Samuel Gridley Howe to Senator Charles Sumner, March 15, 1852

Boston, Thursday, March 15, 1852.

Dearest Sumner: — I write you from my house, to which I have been confined by a more than commonly severe attack of neuralgia. I have been indisposed four days, or else I should have studied the land question in order to be able to give a reason for the faith that is in me. I have a sort of instinct that you are in the right, but that you do not go far enough. This whole matter of ownership of God's earth, whether by individuals or by nations, has got to be ripped up and readjusted upon principles and considerations different from those ever yet entertained by any except those who are pooh-poohed down as visionaries.

I do not think the press can make much impression by their outcry against you; besides, that will cease now that Daniel, in order to make a little capital, has followed in your wake. However, I shall be out to-morrow, and will see what I can do.

Some of your friends, and good judicious ones, have been alarmed by the onslaught made upon you for your silence about slavery;¹ and all Hunkerdom shouted “a hit! a capital hit!” when Judge Warren quoted something of yours about the effect of Washington atmosphere upon our Northern representatives &c. Some friends say that you cannot altogether get over an impression (if such should get abroad) that you had wavered, even by your being ever so firm afterwards. I do not share their alarm — not as yet. I do not much regard any temporary and passing policy got up by the daily press; by and by it will not be asked how long was Sumner silent — at what precise moment did he speak — but it will be asked did he speak out and speak bravely? I do think it important, and more than a matter of taste, that your speech should be well-timed, and seem to be called for. There are great and vital questions yet to come up about the Territories, and about California. However, I know nothing about the how, the why, the when — but this I know, you are true and brave—the Bayard of politicians, sans peur et sans reproche.

You will, I doubt not, give due weight to those considerations which your friends urge as calling for a speedy manifestation of your principles.

Vaughan is here, upon Kossuth business principally, but this is entre nous.

I have seen much of him; he is a very intelligent man and I think an honest one as politicians go.

I saw Longfellow at his beautiful home a few days ago.

I saw Palfrey too — growing rapidly into an old man; thin, wan and sad. He is a noble and beautiful spirit.

At the State House our friends are fighting for freedom in every way that seems to them likely to redound to their own credit and continue them in power.

They talk, you know, of violating the common law of custom, and running Rantoul into the Senate — but they will hardly venture, because they do not feel strong enough, and a defeat would be very bad. I am sorry they ever put out any feelers about it.

Your description of your genial days makes me sigh; to-day we have a cold easterly storm and the ground is covered with snow and sleet.

I had fully determined to leave on the first of April when my vacation at the Blind begins; but I have to look out for the Idiots.

Seguin² has been here two months, and proves to be a man of great vigour of intellect, and full of resources; he has done wonders — but we can hardly keep him; he is full of self-esteem and exigeant to the uttermost; one of his conditions is that the Trustees shall not be allowed to hold any meetings without his being present. Another that neither the matron nor any teachers shall hold any communication with the parents of the pupils, &c., &c. Besides, he is choleric, not benevolent, and not very high in his motives.

C'est la gloire — la gloire.

But I must close. Ever thine,

s. G. H.

_______________

¹ See post, p. 382.

² Dr. Edward Seguin, author of “De l'Idiotie,” etc., came in 1852 to “take charge of the school for Idiots long enough to organize the classes, and introduce his method of training.” This gentleman . . . was at the head of the first public institution (for the teaching of idiots,) organized in France.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards, Editor, Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe, Volume 2, p. 365-8

Samuel Gridley Howe to Charles Sumner, December 12, 1851

Boston, Dec. 12, 1851.

My Dear Sumner: — But for an aching head and a sad heart (my spirits always sink to zero when my body is out of working gear), I should write you fully about your speech, which everybody likes and praises, everybody but I! I think you made a mistake, and went too far — and I'll tell you why I think so, when I have any nervous energy to stimulate the brain.

I am glad to hear its praises however, though not so much from Hunkers as others.

Would I could have heard you! And had I known you were to speak I should have done so at any cost. I had determined upon one thing as what I would not swerve from — hearing your maiden speech. But on the 8th you did not know you were to speak.

I fear we shall not succeed in the attempt to get up a Kossuth demonstration here. I have tried in many quarters in vain. I had faint hopes of Hillard, though others said he was earnest in favour of K——. I found him in a poor mood, evidently ill and irritated. He swore by all his Gods, and with an earnestness amounting almost to fierceness, that he would never again as long as he lived take any part in anything of the kind; he denounced politics and political movements, and vowed never to go one inch out of his way for any public matter whatever.

The prospect is that we shall not have a meeting.

I saw Miss Catherine Sedgwick last evening: she felt most warmly about K—— and was indignant at the coldness here. She said she had been here two weeks and seen many people, but I was the first one who had expressed any feeling in favour of K—— being received with honour.

If our party leaders write to you they will tell you there is trouble ahead. I hope to Heaven they have not in any way pledged the party to the Democrats; we have been their bottle holders long enough. Oh! that we had nominated Mann for Governor! It may be Palfrey will go in.

We must fight the Democrats before long. They have not — the masses have not — intelligence enough to overcome their prejudices about colour. The Whigs have more — and when their tyrant oppressor — the Lord and master of their bodies and souls — Black Dan¹ — is dead politically or corporeally — if it happens soon — they will be better allies than the Dems.

But I cannot write more.

