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ST.  BASIUS  SEMINARY 

TORONTO,  CANADA 


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Very  Reverend  Edward  Sorix, 
superior-general  of  the  congregation  of  holy  cross. 


Memoirs  of  Chaplain  Life 


VERY   KEV.    W.   COEBY,   O.   S.    C, 

OF  Notre  Dame  University, 
Indiana. 


THREE  YEARS  CHAPLAIN  IN  THE  FAMOUS  IRISH 
BRIGADE,  "ARMY  OF  THE  POTOMAC." 


Chicaqo  : 

La  Montk,  O'Donneli.  &  Co.,  Pbintkbs, 

1893. 


APR  3  0  1954 


Copyright,  1893, 

Bi 

Veey  Rev.  W.  Cobby,  C.  S.  C. 


f^ 


c/<    Q)  cL^n^  i  y  c^^i^l!^-i^i^L^ ^ 


i^ilially  and  l^eepectfully  dedicated  to 

W$  Eminence, 

Barnes  (^at|dinal  (pibbons, 

le  (Pqeat  ^ajotj-feneijal  of  ^bqist's  }Xr\m}^ 

in  c^meijjca. 


PEEFACE. 


This  little  book  embraces  the  experience  of  three 
years  spent  in  active  service  during  the  great  Civil 
War.  The  subject  deserves  an  abler  pen,  more  con- 
sideration and  time  than  I  can  bestow  upon  it.  I 
have  written  these  pages  in  hours,  and  half -hours, 
snatched  from  my  official  duties,  which  frequently 
demanded  my  attention,  and  so  engrossed  my 
thoughts  that  it  became  difficult  to  bring  them  back 
to  the  work  on  hand. 

The  chief  merit,  if  any,  will  be  found  in  the  sub- 
ject itself.  It  will  "suggest  more  than  is  written.  I 
have  tried  to  give  a  realistic  account  of  every-day 
life  in  the  army,  and  have  recorded,  chronologically, 
incidents,  exactly  as  they  occurred  under  my  notice. 
I  have  purposely  avoided  lengthy  descriptions  of 
battles,  since  these  have  been  written  over  and  over; 
in  fact,  every  school-book  is  full  of  them.  The 
movements  of  the  army,  however,  are  given,  so  that 
one  who  takes  time  to  read  the  following  pages  will 
have  a  comprehensive  idea  of    the  various  campaigns 

(5) 


6  PREFACE. 

made  by  the  great  "Army  of  the  Potomac,"  from  the 
commencement,  under  McClellan,  in  1861,  up  to  the 
time  of  the  surrender  of  Lee,  under  Grant,  in  1865. 

Besides  a  short  sketch  of  Fathers  Dillon,  Ouellet, 
and  Gillen,  I  give  a  valuable  account,  written  by 
Father  Egan,  of  his  own  experience  and  labors. 
Finally,  an  able  article  from  the  gifted  pen  of  my 
friend  and  "  companion  in  arms,"  Maj.-Gen.  St. 
Clair  A.  Mulholland,  of  Philadelphia,  recounts  the 
chivalry  of  the  soldiers — and  especially  of  the  Irish 
soldiers — who  won  imperishable  glory  in  the  defense 
of  right  on  innumerable  battle-fields.  No  wonder 
the  Irish  soldier  is  so  renowned,  since  he  springs 
from  a  fearless  race,  whose  valor  has  been  tested  in 
a  war  that  was  incessant  for  three  hundred  years, 
with  the  Danes  and  Normans,  followed  by  contests, 
more  or  less  fierce,  for  centuries,  with  England. 

My  object  in  presenting  this  book  to  the  public  has 
been  to  show  the  religious  feature  that  existed  in  the 
army.  In  the  presence  of  death,  religion  gives  hope 
and  strength.  The  Christian  soldier  realizes  that 
his  power  comes  from  the  "  God  of  battles,"  not 
from  man.  Very  valuable  services  have  been  ren- 
dered me  in  the  preparation  of  this  book  by  my 
esteemed  friend,  M.  F.  M.  The  retiring  modesty 
of  my  friend  will  not  allow  me  to  say  more. 


THE   COMTE   DE   PARIS. 


LETTER.  7 

I  take  great  pleasure  in  giving  first  place  in  my  memoirs  to 
the  following  letter,  which  came  to  me  through  my  esteemed 
friend,  Maj.-Gen.  St.  Clair  A.  Mulholland,  from  Prince  Philippe, 
Comte  de  Paris.  This  letter  needs  no  comment.  His  Royal 
Highness  speaks  from  personal  observation. 

fincRrngljam. 


LETTEE. 


INTKODUCTION. 


As  with  all  old  soldiers,  it  is  an  agreeable  pastime 
for  me  to  tell  "War  Stories,"  or  incidents  of  the  late 
war.  Most  persons,  especially  the  young,  listen  with 
more  than  ordinary  interest  to  such  narratives  com- 
ing from  a  veritable  participant.  I  will  try  to  give, 
in  my  own  blunt  way,  for  the  benefit,  and  perhaps 
for  the  edification,  of  my  readers,  the  reminiscences 
of  three  years  spent,  during  the  active  campaigns  of 
the  late  war,  in  the  "Army  of  the  Potomac,"  under 
McClellan,  Burnside,  Hooker,  Meade,  and  Grant.  I 
feel  satisfied  that  there  is  no  one  who  has  tried  to 
furnish  such  material  for  war  history  as  I  propose  to 
relate.  The  subject  is  entirely  new.  Many  of  my 
companions,  now  dead,  could  have  done  much  better 
in  furnishing  this  information;  and,  had  they  lived, 
no  doubt  would  have  told  very  rich  and  interesting 
experiences  during  those  years  so  full  of  thrilling 
events.  Now,  therefore,  as  God  in  His  goodness  has 
been  pleased  to  spare  my  life  amid  the  perils  of  the 

battle-field,  the  fevers  of  camp-life,  the  miasma  of 

(9) 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

swamps,  and,  too,  long  after  most  of  my  companions, 
especially  among  the  chaplains,  have  passed  away 
to  their  reward,  I  will  try  to  give  my  experience  in 
as  simple  a  form  as  possible. 

The  war,  in  1861,  particularly  after  the  first  "Bull 
Run,"  became  the  absorbing  question  throughout 
the  nation.  Young,  active,  patriotic,  and  even  pos- 
sessed (in  my  own  conceit)  of  zeal  for  the  salvation 
of  those  destined  to  fall  in  the  pending  stupendous 
contest  between  two  powerful  opposing  armies,  I 
volunteered  my  services  as  chaplain  to  an  organiza- 
tion which  was  being  formed  in  New  York.  This 
I  did  at  the  request  of  my  superior.  Very  Rev.  E, 
Sorin,  now  Superior-General.  I  resigned  my  profes- 
sorial duties-  in  the  University  of  Notre  Dame,  Ind., 
and,  taking  up  the  lively  sentiment  expressed  in  an 
old  song, 

"I'll  hang  my  harp  on  a  willow  tree, 
I'll  off  to  the  wars  again; 
A  peaceful  home  has  no  charm  for  me, 
The  battle-field  no  pain," 

away  I  went,  took  the  train  from  Chicago  on  the 
Pittsburg  &  Fort  Wayne  Railway  directly  to  Wash- 
ington to  meet  the  soldiers  with  whom  I  was  to 
spend  three  years.  It  was  much  like  getting  mar- 
ried.    We  made    the  engagement    "  for   better,  for 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

worse;  for  richer,  for  poorer,  till  death  do  us  part." 
On  my  journey  I  thought  over  the  problems  of  the 
future  —  the  chances  of  ever  returning  to  my  bright, 
prosperous  college  home,  of  the  dear  ones  I  left 
behind.  Occasionally,  my  meditation  was  broken  by 
the  beauty  of  the  scenery  which  attracted  my  atten- 
tion along  the  route. 

I  had  never  been  East  before,  and  I  need  not  say 
that,  like  "Our  Country  Cousin,"  I  was  not  a  little 
surprised  at  the  features  of  its  landscapes.  The 
beautiful  valleys,  the  lofty  mountains,  the  ravines 
dipping  down  to  a  frightful  depth — the  ravine  below 
me  seeming  as  deep  as  the  mountain  was  high  above 
me — the  rugged  old  gray  rocks  standing  out  in  huge 
bulk,  cutting  their  monster  figures  in  bold  relief 
against  the  blue  vaults  of  heaven,  filled  my  mind  with 
sentiments  of  awe.  The  sun  glittered  on  the  mount- 
ain tops,  which  cast  their  long  shadows  over  us,  and, 
as  we  passed  rapidly  along,  we  crossed  rivers  which 
seemed  to  be  rushing  away  from  the  bloody  strife 
ahead  of  us.  In  these  waters  the  sunlight  dances,  so 
to  speak,  with  never-ceasing  motion.  I  felt  alone,  as 
space  widened  between  me  and  home.  I  felt  strange, 
in  new  lands,  among  new  people.  Then,  as  the  even- 
ing came  on,  and  the  sun  gave  place  to  the  pale  moon, 
my  meditation  on  the  doubtful  future  came  back  to 


12  INTBODUCTION. 

me,  and  I  mused  on  the  life,  as  yet  untried,  amidst 
soldiers  and  great  armies.     Finally,  tired  of  what  I 
had  seen,  heard,  and  imagined,  I  tried  to   forget  all 
and  rest.     But  soon  appeared  long  lines  of  soldiers, 
marching  to  the  sound  of  drum  and  fife;  officers  (on 
horseback)  dashing  at  breakneck  speed,  their  scab- 
bards   rattling    at   their   sides,  while    the  glistening 
blades    flourished   in    the  air,  beckoned   their  com- 
mands of  "Forward!"  Then  came  up  the  flying  artil- 
lery, breaking  through  every  obstacle;  while,  on  the 
flanks,  the  swift  cavalry  men,  mounted  on  well-capar- 
isoned horses,  fresh  for  the  wild  sport,  flew  past  the 
infantry,  to  cover  dangerous  advances  of  the  enemy 
on  either  side.     The  words,   "Forward!"   "Double- 
quick!"     "Load!"     "Prime!"      "Aim!"     "Fire!" 
resounded  in  war-like  tones,  and  the  great  battle-field 
presented  a  scene  panorama-like  —  muskets  crashing, 
cannons   booming,  shells   bursting — then   a  sudden 
loud,    crashing    sound,    as    if    half    the    earth    had 
exploded!       The    train  had  stopped  with  a  terribly 
uncomfortable  jerk.    Just  then  I  awoke.     I  arrived 
in  Washington,  late  in  the  night,  in  the  fall  of  1861. 
I   made    inquiry    for    a    Catholic    church,    and    was 
directed   to   old    St.  Peter's,  on  East    Capitol  Hill. 
Here  I  found  hospitality  for  the  night.     The  good 
old  pastor,  long  since  gone  to  heaven,  seeme  1  at  first 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

very  uneasy.  He  had  never  seen  me  before;  but 
after  a  short  time  he  was  convmced  that  I  was  not  a 
fraud.  I  had  rather  a  grave,  honest  face  that  was  in 
my  favor,  and  which,  in  many  close  places,  during  the 
war  and  afterward,  proved  a  satisfactory  introduction. 
In  a  short  time  we  were  in  full  confidence,  and  he 
asked  me  about  my  trip,  where  I  came  from  and 
where  I  was  going.  I  answered  him,  as  best  I  could, 
and  told  him  I  was  chaplain  of  the  Irish  Brigade. 

"Oh!"  said  he,  "the  brigade  has  just  arrived 
from  New  York.  I  met  a  Rev.  James  Dillon  this 
morning  who  also  came  to  be  a  chaplain." 

"  Where  is  he  now,  may  I  ask?  " 

"  He  is  stopping  with  Rev.  Father  Walter,  pastor 
of  St.  Patrick's  Church  in  this  city." 

Next  morning  I  said  Mass,  took  a  slight  break- 
fast, and  hastened  to  St.  Patrick's.  Father  Dillon 
had  just  gone  to  camp.  However  Father  Walter 
was  able  to  give  me  all  the  necessary  information, 
and  during  the  forenoon  I  met  good  old  Father  Paul 
Gillen,  C.  S.  C,  who  drove  me  in  his  "  Rockaway  " 
across  the  "  long  bridge  "  that  passes  over  the  Poto- 
mac River  to  Alexandria,  Va.  A  short  distance  out 
from  the  city,  I  found  the  Irish  Brigade  in  camp. 
Now  I  shall  tell  about  chaplain  life,  beginning  with 
that  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  which  has  no  mean  record 
for  devotedness  and  bravery. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Chapter  I^-A  Short  Sketch  of  the  Irish  Brigade 17 

Chapter  II— Irish  Brigade  Chaplains-  First  Camp 21 

Chapter  III— Chaplains  — Their   Work --Character  of 

the  Soldiers— Gen.  Thomas  Francis  Meagher 27 

Chapter  IV— Irish  Brigade  Takes  the  Field 32 

Chapter  V- Brigade  Shipped  to  the  Peninsula— Inci- 
dents-Soldiers Killed -May  Devotions— Trooper 

Confesses,  etc 39 

Chaptp:r  VI -Short  Description  of  the  Locality— A  few 
Historical  IN  otes— Prince  of  the  House  of  Orleans 

-Mass 45 

Chapter  VII— Home  of    Mrs.  George    Washington  — 
Noted  Kivers— Land  of  the  Red  Man  in   Capt. 

Smith's  Time,  etc r)3 

Chapter  VIII  -Pastimes  and  Realities— Battl  >  of  Fair 

Oaks,  or  Seven  Pines 59 

Chapter  IX- Bigots  -True  Freedom,  etc 66 

Chapter  X -Chaplains  During  and  After  the  Battle  — 

Hospitals ^^ 

Chapti:r  XT^Malaria  in  the  Camp 80 

Chapter  XII  -The  Seven  Days'  Fight 86 

Chapter  XIII— Rest  and  Discipline 91 

Chapter  XIV- A  "  Mihtary  Mass  " 99 

Chapter  XV— Leaving  the  Peninsula— March  Severe- 
Dust  Terrible— Food  Wanting »       193 


CONTENTS.  15 

PAGE 

Chapter  XVI— Feat  of  "  Jack  Gasson  "—The  Battle  of 

Antietam 109 

Chapter  XVII— The    Camp  at  Harper's   Ferry— Ban- 
quet, Reconnaissance,  etc 116 

Chapter  XVIII — An  Army  Execution 122 

Chapter  XIX— The  Irish  Brigade  at  Fredericksburg  . . .  128 

Chapter  XX— Camp  Life  at  Fredericksburg 134 

Chapter  XXI— St.  Patrick's  Day  at  Camp  Falmouth . . .  138 
Chapter  XXII— Collections  Made  in  the  Brigade  for 

the  Poor  in  Ireland 146 

Chapter  XXIII— Incidents  and  Reflections 152 

Chapter  XXIV— Battle  of  Chancellorsville , 158 

Chapter  XXV—  Our  Return  to  Camp  Falmouth 165 

Chapter  XXVI— In  Camp  and  on  the  March 170 

Chapter  XXVII— Frederick,  Maryland 175 

Chapter  XXVIII— Gettysburg 179 

Chapter  XXIX -Gettysburg— The  Twenty-fifth  Anni- 
versary    IQ'J 

Chapter  XXX— -Anniversary  Exercises— Gettysburg . . .  191 
Chapter  XXXI— From  Gettysburg  to  the  Rappahan- 
nock   201 

Chapter  XXXII--An  Officer's  Preparation  for  Execu- 
tion   208 

Chapter  XXXIII— We  Go  to  New  York  City  and  Return  213 

Chapter  XXXIV— The  Execution  of  a  Soldier 220 

Chapter  XXXV— The  Battle  of  the  Wilderness 229 

Chapter  XXXVI— The  Battle  of  Spottsylvania 234 

Chapter  XXXVII— Our  Life  at  the  "  Front  " 242 

Chapter  XXXVIII — Execution  at  City  Point— Moth- 
er's Letter 246 

Chapter  XXXIX— New  Recruits— Expedition  to  "  Deep 

Bottom" 252 


16  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Chapter  XL — Explosion  of  a  Great  Boat  Filled  with 
Ordnance — Second  Expedition  to  Deep  Bottom — 
Horse  Drinks  in  James  Kiver  and  is  Frightened — 
Battle  on  the  Weldon  R.  R. — Men  at  Cards  Shoot 
and  Drop  a  Confederate  from  a  Tree— Capt. 
Brownson  Killed 258 

Chapter  XLI — The  Third  Anniversary  of  our  Brigade — 

"  MiUtary  Mass,"  etc 264 

Chapter  XLII — "  Passes"— Eight  Priests  of  Holy  Cross, 
Notre  Dame,  Chaplains — Archbishop  Ireland  and 
Bishop  M'Mahon,  Chaplains —A  Noble  Southern 
Priest 269 

Chapter  XLIII-The  Rev.  James  M.  Dillon,  C.  S.  C, 
Chaplain  of  the  Sixty-third  N.  Y.  Vol.,  Irish  Bri- 
gade         286 

Chapter  XLIV— Roman  Catholic  Chaplains  in  the  War 

—The  Rev .  Thomas  Ouellet,  S .  J . ,  Irish  Brigade      299 

Chapter  XLV— The  Rev.  Paul  E.  Gillen,  C.  S.  C,  as 

Chaplain 307 

Chapter  XLVI—The  Rev.  Constantino  L.  Egan,0.  P.       312 

Chapter  XLVII — Continuation  of  Father  Egan's  Nar- 
rative        332 

Chapter  XLVIII — The  Irish  Brigade  in  the  War  for 

the  Union 350 


CHAPTER  I. 


