Major Wilder Dwight: Saturday Night, October 26, 1861

Camp Near The Little Seneca, Saturday Night,

9 o'clock, P. M.

He who predicts the morrow in this life has his labor for his pains. The morrow takes care of itself. Here we are, and tattoo is just beating again, and we are twelve miles from our last night's camp. I will go on with my story. When I got to the river, I began to carry out my instructions from General Hamilton. They were, to visit Harrison's Island, which was abandoned by our troops on Tuesday night, and bring off some government stores. I found that, owing to the stupidity of the officer whom I had left in charge at the point of crossing opposite the island, one of the ropes had been cut, and there was only one rope left stretching across the river on which I could ferry my men over. I got my men ready, took the two leaky flatboats and moored them well, and waited for darkness. The night was very cold. In its cover we started with one boat, leaving directions for the other to follow after we got across and got things secure. We pulled across silently on the rope which came up out of the water, and sagged a good deal with the stream. Just as we got within the shadows of the opposite bank, the Sergeant whispered, “Hold on, the rope has broken.” The men held on by the end, and, sure enough, it had parted, and we were swinging off down stream away from the island. There was something laughable in the mischance. We had nothing for it but to return, which we did, coiling the rope in our boat as we went back. So ended all visits, for the present, by our troops to Harrison's Island. I was kept on the alert all night by firing up the river, and got no sleep of any consequence, — sending and receiving despatches from General Hamilton. At light, — a bright, golden, October morning, ice an inch thick, — I visited all the outlooks, and then went back to camp to report to General Hamilton. After breakfast, on Friday morning, the Colonel suggested that we should ride to the Fifteenth and Twentieth.

I went to see Lieutenant-Colonel Ward. He has lost his leg, below the knee. Said he, “Major, I am not as I was in Washington.” “No,” said I, “you should have accepted my invitation, and ridden up with me on Monday.” We were together last Saturday night at Willard's, and I begged him to wait till Monday and go up with me. He said, “No, I shall be needed in camp.”

We then went to the Twentieth. I wish all the friends of the young wounded officers could see them; it was a pleasant picture. In the first tent I visited I found Captain John Putnam. He was bright and in good spirits. I shook his left hand. His right arm is gone at the shoulder. Turning to the other bed, I met the pleasant smile of Lieutenant Holmes. He greeted me as cordially as if we had met at home, talked gayly of soon getting well again. His wound is through the body sideways, just missing the lungs, and following the ribs. Young Lieutenant Lowell, too, in the next tent, was making light of only a flesh wound in the thigh. Caspar Crowninshield, whom I found helping Colonel Palfrey, and acting as Major, was as calm as possible. He gave a very good account of the fight; he evidently did gloriously. Only once, when he spoke of the terrible scene in the river after they got in swimming, did he seem to think of the horrors of the scene. Young Harry Sturgis was also bright. He said that Lieutenant Putnam, who was wounded in the bowels, wished to be left, as he said, to die on the field. “That is the fit place to die,” he said. But Harry took him in his arms and brought him to the river. Young Abbott looked well. Lieutenant Perry is a prisoner, but I think safe, without doubt. So of Major Revere and Colonel Lee. When we got back to camp I got a report from the river that the enemy were quite numerous on the opposite bluff, and that they were putting a field-piece in position there. Though I did not credit it, down I went, and spent the afternoon. We found they had occupied, or rather visited, the island. My glass let me see them plainly in many places, and in others they were within familiar conversational distance. I found they were re-establishing their pickets strongly. I left Captain Curtis in charge, and returned to camp. I found that I was detailed as one of the Examining Board for our division. The Board consists of General Hamilton, Colonel Halleck, and myself. We are to examine the officers as to their qualifications, &c. I cannot approve of my appointment, but as it emanates from the Head-quarters of the Army of the Potomac, I suppose it is all right.