Ever thine,

S. G. Howe.

_______________

¹ Daniel Webster.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards, Editor, Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe, Volume 2, p. 352-3

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Francis W. Palfrey, December 15, 1865

December 15. Yesterday we walked for an hour and a half on the parade, and drove in the afternoon. It is very crowded and gay here, and you see all the swell turnouts.

But I must cut this short, or you will be bored. Thanks for your nice letter, received last week. I am delighted to know that you are so nicely “fixed” for the winter. Agnes sends love to your wife, and says your description of your cozy housekeeping just makes us want to go and do likewise. Write me when you have time. Letters from home are a great treat, and impatiently looked for from week to week.

With a merry Christmas and happy New Year, and with much love from both to both, ever yours,

Frank B.

We shall be in Paris by New Year's.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 170-1

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Francis W. Palfrey, December 14, 1865

Brighton, December 14, 1865.

Here we are at the Newport of England, in the height of the season, in comfortable apartments fronting on the Parade, where the world is continually passing and repassing. We are on the ground floor, have a parlor and dining-room in front, dressing-room and large bed-room in rear. We have been trying for rooms for two weeks, but everything is full. The Adamses have been staying down here, but went to town this week. We had a very kind note from Mrs. Adams yesterday, asking us to go there Friday, but we had taken these rooms and did not like to lose them. She had been expecting us down here, as I told Mr. Adams that we were coming as soon as we could get suitable apartments. Charlie Adams is with them now, and we shall see him when we return to town.

Yesterday, Frank, was the best day I have had in England. We went down to Aldershott, under charge of Conolly, on invitation of Lieutenant-general Sir James Scarlett. We found his carriage, etc., waiting at the station, and were soon at his house, where we received a cordial welcome from the old General. He is a fine looking old fellow, white whiskers and moustache, tall and stout. He won his K. C. B. in the Crimea. His staff were fine looking men, well decorated. The troops were all out in line, awaiting our arrival, so we started for the field at once. The General rode a stunning big thorough-bred, and we went in his carriage with two of Lady Abinger's nieces. The field of Aldershott extends for miles without a tree or fence, nothing but barren heath, with a fair division of hilly and level ground. Of course at this season of the year the ground was wet and soft in some places. The old General showed me his morning report before we went out, where I saw that out of 7,000 men he could only get out for work about 4,500, and he asked me if I had not experienced the same annoyance. We know just how to sympathize, don't we, Frank? You see our army is not the only one where your effective men are consumed by furloughs, details, extra duty, etc., etc. Sir James's carriage was allowed to drive inside the line of sentinels, and stand just in rear of the reviewing officers' post. The day, you must know, was perfect, the first sunny day I have seen in England. This long line of cavalry, horse and foot artillery, engineers, and infantry, all in their brilliant uniform, was no common sight to an American soldier. There were two regiments of Highlanders, which added color and effect to the picture. The General and staff started around the line, and the bands began each in turn, as with us, but, also, the commander of each brigade, with his staff, accompanied the General along the front of his own line, the commander of each regiment and troop and battery the same, which I think is a good plan, don't you? for a regimental or brigade commander likes to see how his men look and stand just as well as the commanding general. The engineers had their whole pontoon train out with them, the Division ambulances and wagons were drawn up, — in short, the Division was in perfect marching order, ready for a campaign. In marching past, the cavalry and artillery came first, alternating, then the engineers, then infantry. They marched by divisions, company officers on the flanks; only mounted officers saluted, and I noticed that the General returned the salute of each, but did not salute the colors as every other officer in the group did. The Highlanders did the best marching. I have seen as good in America. The bands of each brigade were massed in one, which stood opposite us while its brigade passed, and, as you can imagine, made great music. The cavalry band, which merely fell back a little while the infantry was passing, now came forward, as the cavalry was to pass again at trot. This was very good, the horses actually keeping step with the quick staccato movement. The saddles of the hussars and the harnesses of the artillery were beautiful to behold, the chains of steel were burnished so that they looked like silver. The guns were “browned” breach-loading Armstrong, three-inch. The pontoons and wagons went by, also, at trot, their equipments as perfect and the uniforms of the drivers as handsome as in the artillery. It was something that I wished many times that you were by my side to see with me. The General now gave his brigadiers and chiefs of artillery and cavalry a general idea of what he wanted done, and then, telling us how we could best see the movements, left us in charge of the provost marshal, who had a guard to keep spectators from interfering with the troops. Sir James's carriage, with our party, was inside this guard, and privileged to move about at will, so as not to be in the way of the troops. If I had known how it was to be, I should have gone prepared to ride, as the General had a horse ready for me. But we saw very well from the carriage. Front was changed to the rear, the cavalry sent off to the left to harass the flank of the enemy, a heavy skirmish line sent forward which opened fire at once, advancing in beautiful order, taking the different crests, which were quickly capped with artillery, opening as soon as it was in position, the first line and supports moving up, keeping their distances well, now moving to the right or left as imagined necessity required.