A  SHORT    SKETCH   OF   THE   IRISH   BRIGADE. 

r  I IHE  brigade  known  as  the  "  Irish  Brigade,"  com- 
-L  posed  hirgely  of  recruits  from  New  York  City, 
under  the  command  of  Gen.  Thomas  Francis  Meagher, 
had  the  greatest  number  of  Catholic  chaplains.  This 
brigade  had,  of  course,  its  history.  When  President 
Lincoln  called  for  75,000  volunteers,  the  call  was 
responded  to  promptly.  The  general  impression  at 
the  time  was  that  the  disturbance  at  the  South  would 
not  last  long,  and  the  volunteers  were  enlisted  for 
ninety  days  only.  Under  this  call  the  Sixty -ninth 
New  York  Infantry,  a  militia  regiment  which  so  dis- 
tinguished itself  at  the  first  battle  of  Bull  Run,  in 
July,  1861,  offered  its  services,  which  were  accepted, 
and  the  regiment,  accompanied  by  Capt.  (after- 
ward Brig. -Gen.)  T.  F.  Meagher  and  his  Zouaves, 
all  under  the  command  of  Col.  Michael  Corcoran, 
"went  to  the  front."  At  this  first  Bull  Run  battle, 
the  Sixty-ninth  New  York  fought  desperately;  but 
the  gallant  Col.  Corcoran  was  captured  with  several 
of  his  command,  and  was  carried  off  to  Richmond, 
where  he  was  kept  prisoner  for  thirteen  months. 
2  (17) 


18  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Rev.  Thomas  F.  Mooney,  of  New  York,  went  out  as 
the  chaplain  of  the  Sixty -ninth,  but  was  obliged,  in 
a  short  time,  to  return  home  to  attend  to  very  im- 
portant duties  assigned  him  by  his  ordinary,  Most 
Rev.  Archbishop  Hughes.*  The  soldiers,  at  the 
President's  call,  had  enlisted  for  ninety  days  only; 
and  before  the  memorable  battle  of  the  first  Bull 
Run,  which  took  place  July  21,  1861,  the  term  hav- 
ing expired  in  the  case  of  several  regiments,  on  the 
20th,  many  militia  regiments  from  Massachusetts, 
Connecticut,  Pennsylvania,  and  one  from  New  York, 
besides  a  battery,  returned  home.  The  Sixty-ninth 
agreed  to  continue.  They  did  so,  and  "fought  like 
Turks."  After  this  battle  was  over,  the  Sixty-ninth 
was  disbanded  in  New  York,  the  time  having  expired 
sometime  before.  Here  we  start.  We  leave  Col. 
Corcoran  a  prisoner  in  Richmond,  and  the  old  Sixty- 
ninth,  with  Meagher's  Zouaves,  mustered  out  of  the 
service,  with  honor  to  both  officers  and  men. 

Thomas  Francis  Meagher,  who  distinguished  him- 
self at  Bull  Run,  set  about  recruiting,  not  a  single 
regiment,  but  a  brigade.  In  a  short  time,  with  the 
help  of  other  efficient  persons,  he  organized  three 
Irish  regiments.  The  old  Sixty-ninth  re-enlisted, 
and  was  joined  by  the  Eighty-eighth  and  Sixty-third 
New  York  regiments.  Each  of  these  enlisted  for 
"three  years,  or  during  the  war."  To  this  brigade 
of    three  New  York  regiments   were    subsequently 


*  Rev.  Bernard  O'Riley,  S.  J.,  replaced  Father  Mooney  for  a 
few  weeks,  until  the  Bull  Run  battle  terminated  that  campaign. 


MEMOIRS  OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  19 

added  the  Twenty -eighth  Massachusetts  Infantry, 
the  Sixty-ninth*  and  One  Hundred  and  Sixteenth 
Pennsylvania  Infantry,  and  Hogan's  and  McMahon's 
batteries.  The  brigade  in  question  was  ever  after 
known  as  the  Irish  Brigade,  and  was  commanded 
by  Gen.  Thomas  Francis  Meagher.  The  six  regi- 
ments composing  this  brigade  had  five  Catholic 
priests  as  chaplains.  Rev.  James  Dillon,  C.  S.  C, 
chaplain  of  the  Sixty-third;  Rev.  Thomas  Ouellet, 
S.  J.,  chaplain  of  the  new  Sixty-ninth,  and  the  writer, 
chaplain  of  the  Eighty-eighth.  Rev.  Father  McKee, 
chaplain  of  the  One  Hundred  and  Sixteenth  Penn- 
sylvania, soon  fell  sick  and  resigned ;  he  was  replaced 
by  Rev.  Father  McCuUum.  The  latter,  unable  to 
endure  the  hardships  of  campaign  life,  also  resigned, 
leaving  the  brigade  with  three  Catholic  chaplains, 
namely,  Dillon,  Ouellet,  and  Corby.  Besides  these, 
there  were  other  Catholic  chaplains  in  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac.  Paul  E.  Gillen,  C.  S.  C;  Father 
O'Hagan,  S.  J.;  Father  ^Martin,  of  Philadelphia; 
Father  C.  L.  Egan,  O.  P.;  Father  Thomas  Scully, 
of  Massachusetts,  and  Rev.  Doctor  Kilroy.  These  I 
mention  with  no  regard  to  precedence,  excepting  as 
they  come  to  my  mind.  Most  of  those  mentioned  in 
this  last  list  remained  only  a  short  time  in  the  army. 
Some  were  taken  sick,  others  were  too  old  and  could 
not  endure  the  fatigues  and  privations,  others  belong- 
ing to  religious  orders  were  called  home  for  special 


*The  Sixty-ninth  Pennsylvania  was   aftr  a  time  assigned 
to  another  brigade  in  the  same  corps. 


20  MEMOIKS   OP   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

duty.  Of  this  number,  however,  Father  Paul  E. 
Gillen,  C.  S.  C,  was  a  veteran.  Father  Egan 
entered  the  service  about  the  last  of  August,  1863, 
and  remained  to  the  very  end  of  the  war.  Father 
Gillen  started  at  the  beginning  and  stayed  until  the 
end  of  the  war.  Other  chaplains,  known  as  "  Post 
Chaplains,"  rendered  valuable  services  in  the  hospi- 
tals, encouraging  the  sick  and  wounded,  and  adminis- 
tering the  sacraments  to  the  dying;  but  here  I  intend 
to  speak  principally  of  those  connected  with  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  in  the  "field"  and  at  the 
"front." 


CHAPTER  II. 


A  SHORT  SKETCH   OF   THE  IRISH  BRIGADE  CHAPLAINS — 
OUR    FIRST    CAMP,    ETC. 

TO  make  a  starting  point  for  the  reader,  we  shall 
commence  with  the  Irish  Brigade  located  near 
Alexandria,  Va.,  across  the  Potomac  from  Washing- 
ton, in  the  fall  of  1861.  This  brigade  will  form  the 
most  important  center  of  our  ecclesiastical  labors  dur- 
ing the  war,  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  of  this 
narration.  First,  because,  as  I  have  said,  it  had  the 
greatest  number  of  priests,  and  second,  because  the 
Sixty -third,  Sixty-ninth  and  Eighty-eighth  New 
York  regiments,  forming  the  principal  part  of  the 
brigade,  were  almost  exclusively  Catholic,  both  officers 
and  privates.  At  no  time  during  the  war,  from  the 
organization  of  the  brigade  till  after  the  '^  surrender 
of  Lee,"  was  it  without  a  priest;  and  men  from  various 
sections  of  the  army,  during  the  active  campaign, 
when  they  needed  the  services  of  a  priest,  directed 
their  steps  to  the  Irish  Brigade,  where  they  were 
sure  to  find  one.  To  this  brigade,  as  a  rule,  were  the 
generals  also  referred,  when  a  priest  was  needed  to 
assist  men  sentenced  to  death  by  court-martial.    The 

(21) 


22  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

brigade  was  quartered  on  elevated  ground  about  two 
miles  from  Alexandria,  where  it  remained  from  the 
early  fall  of  1861  until  the  spring  of  1862.  No  fight- 
ing worthy  of  notice  was  done  during  the  winter, 
but  picket  duty,  drilling,  police  and  other  camp  duties, 
kept  the  men  busy. 

Our  camp  was  called  Camp  California,  in  honor  of 
our  Maj.-Gen.  Sumner,  who  commanded  the  division, 
and  who  had  recently  been  in  command  of  regular 
troops  in  California.  I  am  amused  when  I  read  the 
works  of  some  historians,  who,  looking  entirely  on  the 
bright  side  of  the  picture,  try  to  impress  their  readers 
with  the  beauty  of  this  camp,  and  who  draw  largely 
on  their  powers  of  imagination  to  give  a  poetic  touch 
to  the  scene.  No  doubt,  the  scenery  on  the  south  side 
of  the  Potomac,  where  we  were,  is  very  picturesque, 
with  its  lofty  hills,  fertile  valleys,  and  the  majestic 
river  flowing  into  the  Chesapeake  Bay.  But  let  us 
look  on  the  other  side  of  this  poetically  described 
camp — when  poetry  is  forgotten  in  the  presence  of 
stern  reality.  Everyone  who  campaigned  in  Vir- 
ginia will  agree  with  me  in  the  statement  that  the 
Virginia  mud,  after  winter  rains,  is  the  worst  mud 
he  ever  encountered,  except,  perhaps,  the  "gumbo" 
of  Dakota  and  parts  of  Texas.  The  soil  is  a  reddish 
clay,  and  very  porous.  I  have  pushed  down  a  pole, 
with  my  hands,  nearly  ten  feet  in  Virginia  soil,  and 
have  had  my  powerful  horse  bogged  in  an  ordinary 
highland  corn-field.  (No  wonder  Burnside  "stuck  in 
the  mud"!)     Our  camp  was  laid  out  in  streets,  and 


MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  23 

the  army  regulations,  fully  carried  out,  conduced  to 
make  the  men  as  comfortable  as  possible;  but  these 
streets,  rained  on  continually,  worked  up  by  the 
tramping  of  the  horses  and  the  heavy  wheels  of  the 
loaded  army  wagons,  were  a  sight!  They  resembled 
exactly,  except  as  to  color,  the  mud-pits  where  clay 
is  mixed  for  the  manufacture  of  brick.  Then,  too, 
the  roads  passing  back  to  Alexandria  from  the  camp, 
and  toward  Washington,  and  even  in  Washington, 
on  all  the  unpaved  streets  ( and  there  were  few  paved 
streets  in  Washington  in  those  days),  were  in  a  most 
terrible  condition.  One  day  I  saw  an  officer  attempt 
to  cross  the  street  in  front  of  my  tent  in  Camp  Cali- 
fornia. When  he  reached  the  center,  his  boots 
sank  so  deep  in  the  tough  clay  that  he  was  obliged  to 
call  a  soldier  to  dig  him  out  with  a  spade.  Even 
then,  as  he  attempted  to  pull  out  one  leg  the  other 
would  sink,  and  so  on,  till  it  became  impossible  for 
him  to  extricate  himself  except  by  pulling  his  feet 
out  of  his  boots  and  escaping  in  his  stocking  feet. 

Anyone  who  has  spent  considerable  time  in  an 
active  campaign  knows  how  quickly  trees,  fences, 
and  all  adornments,  disappear  before  an  army  en- 
listed for  war.  As  Gen.  Sherman  is  reported  to 
have  said  to  a  female  citizen  who  complained  of  the 
cruel  injuries  the  soldiers  were  inflicting  on  her  prop- 
erty: "Why,  madam,  war  means  cruelty!"  so  it  is 
needless  to  say  that  Camp  California  and  all  the 
other  camps  soon  presented  anything  but  the  appear- 
ance of  Elysian  Fields.     The  scene  was  one  of  dreary 


24  MEMOIES    or   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

waste,  tented  with  "houses  of  canvas,"  which  was. 
white  when  it  left  the  factory,  but  smoke  and  Vir- 
ginia mud  had  changed  its  color  somewhat.  This 
was  nobody's  fault;  it  was  the  fault  of  circumstances; 
it  was  the  fault  of  war.  Here  Rev.  James  Dillon, 
C.  S.  C,  Rev.  Thos.  Ouellet,  S.  J.,  and  the  writer, 
spent  the  winter  of  1861-1862.  We  were  prisoners  in 
tents  on  the  hill ;  for  from  these  tents  we  could  make 
no  egress,  except  to  plunge  into  the  mud  so  deeply 
that  it  became  a  question  of  losing  our  boots.  All  the 
officers,  chaplains  included,  wore  boots  with  long  legs, 
and  it  was  only  with  great  difficulty  that  they  were 
made  fit  for  use,  after  even  a  short  tramp  in  Virginia 
mud.  This  reminds  me  of  a  boot-black,  who  was 
called  upon  to  clean  the  boots  of  an  officer  entering 
Washington.  He  worked  diligently  for  a  long  time, 
and  finally  called  out  to  a  companion  in  his  profes- 
sion : 

"Jim!" 

"What  d'you  want?"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"Lend  me  a  spit!  I've  got  an  army  contract!" 

Our  tents  were  as  good  as  could  be  expected,  and 
both  officers  and  men  were  very  kind  to  us;  but  im- 
agine a  man  living  in  a  tent  all  winter,  with  less 
accommodations  than  lumber-men  find  in  the  wilds 
of  Minnesota!  No  beds  except  some  army  blankets 
placed  on  boards,  conveniently  arranged,  and  some  of 
us  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a  buffalo  robe.  In  these 
tents  we  had  small  stoves;  and  our  fuel  was  green 
pine,  which,  in  many  cases,  furnished  more  smoke 


MEMOIES    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  25 

than  heat ;  so  that  frequently  we  were  obliged  to  open 
all  the  doors — that  is,  turn  back  a  flap  of  the  canvas 
at  either  end  of  the  tent,  and  let  the  cold,  damp  wind  of 
Virginia  pass  through  and  dispel  the  pungent  vapor. 
However,  all  these  discomforts  were  luxury  in  com- 
parison with  life  during  an  active  campaign.  Wait 
until  we  go  farther! 

I  shall  make  it  a  special  point  to  write  of  every-day 
life,  and  the  hardships  and  privations  which  neces- 
sarily attend  such  a  life.  Most  authors,  in  writing  of 
war,  confine  themselves  to  descriptions  of  battles, 
thereby  gratifying  the  morbid  taste  of  the  masses 
who  wish  to  read  of  carnage  and  strife ;  but  there  is 
more  interest  in  the  real  every-day  life  of  the  soldier. 
From  a  candid  account  the  reader  will  understand 
that  a  soldier  suffers  a  thousand  times  more  from 
every-day  hardships  in  war  than  from  the  simple 
fact  of  entering  a  battle-field,  where,  for  a  few  hours, 
he  is  in  the  midst  of  bloody  strife,  and,  perhaps,  at 
last  receives  a  flesh  wound — "good  for  ninety  days" 
— or  drops  to  speak  no  more.  The  mother,  the  sister, 
the  loving  ones  at  home,  when  retiring  at  night,  or 
when  enjoying  a  good  warm  dinner,  sigh  and  ask: 

"Where  is  Thomas,  or  James,  or  William,  now? 
Have  they  any  comforts?  Is  there  anyone  to  care 
for  them?" 

Oh,  you  of  a  younger  generation,  think  what  it 
cost  your  forefathers  to  save  our  glorious  inheritance 
of  union  and  liberty!  If  you  let  it  slip  from  your 
hands  you  will  deserve  to  be  branded  as  ungrateful 


26  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

cowards  and  undutiful  sons.  But,  no!  you  will  not 
fail  to  cherish  the  prize — it  is  too  sacred  a  trust — 
too  dearly  purchased. 

Horses,  used  for  drawing  provisions,  fuel,  and  other 
necessaries,  died  in  the  camp  during  that  winter,  in 
great  numbers,  and  had  to  be  replaced  entirely  by 
mules,  that  could  sleep  in  mud  and  live  on  chips! 


CHAPTER  III. 


CHAPLAINS  —  THEIR  WORK  —  CHARACTER  OF  THE 
SOLDIERS,  AND  ESPECIALLY  OF  GENERAL  THOMAS 
FRANCIS  MEAGHER. 

FATHERS  Dillon  and  Ouellet,  being  in  New  York 
when  the  brigade  started  for  Camp  California, 
Virginia,  went  on  with  it;  but  I,  who  enlisted  and 
was  "mustered  in  the  service"  at  the  same  time  with 
the  above  Fathers,  could  not,  and  did  not,  reach 
Camp  California  till  sometime  later.  I  was  trans- 
acting business  in  the  interest  of  Notre  Dame  in 
Illinois  and  Wisconsin  when  the  news  of  my  appoint- 
ment by  the  Governor  of  New  York  reached  me,  and 
as  soon  as  I  could  dispose  of  the  business  matter,  I 
started  directly  for  Washington,  D.  C,  where  I 
arrived,  ready  to  "report  for  duty,"  in  the  fall  of 
1861.  As  mentioned  above,  Fathers  Dillon,  Ouellet, 
and  Corby  were  in  charge  of  three  regiments,  each 
forming,  as  it  were,  a  congregation.  During  the  win- 
ter we  spent  our  time  in  much  the  same  way  as  par- 
ish priests  do,  except  in  this — we  had  no  old  women 
to  bother  us,  or  pew  rent  to  collect.  We  celebrated 
Mass,  heard  confessions,  preached  on  Sundays  and 

(27) 


28  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

holydays.  During  the  week,  many  minor  duties 
occupied  us.  We  were  called  on  at  times  to  admin- 
ister the  pledge  to  a  few  who  had  been  indulging 
too  freely,  to  settle  little  diflaculties,  and  encourage 
harmony  and  good- will;  to  instruct  such  as  needed 
private  lessons  on  special  points  of  religion,  and 
everywhere  to  elevate  the  standard  of  religion,  moral- 
ity, and  true  patriotism.  This  formed  the  winter's 
work,  not  only  for  the  chaplains  of  the  Irish  Brigade, 
but  also  for  all  Catholic  priests  so  engaged.  But  as 
I  started  out  with  the  idea  that  the  Irish  Brigade 
was,  as  it  were,  "headquarters"  for  Catholic  labors, 
I  must  keep  to  it. 

Here  let  me  say  a  word  about  Gen.  Thomas  Fran- 
cis Meagher,  whose  character  is,  I  think,  not  well 
understood  by  many.  Gen  Meagher  was  more  than 
an  ordinary  gentleman  He  possessed  high-toned 
sentiments  and  manners,  and  the  bearing  of  a  prince. 
He  had  a  superior  intellect,  a  liberal  education,  was 
a  fine  classical  writer,  and  a  born  orator.  He  was  very 
witty,  but  more  inclined  to  humor;  was  fond  of  witty 
or  humorous  persons,  and  admired  those  who  pos- 
sessed such  gifts.  He  was  a  great  lover  of  his  native 
land,  and  passionately  opposed  to  its  enemies ;  strong 
in  his  faith,  which  he  never  concealed,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  published  it  above-board;  and,  wherever  he 
went  he  made  himself  known  as  a  "  Catholic  and  an 
Irishman."  He  was  well  instructed  in  his  religion, 
and  I  should  have  pitied  the  one  who  had  the  temer- 
ity to  speak  disparagingly    of    it  in  his  presence. 


