arm), doing well.

A. Davis, killed, shot through heart.

Thomas Dolan, wounded, finger shot off.

Lewis Dunn, missing, probably shot.

W. F. Hill, missing, probably shot.

Albert Kelly, missing, probably shot.

M. V. Kempton, missing, probably a prisoner.

Sam. Lowell, missing, probably a prisoner.

Tete McKenna (my pet and pride), missing, took the water, probably shot.

G. C. Pratt, wounded badly (will recover).

Julius Strick, wounded (right arm).

James Seddon, wounded (heel), doing well.

Albert Stackpole, wounded, since died.

George G. Worth, missing, probably shot swimming.

Summerhays, wounded slightly in the hand.

O. Gammons, wounded, finger shot off.

E. V. Skinner, missing, perhaps a prisoner.

I. Barker, missing, perhaps a prisoner.

Killed and wounded, 11; missing, 9; total loss, 20.

Worth and McKenna were two noble fellows. I was saying to Little a day or two before, how sorry I should be to have any of these men killed, in whom we took such an interest! I send you a little piece of a knot of crape which went through the fight on Monday last. It was tied on to my sword hilt the day before. Caspar had a piece on his hilt, but said that he saw it when we were marching up the tow-path, and tore it off instantly. He and I were the only captains that had crape on our swords, and were the only two that were not hit. Captain Putnam is getting along finely. Captain Schmitt will recover. He has a great deal of pain, but bears it splendidly.

Well, mother, I have written a pretty long letter, but I guess you will be interested enough to read it through. I have written of course what I should not have done to any one else, and you must not show it . My official report to General Stone was in substance like this, except, of course, the parts relating to myself, which it did not become me to speak of to any one else but you at home. I have now been through my first battle, and it was a fierce one. If we should have a campaign of ten years, we could never get in such a place where we should lose so many men or be under such severe fire. General Stone told Colonel Palfrey last night that the rebels' official report made them lose three hundred men killed and wounded, and that they had five thousand troops engaged to our sixteen hundred.

W.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 19-36

Captain William Frances Bartlett to Brigadier-General Charles P. Stone, October 23, 1861

Camp Benton, October 23, 1861.

To Gen. Stone, Commanding Corps of Observation: —

General, — I have to report that one hundred men of the Twentieth Regiment crossed from Swan's (or Harrison's) island on Monday morning, October 21st, to support the detachment of the Fifteenth and cover its retreat. We climbed the steep bank, one hundred and fifty feet high, with difficulty, and took post on the right of the open space above, sending out scouts in all directions. The detachment of the Twentieth consisted of two companies, I and D, in all one hundred and two men, under command of Colonel Lee.

A little after daylight, First Sergeant Kiddle of Co. I was brought in, shot through the arm by some pickets of the enemy on the right.

At 8 A. M., a splendid volley was heard from the direction of the Fifteenth (who had advanced half a mile up the road leading from the river), and soon wounded men were brought in towards the river. We were then deployed by Colonel Lee as skirmishers, on each side of the road mentioned, leaving an opening for the Fifteenth to pass through in retreat. They fell back in good order at about 10 A. M. At 11, the other companies of the Fifteenth arrived from the island, and Colonel Devens with his command moved inland again. At this time the remaining men of the Twentieth, under Major Revere, joined us. Major Revere had during the morning brought round from the other side of the island a small scow, the only means of transportation, excepting the whale boat holding sixteen and the two skiffs holding four and five respectively, with which we crossed in the morning. At 2 o'clock, the detachment of Baker's Brigade and the Tammany Regiment had arrived, and Colonel Baker, who disposed the troops under his command. The three hundred and eighteen men of the Twentieth were in the open space, the right up the river; the Fifteenth were in the edge of the woods on the right a part of the California (Baker's) Regiment on the left, touching at right angles our right.

One company of the Twentieth under Captain Putnam was deployed as skirmishers on the right in the woods, one under Captain Crowninshield on the left. Captain Putnam lost an arm in the beginning of the engagement, and was carried to the rear. His company kept their ground well under Lieutenant Hallowell. The Fifteenth had before this, after the arrival of General Baker, fallen back the second time, in good order, and had been placed by General Baker as above mentioned. The enemy now opened on us from the woods in front with a heavy fire of musketry, which was very effective. They fired low, the balls all going within from one to four feet of the ground.