It was all so natural and so real, that I expected every minute to hear a bullet whiz by my ear, or a shell go screeching over my head. I saw one flaw, which of course I held my tongue about (but which the General himself spoke about and condemned afterwards); the pontoons were sent forward, ready to throw across a canal that intersects the field, and they were right up with the skirmish line without any support, and being very large and heavy and conspicuous, they would have been an easy mark for a good gunner, or have fallen an easy prey to a determined dash of cavalry, which could easily have broken through the skirmish line. The pontoons are unlike ours, — open wooden boats, — but are cylindrical buoys, about twenty feet long and four feet diameter, on which the timbers are laid, and being made of iron, air-tight, would be transformed into pepper-boxes by a clever gunner in no time in such an open country as that. However, the skirmishers cleared the way, and the pontoons were got into the water in safety, and the bridge very quickly laid, over which part of the infantry passed; the rest, and the artillery, which was all this time firing over our heads from the crests in our rear, crossed by a stone bridge farther to the right, the cavalry by one on the left. We went over the pontoon, which was very solid, sending the carriage around by the stone bridge on account of the horses. It took them about twenty-five minutes, I should think, to get the bridge ready for troops. The enemy (?) now was in full retreat, and a general advance was made, while the cavalry charged from the flank.

We drove around through the barracks, which were the picture of neatness, back to Sir James's to lunch. Lady Scarlett we found a nice, dignified old lady. We also found that after an early breakfast and a long morning, we were quite ready for the substantial lunch to which I presently handed in “my lady.” After lunch, Sir James spoke of the mistake of having those pontoons in such an exposed position, and I was pleased to find that I had seen it. He said I must go down there again in the spring, when he will have twice as many troops, and I shall only be too glad to do so. They were all very cordial and kind, and I don't remember a more enjoyable day. It only needed an enemy and ball cartridges, without the lunch and ladies, to make it like many disagreeable ones that we have seen. We had to go back to London to take the Brighton train, and got here very comfortably.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 166-70

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Francis W. Palfrey, Friday, November 29, 1865

November 29.

I doubt my getting off a long letter to you this time. I have been kept in the house these last three days, and indeed in my room, by a very severe boil (more like a carbuncle, the Doctor says), just on the small of my back, So that I could neither wear leg nor even pants. I shall get out to-morrow, I think. Since I sent you my last scrap of a note, I have done nothing very important. On the 21st we went down to St. James's Palace with Conolly, and saw guard-mounting. One company of the Grenadiers relieved a company of the Coldstreams. Their guard-mounting is different from ours, you know. The inspection is all done at the barracks before they march out. The band forms in a circle at one side of the quadrangle, and plays while the two guards stand facing each other, about forty paces apart. The first relief being sent out to post, when the relief gets round the old guard marches off, the new guard saluting, and every officer within sight of the colors, not on duty nor even in uniform, lifting the beaver and standing uncovered as reverently while England's color goes by, as if it were England's queen, and I think it is splendid, and as it should be in every country. I met one or two pleasant men there, one Seymour, Captain on Staff, and one Bramston, Colonel.

The next day but one Conolly had me to breakfast at the Army and Navy Club, Pall Mall, and after that we went down the river on one of the many swift-plying, dirty little steamboats, under the many bridges, getting the best view of St. Paul's, and the Monument, and Somerset House, an immense palace now used entirely for government offices, and the old Tower with its many associations. How I wish I could remember all the stories about the Tower that I knew when a boy. By the shipping of all nations “below bridge,” and the wonderful docks, by Greenwich and Black wall and to Woolwich, where the artillery camp, arsenal, school, barracks, etc., are. We found Colonel Reilly, whom we were looking for, just turning out with his troops in full dress, for the burial of a soldier. The uniform is very handsome, the horse artillery being the only corps I believe that retains the full dress jacket or tunic. The officers' dress was one labyrinth of gold lace and bullion. Every man and officer has to turn out for the burial of a private soldier and follow the coffin at slow march to the grave. Again, as it should be in every army. While they were gone we looked through the new hospital, built here on a very large scale, and with every modern improvement. Then we went through the academy, which is devoted entirely to artillery studies. The cadets were fine looking fellows, wearing those nobby little artillery fatigue caps on the side of their head, and with their tight fitting jackets, looked very soldierly. The gymnasium here is the best I ever saw. Then we went back to Colonel Reilly's quarters. He had not returned from the burial, but lunch was ready, and Conolly and I being ready for it, we sailed in. The Colonel returned soon and took us through the men's quarters, etc., etc., which were in the order that you can imagine. Officers do not return the salute of men without arms here. We drove in the Colonel's trap over to the chapel, which is very beautiful, and has one of the finest arches that I have seen (Byzantine I believe). Many of the windows are memorial, put up by the different troops of horse artillery. The mess-room in the main barracks is a very large and elegant room, and the silver superb. You would fancy yourself in some very swell club, from the space and comfort. We came home by rail, and dined at the Army and Navy Club.

I shall have to stop just where I am, for I must get the parcel off in time, and this must go by mail to Moodie. I have put in one of the pockets of your coat a trifling souvenir for Christmas, for yourself. I am waiting patiently for a long letter from you. I suppose it must be long from the time you have been taking to write it. With much love to all yours,

Believe me sincerely,

Frank.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 163-6

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Colonel Francis W. Palfrey, Friday, November 18, 1865

London, November 18, 1865.