MEMOIRS  OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  29 

Although  not  what  we  would  call  a  pious  man,  he 
loved  his  faith,  and  assisted  in  making  religion  take 
a  front  rank.  For  example:  With  his  natural  fond- 
ness for  sports,  and  with  a  desire  to  keep  up  life  and 
energy  in  his  command,  he  would  make  elaborate 
preparations  for  the  celebration  of  St.  Patrick's  Day; 
and  while  organizing  steeple  chases,  hurdle  races, 
etc.,  in  the  morning,  all  attended  Mass  and  listened 
to  the  sermon;  he,  in  person,  acting  as  master  of 
ceremonies,  directing  the  band  when  to  play  during 
the  divine  service;  but  this  will  be  noticed  more  in 
exte7iso  in  a  future  chapter.  The  above  shows  some- 
thing of  the  character  of  the  man.  Besides  being, 
as  we  all  know,  as  brave  as  a  lion,  he  did  not  neglect 
going  to  confession  from  time  to  time,  especially 
before  battles.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that,  at  times, 
especially  when  no  fighting  was  going  on,  and  time 
grew  heavy  on  his  hands,  his  convivial  spirit  would 
lead  him  too  far.  But  by  no  means  must  it  be  con- 
cluded from  this  that  he  was  a  drunkard.  It  was  not 
for  love  of  liquor,  but  for  the  love  of  sport  and  jovi- 
ality that  he  thus  gave  way,  and  these  occasions 
were  few  and  far  between.*  Besides,  he  was  polite 
and  gentlemanly,  even  when  under  the  influence  of 
liquor;  never  sinking  to  anything  low  or  mean, 
beyond  indulging  too  freely  in  unguarded  moments. 


*  It  has  been  insinuated  that  he  was  in  Hquor  when  he  was 
drowned  in  the  Missouri  River;  but  this  is  contradicted  by 
the  Rev.  J.  St.  Onge,  then  missionary  out  West  among  the 
Indians,  and  now  pastor  in  Troy,  N.  Y. 


30  MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

His  appearance  was  very  much  in  his  favor,  being  one 
of  the  finest-looking  officers  in  the  whole  army;  and, 
mounted  on  a  magnificent  horse,  surrounded  by  a 
"brilliant  staff"  of  young  officers,  he  was  a  fit  repre- 
sentative of  any  nation  on  earth.  It  is  not  surprising, 
then,  that  a  man  of  his  intellect  and  noble  per- 
sonal character  drew  around  him,  not  a  low,  unedu- 
cated class,  but  rather  refined  and  gentlemanly 
officers  and  men,  recruited  mostly  from  New  York; 
while  many  came  from  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Jersey, 
and  even  from  Europe,  to  join  his  standard. 

The  officers  of  his  command  were,  for  the  most 
part,  men  of  superior  education,  gallant  beyond  any 
around  them  in  the  army;  and  as  for  bravery,  this 
they  imbibed  with  their  mother's  milk,  yea,  it  was 
born  in  them."*  The  "rank  and  file"  was  com- 
posed of  healthy,  intelligent  men,  far  above  the 
average,  and  in  many  cases  of  liberal  education. 
Here  I  would  state  that  I  frequently  noticed  supe- 
rior men  on  guard,  and  engaged  in  other  inferior 
duties.  In  my  regiment,  as  private  soldiers,  there 
were  seven  first-class  lawyers!  Last,  but  not  least, 
the  surgeons  of  this  brigade  were  among  the  first 
in  the  army — Dr.  Keynolds  had  no  superior.  This 
little  bit  of  personal  history  is  necessary  to  show 
that  the  Irish  Brigade  was  not  entirely  unworthy 
the  title  of  "Headquarters  of  the  Church  in  the 
Army  of  the    Potomac."     Moreover,   it  shows  with 


*  Note  on  page  31. 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  31 

what  material  the  chaplains  had  to  deal.  Remember, 
too,  that  this  great  body  of  officers  and  men  was, 
I  might  say,  entirely  Catholic,  and  one  may  easily 
infer  that  the  influence,  for  good  or  evil,  was  con- 
siderable. When,  later,  the  brigade  was  joined  by 
the  Twenty-eighth  Massachusetts  and  the  One  Hun- 
dred and  Sixteenth  Pennsylvania  regiments,  besides 
McMahon's  Battery  and  the  Sixty-ninth  Pennsyl- 
vania— many  of  the  four  last  being  Catholic — there 
was  a  body  of  about  4,000  Catholic  men  marching — 
most  of  them  —  to  death,  but  also  to  the  glory  of 
their  Church  and  country.  I  regret  that  I  have  not 
more  data  concerning  the  illustrious  Corcoran  Le- 
gion. But  were  we  to  count  in  the  Legion  composed 
of  3,000  Irish  Catholics;  the  Ninth  Massachusetts, 
with  800;  the  Third  Brigade  (known  as  the  '' Ex- 
celsior," with  Father  O'Hagan  as  chaplain),  in 
which  there  were  no  less  than  1,300  of  the  same 
faith,  we  should  number,  in  solid  bodies  alone,  in 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  over  9,000  Catholic  sol- 
diers, not  to  mention  odd  numbers  in  every  regi- 
ment in  the  army.  A  full  page  of  history,  in  all 
justice,  should  be  given  to  such  a  respectable  body  of 
Christian  soldiers — unique  in  character,  unique  in 
faith,  unique  in  nationality ;  but  ever  brave  and  true 
in  support  of  their  adopted  country. 

[Note.] — Several  officers  who  served  in  the  Austrian  Army, 
and  in  various  other  armies,  figured  later  on  in  the  Irish  Brigade, 
and  many  distinguished  Irish-Catholic  officers  and  men  who 
served  in  the  Papal  Brigade  in  defense  of  the  temporal  power 
of  His  Holiness,  subsequently  joined  the  Irish  Brigade  here. 
Many  others  from  the  same  organization  were  to  be  found  in 
various  parts  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 


THE   IRISH   BRIGADE    TAKES    THE   FIELD. 

IT  is  not  the  object  of  this  narrative  to  write  a 
history  of  the  war,  or  of  a  part  of  it  even,  but  I 
must  give  sketches,  here  and  there,  to  bring  out  the 
part  taken  in  the  movements  by  the  chaplains.     On 
March  5,  1862,  general  orders  were  given  to  "strike 
tents"  and  "march!"     This  put  the  whole  Army  of 
the  Potomac  in  motion.     The  Irish  Brigade  was  up 
and  doing  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.     Oh,  I 
remember  well    that   dreary  morning!      It   was  not 
frosty,  but    a    raw   wind,  and  a  miserable,  drizzling 
rain    chilled    us    as   we    were    hastily    preparing   to 
depart  on  our  first  march — our  first  campaign.     It 
took  a  long  time  to  get  everything  ready.     We,  the 
chaplains,   had   more  than  ordinary  preparations  to 
make;  for,  besides  the  ordinary  "traps"  required,  we 
had  to  take  all  the  necessary  vestments,  altar  stones, 
missals,  etc.,  for  the  celebration  of  Mass.      At   last, 
about  seven    or   eight  o'clock,  all   were    in    motion. 
Father  Dillon  and  myself,  being  of  the  same  order, 
generally  went  in  the  same  boat,  so  to  speak.     When 
everything  was  ready,  we  thought  of  something  to  eat. 

(32) 


MEMOIKS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  33 

I  took  a  small  sack  and  put  into  it  a  few  pounds  of 
''hard  tack"  crackers  hard  as  pieces  of  brick.  This 
I  suspended  from  the  pommel  of  my  saddle,  and  it 
rested  against  the  shoulder  of  my  horse.  He  was  a 
poor,  old,  gray  horse.  One  of  the  officers,  a  colonel, 
who  was  in  constant  motion,  borrowed  my  horse — an 
active,  strong  animal — and  the  quarter-master  fur- 
nished me  with  this  as  a  substitute.  Now  I  wished 
to  appear  in  such  style  as  befitted  my  position  in  the 
regiment  on  the  first  march;  but  on  this  animal  I 
-made  a  very  sorry  figure.  Moreover,  when  all  the 
troops  were  crossing  a  small  stream  of  water,  this 
brute  got  into  the  middle  of  the  creek  and  would 
go  no  farther.  Here  the  gallant  chaplain  of  the 
Eighty -eighth  sat,  trying  to  persuade  the  old  gray 
to  proceed,  but  to  no  purpose,  while  officers  and  men 
were  passing  and  looking  on.  Finally,  one  of  the 
men,  by  the  gentle  use  of  his  bayonet,  encouraged 
the  animal  to  move.  I  had  my  own  horse  next  day. 
The  roads  were  in  a  terrible  condition,  and  the 
poor  men  who  loaded  themselves  before  starting  from 
camp,  with  boots,  stockings,  underwear,  etc.,  kept 
casting  them  off  on  the  roadside  as  they  felt  them- 
selves unable  to  carry  them  any  longer.  It  was  a  sight 
to  behold  the  variety  of  articles  along  the  road  for 
miles,  and  many  of  these  very  articles  had  been  sent 
to  the  soldiers  for  their  comfort  by  tender-hearted 
wives,  mothers,  and  sisters.  We  marched  all  day  till 
late  at  night,  then  halted  on  a  bleak  corn-field.  It 
still  rained,  and  a  cold  March  wind  blew  dismally. 


34  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Father  Dillon  and  myself  were  very  tired,  and  we  tried 
the  "hard-tack";  but,  resting  against  the  horse  all 
day,  the  sack  of  crackers  had  absorbed  the  rain  and 
the  perspiration,  and  they  smelt  of  "old  gray  horse," 
and,  in  fact,  tasted  of  "old  gray  horse."  We  had 
nothing  else.  In  the  morning  we  had  placed  every- 
thing in  an  army  wagon,  even  our  buffalo  robes  and 
army  blankets,  so  that  we  were  now  left  without  any- 
thing to  eat  and  with  nothing  to  sleep  on.  Father 
Dillon  got  off  in  the  shelter  of  some  brush,  and,  after 
the  fatigues  of  the  day,  slept  a  little.  Some  men 
wanted  to  go  to  confession,  as  we  expected  to  be  in 
battle  next  day,  and  I  sat  on  the  roots  of  an  old  tree 
and  heard  all  who  came;  but  most  of  the  men  were 
entirely  exhausted,  and  they  soon  fell  asleep  on  their 
gum  blankets,  while  I  sat  on  some  sticks  the  rest  of 
that  night,  near  the  fire  which  the  soldiers  had 
started.  The  wind,  now  blowing  a  gale,  drove  the 
smoke  into  my  face,  and  when  I  moved  to  the  oppo- 
site side,  the  shifting  wind  drove  me  back  to  my 
former  position.  Thus  I  spent  that  night,  after 
marching  the  previous  day  about  eighteen  miles  in 
rain  and  mud,  with  no  dinner  and  no  supper,  followed 
by  no  sleep. 

But,  you  may  ask,  where  are  the  materials  that 
were  put  into  the  army  wagon?  They  are  there, 
but  the  wagons  are  "stuck  in  the  mud "— Virginia 
mud  — ten  or  fifteen  miles  behind.  Next  morning 
we  rose  from  the  ground!  —  to  march!  No  break- 
fast, and,  as  we  advanced,  we  left  the  army  wagons 


MEMOIRS  OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  35 

still  farther  behind  us.  The  soldiers  always  carried 
a  small  quantity  of  coffee,  army  crackers,  "hard- 
tack," and  a  chunk  of  pork,  so  they  had  something 
"to  keep  life  in  them";  but  the  chaplains  depended 
upon  the  army  wagons,  which  they  did  not  see  for 
five  or  six  days  after  leaving  Camp  California.  Not- 
withstanding these  discomforts,  all  moved  on.  It  is 
a  mistake  to  think  that  the  soldiers,  even  the  line 
officers,  know  where  the  army  is  going,  and  just 
where  the  enemy  will  be  found.  These  things  are 
known  only  to  a  few  of  the  principal  officers  in  com- 
mand, and  not  always  to  them.  They  frequently 
have  to  find  the  enemy  in  much  the  same  manner  as 
hunters  find  the  location  of  lions  and  tigers  in  a 
Bengal  jungle.  But  this  much  we  knew— we  were 
going  toward  Manassas  and  old  Bull  Run  battle-field; 
and  this  had  something  to  do  with  the  condition  of 
our  nerves,  especially  in  the  case  of  those  who  had 
never  had  a  chance  to   "smell  powder." 

That  same  evening  we  reached  Manassas,  and  we 
found  that  the  enemy  had  retreated  hurriedly  and 
left  behind  them  valuable  stores.  Here  the  men 
found  some  "jerked  beef."  They  called  it  "junk"; 
but,  no  matter,  it  was  sweet  to  starving,  green  chap- 
lains, who  had  never  campaigned  before,  and  did  not 
know  how  to  take  care  of  themselves.  We  got  some 
fresh  "hard-tack" — not  that  which  "smelled  of 
horse  and  tasted  of  horse"  —  and  some  black,  but 
hot,  coffee.  We  were  new  men  for  awhile.  Shortly 
afterward   it    began    to    rain,    in    the    usual    dreary 


36  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

Southern  fashion  of  raining.  Some  of  us  were  partly 
sheltered  by  an  old  tent  that  had  been  left  by  the 
enemy,  and,  as  the  ground  was  nothing  but  mud,  the 
soldiers  piled  in  the  tent  some  brush,  and  on  this 
brush-pile  we  sat,  '^  Sicid  nycticorax  in  domicilioj'' 
For  about  two  days  after,  we  had  no  food;  but, 
finally,  on  a  countermarch,  we  met  a  Suttler  who 
was  selling,  in  limited  numbers,  small  cakes  at  from 
25  cents  to  $1.00  apiece  —  for  money  was  not  con- 
sidered by  the  hungry  men,  and  the  kindness  on 
this  march  of  Lieut.  J.  J.  McCormick  and  Capt. 
Moore  I  will  never  forget.  On  the  13th,  or  there- 
abouts, having  accomplished  our  mission  —  namely, 
to  find  out  all  about  the  enemy,  his  location,  move- 
ments, etc.  —  we  expected  to  return  to  Alexandria 
at  once,  and  take  shipping  for  the  Peninsula.  I, 
being  the  youngest  of  the  chaplains,  was  started 
back  in  advance  to  secure  altar-breads,  altar-wines, 
etc.,  for  the  Peninsular  Campaign.  In  the  mean- 
.time  the  enemy  made  a  show  of  fighting.  Our  troops 
were  ordered  back.  When  I  heard  this  in  Alex- 
andria I  started  at  once  for  the  "  front";  and  on  my 
way,  while  passing  over  the  old  Bull  Run  battle-field, 
I  found  myself  in  the  dark,  amidst  dead  men's  bones, 
and  a  stillness  that  was  death -like.  Nothing  was 
heard,  except,  now  and  then,  a  piercing  sound  from  a 
screech  owl.  I  pushed  on,  however,  and  after  some 
miles,  heard  a  shrill,  frightful  voice  cry  out:  "Halt! 
Who  comes  there?" 
"A  friend,"  I  replied. 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  37 

"Advance,  friend,  and  give  the  countersign." 
But,  not  knowing  the  countersign  of  course,  I 
entered  into  an  explanation;  but  it  was  of  no  use,  I 
had  to  dismount  and  surrender.  Soldiers  on  picket 
duty  must  obey  orders,  and  I  was  made  a  prisoner. 
Fortunately,  I  was  captured  by  soldiers  of  my  own 
corps  d^armee^  and,  after  being  brought  to  headquar- 
ters, the  general  in  command,  Ma j.- Gen.  Richard- 
son, being  from  my  native  State,  Michigan,  identified 
me,  and  directed  the  soldiers  to  "take  good  care  of 
the  chaplain  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  and  escort  him 
to  his  command."  This  they  did  with  much  courtesy. 
Next  day  was  Sunday,  and  the  chaplains  did  all  they 
could  to  sanctify  the  day.  I  do  not  remember  what 
other  chaplains  provided,  but  I  remember  very  dis- 
tinctly the  altar  constructed  under  my  supervision, 
for  I  was  determined  to  say  Mass.  There  were  no 
boards,  no  boxes,  no  tables,  in  the  entire  camp,  and 
the  camp  was  in  a  dense  woods.  The  soldiers  cut 
some  pine  branches  and  fastened  them  to  a  tree,  as 
a  slight  shelter  for  the  future  altar.  Then  they  drove 
four  crotched  sticks  in  the  ground  and  put  two  short 
pieces,  about  two  and  a  half  feet  in  length,  from  one 
crotch  across  to  the  other;  they  then  cut  down  a  tree, 
and  having  cut  off  a  length  about  six  feet,  split  the 
log  in  two,  and  placed  the  pieces  of  split  timber,  flat 
side  up,  lengthwise,  to  form  the  table  of  the  altar. 
This,  the  rudest  of  altars,  I  dressed,  as  best  I  could, 
with  the  altar  linens.     Two  candles  were  lighted,  and 


38  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Mass  was  celebrated  in  the  forest  of  Virginia,  after  a 
fashion  to  rival  that  of  the  most  destitute  Indian 
missionary  that  ever  put  foot  on  the  soil  of  the 
Huron  Nation. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  BRIGADE  S-HIPPED  TO  THE  PENINSULA — INCIDENTS 
— SOLDIERS  KILLED — MAY  DEVOTIONS — TROOPER 
CONFESSES,  ETC. 

ABOUT  the  end  of  March,  1862,  all  the  troops 
were  ordered  back  from  the  movement  on  Man- 
assas (the  enemy  having  retreated  toward  Rich- 
mond), to  take  shipping  on  the  Potomac  and  be 
transported  to  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  and,  finally,  to 
the  Peninsula.  About  1500  of  the  Irish  Brigade 
were  placed  on  the  Ocean  Queen  —  about  which 
there  was  plenty  of  ocean  but  not  much  queen !  The 
vessel  was  certainly  a  fine  one;  but,  hired  by  the 
Government  simply  to  convey  troops,  its  management 
had  no  responsibility  in  regard  to  beds,  food,  or  any 
of  these  necessities  of  life,  and  our  trip  to  the  Pen- 
insula was  one  of  considerable  deprivation.  The 
chaplains  said  their  oiSice,  and  the  other  officers 
fasted.  Thus  we  might  say,  with  ''Jack,"  the  servant  of 
Dean  Swift,  "we  were  on  the  road  to  heaven."  "My 
master,"  said  he,  "is  praying  and  I  am  fasting,  and 
if  fasting  and  prayer  is  not  the  road  to  heaven,  I 
know  no  theology."     The  troops  in  the  other  ships 

(39) 


iO  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

were  not  even  as  well  cared  for  as  we  were.  Finally, 
after  leaving  Fortress  Monroe,  we  landed  at  Ship 
Point,  Virginia. 