This morning I was sitting at breakfast, when up rode General Hamilton's aide. “Major,” said he, “General Hamilton says you will move your detachment at once.” “What detachment?” said I. “The advanced guard and pioneers,” said he. “I have no orders,” said I, “and no guard.” “There is some mistake,” said he. Then up came a lieutenant from an Indiana regiment. “I am ordered to report to you,” said he. “Very well,” said I. I went over to General Hamilton, and found the whole brigade was under marching orders. By inadvertence we had not received ours. All the rest of the brigade were ready to start, and our tents were all standing. I went off at once, with my pioneers, and put the road in condition. Here we are in camp. Our regiment was, of course, the last to start. All the others were in motion before our tents were struck. But our regiment passed all the others on the way, and was first in camp to-night. We can march. Our night march to the Ferry was perfect. Life is brisk with us, you see.

I have father's letter about the stockings. After our wretched wet marching, the stockings will be a mercy, I think. Please to tell Mrs. Ticknor that towels, one apiece, will be good for us. I did not think of mentioning them, as, in the seriousness of actual business, the luxuries are lost sight of. The regiment will move to-morrow to the neighborhood of the mouth of the Muddy Branch, near the Potomac. There we are to go into camp for the present. So ends our week's work. Hard and busy, but not without its use. This morning, as our company on picket-duty came along the canal to rejoin the regiment, the Rebels from the island fired on them several times. They were also busy diving and fishing for the guns which the men threw away in their flight.

The rascals are very saucy over their victory. I think they have the advantage of our men in the chaffing which goes on across the river, though one of our corporals told the sentry opposite him, who was washing his feet, to take his feet out of his (the corporal's) river, or he would shoot him.

“Reveillé” will sound at five o'clock to-morrow morning, and at seven we shall be off and away. We are within three miles of our old camp. To-morrow we go somewhat nearer Washington.

No paper that I have yet seen gives any idea of the fight, as I glean it from various sources. No generalship seems to have been used in the matter. Not a military glance seems to have swept the field, not a military suggestion seems to have planned the enterprise. The men crossed at the worst point of the river; they had only two small scows to cross with; retreat was impossible.

If you could see how completely this rocky, wooded bluff (of which I have attempted a sketch on the opposite page) overhangs the island and the opposite shore, you would realize what a mad place it was to cross at. If you could see the scows, you would see what means they had to cross.

Again, the disposition of the troops was wretched. The formation close upon the bluff, and with their rear right upon the river, gave no chance to repair mischance. Also, the thick wood which surrounded them gave the enemy every opportunity to outflank them. If they had meant to fight, they should have rested one of their flanks on the river, and have protected the other by artillery. This would have made their line perpendicular to the river. Their retreat might have been up or down stream. But they could, probably, have prolonged the fight till night, and then run for luck in crossing. Such a position would have been stronger, and retreat would have been less fatal. But they thought apparently the two scows their line of retreat, while, in fact, they were as bad as nothing. There does not seem to be a single redeeming feature in the whole business. They went on a fool's errand, — went without means, and then persisted in their folly after it became clear

It is useless to talk of what might have been; but if you had walked, as I have done, for the past three days on that canal tow-path opposite the bluff on whose crest our brave men formed for a desperate struggle, you could not help discoursing upon the military grotesqueness of the whole action. I have said there is no redeeming feature in the whole case. I am wrong. The determined courage of Massachusetts officers and soldiers is a cheering gleam through the gloom. But Heaven save us from any more such tests of valor. “The officer who brought you here ought to be hung,” said a Rebel officer to the burial party who went over with a flag of truce on Tuesday to bury our dead. I am afraid that is too true.

The Rebels, on the other hand, managed finely. They seem to have waited till they had caught a goodly number, and then to have sprung their trap ruthlessly. McClellan's first question was, “How did our men fight?” The answer is plain, — like heroes. If the men were properly officered, they would be the best troops in the world

The blunder and its consequences are of the past. The future must be freighted with better hopes. As far as our military position is concerned, except for the loss of life, and perhaps of time, all is as well to-day as a week ago.

We cannot be thankful enough for the mercy which spared our regiment from having any other share in the movement than to aid in repairing its disasters. I shall not soon forget that night's march, and that gloomy morning. God bless you all at home! We can trust, and must trust, in that Power which will overrule everything for good. Good night. I must get some sleep for to-morrow's march.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 125-30

Brigadier-General John Sedgwick to Brigadier-General Seth Williams, July 12, 1862

Headquarters 2nd Division,

2nd Army Corps,

Harrison's Landing, Virginia,

July 26, 1862.