Only time for a word this ship. Last Saturday, went down to George's hunting-box, and if you will believe it, rode one of his thoroughbreds in tops and cords on an English hunting-saddle after the hounds, and was in at the death. It was great sport. I did not do anything foolish in the way of big jumps, of course, but I never wanted two legs so much in my life. I would have shown the field some clean heels, I fancy, for my chestnut was a “goer,” stands to win a steeple-chase, etc. I rode upwards of twenty miles, and then, as the second fox had been lost, and my leg began to chafe, I turned home. It was a beautiful sight, Frank, — what I have always wanted to see, but never supposed that I should take part in it. Lord Maiden is master of the hounds, and was much interested in my riding. I believe I am to have the “brush.” I wish you could see the horse that my groom rode. He is a wicked one; but if you should “put him at” a barn he would rise to it (and if it wasn't too absurd, I was going to say, could take it). He is called “Greek Fire,” and is one of the “strongest” goers in England. He had a hard hunt the day before, and so was very quiet that day. Aren’t you glad I was able to see so much of a hunt? I got along in an English saddle much better than I expected. But you know in riding here you put your foot way into the iron up to your instep, so that was just the thing for my wooden foot. I shall have to leave a good deal of this to tell you.

Yesterday we came in from Walton on Thames, Sturgis's place, where we had been to dine and pass the night, — splendid house, everything very swell and comfortable. I enjoy the life here very much, especially the country life. I like their style in this thing. I wish I had time to write you a long letter, but have patience. I go to Aldershott next week, and Woolwich, with Colonel Conolly. He has written to General Sir James Scarlett, commanding, that he is coming to bring me, and so, if he is going to have anything worth seeing, to put it off till the day we are there. He served twenty years with Sir James, on his staff and otherwise, and I could n't have a better man to go there with. I am going to see guard-mounting in St. James's Park, too, next week, with him, and will tell you of that. It is not the lime of year to see troops here, as they have no fielddays and reviews now; but nous verrons.

We dine with Weatherall next week. He is one of the swells here in the army line. I saw him at the Horse-guards yesterday. Also dine at the Army and Navy Club one day with Conolly.

Yours,

Frank.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 162-3

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Colonel Francis W. Palfrey, Friday, November 10, 1865

Friday, 10th. I was interrupted, and I find that Agnes has been putting in a word, which you won't mind. I have only a few minutes to write to-day, for we are off in an hour or two to the country, where George has a hunting-box. Agnes and Mrs. G. will drive down in the coupe and I shall go by rail later. I have a note from George this morning, who went down yesterday, saying he had a good day. The “Meet” tomorrow is about two miles from the “Box.” I shall ride one of his thorough-breds, but I do not expect to follow the hounds, as it would be very foolish, not having my own saddle, etc.

Lord Maiden is “master of the hounds” (it is a subscription pack). I expect to enjoy meeting some of these birds as much as seeing the hounds. I haven't time to tell you about George, what a “swell” he is on wines and cigars, and that sort of thing. I will write you next week if it is a possible thing.

I have not done anything in the way of troops yet, as General Weatherall has gone into the country for a week's shooting. Next week he will be here. I saw a very handsome troop of horse-guards in the street, fine-looking fellows, all mounted on black horses. But if I were queen of England, I'll swear that I would have better soldiers on guard in front of my quarters than were in front of Buckingham Palace the day we drove by there. They were not soldierly sentinels. They neither marched well, nor came about well, nor carried their pieces well, of which more anon.

I must say good-by, old fellow. I hope to hear a word from you pretty soon. I am very well and strong. Take try beer for lunch like a man. Love to all yours; excuse this shabby letter. I know you will say it's shabby, for you never lie, even out of politeness.

And believe me, with much love, ever yours,

Frank Bartlett.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 161-2

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Colonel Francis W. Palfrey, November 8, 1865

4 Westbourne Square, Hyde Park, West.

London, November 8, 1865.

There you have it in full, our present location. The Pomeroys have taken a house, very nice one, comfortably furnished and served, in Oxford Terrace, a short ride from here; but Agnes’ cousin insisted on having us two with him. He lives in very good style in this, one of the best localities. We are of course much more comfortable here than we should be at hotel or lodgings, and are hardly able to realize that we are in a foreign land, for thus far we have been, both here and at Rock Park (Liverpool), so much at home. We stayed nearly a week at Rock Park, getting our land legs on again.

We had a very rough passage. was quite sick the first day or two, much to my disgust and surprise. But Gus. Perkins, who was with us, consoled me by telling me of his brother-in-law, who made fifteen passages without being in the least sick, and the sixteenth suffered dreadfully the whole voyage. Which, though it quieted my feelings, did not affect my stomach. The rest of the party were sick for the first few days. We had not one smooth day. It is perfectly impossible for me to write anything satisfactory just now, as several people are talking to me. I have been about London a little, doing a little general sight-seeing, trying to get the “lay of the land,” etc.

Dear Colonel Palfrey, — I can't resist just adding my mite to Frank's letter. I shall report to you all the honor done to one we both love so well. He is a wonder to everybody, walking so well, and so young a general. The ship-board people thought the story of his having but one leg a Canterbury, and I did not wonder, for he managed remarkably. I am very proud of him. Do you think it unpardonable? I am sure not. We are enjoying every moment. I think it would be hard to find two happier people than Frank and myself anywhere in Christendom. I am hoping he will see some of the troops next week. General Weatherall of the Horse-guards will be back then, and he is a great friend of ours. We are going down to my cousin's hunting-box on Friday. There is to be a “Meet” on Saturday. Frank will ride, though he will not follow the hounds. I expect we' shall enjoy the novelty of the sight very much. But I must not steal Frank's thunder, and I shall just say good-by now, only adding much love for your dear wife and my cordial remembrances to all your family. I don't know what Frank will say to this intrusion, but I could not help it.