The  weather  was  bad;  no  end  to  cold  rain,  sleet, 
and  mud.  We  had  no  fresh  meat,  no  vegetables; 
nothing  but  fat  pork,  black  coffee,  and  "hard-tack" 
three  times  a  day.  We  found  here  many  small  huts, 
which  had  been  occupied  by  the  Confederate  sol- 
diers during  the  previous  winter.  Into  these  we  were 
glad  to  go,  since  we  had  no  tents.  I  had,  in  my 
supply  of  clothing,  three  tine  new  flannel  shirts,  and 
at  this  time  I  thought  I  would  take  the  advice  of  the 
kind-hearted  Sister  who  had  sent  them,  and  put  one 
on.  I  opened  the  box  in  which  they  had  been 
packed,  and  put  one  on  for  the  first  time.  Next 
morning  I  felt  a  queer  kind  of  itching  all  over.  I 
said  nothing,  but  pulled  out  another  new  shirt,  went 
to  the  river  and  took  a  good  wash,  and  put  on 
another  of  the  new  shirts.  Now  curiosity  got  the 
better  of  me,  and  looking  at  the  shirt  I  had  just 
removed,  I  found  it  full  of — excuse  the  word — clothes 
lice,  or  "greybacks."  I  flung  the  shirt  into  the  river, 
and  returned,  feeling  all  right.  Next  morning  I  had 
to  do  the  same,  and  still  the  third  morning  did  the 
same.  Thinking  that  the  soft  flannel  was  the  attrac- 
tion for  these  miserable  tortures  of  military  life, 
I  flung  all  my  flannel  goods  into  the  river  and 
contented  myself  with  cold  linen.  After  awhile  it 
leaked  out  that  all  the  officers  were  in  the  same  con- 
dition. ^^ 


MEMOIKS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  41 

This,  however,  was  our  first  experience  with  "grey- 
backs."  They  had  been  left  to  us  as  a  legacy,  and 
were  the  sole  inhabitants  of  the  huts  that  had  been 
evacuated  by  the  routed  enemy.  Let  me  say  here 
that  many  a  poor  soldier  who  could  not  procure  entire 
suits  of  new  clothes  at  will,  was  subjected,  not  only 
to  sufferings  from  want  of  good,  fresh  food,  long, 
tedious  marches  under  a  scorching  sun,  with  dust 
penetrating  every  particle  of  his  clothing,  or  under 
pelting  rain  and  through  mud  knee-deep,  but  to 
incredible  tortures  from  these  ''greybacks."  It  is 
easy  to  laugh  about  this  now,  but  sensitive  persons 
fairly  shudder  at  the  thought  of  this  pestilence,  worse 
in  nature  than  many  of  the  Egyptian  plagues.  To 
face  this  kind  of  life  requires  more  courage  than  to 
face  the  belching  cannon  and  the  smoke  of  battle. 
It  is  all  very  well  to  write  war  history  so  that  it  may 
read  like  a  novel  or  a  romance.  You  will  find  some 
writers  telling  of  the  Elysian  Fields,  the  beautiful 
mountains,  the  prancing  war-horse,  and  the  shining 
swords  and  bright  bayonets,  glittering  in  the  sun. 
While  all  this  is  true,  it  is  well  to  give  some  of  the 
ordinary  reality,  and  do  away  with  some  of  the 
poetry.  It  has  a  good  effect,  because  it  brings  out 
the  true  and  full  historical  character  of  warfare,  and 
teaches  a  lesson  to  rising  generations.  "*  From  a 
knowledge  of  the  hardships  of  their  fellow-citizens 
and  forefathers,  they  set  a  higher  value  on  the  free- 
dom and  prosperity  thereby  secured  for  them,  and 
the  consideration  of    the  many    evils    of    war,    will 


42  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

prevent  tbem,  in  future  political  contests,  from  rashly 
provoking  the  spirit  of  war,  either  civil  or  interna- 
tional. There  are  times  when  war  can  not  be  avoided; 
but  it  should  be  resorted  to  only  after  all  other 
means  have  been  tried,  tried  again,  and  in  vain. 
Henry  the  Great,  of  France,  once  ordered  some 
bronze  cannon  of  immense  size,  and  caused  to  be 
engraved  on  them  this  terrible  motto:  "The  last 
argument  of  Kings." 

This  may  seem  to  be  a  slight  deviation  from  my 
narrative,  but  it  is  certainly  pertinent  since  it  gives 
an  insight  into  the  life  and  labors  of  the  now  bellig- 
erent chaplain,  under  trying  circumstances.  Moved, 
as  he  is,  by  true  patriotism,  he  faces  war  and  its  evils, 
but  regards  it  always  as  a  primary  duty  to  attend  to 
the  spiritual  wants  of  his  charge.  Just  here  I  recall 
a  poor  soldier  who  was  accidentally  shot  through  the 
left  lung.  I  happened  to  be  near  by,  had  just  time 
to  hear  his  confession,  and  he  breathed  his  last.  All 
the  aforesaid  labors,  trials,  and  fastings  were  well 
rewarded  by  the  chance  given  to  save  that  one  soul. 
We  have  now  arrived  at  May  1,  1862,  the  chaplains 
"in  front"  with  their  commands.  A  huge  tent, 
which  belonged,  principally,  to  the  Sixty -third,  was 
used  for  a  church,  and  in  it  we  opened  the  May  devo- 
tions. This  tent  was  like  a  circus  tent  (very  large), 
and  many  persons  could  stand  under  it.  When 
prayers  commenced,  the  soldiers  dropped  down  on 
their  knees,  mud  or  no  mud.  Many,  however,  were 
sharp  enough  to  provide  at  least  a  chip  to  put  under 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  43 

their  knees,  to  keep  them  from  sinking  too  deep  in  the 
mud  caused  by  recent  rains.  About  the  camp  altar 
the  condition  was  a  little  better,  as  the  boards  taken 
from  cracker  boxes  formed  a  sort  of  floor.  In  this 
tent  Mass  was  celebrated  every  morning,  and  prayers 
were  said  every  evening,  to  which  the  boys  were 
called  by  the  ringing  of  a  small  bell  through  the 
camp,  by  a  drummer  boy.  Confessions  were  heard 
also.  Many  officers  and  soldiers  came  here,  from 
various  parts  of  the  army,  and  it  was  like  a  parish 
service — all  except  the  collection.  The  Catholic  sol- 
dier is  glad  to  find  a  priest  in  the  army,  or  even  to 
see  one  in  the  distance,  and  it  always  gives  him  new 
courage.  It  is  an  inestimable  privilege  for  him  to 
make  his  confession,  receive  Holy  Communion,  and 
attend  Mass,  especially  when  it  may  be  for  the  last 
time.  Soldiers  thus  prepared  go  into  battle  full  of 
courage  and  confidence.  I  had  occasion  to  go  down 
to  the  landing  where  the  hospital  was  located,  several 
miles  from  the  camp.  Here  I  met  a  cavalry  soldier 
who  had  not  seen  a  priest  since  he  entered  the  army, 
nearly  a  year  previous  to  this  date.  May  3,  1862. 
He  made  preparations  at  once,  dropping  down  on  his 
knees  on  the  ground,  while  I  sat  on  a  cracker  box 
and  heard  the  confession  of  the  delighted  trooper. 
After  confession,  he  arose,  and,  regardless  of  his  soiled 
knees,  expressed  his  joy,  by  crying  out:  "O  Father! 
I  feel  so  light!"  From  that  moment  he  seemed  to 
have  new  life  and  courage.  This  soldier  lived  to  pass 
through   many  battles    with   brave    Phil.  Sheridan, 


44  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

who  was  no  braver  than  the  soldier  herein  mentioned. 
There  is  no  more  consoling  sacrament  established 
by  our  Lord,  than  the  Sacrament  of  Penance — con- 
fession. It  seems  to  have  for  those  who  rarely  find 
opportunity  to  receive  it,  an  infinite  charm  when 
unexpectedly  brought  within  their  reach.  The  cav- 
alry man  mentioned  is,  at  this  writing — January  20, 
1890 — still  alive,  at  Notre  Dame,  in  the  same  com- 
munity with  me,  leading  a  good  Christian  life,  but 
much  disabled  by  two  large  bullets  which  he  carries 
buried  deep  in  his  body  —  bullets  which  he  must,  of 
necessity,  carry  with  him  to  the  grave.  What  a 
coincidence,  after  nearly  thirty  years !  What  kindness 
on  the  part  of  Divine  Providence,  "without  whose 
care  not  oven  a  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground!"  God 
protects  His  own ;  He  favors  those  who  trust  in  Him ; 
He  glories  in  those  brave  servants  who  are  faithful 
and  do  not  run  after  false  doctrines.  "  So  spake  the 
Lord,"  said  the  Prophet  Elias,  and  quoted  by  St. 
Paul:  "I  have  left  me  seven  thousand  men  that 
have  not  bowed  their  knees  to  Baal." — Romans,  xi. 
Thus  did  the  Lord,  exulting,  so  to  speak,  proclaim 
the  number  of  His  servants  and  friends,  men  faith- 
ful to  His  service,  and  confident  in  His  loving  and 
paternal  care. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


SHORT  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  LOCALITY A  FEW  HISTOR- 
ICAL   NOTES PRINCE  OF  THE    "HOUSE  OF  ORLEANS" 

MASS. 

HERE  may  be  made  a  note  which,  I  am  sure,  will 
be  interesting  to  the  reader.  As  I  have  said, 
our  troops  embarked  and  passed  on  to  the  Chesapeake 
Bay,  the  greatest  inlet  on  the  United  States  Atlantic 
Coast — a  mighty  arm  of  the  sea,  about  200  miles  long 
and  very  wide.  On  its  bosom  floated  the  ships  that 
bore  the  notorious  Cornwallis,  with  his  troops,  to  the 
coasts  of  the  Carolinas  and  Virginia.  On  its  bosom 
also  floated  the  ships  that  bore  George  Washington, 
his  troops,  and  the  French  allies  under  R(3chambeau, 
to  the  victory  of  Yorktown  and  the  final  termination 
of  the  war  with  England.  On  these  waters,  Hamp- 
ton Roads,  forming  the  estuary  of  the  James  River, 
took  place  the  memorable  naval  battle  in  which  the 
novel  and  famous  MerrimaG  and  the  Monitor  figured, 
revolutionizing  naval  warfare  throughout  the  world. 
The  Chesapeake  receives  the  Potomac,  the  Rappa- 
hannock, the  York,  and  the  James  rivers,  each  made 
famous  by  battles  which  took  place  on  their  waters 

(45) 


46  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

and  on  their  banks,  during  tiie  Civil  War.  The 
Potomac  passed  between  union  and  secession.  From 
it  McClellan's  army  borrowed  its  name.  On  the 
Rappahannock  is  located  the  city  of  Fredericksburg, 
made  historic  by  the  contests  which  took  place  there, 
especially  the  disastrous  battle  under  Burnside.  On 
the  James  is  located  the  city  of  Richmond,  cele- 
brated as  being  the  capital  of  the  Confederacy.  Com- 
ing back  to  the  York  River,  we  notice  on  its  banks 
Yorktown,  known  by  every  schoolboy  in  the  United 
States  as  the  place  where  Cornwallis  surrendered  his 
entire  command  of  7,000,  and  capitulated  to  George 
Washington,  in  1781,  after  marauding  along  the 
shores  of  the  Carolinas,  and  destroying  $15,000,000 
worth  of  American  property.  But  Yorktown  obtains 
additional  notoriety  from  the  fact  that  the  Confed- 
erates revived  the  old  works  of  Cornwallis,  and  forti- 
fied an  army  there,  so  that  it  was  considered  by  them 
impregnable;  and,  finally,  in  May,  1862,  after  spiking 
their  guns,  about  seventy -two  in  number,  they  evacu- 
ated a  fort  which,  if  held,  might  have  been  instru- 
mental in  preventing  McClellan's  march  to  Richmond. 
This  action  was  a  surprise  to  all,  and  I  think  very 
much  against  their  own  interests. 

A  few  miles  from  Yorktown  is  Williamsburg,  full 
of  historical  reminiscences.  It  was  the  capital  of 
Virginia  and  the  seat  of  the  colonial  government 
prior  to  the  Revolution.  Therefore,  who,  possessed  of 
any  patriotism,  could  pass  over  the  renowned  Chesa- 
peake, whose  shores  have  living  voices,  echoing  and 


MEMOIRS  OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  47 

re-echoing  the  mighty  deeds  of  heroic  men,  without 
feeling  a  thrill  of  enthusiasm  ?  Yes,  in  passing  along 
these  shores,  one  should  lift  his  hat  in  reverence  to  the 
past,  or  in  memory  of  the  brave  soldiers  who  lie  in 
forgotten  graves  along  its  shores,  and  of  many  other 
fellowmen  who  have  perished,  either  by  the  sword 
or  by  starvation,  during  the  two  centuries  since  the 
colonial  days  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  This  may  seem 
to  be  too  much  of  a  digression  from  our  main  point, 
but  I  make  it  for  two  reasons:  First,  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  of  recalling  what  made  such  a 
deep  impression  on  the  writer  during  his  campaign 
life  of  three  years  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  in 
these  memorable  places;  secondly,  because  lovers  of 
history  will  gladly  read  a  few  lines  that  recall  such 
an  impression,  and  find  the  narrative  of  chaplain  life 
more  interesting. 

Now  we  will  go  back  and  start  from  the  camp  in 
front  of  Yorktown,  just  before  the  evacuation  of  that 
town  by  the  Confederates  in  May,  1862.  Our  camp 
was  called  Camp  Winfield  Scott,  in  honor  of  the  old 
general.  Owing  to  the  many  preparations  necessary 
for  storming  Yorktown,  strongly  fortified  as  it  was, 
also  for  the  building  of  bridges  over  the  creeks  and 
swamps,  considerable  time  was  consumed.  This  gave 
us  opportunity  to  look  around,  and  to  provide  clean, 
new  garments,  to  fix  up  neat  quarters,  and  to  get 
accustomed  to  real  soldier  life.  Here  might  be  men- 
tioned the  fact  that  all  tried  to  make  the  best  of  a 
life    necessarily    exposed    to    many  inconveniences. 


48  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

The  real  chivalry  of  our  army  was  kept  alive  by  the 
example  of  our  brave  and  brilliant  officers.  None 
excelled,  and  few  equalled  in  this  respect,  Gen. 
Thomas  Francis  Meagher,  commander  of  the  Irish 
Brigade,  while  Gen.  McClellan,  in  his  capacity  of 
commander-in-chief,  held  the  very  highest  possible 
position  in  the  affection,  confidence  and  respect  of 
both  officers  and  men.  He  was  honored,  too,  by 
distinguished  noblemen  from  Europe,  some  of  whom 
acted  as  aids-de-camy;  the  most  noted  being  the 
Princes  of  the  House  of  Orleans.  The  Prince  de 
Joinville  also  accompanied  McClellan,  but  not  as  an 
aid.  We  found  these  gentlemen,  with  others  of 
distinguished  family,  very  agreeable;  in  fact,  they 
endeared  themselves  to  many  of  us  by  their  kind  and 
gentle  manners.  They  came  to  participate  in  the 
active  campaign  life,  from  a  desire  of  perfecting 
themselves,  by  experience,  in  the  use  of  arms  and  the 
strategies  of  war.  They  seemed  to  have  a  genuine 
love  for  soldier  life.  McClellan  had  the  faculty  of 
surrounding  himself  with  men  of  distinction,  both  of 
this  country  and  of  Europe.  In  the  center  and  at  the 
head  of  the  great  army,  he  looked  and  acted  a  prince 
of  princes,  and  we  may  be  permitted  to  borrow  words 
from  Shakespeare  to  give  expression  to  his  magnetic 
character : 

"  By  his  light 

Did  all  the  chivalry  of  England  move 

To  do  brave  acts." 

Amid  all  the  inconveniences  of  war  life  there  is 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  49 

much  of  that  truly  chivalrous  spirit  which  lifts  the 
mind  from  the  every-day  routine  and  sends  it  flying 
back  over  the  dusty  pages  of  history  to  call  up  the 
heroic  deeds  of  the  great  men  of  the  mighty  past. 
Many  preparations  were  made  in  our  camp  for  the 
siege  of  Yorktown.  Our  men  confessed  their  sins, 
received  Holy  Communion,  and  spent  their  spare  time 
in  much  serious  reflection  on  the  past  and  the  very 
doubtful  future,  with  its  possibilities  in  the  coming 
battle  or  battles.  Fathers  Dillon,  Ouellet,  and  myself 
were  always  ready  to  assist  them  in  their  anxious 
preparations. 

As  I  have  said,  Yorktown  was  unexpectedly  evacu- 
ated by  the  Confederates,  on  May  4,  1862.  At  once 
we  were  ordered  to  advance.  We  abandoned  our 
quarters,  leaving  the  rustic  decoration  made  for  the 
devotions  of  May  behind  us,  and  marched  on.  The 
roads  were  in  a  frightful  condition,  so  much  so  that 
our  cannon  became  imbedded  in  the  mud;  the  horses 
could  do  nothing  in  the  face  of  such  difficulties ;  they 
could  only  pull  out  one  leg,  and  thereby  sink  the 
othel"  deeper.  At  length,  long  ropes  were  tied  to  the 
cannon  carriages,  and  a  few  hundred  soldiers,  with  a 
"long  pull,  a  strong  pull,  and  a  pull  altogether," 
succeeded  in  extricating  the  guns.  This  was  very 
slow  work.  We  finally  passed  through  Yorktown, 
which  was  filled  with  concealed  torpedoes.  No  one 
knew  at  what  moment  he  might  be  blown  "sky 
high."  I  took  care  to  keep  in  the  center  of  the  well- 
beaten  road,  watching   every  step  my  horse    made, 


50  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

fearing  to  encounter  a  hidden  explosive  that  would 
settle  all  doubts  concerning  the  future  army  life  as  far 
as  my  horse  and  I  were  concerned.  Army  wagons 
with  provisions,  tents,  ammunition,  etc.,  brought  up 
the  rear,  as  usual. 