Three companies of the Twentieth were kept in reserve, but on the open ground, exposed to a destructive fire. It was a continual fire now, with occasional pauses of one or two minutes, until the last. The rifled cannon was on the left, in the open ground, in front of a part of Baker's regiment, exposed to a hot fire. It was not discharged more than eight times. The gunners were shot down in the first of the engagement, and I saw Colonel Lee carry a charge to the gun with his own hand. The last time that it was fired, the recoil carried it down the rise to the edge of the bank. The men of the Twentieth Regiment behaved admirably, and all that were left of them were on the field, after the battle was declared lost by General Baker. They acted, at least all under my command, with great coolness and bravery, and obeyed every command implicitly, and even after the intimation had been given that we must surrender in order to save the men that had been left, they cheerfully rallied and delivered a well directed fire upon two companies which we met, which had just advanced out of the woods.

We were slowly driven back by their fire in return, and covered ourselves with the slight rise mentioned above. We tried to induce the Colonel to attempt an escape, and got him down the bank unhurt. I turned to collect the remnant of my company, and when I returned to the bank, they told me that the Colonel (Lee), Major, and Adjutant had got into a small boat, and were by this time safely across. Feeling at ease then about them, I collected all that I found of the Twentieth, and gave permission to all those who could swim and wished to, to take to the water, and sent over reports and messages by them. I then ordered those of the regiment who could not swim to follow up the river, in order to get them out of the murderous volleys which the enemy were pouring down upon us from the top of the bank. About twenty of the Twentieth Regiment, twenty of the Fifteenth, and forty of the Tammany and California regiments, followed us.

We went up as far as the large mill, where I found, by means of a negro there, a small sunken skiff in the mill-way, and induced him to get it out of water and down to the river. It was capable of holding five men, and I began to send them over, expecting every minute to be discovered by the enemy. In an hour they were all over, and I crossed with Lieutenant Abbott of my company, and Captain Tremlett of Company A, Twentieth. I reported with the men at the hospital on the island. They got across to this side during the night. They were obliged to stop at the ferry and sleep out, many of them without overcoats or blankets, till morning. Out of twenty-two officers that were with us in the engagement, thirteen are killed, wounded, or missing; of three hundred and eighteen men, one hundred and forty-six are killed, wounded, or missing. The Colonel (Lee), I learned at the island, had not crossed, but I have since learned that he and his companions went farther up the river, found the boat which I afterwards used, thought it impracticable, and went on. They were (by the report of one or two men who have since come in) taken prisoners. Colonel Lee, Major Revere, Adjutant Peirson, Dr. Revere, and Lieutenant Perry are supposed to have been together. I supposed it was my duty to make this report of that part of the regiment engaged, as senior officer of those saved.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 16-9

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, October 24, 1861

Camp Near Conrad's Ferry, Md.,

October 24, 1861.

My last letter left off rather abruptly, and as a series of exciting events has taken place since then, I will try and detail them nearly as they occurred. I left off just as Captain Curtis got back from Banks' headquarters with the good news that we were to join our regiment and march at once towards the river.* We didn't stop to strike tents or pack the wagons, but left a small squad of weak men to do it. We packed our trunks and other traps and piled them up together in our tent. At half past eight P. M., the regiment marched by so quietly that one would not have known that there were more than ten men on the road; no drum or any other music. At nine, our company was ready and started. Before we were off, we could see, by the camp fires, that the whole division had marching orders. Going at quickest time, we caught the regiment at a halt; the night was cloudy, but the moon made it quite light. At twelve thirty we got to Poolsville, distance ten miles; here we began to hear rumors of the fight; men on guard told us that the Fifteenth Massachusetts and several other regiments had been cut to pieces in crossing the river near Conrad's Ferry; one said the Fifteenth had lost seven hundred men; we disbelieved them almost entirely.

As we got nearer to the river, the stories began to get more probable, and when within two or three miles of it, to confirm them, we met numbers of wounded who said that the Twentieth and Fifteenth Massachusetts and the California and Tammany regiments were in the fight and were all more or less cut up. At about five A. M., we reached the river, distance twenty-one miles from the camp, a splendid march, made with very few halts, the men all carrying their knapsacks.

Here, as daylight came on, we began to hear the terrible truth; the houses all about us were filled with dead and wounded, and down the river about a mile, there was a temporary hospital with over a hundred men in it. Of course, my first inquiries were for my friends in the Twentieth; I could hear nothing definite. Shortly afterwards, Captain Curtis received a message from Lieutenant Willie Putnam, a splendid young fellow, saying he would like to see him. From the Major, Captain C. and others, I learned, when they came back, the following: That Colonel Lee and Major and Doctor Revere were prisoners and probably carried to Leesburgh; that Lieutenant W. Putnam was mortally wounded by a shot through the body; Captain C. saw him and said he conversed as calmly about the events of the battle as if he had been a spectator instead of an actor; he said the wound was quite painful, but by his face you would not have known it. (He died this morning.) Captain John Putnam had his arm taken off close to the shoulder by a round shot; he was brought across the river and is in the hospital. Captain Crowninshield had just swam across the river; he had fought splendidly, others say, all through the battle, had been unable to retreat with the rest, and had hid over night. He was unhurt. Poor young Holmes was badly shot through the body and arm; he and Lieutenant Lowell saw Charley Peirson, the Adjutant, fall, and ran up to attempt to bring him off; as they lifted him from the ground, they were all three shot down, Lowell through the leg. Holmes is likely to recover, Lowell is doing well, Peirson is a prisoner. George Perry is missing. Harry Sturgis, Harry Tremlett and Charley Whittier, got off safely. All of these that I have mentioned were down at Fort Independence in the Guards, and Putnam, Peirson and Tremlett were in the same mess with me. Captain Schmidt, I believe, is badly shot through the body. I am not certain about it.