Very truly yours,

Agnes Bartlett.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 159-60

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Colonel Francis W. Palfrey, July 8, 1865

Headquarters, First Division, Ninth Corps.

July 8, 1865.

My last was written about the 24th ult., since which time I have changed my views somewhat about remaining in the service. I find that it is a very different thing from what it used to be in war times. There is not half the incentive to labor on your command that there once was, and especially now, when these troops are restless and dissatisfied about getting mustered out, it is almost impossible to get men or officers to do their duty properly. As I told you, I found the Division in a poor state of discipline. I have succeeded in bringing it up somewhat, but it has only been by my constant personal supervision.

I have roughed more officers, and reduced more noncoms, to the ranks, these last two or three weeks, than in any other year of service. There is a very visible and gratifying change, still there is not that charm about the life that used to fascinate. You feel that the object, the aim, of this discipline is gone. You cannot feel that next week, in the presence of the enemy, we shall reap the benefit of this drill and training.

I am very glad that I came out here and satisfied myself, otherwise I might have always regretted that I had left the service, and been restless and discontented.

There are many pleasant things about it still. . . . . There is always more or less of a feeling of pride and pleasure in having a number of men under your control. But I have not been quite so well here as I was at home, and I really suppose it would be better for me to be further north this summer. For all that, Frank, it will be a very sad day for me, the one that I cease to be a soldier. . . . . I shall be in Boston the 20th. I am looking forward to the 21st with dread. I have been informed that a few words would be expected from me, among others, and, Frank, I'll swear I can't get up before such a crowd as that, and speak. What can I say? I am not joking. I feel very unpleasantly about it. . . . . I was talking with Charley Whittier yesterday; he is afraid he will be called on, and we were groaning in sympathy.

By the way, Charley has one of the best appointments in the service, better than he could have hoped for as a volunteer officer, when so very few will be retained, — Adjutant-general of one of the departments of the Pacific, either Oregon or California. It is a very great compliment to him, and every one here is glad; he is a great favorite throughout the army. He will be in Boston till the first of August. Macy has got a brigade in the Provisional Army Potomac. He intends to stay, I believe. I don't suppose he can after the Twentieth is mustered out, but that is retained for the present By the way, I have something to tell you which will please and interest you to know. I was recommended some time since for a “Brevet Major-general” for “gallant and meritorious conduct” at the Mine. I had never heard of it before, and indeed had never thought of such a thing, and I was not a little surprised, as you will be, to hear it. Colonel Marshall told me that he saw the report. Very few of the recommendations for brevets have been acted upon in this Corps yet, and I suppose mine is filed with the rest. So I don't expect to get it before I leave the service. But it is rather gratifying to know that the recommendation has been made, even if there is nothing more. I never ask any questions, and 1 suppose that is why I didn't know of this before. They seem to expect if a man wants a brevet, he will apply or ask for it, which to me (I may have a false idea about such things) seems a contradiction in terms. An officer, speaking in a complimentary way of my fortunes the other night, asked me why I didn't “apply for a brevet.” To cut him down, for he was one of them, I rather lied when I said, “I didn't know that was the way you got them.” I have learnt that, since I have been out here. Why, Frank, we used to think that our officers who had been brevetted in the Mexican War were special heroes, and had done some extraordinary feat of courage and devotion, but this sort of thing makes me rather skeptical about the value of a brevet in the armies of the Republic. . . . .

Yours ever,

Frank.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 155-7

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Colonel Francis W. Palfrey, June 26, 1865

Headquarters First Division, Ninth Corps,

Near Washington, June 26, 1865.

Why shouldn't I send you a few lines this rainy afternoon, to tell you where I am and what doing? I was very sorry not to see you before I came away, but you had gone out of town. I got my orders Friday afternoon, and left two P. M. Saturday, — rather a short time in which to break up a seven months' camp. I was not able to see any one, of course; but good-by now was a much less serious matter, and more easily omitted, than it was seven months ago. I hope you and your wife are out of town by this time, enjoying fresh air and exercise.

I am rather pleasantly situated. I am commanding the First Division of the Corps. My headquarters are in a lovely oak grove, a few (2½) miles out from Georgetown, on the Tenallytown Road, the old Rockville Pike which we knew of old. I am just a little off the road, in tents. I prefer sleeping in a tent, although there is a very good house near by at my service.

The temperature out here under these trees is a very different thing from the fiendish heat of that wretched town that consists of the President's house and the Capitol. I was there a week before I came out here, and it nearly killed me.

My Division lies up the road towards Tenallytown — three brigades, well situated for water, slope, and air. One brigade is commanded by a brigadier, the other two by colonels. I found the command in rather a slack state of discipline. No attention paid to guard-duty or drill. It is natural that men should feel, now that the war for which they enlisted is over, that there is no further need of discipline, and that the strict performance of guard-duty any longer is needless. (I only name guard-duty as one of the points by which you judge of a regiment's “breeding” and efficiency.) In this they are rather encouraged by a certain class of officers, — you well know what I mean if I say the Le Barnes school, — and this feeling of expectancy and uncertainty about getting mustered out is prejudicial to discipline.

I had all the regimental and brigade commanders here the other night, and gave them a lecture of an hour and a half. You would have smiled to see me laying down the law, surrounded by about twenty of these old birds. I fancy it woke them up, for I have been pleased to see a marked change for the better already.

It seems funny to be here on this old road, in command of a Division, where I marched up under your baton not many months ago on foot. I intend to ride up to Poolesville as soon as the weather is a little cooler, if we remain here, and going over to Ball's Bluff and Leesburg. I wish you would come out and go too.