A  certain  driver,  who  was  driving  six  mules  with 
a  single  line,  was  whipping  and  cursing  away  "like 
sixty,"  as  the  saying  is,  when  a  lean,  long-necked 
minister  came  along,  on  a  horse  covered  with  cooking 
utensils  and  stores.  The  minister,  feeling  it  his  duty, 
called  out: 

"Young  man,  do  you  know  who  made  you?  " 

"What?"  said  the  driver,  stopping  a  moment  from 
his  whipping  and  cursing. 

"Do  you  know  who  made  you?"  repeated  the 
minister,  this  time  in  a  very  loud  voice. 

"Oh!"  said  the  driver,  "this  is  no  time  for  conun- 
drums!" 

And  lifting  his  great  army  whip,  he  struck  the  lead- 
ing mule  on  the  ear  with  a  snap  that  sent  the  blood 
flying. 

"Go  on  there!"  he  cried,  "you  cursed  descendant 

of  Pluto!" 

He  had  heard  some  one  say  Pluto,  and  he  thought 
it  must  mean  some  very  bad  beast — bad  enough  to  be 
the  origin  of  mules.  Anyhow,  the  minister  retired. 
-^  McClellan  pushed  on  as  rapidly  as  possible,  and  a 
wing  of  our  army  came  in  contact  with  a  portion  of 
the  Confederate  forces  at  Williamsburg,  and  repulsed 
them  there.     In  order  to  follow  orders  received  from 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  51 

Washington,  several    divisions,  including    the  Irish 
Brigade,  were  rapidly  pushed  up  the  York  River  and 
to  Cumberland,  landing  on  the  right    bank  of    the 
Pamunkey  River.   The  other  divisions,  with  the  trains 
and  artillery,  moved  in  the  same  direction  by  land. 
Sunday,   May  11,    before   starting  up  the  river,   we 
had  a  few  hours'  free  time  early  in  the  morning.    The 
night  previous  I  had  caused  to  be  constructed,  under 
a  small  tent,  a  rude  altar,  composed,  not  of  carved 
walnut,  or  of  costly  cypress,  or  bird's-eye  maple,  but 
of  cracker  boxes,  supported  by  a  light  frame-work, 
forming  a  quasi-table,  with    room  enough  to  place 
on  it  the    altar  stone,    cards,    missal,    etc.     Here   I 
celebrated   the  Holy    Sacrifice — Coram  populo,  vel 
militihus  presentihus.     This  Mass  was  attended  with 
much  devotion,  perhaps  more  than  the  general  public 
would  be  willing  to  ascribe  to  soldiers.     But  a  true 
Christian  soldier  has  for   motto:    "Fidelity  to  God 
firsts  and  to  his  country  next;"  and  no  man  can  be  a 
true,  reliable  patriot  who  is  a  traitor  to  his  Maker. 
The   sermon  on  this  occasion   was  short:     "My  dear 
brethren,  never  forget  your  duty  to  God."     Scarcely 
was  the  last  word  of  the  short  sermon  heard,  when 
the  command  resounded  through  the  camp:     "Fall 
in!"  and  while  the  servants  hastily  folded   up  the 
small  tent,  I  swallowed   from  a  tin  cup  my  coffee, 
then  mounted  my  horse.     While  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands  in   cities,    towns,    and    hamlets    were   slowly 
walking  to  church,  and,  later  on  in  the  day,  listening 
to  the  grand  tones  of  the  inspiring  organ,  the  charms 


52  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

of  classic  music,  and  the  eloquence  of  the  pulpit, 
your  humble  servant  was  marching  on  with  his 
command,  which  he  never  allowed  to  go  alone,  fearing 
that  his  official  services  might  be  wanted  at  any 
moment.  Thus  I  spent  that  Sunday,  but  not  without 
fruit.  A  soldier  was  suddenly  taken  ill,  and  I  was 
summoned  immediately.  I  had  but  a  short  distance 
to  go,  which  was  fortunate,  for  the  poor  soldier  was 
sinking  very  rapidly.  These  opportunities  for  doing 
good  were  great  consolations,  and  recompensed  the 
chaplains  for  their  fatigues  and  privations,  since  they 
brought  the  consciousness  that  their  labors  and  time 
were  not  lost.  Thus,  unknown  to  nineteen-twentieths 
of  the  command,  good  was  being  done,  and  the 
soldiers  felt  a  security  in  knowing  that  their  priest 
was  always  quite  near — in  fact,  "  within  gun-shot," 
and  ready  to  serve  them  at  a  moment's  notice. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


HOME    OF    MRS.    GEORGE   WASHINGTON — NOTED    RIVERS 

LAND     OF     THE     RED-MAN     IN      CAPTAIN     SMITH'S 

TIME — ETC. 

OUR  move  up  the  York  River  brought  us  to  the 
"White  House,"  as  it  was  called.  This  at  once 
marked  a  spot  of  much  interest  to  our  troops,  and 
revealed  to  our  admiring  eyes  the  home  of  the  pretty 
widow,  Mrs.  Custis,  who  became  the  wife  of  George 
Washington.  It  was  a  two-and-a-half  story  frame 
building,  having  only  six  rooms,  surrounded,  however, 
by  several  out-offices.  The  grounds  were  nicely  kept, 
and  the  parterre  in  front  was  particularly  charming. 
Gen.  McClellan  placed  a  guard  on  the  premises  to 
protect  the  property ;  but  later  on  during  the  war  the 
building  was  burned  and  the  entire  surroundings 
assumed  a  desolate  aspect.  Even  the  fine  pines  and 
cedars  that  gave  a  tone  of  poetic  fancy  to  this  historic 
spot  were  destroyed  by  the  ruthless  hand  of  Mars. 
The  property  belonged  to  the  Lee  family,  who  inher- 
ited it  in  a  direct  line.  Gen.  Lee's  mother  being  a 
Miss  Custis. 

This  spot  marked  a  stopping  place  in  our  march, 
(53) 


54  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

and  in  our  life,  which  resembled  very  much  that  of 
Gypsies.  It  also  reminded  us  that  we  were  drawing 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  great  contest  that  would  end 
in  many  horrors  —  bleeding  wounds,  groaning  suf- 
ferers, death  to  thousands,  and  tears  to  the  eyes  of 
innumerable  widows,  orphans,  and  dear  ones  at  home. 
In  anticipation  of  this  the  chaplains  had  their  places 
of  worship  arranged  as  best  they  could,  where,  in 
the  evenings,  men  could  go  to  confession  and  receive 
Holy  Communion  next  morning.  With  lively  faith 
they  gathered  around  the  altars,  assisted  at  Mass; 
and  as  they  watched  the  priest  lift  the  Sacred  Host 
on  high,  many  a  one  said  in  his  heart:  "Perhaps 
this  is  the  last  time  I  will  see  Jesus  till  I  meet  Him 
in  the  life  to  come."  O  how  many  war  States,  but 
especially  Virginia,  were  sanctified  in  this  way!* 
Thousands  of  soldiers,  looking  up  to  heaven  into  the 
eyes  of  the  Deity,  asking  help;  the  priest,  lifting 
up  the  "Spotless  Lamb,"  calling  out  to  man  and 
to  the  eternal  Father:  Ecce  Agnus  > Dei — "Behold 
the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the 
world."  A  good  minister  met  me  on  the  march  one 
day  and  asked,  in  all  simplicity  and  earnestness: 

"Chaplain,  how  do  you  bring  your  men  to  Divine 
service?  I  see  them  as  I  pass  your  quarters  attend- 
ing by  the  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  every  Sab- 
bath, especially,  and  often  during  the  week.     I  can 


*  Altars  erected  on  hundreds  of  spots,  dotting  the  land 
bright  stars  do  the  firmament. 


MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  55 

not  induce  my  men  to  attend  that  way;  in  fact,  very 
few  take  any  interest  in  religious  services." 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  I  do  not  bring  them,"  I  replied; 
"their  faith  brings  them." 

A  little  to  the  northeast  of  this  location  was  the 
Mattapony  River,  which  figured  on  our  war  maps. 
This  river  has  three  small  forks,  called,  respectively, 
the  "Mat,"  "Ta,"  "Po,"  and  the  "Ny,"  which, 
united,  form  the  name  referred  to — the  "Mattapony." 
Between  us  and  Richmond  was  the  well-known 
Chickahominy  River,  whose  stream,  in  many  places,  is 
not  more  than  forty  to  fifty  feet  in  width,  but  whose 
shores  are  marshes  or  swamps,  varying  from  one-half 
to  one  mile  wide.  Heavy  forest  trees  grow  in  the 
marshes,  and  make  them  similar  in  appearances  to 
the  great  cypress  swamps  of  Louisiana.  After  pass- 
ing over  these  marshes  one  reaches  terra  firma  again. 

Here  we  found  ourselves  on  the  once  rich  hunting 
grounds  of  the  red-man,  which  were  so  much  desired 
by  the  whites.  It  was  while  the  famous  Capt.  John 
Smith  was  passing  up  this  Chickahominy  River  that 
he  was  captured  by  the  Indians,  and  would  have  been 
sacrificed  to  the  "Great  Spirit,"  but  for  the  inter- 
vention of  the  gentle  and  kind-hearted  Pocahontas, 
who,  moved  by  compassion,  saved  his  life  at  the  risk 
of  her  own.  Our  minds  were  carried  back  to  the 
time  of  this  gentle  "  child  of  nature"  (over  three 
hundred  years  ago),  and  we  reflected  what  changes 
had  taken  place  in  the  lands  where  she  exercised  a 
chastening  and  refining  influence  over  the  brave  but 


56  MEMOIKS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

savage  warriors  of  those  days.  This  place  was  at  that 
time  filled  with  red-men,  and  innumerable  wild  beasts 
roamed  at  will  and  furnished  an  abundant  supply  of 
food  for  the  children  of  the  forest.  Here  could  be 
seen  the  elk,  wild  deer,  the  cinnamon  bear,  the  coon, 
wild  turkey  and  fowls  of  infinite  variety.  Now  what 
do  we  see?  Two  great  armies  on  either  side  of  the 
river — descendants  of  civilized  European  stock,  chil- 
dren of  Christians  —  making  ready,  with  all  the  most 
destructive  engines  of  war,  to  slaughter  each  other,  to 
cause  human  blood,  brother's  blood,  to  flow  in 
streams !  Alas,  for  the  errors  of  poor  human  nature ! 
But,  humanurn  est  errare  —  "it  is  human  to  err." 
We  can  understand  this  savage  inclination  in  the 
untrained  barbarian,  but  not  in  the  enlightened 
Christians  of  the  nineteenth  century !  '^0  temporal  O 
mores!  "  If  at  this  time  the  sweet,  gentle  Pocahontas 
could  return  as  an  angel  of  peace  to  her  old  home 
and  cast  herself  between  the  belligerents,  doubtless 
their  passions  would  be  cooled  and  the  bright  vision 
would  kindle  fraternal  charity  in  every  heart. 

We  have  not  yet,  however,  reached  the  Chicka- 
hominy  River.  We  are  still  on  the  banks  of  the 
Pamunkey,  up  which  are  coming  the  army  supplies — 
men  and  material  pretty  well  mixed.  As  the  men 
land,  we  notice  a  wonderful  variety.  Here  comes  a 
regiment  of  Zouaves,  known  by  their  red  dress -caps, 
white  leggings,  and  baggy  trousers.  Now  we  see  a 
company  of  cavalry,  their  short  jackets  and  well- 
fitting  trousers  trimmed  with  yellow.     Next  come  the 


MEMOIES   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  57 

engineers,  who  wear  dark  blue  trimmed  with  orange; 
and,  finally,  the  regular  infantry  men,  attired  in  the 
ordinary  blue  uniforms  with  dark  trimmings.  These 
soldiers,  constantly  coming  in  from  the  ships,  soon 
became  very  busy  unloading  the  necessaries  of  war 
in  infinite  variety.  It  would  remind  one  of  the 
slight-of-hand  man  or  prestidigitator,  who,  from  one 
hat,  may  take  a  sponge  cake  two  feet  in  diameter,  a 
p^r  of  live  rabbits,  a  lady's  costume,  and  a  bottle  or 
two  of  wine.  From  the  vessels  our  men  took  the 
indomitable  army  mule,  army  wagons,  corn,  baled 
hay,  flour,  pork,  *'  hard-tack,"  suttlers,  with  all  their 
traps,  cartridges,  cannon  caissons,  cannon  balls,  can- 
non shells,  powder,  crow  bars,  and  perhaps  a  few  tooth- 
picks. The  latter  were  hardly  essential.  While  all 
this  necessary  work  was  going  on,  many  of  our  men 
were  engaged  in  building  eleven  new  bridges,  found 
indispensable  for  crossing  the  swamps  and  the  Chicka- 
hominy  River. 

In  the  meantime  the  chaplains  kept  up  the  Chris- 
tian fervor  of  their  men  by  celebrating  Mass  and 
hearing  confessions.  Frequently,  also,  some  good 
soldier,  who  had  not  the  time  or  the  facilities  for 
writing,  requested  the  priest  to  do  so  for  him.  Such 
letters  would,  invariably,  be  addressed  to  a  dear 
wife,  mother,  sister,  or  brother,  who  was  only  too 
anxious  to  know  how  John  or  James  fared  at  the 
"  front."  Hundreds  of  such  letters  passed  home- 
ward, and  in  time  the  dear  ones  would  write  to  the 
chaplains  of  the  brigade,  asking  for  more  information. 


58  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

At  the  time,  such  letters  passed  for  what  they  were 
worth  then  and  there;  but  now,  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century  since,  these  letters  would  be  worth  an  incal- 
culable amount  of  money.  They  were  generally 
very  simple  and  straight  to  the  point;  and  oh,  how 
full  of  heartfelt  interest!  And  the  answers!  What 
an  infinite  variety  of  expressions,  prompted  by  mater- 
nal love  and  solicitude,  or  by  the  fraternal  anxiety, 
but  hopeful  courage,  would  fill  pages;  and  then  the 
affectionate  and  tender-hearted  sister  could  not  sup- 
press the  wail  of  grief  that  filled  her  soul  at  the 
thought  of  the  privations,  hardships,  and  exposures 
to  which  her  dear  brother  was  subject.  The  priest 
was  a  go-between,  exercising,  as  best  he  could,  his 
offices  of  Christian  charity  in  numerous  ways.  It 
was  touching  to  see  how  those  who  had  never  seen  us 
wrote  confidingly  of  their  family  affairs;  just  as 
children  to  their  fathers,  not  only  Catholics,  but  also 
non-Catholics.  What  a  proof  of  an  unconscious  but 
divine  faith! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


PASTIMES   AND  REALITIES BATTLE    OF    FAIR    OAKS    OR 

SEVEN    PINES. 

ON  May  31,  1862,  Gen.  Meagher,  wishing  to 
keep  up  the  spirits  of  his  men,  organized  a 
steeple  chase  and  a  mule  race,  and  numerous  prizes 
were  offered.  Steeple  chases,  as  a  sport,  are  not 
extensively  known  or  practised  in  this  country.  The 
preparations  are  made  by  building  hedge  or  brush 
fences,  digging  ditches  six  to  eight  feet  wide,  etc. 
Then  the  gentlemen  (in  this  case  officers  exclusively), 
mounted  in  jockey  dress,  ride  over  this  ground,  and, 
with  their  horses,  jump  the  fences  and  ditches  they 
come  to  throughout  the  course.  Six,  or  perhaps  as 
many  as  eight,  enter  for  the  contest  and  go  abreast. 
As  the  jumping  is  very  hazardous,  it  becomes  exceed- 
ingly exciting.  Not  unfrequently  when  a  horse  and 
rider  had  unfortunately  fallen  into  a  ditch  another 
horse  and  rider,  coming  close  behind  at  full  speed,  and 
unable  to  stop,  would  go  down  to  join  the  melee^  or, 
in  some  extraordinary  cases,  jumping  over  the  fallen 
horse  and  rider,  keep  on,  bent  on  winning  the  prize. 
It  was  certainly  a  great  novelty  to  many  of  us,  who, 

(69) 


60  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

born  in  the  States,  had  never  before  seen  such  recrea- 
tion, which  must  unquestionably  have  been  the 
invention  of  wild  Irishmen,  who  did  not  know  what 
fear  is!  It  was  an  ordinary  occurrence  to  see  men 
with  dislocated  arms,  broken  shoulder-blades,  and 
black  eyes ;  and,  in  some  cases,  the  horses  were  killed 
outright,  or  disabled  so  that  they  were  shot  to  put 
them  out  of   pain. 