Brigadier-General S. Williams,

Assistant Adjutant-General,

Army of the Potomac.

General:

In compliance with the circular issued from Headquarters, Army of the Potomac, July 23, 1862, I have the honour herewith to enclose revised lists of the officers and soldiers in the brigades of this division recommended for promotion and reward for meritorious conduct.

Although not personally cognizant of the merits of all of the officers named, I cheerfully endorse the recommendation of the Brigadiers.

I would add a list of those whose conduct, coming more immediately under my personal observation, attracted my especial attention by merit and gallantry.

I would strongly urge the name of Colonel Edward W. Hinks, 19th Massachusetts Volunteers, for the appointment of Brigadier-General. He led his fine regiment through all the actions up to Glendale, where he fell severely wounded. I would also mention Colonel J. T. Owens, 69th Pennsylvania Volunteers. No officer or regiment behaved better.

Lieutenant-Colonel Palfrey, Major Paul J. Revere, and Lieutenant C. L. Peirson and Lieutenant C. A. Whittier of the 20th Massachusetts Volunteers deserve promotion for gallantry on several occasions, especially at Glendale.

Colonel C. H. Tompkins, Chief of Artillery of my staff, rendered distinguished services, behaving with great gallantry on several occasions, especially in the battles of Savage's Station and Glendale.

Captain William D. Sedgwick, my Assistant Adjutant-General, and Lieutenant Church Howe, 15th Massachusetts Volunteers, my aide, have already been recommended for field appointments in Massachusetts regiments. Should they fail to receive such appointments, I would urge promotion for them, if practicable, upon the staff. They were both with me at the battle of Fair Oaks and all the subsequent actions in which this division has been engaged, and their conduct on all occasions has been all I could have wished. I regret to do any seeming injustice by omitting to mention many others who doubtless behaved equally well with those I have mentioned, but I have preferred to limit my recommendations to those whose good conduct I personally and especially witnessed.

I am, very respectfully,

Your obedient servant,

John Sedgwick,

Brigadier-General Volunteers.

SOURCES: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 75-7

Brigadier-General John Sedgwick to Brigadier-General Seth Williams, July 11, 1862

Headquarters Sedgwick's Division,

Sumner's Army Corps,

Harrison's Landing, Virginia,

July 11, 1862.

Brigadier-General S. Williams,

Assistant Adjutant-General,

Army of the Potomac:

I have the honour to enclose, in obedience to Special Order Number 199, regimental and brigade commanders' reports of such officers and soldiers as are deserving promotion.

I have already submitted the name of Brigadier-General Burns, commanding 2nd Brigade, 2nd Division, which I again call attention to. In addition I would submit the claim of Colonel Hinks of the 19th Massachusetts Volunteers for the appointment of Brigadier. He led his fine regiment through all the actions up to Glendale, where he fell severely wounded. His regiment has behaved handsomely on every occasion, and has been gallantly led.

I would also mention the name of Colonel J. T. Owens of the 69th Pennsylvania Volunteers. No regiment or officer has behaved better. (See General Burns's and General Hooker's reports.)

Major Paul J. Revere and Lieutenants C. L. Peirson and C. A. Whittier, 20th Massachusetts Volunteers, deserve promotion for their gallantry on several occasions, especially at Glendale.

I trust I am not doing injustice to many other officers who behaved equally well, but as they did not fall so especially under my notice, I refrain from mentioning them. I would also submit the names of Captain Wm. D. Sedgwick, A.A.G., and Lieutenant Church Howe, 15th Massachusetts Volunteers, A.D.C., to be forwarded to the Governor of Massachusetts for appointment as field officers in some of the new regiments. They are eminently qualified and deserving.

I have the honour to be, with much respect,

Your most obedient servant,

John Sedgwick,

Brigadier-General Volunteers,

Sumner's Division.

SOURCES: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 71-2

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

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

HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF POTOMAC

October 19, 1863

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

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

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

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

From Boston

BOSTON, April 30.

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

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

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

Paul Joseph Revere

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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