Charlie Whittier and Macy were over to see me the other day. Whit is the same fair boy as ever. I suppose the Army of the Potomac will be dissolved soon; an order will soon be out mustering out “veterans,” which will reduce it very much.

Miss Jennie Turnbull proposes to convert me from my dislike to Washington, so that I shall never want to go away from here after a little while. I should like to “give odds” on it.

Dear Frank, this isn't a very satisfactory letter. There are many things that I have to talk with you about.

Remember me to all yours. Let me have a line from you when you have a spare half hour, and believe me,

Always yours,

Frank.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 150-2

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Friday, October 28, 1864

Rain-storm. Sent letter to Agnes. Frank Palfrey comes down. Very pleasant evening. I smoked a “Manilla.” Told him of my engagement, etc. Letter from leg man, New York.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 147

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Monday, October 17, 1864

Went to town, saw Ben and F. W. P., Murray, many people. Saw Dr. Bigelow. Sent letter to Agnes.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 147

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Thursday, October 13, 1864

Rain-storm. Wrote letters. Arthur is out. Home to-night. Mulford kept his word. Notes from Ben and F. W. P.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 147

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Colonel Francis W. Palfrey, September 20, 1864

Libby Prison Hospital,

Richmond, September 20, 1864.

It was a happy surprise to me to get your letter of the 2d, a day or two since. It came through by the last boat It is the only letter I have had, excepting one from home (August 3d), since I was captured. You didn't think when you wrote, telling me of Arthur's capture, that we should be sitting vis-a-vis partaking the frugal meal together, when it reached me. Such was the case. After I had been here in hospital five or six days, I received a scrap of paper on which was written a hasty salutation from Arthur. Imagine my surprise, not having heard of his misfortune. As I was expecting to go by the boat which went the next day, I asked to have him allowed to come down and see me. He came the next morning, just as I was going. I left with him all the money, etc., that I had, and bade him good-by. After going to the boat in ambulance, and getting nicely on board, an order came from Colonel Ould that I must go back to prison. I could not go until General Walker was sent up, etc. There was nothing to be said. I could not help thinking that it would at least have been considerate in Ould to have spared me the disappointment of going down on board the boat, to return again to prison, when he had no intention of letting me go. When I came to Richmond from Danville and reported to him, he said I was “to be sent North by first flag of truce boat,” and so endorsed the order sending me here. Nothing was said about its depending upon Walker's coming up, and I believe that was an afterthought. It was a sad disappointment to come back within these prison walls and bars after getting so far on my road to liberty. I looked forward then to the next boat, but was doomed to disappointment again.

I hope the next one, which will be here the last of this week, will bring Walker and take me away. Indeed I hope more than I expect. If I was well, I should not be so impatient, and am not so anxious now as when I was so very ill. The Surgeon at Danville recommended that I be exchanged, as I was in a critical condition, and “if I recovered would not be fit for duty for many months.” I am safely through, though, thank God. The thought of dying there in that hospital, with no one to speak to, not a single officer of our army in the place, no one to whom I could trust either effects or messages, was pretty hard to bear. I shall have much to tell you when we meet, which time, I pray, is not far distant. It is a great comfort to me, having Arthur here. He is shamming sick in order to stay here in hospital, where he is of course much more comfortable than “in quarters.” He is very well indeed, and in excellent spirits. I am very anxious to hear from home of many persons, especially Macy. I heard that he was seriously injured internally by his horse falling on him, and Patten has lost a leg! I am very sorry for him ; hope it is not above the knee. Poor Charlie Peirson, his death was very sad. I fear there must be others that I have not heard of yet.

I write this to send by some officer who goes by the next boat. I don't know whether letters sent through the regular channels reach you. They certainly do not reach us. This is contraband, but can easily be smuggled inside a man's coat-lining. I fear you will have trouble in deciphering it. I shall write mother by this boat, but you might let them know that you hear from me in case theirs should miscarry. I am doing comparatively well, remember, and am ready to endure it as long as may be necessary. My experience, I suppose. wouldn't have been considered complete without this phase.

Remember me to any who have not forgotten me.

Ever yours,

Frank B.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 139-42

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Tuesday, September 20, 1864

Beautiful day. The Sergeant in one of his whims has not been out to buy anything for us for several days, so that we have been short. We are dependent entirely on the whim of this low, ugly-dispositioned brute. This steward can't manage him as well as Cotting used to. Wrote F. W. P. to send by boat.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 139

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Wednesday, September 14, 1864

A letter from F. W. P. at dinner, September 2. Says father told him I had been exchanged as it was arranged. Tells me of Arthur's capture. Arthur and I were eating a good dinner together when it was received. The time passes much more quickly than it did. Beautiful moonlight nights now, too bad to be shut up within prison bars. I hope the next moon I shall see on salt water. I am tired of seeing it reflected on this river and canal. My leg pains me a great deal to-day and to-night. We play, poker — six.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 138

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Tuesday, August 30, 1864

This morning a letter was put in my hands, directed in father's well-known hand, from mother, dated August 3d. It was a comfort to get it, although of so old a date. She says F. W. P. had written; that I have not received. My horses I trust are sent home ere this. Dr. White promised to send them. George should have known enough to have started for home with all my other things.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 133

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Harriet Plummer, July 23, 1864

Headquarters First Brigade, First Division,

Ninth Army Corps.