The  mule  race  was  laughable  beyond  expression. 
Each  teamster  rode  his  adversary's  mule,  and  the 
mule  "in  last"  was  the  one  that  took  the  prize; 
consequently  no  one  wanted  to  get  in  last,  because  it 
would  give  the  prize  to  his  opponent.  Such  whipping 
and  roaring  I  never  heard.  It  made  all  wild  with 
jollity.  When  several  of  the  obstinate  brutes  ran 
and  stuck  their  heads  into  shanty  windows  on  the 
route,  and  performed  many  still  more  ridiculous 
freaks,  the  merriment  grew  almost  into  a  craze. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this,  the  cannon  opened  their 
brazen  mouths  and  belched  at  our  troops  the  missiles 
of  death.  These  were  quickly  responded  to  by  those 
of  our  troops  who  were  in  the  vicinity  of  the  attack. 
The  drums  beat  the  "long  roll,"  and  a  cry  "To 
arms! "  flew  along  our  lines.  Lieutenants,  adjutants  of 
various  rank,  and  orderlies  came  with  reckless  speed, 
their  horses  covered  with  sweat  and  panting  with 
fatigue  and  excitement,  which  they  seemed  to  have 
caught  instinctively  from  the  surroundings  and  from 
their  earnest  riders.  In  a  few  moments  we  were 
marching  to  the  scene  of  contest. 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  61 

Now  we  had  to  test  the  Chickahominy  swamps.  We 
marched  all  night  till  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
over  the  corduroy  roads  that  kept  some  of  us  out  of 
the  swamps ;  but  when  it  came  the  turn  of  the  cavalry 
and  artillery  to  cross  the  swamps  and  river,  there 
were  scenes  that  beggar  description.  The  rain, 
which  had  fallen  in  torrents  a  short  time  previously, 
had  swollen  the  river  and  filled  the  swamps  to  such  a 
degree  that  the  logs  forming  the  corduroy  roads  were 
partly  floating,  and  some  of  the  eleven  bridges  that 
had  been  built  by  the  troops  were  swept  entirely 
away.  The  night  was  dark,  and  the  bridge  we  had 
to  cross  was  at  first  called  the  '"Grape-vine  Bridge"; 
but  before  the  cavalry  and  artillery  passed  over,  it 
was  given  a  new  name,  more  appropriate  to  the 
dilapidated,  unsafe  condition  in  which  we  found  it  in 
the  darkness  of  the  night.  It  was  renamed  the 
"  Devil's  Bridge."  Horses  fell  in  vain  attempts  to 
plunge  their  way ;  the  artillery  got  stuck ;  harmony 
of  action  and  voice  left  the  ranks,  and  we  were  bogged 
in  the  dark,  dismal  swamps  of  the  Chickahominy. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  distressing  confusion  and 
real  hardship,  we  mused  over  the  New  York,  Phila- 
delphia, and  other  gentle,  innocent  heroes,  who  would 
awaken  that  morning  from  a  sound,  refreshing  sleep, 
get  up  at  eight  o'clock,  or  later,  come  down  to  break- 
fast, pick  up  the  morning  paper,  and  glance  over  the 
"  army  movements,"  and,  thinking  that  the  army 
should  rush  to  the  ''  front"  as  the  firemen  go  over 
Broadway  and  other  well-paved  streets  to  a  destructive 


62  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

fire,  remark:     "How  slowly    that    army   moves!"  I 
can  not  dwell  on  this  point  now,  nor  is  it  to  my  pur- 
pose; but  I  must  say  that  many  well-meaning  men 
passed    criticisms  on  the   conduct  of    the  war,  who 
would  have  formed  very  different   opinions  had  they 
known  one-tenth  of  the   difficulties  such   as  I  have 
simply   alluded  to  ahoye,  en  passant.     These   great 
difficulties  were  to  be  met  with  on  all  occasions  when 
anything  like  a  general   move   had  to  be  made.     To 
mobilize    a    great    army,    taking    into    account   the 
hundred  thousand  details,  contingencies,  etc..,  is  an 
undertaking   but    partially    comprehended   by    men 
having  a  military    education,  but    with   no    practical 
experience,    and  fully  comprehended   even   by    few 
experienced   military    men.      From    this   standpoint 
one  may  easily  see  how  absurd  it  is  for  men  with  no 
experience  and  no   military  education,  hundreds  of 
miles  away  from  danger  of  bullets,  to  pass  judgments 
off-hand,  and  vehemently  condemn  seeming  mistakes, 
which  may,  in  reality,  be  great  military  manoeuvres. 
As  I  have  said,  we  passed  most  of  the  night  reach- 
ing the  scene  of  contest,  called   Fair  Oaks  or  Seven 
Pines.     We  halted  in   the   dark  on    a    field   nearly 
surrounded  by  woods,  and  tried  to  rest  for  a  short  time 
on  the  wet  ground,  to  recover  some  of  the  strength 
lost  by  the  fatigues   of  the   night.     In  the  morning 
when  we  opened  our  eyes  we  found  that  we  had  been 
sleeping  with  the  dead!    Many  a  poor  soldier  lay  cold 
in   death    just    where    he    fell  in   the  battle   of  the 
previous  evening,  and  we  saw  the  gha&tly  appearance 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  63 

of  their  bodies,  which  had  been,  as  it  were,  our  bed- 
fellows, and  a  shudder  passed  through  our  hearts. 
In  this  situation  we  could  see  the  effects  of  the 
desperate  struggle  of  the  previous  day.  May  31, 1862. 
We  were  told  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  Thirty - 
seventh  New  York  ''Irish  Rifles"  and  three  brave 
Michigan  regiments  forming  Berry's  Brigade,  the 
Confederates  could  have  called  the  day  entirely  their 
own ;  but  these  regiments  repulsed  the  enemy  with 
considerable  loss.  Taking  a  hasty  look  over  the 
locality,  I  saw  on  every  side  dead  men,  dead  horses, 
broken  muskets,  caissons  smashed  to  pieces,  and 
general  destruction  of  life  and  property.  The 
impression  made  on  my  mind  then,  about  twenty-eight 
years  ago,  is  still  as  fresh  as  if  it  were  only  yesterday 
that  I  witnessed  the  scene. 

An  inspection  of  a  battle-field  immediately  after 
the  battle  has  a  very  depressing  effect  on  the  mind, 
more  so  even  than  the  battle  itself.  In  sequestered 
places  were  a  number  of  wounded  and  dying.  The 
priests  of  the  Irish  Brigade  visited  them  and  rendered 
such  assistance  as  Catholic  soldiers  were  in  need  of, 
and  then  passed  through  our  mind  forebodings  of 
what  the  day  might  bring  forth.  I  must  say  that  the 
outlook  was  not  an  exhilarating  one.  By  this  time, 
full  daylight,  June  1,  1862,  we  noticed  the  advance 
of  the  Confederate  troops.  They  came  en  masse, 
presenting  a  bold  front.  All  the  faith  and  piety 
preached  during  the  few  previous  months  must  now 
be  put  into  practice.     Our  men  of  the  Irish  Brigade 


64  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

blessed  themselves  with  more  than  ordinary   fervor, 
offered  a  few  fervent  prayers  to  God  and  His  Blessed 
Mother,  and  then,  resigned  to  fate,  they  passed,  even 
in  the  face  of  impending  perils,  an  occasional  joke,  or 
quoted    a    line    of  poetry.     A   balloon    which    had 
appeared  above  the  raging  conflict  on  the  previous 
day,  had  informed  Gen.  McClellan  of  the  movements 
of  the    Confederates,  and  he  knew    that  they  were 
taking  advantage  of  our  critical  position  —  our  right 
wing  being  unprotected — a  failure   on    the  part  of 
McDowell  to  fill  that  vacancy  with  his  40,000  men, 
as  he  was  expected  to  do.     Besides  this  failure,  the 
recent    rains   had  swollen   the   small  stream   of   the 
Chickahominy  until    it    was    a    raging  torrent,  and 
the    marshes    had    become    expansive    lakes,    with 
part  of  the  Union  troops  on  one  side  and  part  on  the 
other!  This  rendered  McClellan's  position  extremely 
hazardous,  and  the  Confederates  were  fully  confident 
of    an    easy    victory,    knowing,   as    they    did,    that 
McDowell  with  his  great  command  was  not  near  to 
assist  McClellan  in  any  way.     They  took  into  con- 
sideration,   also,   the    embarrassment  caused  by  the 
unprecedented   floods    in    and  along  the  shores  and 
marshes  of  the  Chickahominy 

At  daylight  the  Confederates  advanced,  and  the 
"long  roll"  had  already  called  to  arms  all  the  Union 
men  then  on  the  ground.  The  conflict  commenced 
early,  and  increased  in  fury  until  a  "tenderfoot"  felt 
that  hell  had  opened  its  gates  and  let  loose  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  demons,  "shapes  hot  from  Tartarus," 


MEMOIBS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  65 

whose  ferocity  knew  no  bounds,  and  whose  single 
aim  was  destruction,  without  mercy  to  friend  or  foe. 
While  the  battle  increased  in  violence  and  pressed 
the  Union  front,  Gen.  Thomas  Francis  Meagher's 
action,  with  his  Irish  Brigade  of  infantry  and  his 
battery  of  eighteen  ten-pound  Parrot  guns,  is  thus 
described  by  Dr.  James  Moore,  United  States  sur- 
geon, in  his  complete  history  of  the  war:  "Gen. 
Meagher,  at  the  head  of  his  famous  Irish  Brigade, 
advanced  gallantly,  and,  charging  with  great  fierce- 
ness, mowed  down  the  rebels  by  platoons.  They  were 
compelled  to  retreat,  while  a  storm  of  shells  from  the 
Parrot  guns  accelerated  their  flight."  (Page  172.) 
Healy,  in  his  history,  speaking  of  the  same  battle, 
says:  ''Meagher's  gallant  brigade  was  then  brought 
up  to  relieve  the  hard-pressed  regiment.  Advancing 
with  their  well-known  war-shout,  they  closed  with 
fearful  ferocity  on  the  foe,  and  for  an  hour  mowed 
them  down  almost  by  companies." 


CHAPTEE  IX. 


BIGOTS — TRUE    FEEEDOM,    ETC. 

TTTHAT  has  all  the  last  chapter  to  do  with  the 
^^  chaplains?  some  reader  may  ask.  It  has 
everything  to  do  with  them.  It  shows  that  the 
doctrines  they  preached  did  not  make  cowards.  It 
furnishes  one  more  grand  historical  fact  to  shut  the 
mouths  of  bigots  who  wantonly  take  every  occasion 
to  stir  up  animosity,  quite  unnecessarily,  against 
Catholics.  The  press  holds  out  to  the  American 
people  the  great  power  of  the  Pope,  and  tells  them 
that  by  his  power  and  office  he  directs  Catholic 
politics  in  the  United  States,  and  that  our  great 
American  free  institutions  are  in  danger!  "The 
Pope  and  the  Catholic  Church  will  be  their  ruin!  " 
In  the  first  place,  let  me  ask,  should  we  have  any  free 
institutions  or  any  free  country  at  all,  were  it  not  for 
Catholics  ?  I  write  not  as  a  foreigner  but  as  a  native- 
born  American  citizen.  Was  it  not  a  Catholic — 
Columbus — who  discovered  this  country  ?  Was  it  not 
Catholic  Spain  that  encouraged  him,  and  furnished 
him  the  means?  Consult  history.  Wherein  have 
the   Catholic  Church  and  the  Catholic  people  in  this 

{66) 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  67 

country  failed  in  patriotism?  Tell  me  that!  and  do 
not  try  to  frighten  good  people  with  the  ghost  of  a 
Pope  coming  over  here  to  destroy  our  free  institu- 
tions. The  Pope  loves  the  United  States,  as  he  has 
frequently  asserted,  and  he  has  other  occupations, 
besides  uprooting  national  institutions  within  her 
borders.  The  Catholics  of  various  nations  showed 
their  love  for  this  country  during  the  struggle  for 
independence,  for  national  freedom. 

Many  civilized  nations  seemed  ripe  for  liberty 
when  the  superhuman  blow  was  struck  over  a  century 
ago  and  the  glorious  fruit  fell  at  the  feet  of  America. 
Like  birds  let  out  of  a  cage,  the  people  who  had 
come  over  here  from  Europe  felt  that  they  had  left 
behind  them  a  prison  life.  They  left  behind  them 
oppressive  laws.  They  left  behind  them  an  over- 
bearing aristocracy;  and  as  new  generations  sprang 
up,  the  very  thought  of  being  kept  on  their  native 
soil,  unwilling  servants  of  worn-out  social  systems 
and  ungrateful  masters,  caused  a  deep,  strong  desire 
to  spring  up  in  their  hearts  for  absolute,  unconditional, 
and  everlasting  freedom.  The  great  lakes,  the  beau- 
tiful, inspiring  torrents  that  continually  rush  to  the 
sea,  the  extensive  and  fertile  prairies;  yes,  even  the 
rich  and  impenetrable  forests,  homes  for  the  wild 
man,  homes  for  birds  and  beasts,  had  fired  the  minds 
of  Americans  and  told  them  by  the  voice  of  nature: 
"  You  are  our  sons,  and  you  must  be  sons  of  freedom, 
now  and  forever."  A  voice  was  lifted;  it  was  wafted 
over  the  Atlantic,     A  favorable  response  came  from 


68  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

various  nations  of  Europe.  From  every  city  on  this 
continent,  from  every  town  in  the  country,  from 
every  village  and  hamlet  on  the  plain,  from  every 
ship  in  the  harbors,  from  every  cabin  in  the  forests, 
and  from  the  living  hearts  of  millions  of  men,  went 
up  that  same  cry  for  liberty.  In  response  to  this 
universal  demand,  Ireland  sent  her  brave  sons  to 
do  battle  in  the  cause  of  liberty.  Poland  sent  an 
illustrious  Kosciusko.  Alsace  sent  a  noble  DeKalb. 
From  France  and  her  Catholic  king  came  the  great 
and  patriotic  Lafayette  and  the  noted  Rochambeau, 
with  thousands  of  French  Catholic  soldiers.  With- 
out the  aid  of  these  truly  brave,  talented,  and  gallant 
men  of  the  Catholic  faith  the  United  States  could 
not  have  gained  her  independence,  and  would  be  to- 
day, in  all  probability,  a  humble  colony  of  England, 
just  as  we  see  our  neighbor  Canada.  Not  to  speak 
now  of  the  friendly  reception  given  to  Lafayette  by 
Marie  Antoinette,  nor  the  favorable  disposition  of  the 
king  to  the  American  cause  in  promising  an  army 
and  a  fleet,  nor  of  Eochambeau  at  the  head  of  6,000 
French  Catholic  soldiers,  let  us  simply  refer  to  York- 
town.  Behold,  rapidly  advancing  on  the  historic 
waters  of  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  Count  de  Grrasse  with 
a  powerful  French  fleet.  He  joins  Washington,  the 
two  forming  an  army  of  12,000  heroes.  Washington 
takes  one  redoubt  and  the  French  take  another. 
Corn wallis,  with  his  7,000  well-trained  British  soldiers, 
is  compelled  to  surrender  to  the  combined  American 
and  French   armies.  ;  This  virtually  ended  the  war 


MEM0IB8   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  69 

with  England,  and  secured  that  greatest  boon  of 
liberty.  The  joy  that  passed  through  the  nation  was 
never  before  equaled.  In  no  struggle  into  which 
our  dear  country  has  been  precipitated,  either  with 
England,  Mexico,  or  the  late  conflict  of  the  rebellion, 
can  you  find  a  lack  of  gallant  generals,  officers  of 
every  rank,  with  tens  of  thousands  of  brave,  hardy 
sons  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  the  ranks  and  at  the 
front,  the  place  of  peril,  called  in  war  times  the  "post 
of  honor." 

Yes,  wellnigh  on  every  page  of  the  history  of  the 
United  States  you  find  recorded  the  brave  deeds 
of  Irish  Catholics,  and  Catholics  of  all  nations, 
including  American  Catholics,  who  labored  zealously 
in  the  cause  of  American  liberty;  and  still  we  have 
the  mortification  of  hearing,  through  the  press,  from 
the  pulpit,  and  even  in  legislative  halls,  the  hue  and 
cry:  "Catholics  will  destroy  our  free  institutions!" 
Did  not  Catholics  furnish  the  material  to  make  them  ? 
And  why  should  they  destroy  their  own  work  ?  Why 
should  thoy  be  debarred  rights  purchased  by  the 
purest  blood  of  their  noblest  sons  ?  Shame  on  bigots 
for  their  ingratitude !  Shame  on  bigots  for  this  lack 
of  a  sense  of  justice!  Shame  on  bigots  for  casting 
dishonor  on  the  memories  of  the  men  who  saved  their 
lives  and  the  honor  of  this  country!  Shame  on 
bigots  for  vomiting  out  spleen  on  the  very  men  who, 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  their  own  forefathers,  won 
for  them,  on  bloody  battle-fields,  the  liberty  they  now 
enjoy.     Hold!    Enough!    Thank  God,  it  is  only  from 


70  MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

bigots  any  cause  of  complaint  comes.  The  national 
finger  of  scorn  should  be  pointed  at  such  men  till  they 
hide  their  diminished  heads  behind  the  mountains  of 
some  remote  island  far  beyond  the  borders  of  a  free 
and  fraternal  nation.  These  few  remarks  are  not 
intended  for  a  general  fault-finding  with  men  not  of 
the  Catholic  faith  in  this  country.  No,  we  have 
reason  to  be  thankful  to  all,  excepting  always  the 
bigots.  Some  of  the  finest  tributes  I  ever  read  to  our 
faith  came  from  Protestant  pens — from  honest,  well- 
meaning  men.  Men  of  this  kind  are  more  numerous 
in  our  happy  and  prosperous  country  than  in  any 
other  country  in  the  world.'  Once  more,  let  bigots 
cease  their  useless  vituperation;  let  the  Gospel,  not 
scandal,  be  preached  from  the  pulpit.  Let  the  press 
temper  its  language  and  be  inspired  by  the  noble, 
manly  spirit  of  our  forefathers.  Let  the  legislative 
bodies  allow  no  bigotry,  but  deal  only  in  justice, 
equity,  and  truth  with  all  men.  Then,  and  not  till 
then,  can  we  call  ourselves  a  free  people,  bound 
together  by  the  most  sacred  ties  that  patriotic  blood 
is  able  to  cement. 


CHAPTER  X. 