My understanding of the affair is this: — Brigadier-General Baker was ordered by Brigadier-General Stone to take a certain number of regiments and cross the river at Conrad's Ferry, while he, Stone, was crossing at Edward's Ferry, five miles below, with his force. The troops were all landed on an island first, I believe; their only means of conveyance was one flat boat. Four companies of the Fifteenth crossed first, and, without waiting for reinforcements, foolishly moved forward towards Leesburgh, of course stirring up the enemy's pickets and alarming the country.

Parts of the Twentieth, Fifteenth, California and New York regiments now followed, making the whole force over the river about fifteen or eighteen hundred men and two guns. The fight, at first, was skirmishing almost entirely, the enemy being out of sight in the woods; their firing was very heavy, and it was evident, from the first, that they had numbers of sharpshooters lodged in the trees and everywhere else, to pick off the officers. Those who were there say that the Massachusetts men fought splendidly, making no confusion, and falling back perfectly orderly to the river, which they were fairly driven into, numbers drowning, others swimming to the island and Maryland shore. Of course, the great mistake of the whole affair was trying to cross an unfordable river with an insufficient force, unsupported by artillery and with no means of retreat; any one of these things would almost be sure to cause defeat. It is almost fortunate that General Baker was killed, as he would have been constantly reproached by everybody and could have hardly kept his commission. How much General Stone was to blame, no one can yet say; his orders to Baker were to cross in a discreet manner.

About the detail of the loss of the Fifteenth, I cannot say, as I know no one in it. The Colonel of it told Mr. Quint last night that he had lost near half of his regiment and twelve of his commissioned officers. The Lieutenant-Colonel lost his leg. To go back to our regiment. We were left along between the canal and the river. Early in the morning, it commenced to rain, pouring, and continued till night; we had nothing but mud to stand in and were wet and uncomfortable. At about ten A. M., I was detailed by Colonel Gordon to take a dozen good men and get a small flat boat there was up the river, and cross with it to the island to bring off a number of our men who were beckoning for aid from there. We got the boat and crossed successfully. The men were from different regiments and had hidden over night; they were very glad of the chance to get back into a friendly State. Not a Secesher made his appearance. The current was strong but the water was not very deep.

Towards night, our regiment moved a little ways back into the woods, where we pitched tents, built fires, got dry, and changed stockings, besides getting something to eat for a change. Next morning, we changed camp, moving back about two miles to get out of reach of the enemy's shells. Five of our companies were out on picket the whole of the night before, in all the rain, without fires. On arriving in camp, our company was put on guard. Just before supper time, I saw a mounted officer ride fast into camp and go up to a group where Lieutenant-Colonel Andrews was standing, and whisper something to him. Two minutes afterwards, I received an order to have the “general” beaten, which is the signal for every man to be at his quarters and strike tents; twenty minutes afterwards, the “assembly” was beaten, the line formed and immediately put in motion towards Edward's Ferry. Although the regiment was jaded, it moved off in fine shape, every one thinking we were sure of a fight. Getting near the river, we were surprised to see the camp of a large army about their usual duties, no signs of a movement. We marched straight to the river and halted for orders. The first I heard was, “Countermarch by file right, march!” The Colonel came by and said to Captain Curtis, “Where do you suppose we are going?” “I don't know.” “Back to camp!” An attack on the other side had been expected and the order had been sent to us to come on. The alarm blew over, our orders were countermanded, but by some miserable mistake, were not transmitted. We had marched six miles for nothing. We started back at ten and got into camp at twelve.

Our dead on the other side of the river were treated shamefully; every pocket was slit down and rifled and every button and shoe taken off. Probably our company goes on picket to-night at the island; if it does not, I shall go over to the Twentieth. Just heard that Captain Schmidt got four balls in his leg and side. He only feels afraid he will not be able to fight them in the next battle. He is doing well. You had better direct to General Banks' division via Washington.

_______________

* Company B had been on detached service as Provost guard for about ten days.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 25-9

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.

_______________

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

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