Before Petersburg, Va., July 23, 1864. Evening.

My Dear Mother, — This is the first day since I left Washington that I have been able to write at all. Perhaps you will have thought that you ought to hear from me before this reaches you; but I have taken the first opportunity and have not forgotten your injunctions. I left Washington Tuesday P. M., reached here Wednesday P. M. Came from Fortress Monroe on despatch boat with General Ingalls, Chief Quartermaster of Army, with whom I dined at City Point, where his headquarters are. By chance found the Chaplain at the Point, and sent for my horses. Ned and Billy were both looking finely. After dinner started for the front. Got as far as my Quartermaster's camp, and as it began to rain, I stayed there all night with him. I slept very well my first night on the ground. In the morning a black snake over six feet long was killed within a few feet of my bed. After breakfast, rode on up to Division Hospital, where I found Dr. White, and several old letters, among them the Nut's of June 6, which I found time to read to-day. Afterwards went to Burnside's Headquarters to report for duty. He was not in. I dined with some of the staff; saw the General later. He was glad to see me. I am assigned, as I supposed, to the command of the First Brigade, First Division. General Ledlie commands the Division. There are now six Massachusetts regiments and one Pennsylvania in the brigade, not numbering more than 1,300 men altogether, present for duty. If the regiments were filled up it would be one of the largest and best brigades in the Army, being all Massachusetts troops. I am trying to get C. B. Amory, of Jamaica Plains, formerly of the Twenty-fourth Regiment, who has been appointed Assistant Adjutant-general, transferred to this brigade. I shall use for the present the staff that is here . . . . the surgeon, a Dr. Ingalls, of Boston, Fifty-ninth Regiment, who is very much of a gentleman. I slept last night and the night before at Division Headquarters with Adjutant-general Mills, Fifty-sixth. He was hoping that I would take the Division, but it seems Ledlie has withdrawn his resignation. The brigade is in two lines of breastworks, one hundred yards apart, in the front of the enemy's works and within two hundred yards in some places. Brigade Headquarters are two hundred and fifty yards in rear of the second line. Division Headquarters two hundred yards in rear of brigade; so you see all are in easy musket range of the enemy. We are in pine woods, the trees not very thick. The Headquarters have to be protected by a stockade of logs against bullets, which are constantly coming through here. Four officers of the Fifty-seventh have been hit since I got here, one killed, three very badly wounded, in the second line. Our stockade does not protect us against shells, which fall in front and rear of us, but have not hit the Headquarters yet. Some fall way in the rear of Division Headquarters, and some near Corps Headquarters, which are about one fourth of a mile in rear of Division. We have a stockade to protect the horses, too, but one of the orderlies' horses and one of General Ledlie's were killed the other day. A bullet goes whizzing over my tent every few minutes as I write, and goes thud into one of the trees near, with a sound that makes you think what a headache that would have given you if your head had been where the tree was. The bullets patter like rain at times against the outside of this stockade of logs, the inside of which my elbow touches as I write. It is a continual rattle of musketry, sometimes swelling into a roar along the line, and varied with the artillery and mortars. So you see we are liable at any moment to be struck, even while reading a paper or eating dinner. A bullet went through Dr. Anderson's table as he was eating breakfast this morning. You must be prepared to hear the worst of me at any time. God grant it may not come, for your sake, and for the sake of all I love and who love me at home. But you must be prepared for it. It is wearing to body and mind, this being constantly under fire. People at the North who are enjoying themselves and thinking of nothing but making money, little appreciate what this brave army is enduring every day and hour for them, and how much more cheerful and hopeful they are than people at home. I wish some of the patriotic (?) ones at home who are making speeches (and money), would just come out here and spend a week, even back here at my Headquarters. They would not care to go down to the lines where the men are day and night fighting for their security and safety. I came over here this morning and assumed command. Tomorrow I must go down and examine the lines, which is of course dangerous; but trust I shall get back safely. I shan't go there any oftener than is necessary, but it is my duty to visit them occasionally. To give you an idea of the firing that is going on constantly, I will count the shots in the next minute. It is more quiet than usual to-night. Eighty-one, and one heavy mortar shell, which burst in the air between here and second line, but sounded as if it were in the next tent. “There!” at that moment a bullet went whizzing through between mine and the one next, just above the stockade (which is a little higher than your head when sitting), and struck down somewhere between here and Division Headquarters, near where the horses are. So you see this letter is written literally under fire. I am feeling very well, my leg is better in the saddle than it was before. I have got my valise, etc., and shall be quite comfortable in a day or two (under the circumstances), if I am spared so long. I intend to have this stockade built higher to-morrow, so as to afford more protection from bullets. If the rebs knew just where our Headquarters are, they would shell us out from here in three minutes; but fortunately they don't, and can only guess. They guess inconveniently near at times. As I may not have time to write, you can let Frank Palfrey and Ben see this letter, if you see them, and if the Nut chooses to copy it she can, and send it to Aunt.