CHAPLAINS   DURING    AND    AFTER     THE    BATTLE 

HOSPITALS. 

rpHE  battle  of  Fair  Oaks  was  over  and  niglit  spread 
-■-  its  dark  mantle  over  the  bloody  scene,  but  could 
not  hush  the  groans  of  wounded  men.  Neither  could 
it  bring  the  desired  refreshment  and  comfort  to  those 
nearly  dead  from  fatigue,  hunger,  thirst,  loss  of  blood, 
and  excruciating  pain.  Those  who  lost  much  blood 
by  severe  wounds  suffered  terribly  from  the  cold 
night  air — a  natural  consequence.  Here  I  may 
remark  that  in  the  early  part  of  the  war  the  provis- 
ions for  the  sick  and  wounded  were  very  imperfect. 
Not  because  of  a  want  of  necessary  supplies  by  the 
Government,  which  desired  to  see  all  the  men  in  the 
service  provided  with  necessaries,  and  even  with 
luxuries,  but  from  want  of  organization  on  the  part 
of  those  officers  whose  duty  it  was  to  attend  to  this 
branch.  Neither  was  it  their  fault.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  most  of  our  officers,  while  brave  and 
attentive  to  duty,  still  lacked  experience.  Nearly  all 
were  novices.  On  this  occasion,  especially,  circum- 
stances precluded  the  possibility  of  having  everything 

(71) 


72  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

as  it  should  be.     For  instance,  to  have  hospital  tents, 
cots,  and  a  hundred  and  one  other  things  required  for 
alleviating  t!ie  sufferings  of  the  wounded.     Many  of 
the   severely    wounded   lost    everything  —  blankets, 
utensils,  and  provisions.*   The  country  was  in  a  terri- 
ble condition,  covered  to  a  great  extent,  as  we  have 
seen,  with  water,  and  to  convey  by  wagons  the  thou- 
sands  of   tons  'necessary  on   such  occasions  was  no 
small  task.     Later  on  during  the    war,    with    more 
experience  and  better  organization,  the  surgeons  were 
able  to  give  better  and  more  prompt  attention  and 
assistance  to  those  in  need.     But,  no  matter  how  well 
organized,  no  matter  how  attentive  all  are,  on  such 
occasions  there  are  inevitable  sufferings.     At  times  it 
is  impossible  to  furnish  even  a  drink  of  water  to  the 
soldier,  bravely  trying  to  endure  not  only  the  torturing 
pain  of  his  wounds,  but  also  the  hunger  and  thirst 
that  can  not  be  assuaged  by  the  best  will  of  the  best 
friends.     Such  are  the  contingencies  of  the  battle- 
field.    During  the  battle  and  after  it,  as  fast  as  our 
men  dropped,  they  were  seen  first   by   the  priest,  at 
the   request   of  the  sufferer,  and  if  his  wound  was 
fatal,  the  priest  heard   his  confession    on  the  spot, 


*  Just  after  the  battle  of  Fair  Oaks,  I  wished  to  send  word 
home  to  Notre  Dame.  I  had  no  paper,  but,  after  much  search- 
ing, I  found  an  old  envelope,  which  had  no  paste  or  mucilage 
to  fasten  it.  I  found  a  stamp,  however,  and  on  the  inside  of 
the  envelope  I  wrote :  "The  battle  is  over,  and  we  are  safe.' 
I  sealed  the  letter  by  pasting  the  stamp  on  the  laps  of  the 
envelope.  This  I  addressed  to  my  dear  sister,  who  handed  it 
to  Very  Rev.  E.  Sorin,  then  the  President  of  Notre  Dame.  He 
was  BO  pleased  with  the  real  war-like  message  that  he  had  it 
read  in  public  to  tlie  faculty  and  students  of  the  university. 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  73 

and  then  he  was  conveyed  to  a  place  called  a  hospital. 
The  surgeons,  assisted  by  their  hospital  stewards, 
worked,  not  "  eight-hour  labor,"  but  night  and  day, 
from  fifteen  to  twenty-four  hours,  according  to  cir- 
cumstances. 

Here  let  me  say  a  word  on  the  position  of  Catholic 
chaplains.  All  know  that  Catholics,  when  about  to 
die  especially,  desire  to  become  reconciled  to  God,  not 
merely  by  contrition  for  sins,  but  also  by  the  use  of 
the  Sacrament  of  Penance,  which  was  instituted  by 
our  Blessed  Saviour,  who,  when  He  instituted  it,  gave 
to  His  apostles  and  their  successors  a  special  power  to 
be  exercised  in  its  administration.  We  find  in  St. 
Matthew  (xvi. ),  Christ  addressing  Peter  thus: 
"  Whatsoever  thou  shalt  bind  on  earth  shall  be  bound 
in  heaven;  and  whatsoever  thou  shalt  loose  on  earth 
shall  be  loosed  in  heaven."  And  in  St.  John  (xx.), 
Christ,  speaking  to  all  His  disciples,  says:  "Keceive 
ye  the  Holy  Ghost;  whose  sins  ye  shall  forgive,  they 
are  forgiven  them."  Now,  the  priests  were  not 
obliged  to  fight  in  the  ranks;  but,  by  reason  of  the 
functions  of  their  office,  especially  regarding  confes- 
sion, they  were  found  at  hand  when  one  of  their  men 
desired,  or  was  in  need  of,  immediate  attention.  While 
Father  Dillon  and  I  were  riding  close  up,  and  the 
battle  raging  at  the  time,  we  met  a  thin,  lank  soldier, 
rushing  out  of  the  battle  in  a  terribly  frightened 
condition.  He  had  no  musket,  no  haversack,  no 
"  impediments  of  war  "  on  his  person.  Father  Dillon 
demanded,  in  rather  an  official  tone: 


74  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  sir?" 

"B-a-a-back." 

"  Are  you  wounded  ? 


N-n. 


■no. 


"Where  is  your  musket?  " 
"L-o-o-st." 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "  do  not  send  me  back!     I  am  not 
wounded,  but  I'm  fearfully  demoralized!  " 

And  indeed  his  appearance  showed  that.     As  he 
passed  rapidly  back  through   the  woods  and  brush, 
he  was  losing,  not  only  his  courage,  but  also  every- 
thing most  useful  to  him,  even  his  hat;  and  the  brush 
lifted  his  hair,  which  literally  "stood  on  end."     His 
hair  was  of  a  yellowish  color  and  very  much  sun- 
burned, and  his  face  was   absolutely  colorless.     The 
picture    he   presented   would   baffle    the  descriptive 
powers  of  Charles  Dickens.     He  looked  worse  than 
"  Sir  John  Falstalf ,"  when  he  emerged  from  the  Kiver 
Thames,  into  which  he   had  been   thrown,  with  the 
soiled  clothing,  by  "Mrs.  Ford's  "  men.     We  knew  it 
was  useless  to  send  him  back,  and  we  had  no  time  to 
waste.     As  we  passed  on,  he  kept  looking  back  with 
nervous  twitches,  and  he  sloped  to  the  rear  quite  as 
badly  demoralized    as  a  half -drowned  hen.     But,  one 
may  ask,  were  you  not  afraid  yourself?    Yes,  indeed, 
but  withal  we  could  not  help  laughing.     If  there  is 
anything,  even  in  the   face  of  the  greatest  dangers, 
that  will  cause  a  man  to  laugh,  it  is  to  see  a  coward 
badly  scared,  so  that  all  his  manhood  seems  to  ooze 
from  his  toes  and  the  tips  of  his  fingers. 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  75 

As  I  passed  over  to  the  left  wing  of  our  brigade, 
I  came  up  with  Gen.  Meagher,  who  was  constantly 
passing  from  one  part  of  the  brigade  to  another. 
Gen.  Meagher's  staff  was  known  as  a  "brilliant  staff." 
It  was  composed  of  gallant  young  officers,  who  were 
decked  out  not  only  with  the  regulation  gold  straps, 
stripes  and  cords  on  their  coats,  trousers,  and  hats,  but 
they  had  also  great  Austrian  knots  of  gold  on  their 
shoulders,  besides  numerous  other  ornamentations  in 
gold,  which  glittered  in  the  Virginia  sun  enough  to 
dazzle  one.  With  this  crowd  I  rode  along  for  some 
time.  We  could  hear  passing  us  the  whiz  and  whir 
of  occasional  bullets;  but,  presently,  the  Confederates, 
being  attracted  by  the  general  and  his  staff,  and 
getting  range  of  us,  sent  a  perfect  shower  of  bullets 
at  us.  They  shot  a  little  too  high,  and  we  passed 
unhurt.  I  confess  that  I  was  not  sorry  when  I 
reached  the  north  side  of  an  old  log  house,  and  in  the 
shade  of  this  I  attended  to  a  poor,  wounded  soldier, 
who  had  been  carried  there  by  two  of  his  companions 
a  few  moments  before.  While  behind  this  building, 
a  one -story  structure,  made  of  round  logs,  with  the 
chinks  filled  with  pine,  split  in  triangular  shape,  and 
plastered  over  with  Virginia  mud,  I  could  hear  the 
bullets  strike  the  roof,  making  a  sound  similar  to 
that  made  by  hailstones  falling  on  a  tin  roof.  The 
shingles  of  this  roof  were,  by  the  way,  of  the  old- 
fashioned  kind — "  hand-made."  Large  logs  were  first 
sawed  into  lengths  of  about  two-and-one-half  feet,  and 
these  were  fived  into  flat  forms,  varying  in  thickness 


76  MEMOIRS   OP   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

from  one-half  to  three-fourths  of  an  inch.  They 
were  rough,  but  strong;  and  the  stronger,  the  better 
under  the  above  circumstances.  Having  heard  the 
confession  of  the  poor  man,  his  wounds  were  dressed 
by  our  faithful  surgeon,  Dr.  Keynolds;  but,  in  spite  of 
all  the  attention  bestowed  on  him,  he  died  in  a  few 
hours.  The  history  of  this  soldier  is  the  history  of 
thousands  who  fell  on  this  bloody  field  on  that  day, 
in  the  memorable  battle  of  Fair  Oaks  or  Seven 
Pines. 

The  above  allusion  to  some  of  the  duties  and 
positions  of  Catholic  chaplains  is  made  in  answer  to 
the  question  put  to  me  a  hundred  times  since  the 
war,  as  to  where  the  chaplains  were  and  what  they 
did  during  battles.  I  will  have  occasion  to  refer  to 
this  again  later  on.  Many,  too,  have  asked  me  about 
the  hospitals  and  the  care  of  the  wounded.  On  this 
point  I  have  found  that  most  persons  have  a  very 
err6heous  conception  of  such  institutions.  As  soon 
as  a  general  engagement  begins,  the  wounded  are 
carried  back  from  the  front  so  far  as  it  is  possible  to  do 
so.  Many  poor  fellows  must  lie  where  they  fall  for 
several  hours,  and,  in  some  cases,  even  for  several  days. 
This  is  especially  the  case  when  one  army  drives 
back  the  other,  and  in  turn  is  driven  back  itself,  so 
that  on  the  disputed  ground  between  the  two  forces 
the  wounded  of  both  armies  may  be  so  situated  that 
their  comrades  can  not  reach  them  until  a  flag  of  truce 
be  sent  over.  It  is  not  easy  to  do  this,  especially  at 
night;  and  sometimes  the  fighting  may  begin  so  early 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  77 

on  the  following  morning  that  there  is  no  chance  to 
do  so.  Want  of  transportation,  also,  often  keeps 
them  in  the  same  position.  When  the  conditions  are 
favorable,  the  wounded  are  carried  back,  and  the 
surgeons,  with  others  in  command,  determine  upon  a 
place  of  safety,  and  here  is  located  the  hospital. 
Sometimes  it  may  be  in  the  shade  of  a  straw-stack,  if 
such  a  luxury  is  to  be  found  within  a  reasonable 
distance.  Sometimes  they  take  advantage  of  a  grove, 
where  may  be  found  at  least  shade  from  a  broiling 
sun.  Again,  it  may  be  in  some  old  barn,  and  when 
it  is  possible  to  get  wagons  to  the  front,  the  hospital 
t^nts  are  erected.  But  temporarily,  the  wounded  are 
placed  in  some  improvised  shelter,  where  the  sur- 
geons, under  orders  of  higher  officers,  attend  to  them. 
There  were  regimental,  brigade,  division,  corps, 
and  surgeon  generals.  A  perfect  system  prevailed, 
each  taking  orders  from  a  superior  officer  until  the 
head  was  reached;  or,  in  other  words,  orders  came 
from  the  head,  and  were  transmitted  all  along  the 
line.  In  the  hospitals  the  surgeons  commenced  at 
once  to  dress  wounds,  administer  restoratives,  in  case 
of  sinking  spells,  and,  in  cases  of  necessity,  amputate 
feet,  arms,  or  legs.  When  amputation  had  to  be 
made  (and  this  took  place  after  every  battle),  the 
victim  was  placed  on  a  table,  or  on  some  boards  in 
that  shape,  chloroform  was  administered,  then  the 
knife  and  the  saw  made  "short  work"  of  a  man's  leg 
or  arm.  You  might  see  outside  the  quasi-hosipital,  in 
one  great  pile,  legs,  arms,  hands,  and  feet,  covered 


78  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

with  the   fresh  blood  of   the    owners  —  a  scene  that 
would  sicken  most  persons  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
make  them  hope  never  to  see  the  like  again.     The 
picture  can  be  compared  with  nothing  but  a  butcher 
shop,  or  slaughter-house,  where  meat  is  cut  and  piled 
up.    In  many  cases  it  was  impossible  to  find  a  suitable 
place  to  locate  a  hospital  — which   occurred  at  this 
very  battle   of   Fair  Oaks  — and    the   wounded  were 
placed  in  old  freight  cars  and  sent  to  the   rear.     Dr. 
Ellis,  who  had  charge  of  the  wounded,  thus  describes 
a  scene,  which  he  reports  in  his  book  on  the  subject: 
"The  rebels    having  destroyed   the  railroad    bridge 
across  the  river,  the  cars  were  run  down  to  the  river 
side,  filled  with  the  wounded  after  the  battle  of  Fair 
Oaks.      It  was  here,  lying    around  on  the  track  as 
they  had  been  taken  out  of  the  freight  cars,  that  I 
found  over  three  hundred  wounded,  many  of  them  in 
a   dying   condition,    and  all   of    them  more   or    less 
mutilated   and   still    enveloped   in    their   filthy    and 
blood-stained  clothing   as    they  were  found   on    the 
battle-field.    In  many  instances,  maggots  were  creep- 
ing out  of   their    festering   wounds."      (Hist.   Irish 
Brigade,  page  159.) 

These  scenes  I  myself  witnessed,  not  once,  but 
many  times.  Great  distress  fills  one's  mind  when 
obliged  to  behold  such  misery,  with  no  possible 
means  to  apply  an  immediate  remedy;  but  such  are 
the  fates  of  war.  Whenever  it  was  at  all  within  the 
power  of  the  doctors,  every  attention  was  given  with 
tender  devotedness,  not  only  to  the  wounded  Union 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  79 

soldiers,  but  also  to  such  Confederate  wounded  as 
happened  to  fall  Jnto  their  hands.  A  young  Con- 
federate, who  had  been  wounded,  said  to  Dr.  Laurence 
Eeynolds:  "The  Irish  fight  like  devils,  but  they  are 
very  kind  in  the  hospital."  The  priests  could  not 
confine  themselves  to  any  one  hospital;  they  had  to 
pass  from  one  to  another — wherever  there  was  to  be 
found  a  dying  man  who  stood  in  need  of  the  sacra- 
ments. Those  whose  wounds  were  not  fatal  were  sent 
as  soon  as  possible  back  to  the  city  or  town,  where 
they  received  special  care  till  they  were  entirely 
cured  and  able  to  rejoin  their  regiments,  unless  they 
secured  a  "leave  of  absence"  to  visit  their  families 
for  a  specified  time;  this  might  be  from  thirty  to 
sixty  days.  The  entire  loss  on  both  sides,  Union  and 
Confederate,  in  the  two  days'  battle  of  Fair  Oaks,  or 
Seven  Pines,  was  put  down  at  12,520. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


MALABIA   IN   THE    CAMP. 

AFTER  the  battle  of  Fair  Oaks,  the  Union  troops 
were  intrenched  in  front  of  Richmond,  and 
waited  some  time  for  the  necessary  bridge-building, 
and  constantly  in  the  hope  of  receiving  the  promised 
re-enforcements.  From  some  tall  pines  on  our  front 
we  had  a  view  of  Richmond.  The  grounds  were  low 
and  marshy,  and  malaria  soon  set  in  among  our 
troops.  Not  being  accustomed  to  the  intense  heat 
of  the  South,  the  Northern  Union  men  died  by 
hundreds.  The  priests  were  kept  busy  attending  not 
only  the  men  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  but  calls  came 
from  far  and  near  for  their  services.  I  often  rode  over 
twenty  miles  on  a  sick  call.  Every  now  and  then, 
you  would  hear  a  brass  band  playing — strange  to  say — 
the  peaceful  Christmas  hymn  Adeste  Fideles  in  slow 
measures,  and  by  this  all  knew  that  there  was  a 
funeral.  The  band,  playing  slowly  as  the  procession 
passed  on,  marched  to  each  fresh  grave,  accompanied 
by  a  squad  of  soldiers  under  command  of  an  officer. 
The    men  carried   their   guns  reversed   and  loaded 

(80) 


MEMOIKS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  81 

with  blank  cartridges,  and  over  the  grave  of   each 
departed  comrade  the  requiem  vollies  were  fired. 

Short  and  few  were  the  prayers  we  said.  The 
ceremony  was  short,  and  all  returned  to  camp  till 
another  funeral  had  to  be  attended.  A  repetition  of 
this  occurred  several  times  every  day,  until  the  ranks 
of  the  Northern  Union  men  were  decimated.  We 
remained  in  this  pestiferous  swamp  a  long  time,  and 
the  longer  troops  continue  in  a  camp,  the  greater, 
of  necessity,  is  the  accumulation  of  offal  and  filth. 
Every  effort  was  made  by  the  officers  to  keep  the 
\  premises  clean,  but  much  time  was  required  to  get 
rid  of  horses  killed  in  battle  that  had  swollen  to  a 
monstrous  size  under  the  Southern  sun,  and  filled  the 
air  with  a  sickening  odor.  To  bury  them  was  no 
small  nor  pleasing  job;  but  as  many  as  possible  were 
burned  —  -100,  if  my  memory  serves  me.  Every  other 
means  to  promote  cleanliness  was  taken,  but  the 
malaria  was  beyond  control. 