There goes another bullet. Frank Palfrey will readily understand and appreciate our position here. I hope I shall hear from you soon. The mail comes regularly every night. I will write as often as I can. Have other letters to write to-night, so will finish this. There is one pleasant thing to relieve the wear of this, — I have a good band here at Headquarters, and it plays at intervals through the day and evening, protected by a stockade. The rebs have the benefit of it as much as I do, but I can't help it. They favor us with a band sometimes. Tell the Nut and Miss Barnett that they just played “When Johnny comes Marching Home,” and “Faust.” “Thud;” there go two ugly bullets into a tree near by, one of them, George thinks, went through the upper part of the tent. How should you like to lie down and go to sleep with this going on all night? I expect to sleep soundly. I have for two nights. With much love to all,

Ever your affectionate son,

W. F. B.

Zip prrrrrr goes the last bullet you will hear, for I close this now. That one went over to Division Headquarters. Here's another before I could get my pen off the paper. Good-night.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 110-5

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Colonel Francis W. Palfrey, July 1, 1864

Washington, D. C., July 1,1864.

Here it is July, Frank, and I am not out of this miserable place yet. I expect now to go down to the front the first of next week. I am assigned to the Ninth Corps, and shall keep the same brigade that I was in before. It was very strong,—five regiments Massachusetts and two United States. Since I came away, the Regulars have been transferred to the Fifth Corps. I shall probably have no permanent staff at present. As soon as we have a respite and reorganize a little, I shall try to get together a congenial and efficient one. Ben has been waiting for my promotion, to go on the staff. I have written him that it is a bad time to join just now, — heat, dirt, reduced commands, etc., — and it may discourage him. Of course it will be pleasant for me to have him for a companion. Herbert is here now. Goes back to-night. He would like to go with me if he could ride. He gets very impatient and blue at times. If he could only ride!

Yes, Frank, I have got my commission at last, signed by Abe and Stanton. Gotten up in great style, in a brown tin case, with my name, rank, etc., in large letters of gold on the outside. The appointment was made early in June, but the Senate had no executive session till the 20th. You were right, Frank, in addressing my letter as you did, although the confirmation was made when I got it. I was very much annoyed by receiving letters of congratulation, etc., before the confirmation. Meant in all kindness, of course; but I was sorry that anything was known about it until it was confirmed. I saw it, the appointment, in the paper (Boston paper at that) first, just after I wrote you last. I must say I hardly expected it.

The weather here has been fearfully hot. Almost unbearable. I gave a small dinner night before last at Buhler's; Majors Cutting and Raymond, of Augur's Staff, Caspar and Herb., with one or two others, made a very pleasant little party. Buhler quite surpassed my expectations. It is the best place in Washington, I think, although I heard that it had fallen off.

Yesterday, Herb. and I drove out to Fall's Church, to Caspar's Camp. I have found myself many times this last week wishing that you were here; but you were enjoying the cool breezes which I could not have procured for you here, and were better off.

I have too much in my mind that I want to say to you to begin to put it on paper.

The “gobbling” of the old brigade that the Twentieth was in was an unlucky termination to a long and brave career. I am glad the Twentieth escaped.

I am getting quite thin. My stump gets smaller every day. I have two thicknesses of leather, and two or three wads of paper round my stump, to fill up the socket. If it continues to wilt, I shall have to get another new socket made, which will delay me.

Ever yours,

Frank.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 107-8

Colonel William F. Bartlett to Colonel Francis W. Palfrey, June 14, 1864

Washington, June 14, 1864.

Your kind letter I found here on Sunday last when I returned from Baltimore, where I passed last week very quietly. I am much better than when I left you, and feel that I am improving every day. I had a slight relapse on Sunday for some reason or other. I had been to church in the morning, and as I got out of the carriage at the house I had a severe pain strike me. . . . .

I went to dinner in the afternoon, but this pain increased so, that I had to leave the table. I came very near tipping over; I never was so faint before, simply from pain. I was alarmed, as that was a new spot for me to have pain, and I could not account for it. I took off my leg, and in ten minutes the pain had almost entirely gone.

I came to Washington that night, expecting to go down to the front this morning, but the Medical Director here advised so strongly my waiting a few days longer that I have consented. He explained the attack of Sunday by saying that the socket must have pressed unduly upon, or strained, some particular nerve (I forget what it was, and you would not know if I should tell you), and the pain was from sympathy or connection with this nerve. I was relieved to know that it was nothing worse. I have had one or two very slight touches since. Surgeon says I must begin moderately in using my leg.

I have not been to the President with your father's letter. The fact is, I can't make up my mind to go to these men and ask for anything. It was very kind of your father to write such a letter for me. I only intended to ask for a simple note of introduction, to say that my name was B. and he knew it. General Augur has been to see Stanton, and I hear that the papers have been referred to General Halleck. I suppose they will be pigeon-holed somewhere, and that will be the last of it. I should have liked to have it come from Stanton, as he voluntarily promised, and if it does come at all, it must come of itself; for I should be a very poor hand pulling wires, or urging anything of the sort.

There are doubtless plenty of easy berths here that I could have for the asking; but I don't want them. I feel that I am not adapted for office business here, such as provost-marshal, etc. If I am of any value, it is in the field, in the actual handling and government of troops.

Still, it seems pretty hard for me to go down there and take command of my one hundred men, a captain's command, after the larger ones that I have had. I heard from the regiment to-day. It has a good reputation throughout the corps. All speak of Colonel Chandler's splendid bravery and coolness.

Believe me dear Frank,

As ever, yours,

F. B.

I think of poor Lit. so often, Frank; I can't realize that I am never to see him any more.

I went to the Hospital yesterday to see Crowell, of I (Twentieth); do you remember him? He has lost a leg. He seemed very glad to see me, and I was able to make him more comfortable. He asked about you.

F.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 103-6