June  15,  or  thereabouts,  the  Catholic  priests  present, 
namely.  Rev.  James  Dillon,  C.  S.  C;  Rev.  Thomas 
Ouellet,  S.  J. ;  Father  Martin,  of  West  Philadelphia, 
and  the  writer,  held  a  meeting  to  discuss  various 
theological  questions  pertaining  to  our  ministry.  We 
were  all  furnished  with  faculties  by  the  saintly  Arch- 
bishop of  Baltimore,  Francis  Patrick  Kenrick,  D.  D.; 
but  being  far  removed  from  Baltimore,  with  no  tele- 
graph communication  at  our  disposal  (the  wires  in 
use  at  the  time  were  all  military  ones,  and  were  used 
exclusively  for  war  purposes),  and  having  no  access  to 


82  MEMOIRS   OF   OHArLAIN   LIFE. 

the  Bishop  of  Richmond,  in  whose  diocese  we  were, 
we  could  not  get  Episcopal  approbation  on  several 
oases  that  might  require  such  approbation,  and  we 
came  together  to  decide  upon  the  best  plan  to  adopt, 
under  the  circumstances.     Among  other  thmgs,  we 
decided  to  stand  by  each  other  in  case  of  sickness, 
and  in  case  of  death  by  sickness,  or  by  a  bullet,  each 
chaplain  agreed  to  say  two  Masses  for  the  one  who 
fell  first.    Shortly  after  this,  Eev.  Father  Martin,  who 
was  very  much  older  than  the  rest  of  us,  in  fact  too 
old  for  such  life,  was  obliged  to  resign  and  return 
home.     In  the  midst  of  this  sickness,  continually  on 
the  increase,  called  by  some  "camp  fever,"  but  in 
reality   malari.j,  the    surgeon-general   ordered   each 
soldier  to  be  furnished  with  a  small  quantity  of  whisky 
and  quinine,  mixed,  every  morning  before  going  on 
daily  duty.    The  regiments  were  drawn  up  in  line,  by 
companies,  and  as  each  man's  name  was  called  out  by 
the  adjutant  or  sergeant  he  stepped  forward  one  step, 
took  his  medicine,  and  then  stepped  back  mto  the 
ranks  in  perfect  order.     Some  refused  the  whisky, 
but  took  the  qmnfne.      The  chaplains  neglected  to 
take  either.     June  17   I  felt  very  queerly,  and  being 
usually  very  healthy,  I  complained   to  my  friends, 
particularly  to  Father  Dillon,  Quartermaster  McCor- 
mick,  and  to  Capt.  Moore,  of  New  York.     Wishmg 
to  keep  up  my  courage,  they  said  my  trouble  came 
from  imagination,  and  that  I  was  influenced  by  seemg 
so  many  sick  and  dying.    I  did  not  give  up,  but  kept 
on  my  feet,  and  one  day,  on  or  about  June  18,  x  reeled 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  83 

and  fell  to  the  ground.  Good  Father  Dillon  got  me 
a  leave  of  absence  (as  officers  we  were  always  subject 
to  military  laws),  and  managed  to  take  me  to  White 
House  Landing.  Here  we  found  a  sutler,  and  from 
him  we  procured  a  pine-apple.  I  ate  a  slice  of  this, 
but  could  do  no  more.  Father  Dillon  also  obtained 
a  bottle  of  beef  tea.  I  was  put  on  board  an  army 
steamer,  bound  for  Washington.  Father  Dillon  saw 
that  I  was  placed  in  a  berth  (on  the  ''soft  side  of  a 
plank")  on  board,  with  my  coat  for  a  pillow.  This 
was  as  near  luxury  as  could  be  reached.  He  gave  the 
bottle  of  beef  tea  to  a  negro  servant  to  warm  —  that 
is,  the  tea,  not  the  bottle  —  and  went  on  deck,  where 
he  became  engaged  in  an  interesting  conversation 
with  an  officer,  a  friend  of  ours,  about  the  late  battles 
and  future  prospects.  When  he  looked  at  his  watch, 
some  time  after,  he  found  that  several  hours  had 
passed  since  he  left  me,  and  he  came  down  to  .see 
how  I  was.  I  was  where  I  had  been  put,  still  on  my 
favorite  plank. 

''Did  the  beef  tea  do  you  any  good?"  he  asked. 
I  told  him  that  I  had  seen  no  beef  tea. 
He  hunted  up  the  darkey,  and  asked  him: 
"What  did  you  do  with  that  beef  tea?" 
"O,  Massa,  I  done  put  the  bottle  in  the  hot  water, 
and  it  went  all  to  pieces! " 

The  darkey  was  scared  out  of  a  year's  growth,  but 
this  did  me  no  good.  There  I  lay  with  absolutely 
no  nourishment  until  I  reached  Washington  next  day, 
and   was   landed   in    the    hospital  of  the    Sisters  of 


84  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

Charity,  where  everything  was  offered  me,  but  I  was 
then  too  weak  to  take  anything  except  a  little  medicine. 
This  was  nobody's  fault.  Army  steamers  were  vessels 
hired  simply  for  transportation  of  men  in  the  service, 
and  they  were  not  expected  to  furnish  beds  or 
provisions.  It  may  seem  egotistical  for  me  to  write 
so  much  about  a  little  personal  experience;  for,  after 
all,  I  was  incomparably  better  off  than  thousands  of 
poor  soldiers  who  had  not  and  could  not  get  even  the 
care  I  received.  I  write  this,  as  I  said  in  the  early 
pages  of  this  narrative,  to  give  a  page  of  "  unwritten 
history."  Histories  dwell  principally  on  the  exciting 
scenes  of  the  battle-field,  which  constitute  but  a  small 
portion  of  the  horrors  of  war,  in  my  humble  opinion. 
Both  sides  of  the  picture  must  be  shown.  It  required 
nearly  twenty -four  hours  to  get  me  to  Washington, 
and  there,  under  the  care  of  the  good  Sisters  of 
Charity,  who  were  attending  my  sick  officers  and 
men,  I  lay  insensible  with  a  burning  fever  for  three 
days.  Persons  were  placed  to  watch  me  day  and 
night.  Thanks  to  the  good  medical  treatment  and 
excellent  care  of  the  '*  angels  of  sick  and  wounded 
soldiers" — the  Sisters — I  soon  recovered.  Being 
removed  in  good  time  from  the  malarial  camp,  no 
doubt  helped,  else  I  might  have  fallen  a  victim  with 
the  thousands  of  others  who  perished  in  the  swamps 
of  the  Chickahominy.  This  was  the  only  sickness  I 
experienced  during  the  entire  campaign  of  three  }  ears, 
starting  from  Camp  California,  near  Alexandria,  Va., 
in  the  spring  of  1802,  and  winding  up  at  Petersburg, 
Va.     In   that   time  I    was   not   absent  one  month," 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  85 

all  told,  from  my  post  in  the  army.  Meantime,  I 
accompanied  my  brigade  night  and  day,  in  heat  and 
cold,  in  sunshine  and  rain;  marching  and  counter- 
marching in  Virginia,  Pennsylvania,  and  Maryland, 
hundreds  if  not  thousands  of  miles.  Poor  Father 
Dillon,  who  so  kindly  assisted  me  in  my  sickness, 
contracted  in  that  army  the  disease  that  carried  him 
to  an  early  grave  in  1868,  and  he  now  sleeps  within 
gun-shot  of  where  I  write  these  lines.  I  recovered 
strength  rapidly  and  returned  to  my  post  in  time  to 
witness  the  disasters  of  the  "  Seven  Days'  Fight," 
during  which  McClellan  made  his  masterly  retreat — 
than  which  no  greater  is  recorded  in  history. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE    '*  SEVEN   DAYS     FIGHT. 

THE  "Seven  Days'  Fight "  commenced  June  25, 
1862,  and  lasted  until  July  2.  McClellan  was 
compelled  to  swing  around  his  right  wing  twenty 
miles  from  the  "White  House  Landing"  to  the  James 
River,  forming  the  new  base  of  operations.  This 
manoeuvre  required  masterly  skill  and  was  made 
necessary  by  the  failure  of  McDowell  to  protect  (as 
was  intimated  in  a  previous  chapter)  McClellan's 
right  wing  with  his  40,000  men.  Our  base  of 
supplies  was  in  great  danger,  and  it  required  a  whole 
division  to  protect  the  same.  In  making  this  move 
in  front  of  the  watchful  enemy,  McClellan  was, 
moreover,  obliged  to  protect  and  control  a  great  herd 
of  fat  cattle,  an  immense  train  of  army  wagons, 
ambulances,  and  artillery,  stretching  in  one  line  fully 
forty  miles,  and  all  to  pass  over  one  narrow  road. 
During  the  "  Seven  Days'  Fight,"  the  Union  soldiers 
moved  by  night  toward  the  James  River  and  during 
the  day  fought  like  tigers.  This  retreat  from  the 
front  of  Richmond  was  necessarily  attended  with  a 
great   deal   of    hardship;    for  the    fighting   by  day 

(86) 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  87 

and  the  marching  by  night  well-nigh  exhausted  the 
Union  soldiers.  Day  and  night  the  priests  accom- 
panied their  men,  hearing  confessions  and  administer- 
ing the  sacraments  as  far  as  possible,  especially  to 
those  who  were  mortally  wounded.  This  gave  great 
security  to  the  minds  of  the  Catholic  soldiers. 
Everything  concerning  this  move  was  kept  secret  at 
first,  lest  the  Confederates,  learning  of  McClellan's 
intention,  should  pounce  upon  him  before  he  could 
put  in  motion  his  great  train.  The  Confederates  did 
learn  his  plans,  and  forced  him  to  battle ;  but  much  of 
the  work  was  already  accomplished,  although  m^any 
of  us  were  not  and  could  not  be  ready.  When  the 
enemy  struck  our  ranks,  we  were  forced  to  save  what 
we  could  and  let  the  rest  go.  Many  trunks,  tents, 
etc.,  were  simply  abandoned.  There  was  time  only 
to  fight,  and  no  possibility  of  securing  transportation, 
Jk"  as  all  the  army  wagons  must  get  out  of  the  way  and 
move  rapidly  toward  the  James  River,  laden  with 
the  absolute  essentials  of  war — ammunition  and  pro- 
visions. Here  we  abandoned  our  large  chapel  tent,  the 
canvas  of  which  had  cost  us  over  $500.  Here  I 
lost  my  trunk,  in  which  I  had  a  small  quantity  of 
clothing,  a  few  books,  and  all  the  sermons  I  had  ever 
written.  They  were  in  manuscript  form,  and  I  am 
sure  no  publisher  would  make  his  fortune  by  pub- 
lishing them. 

At  the  battle  of  Savage  Station,  in  the  course  of 
the  "  Seven  Days'  Fight,"  the  Union  troops  were  hard 
pressed  and  thrown  into  confusion,  and  at  this  point 


88  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

McClellan  ordered  up  Meagher's  Brigade,  with  that 
of  General  French,  to  repulse  Jackson,  who  moved 
on  our  right  in  massed  columns,  determined  to  wedge 
in  between  us  and  the  river.  Had  he  accomplished 
this,  he  would  probably  have  captured  a  large  portion 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac;  and  he  was  in  a  fair 
way  to  do  so,  when  the  green  flag  was  unfurled  to 
the  breeze.  A  desperate  charge  was  made,  and  the 
hitherto  victorious  Confederates  retired  before  the 
intrepicj.  advance  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  gallantly 
assisted  by  the  brigade  of  General  French.  Both 
brigades  charged  with  most  extraordinary  courage 
and  gained  a  very  important  point.  McClellan, 
speaking  of  this  afterward,  said:  "This  gave  an 
opportunity  to  rally  our  men  behind  the  brigades  of 
French  and  Meagher,  and  they  again  marched  up  the 
hill  ready  to  repulse  another  attack."  Moore,  in  his 
"  Complete  History  of  the  Kebellion,"  speaking  of 
this  same  battle,  says:  "  The  Irish  regiments  fought 
bravely,  charging  at  times  up  to  the  cannon's  mouth, 
and  once  dragging  ofP  a  battery  and  spiking  the 
guns."  *  (Chapter  XXI,  Page  213.)  At  this  very 
critical  point  it  may  be  said,  with  no  great  degree 
of  boasting,  that,  owing  to  the  well-known  bravery 
of  the  Irish  Brigade  and  the  confidence  which 
their  reputation  inspired  in  others,  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  was  saved.  Had  not  the  Confed- 
erates received  that  timely  repulse,  they  would  have 


*  ITore  the  Irish  Brigade  received  a  new  name,  and  was 
called,  in  local  circles,  "  The  Irish  Blockade." 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  89 

succeeded  in  pressing  between  the  Union  army  and  the 
river  and  passing  round  in  the  rear  of  McClellan. 
Thus  they  could  have  prevented  his  reaching  his 
new  base  of  supplies,  which  was  in  a  place  of  safety, 
protected  by  the  soldiers  on  the  gunboats,  who  had 
been  instructed  as  to  the  part  they  were  expected  to 
perform. 

I  can  not  pass  over  at  this  point  the  well-known 
humorous  and  somewhat  witty  reply  of  Capt.  O'Shea, 
of  the  Tammany  regiment,  under  peculiar  circum- 
stances. The  captain  had  received  orders  with  his 
command  to  repair  a  broken  bridge  over  the  Chicka- 
hominy.  One  of  McClellan's  aides  rode  up,  full  of 
anxiety,  and  demanded: 

"  Who  commands  here?  " 

The  captain,  who  stuttered  considerably  at  times, 
replied : 

"  I-I-d-do." 

''  I  want  to  know,  sir,  can  artillery  pass  over?" 

''Ye-yes,  s-s-sir,  if  they  are  f-f-fiying  artil-1-lery ! " 
— casting  a  glance  over  the  broken  bridge  as  he  made 
the  answer. 

It  very  much  astonished  many  brave  soldiers  in  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  to  know  how  it  was  possible  that 
the  men  and  officers  of  the  Irish  Brigade  could  be  so 
light-hearted  under  grave  and  trying  circumstances; 
but  it  is  a  characteristic  of  a  great  people,  of  sound 
morality  and  manly  achievements,  thus  in  peril  and  in 
the  face  of  death  to  give  these  tokens  of  cheerful  heart 
and  vigor  of  mind.     While  the  Irish   Brigade  was 


X 


90  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

making  its  desperate  charge,  an  occurrence  took  place 
worthy  of  notice  here.     The  first  regiment  ordered  up 
to  check  Jackson  was  the  Ninth  Massachusetts,  then 
under  command   of    Col.  Cass.    t..  This  was  a   well- 
known  Irish  regiment,  and  had  for  its  chaplains,  first 
Father   Scully    and  later    Father  Egan.     It  fought 
against  fearful  odds,  Jackson   having  about  20,000 
men.     Col.  Cass  was   almost  in  despair,  when  sud- 
denly he  saw  the  rush  of  the  Irish  Brigade  to  assist, 
and  he  cried  out  to  Gen.  Meagher: 
"Is  this  the  Irish  Brigade,  general?" 
"  Yes,  colonel,  we  are  here!  " 
''  Thank  God,"  said  the  colonel,  "  we  are  saved!  " 
The    colonel,  so  encouraged,  made    another    dash 
with  what  men  he  had  left;  but  he  soon  fell  to  fight 
no  more  —  fell    at  the   "post  of   honor."     Many  of 
our  men  dropped   in  death  during   that   battle,    on 
the  ground  occupied  later  by  the  Confederates,  and 
as  night  came,  fighting  ceased.     A  part  of  the  night 
was  spent  by  the  Confederates  in  burying  their  dead 
and  also  ours  who  fell  into  their  hands;  but  before 
doing   this   they    "stripped   our   dead."      Southern 
historians  apologize  for  this  by  saying  that  the  Con- 
federates were  in  rags  and  could  not  secure  a  supply 
of  clothing  "  for  love  or  money."     Many  dead  bodies 
were    removed  to  make  room   to  build   camp    fires 
for  cooking  purposes,  and  in  many  cases  the  dying 
and  dead  were   placed  in  the  same    pile.     Without 
doubt,    many   not    yet    dead   were   buried    alive,   as 
we  have   reason  to  know    from  some    who   revived 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  91 

enough  to  protest,  just  as  they  were  about  to  be 
placed  in  the  pit.  The  usual  way  is  not  to  dig  a 
grave  for  each  man,  but  a  long  pit  about  six  and  a 
half  feet  wide  and  deep  enough  to  hold  all  the  dead 
in  the  immediate  vicinity.  The  bodies  are  placed 
side  by  side  and  on  top  of  each  other  in  the  pit, 
which  is  then  covered  over  much  the  same  as  farmers 
cover  potatoes  and  roots  to  preserve  them  from  the 
frost  of  winter;  with  this  exception,  however:  the 
vegetables  really  get  more  tender  care.  First,  they 
are  piled  up  in  cone  shape,  and  clean  straw  is  placed 
over  them  so  that  the  clay  covering  shall  not  touch 
them;  and  the  shape  given  to  the  top,  like  the  roof 
of  a  house,  sheds  all  the  rain.  In  the  spring  the 
vegetables  are  found  as  dry  as  if  they  had  been  kept 
in  a  room  heated  by  steam.  Circumstances  prevent 
such  tenderness  from  being  extended  to  the  fallen 
hero,  for  the  time  being  at  least.  Immediately  after  a 
battle,  the  commanding  generals  take  active  measures 
for  the  contingencies  of  the  following  morning. 
Consequently,  mounted  aides  and  orderlies  are  sent 
flying  in  every  direction  with  orders  and  instructions 
to  the  subordinate  officers.  In  rain  or  cold,  light  or 
darkness,  that  might  vie  with  that  of  his  Satanic 
Majesty's  kingdom,  these  devoted  men  dash  off,  and 
in  the  discharge  of  their  duties  often,  unwillingly, 
trample  on  the  dead  and  dying,  who  may  be  lying 
where  they  fell,  on  top  of  each  other,  the  grey  and  the 
blue  together.  But  what  is  worse,  even  the  army 
wagons,  and  especially  the  ambulances,  have  often,  in 


92  MEMOIItS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

their  hurry  and  rush,  passed  their  heavy  wheels  over 
the  dead  bodies,  and  not  infrequently  over  the  bodies 
of  men  still  tenaciously  clinging  to  life  in  their 
prostrate  and  helpless  condition.  This  is  not  an 
overdrawn  picture,  but  one  witnessed  by  hundreds  of 
us  during  many  battles. 

As  we  retired,  in  our  well-ordered  retreat,  toward 
our  new  position  on  the  James  River,  we  were 
obliged  to  abandon  all  our  wounded  who  were  not 
able  to  walk  or  to  get  transportation.  All  the  ambu- 
lances were  very  soon  full.  Wounded  men  crawled  on 
to  army  wagons;  others  hobbled  along,  their  wounds 
still  undressed,  and  from  loss  of  blood  becoming  all 
the  while  weaker  and  fainter.  Many  held  on  till  their 
last  breath,  to  avoid  capture  and  to  be  with  their  com- 
panions. From  the  wounded  in  the  ambulances,  from 
those  clinging  on  to  the  rear  ends  of  the  army  wagons, 
and  from  those  limping  along  on  foot,  blood  was 
dropping  along  the  road,  and  thus  the  blood  of  heroes 
marked  our  way  as  the  march  continued  to  a  position 
more  suitable  for  a  systematic  and  obstinate  contest. 
On  July  1,  1862,  the  Union  soldiers  reached  their 
vantage  ground  on  Malvern  Hill,  where  a  determined 
stand  was  taken  by  them.  This  battle  was  one  of 
great  carnage,  and  desperately  fought  by  both  armies. 
The  Irish  Brigade  did  its  sliar^  during  the  day  and 
expected  that  its  day's  task  was  done,  when,  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  it  was  found  that  Couch  and 
Porter  were  hard  pressed.  Dr.  James  Moore,  in  his 
history  (Chap.  XXI,  p.  216) ,  thus  describes  the  assist- 
ance rendered  by  Meagher's  and  Sickles'  brigades: 


MEMOIES  OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  93 

"The  brigades  of  Meagher  and  Sickles  were  sent 
to  relieve  the  brave  but  exhausted  troops  of  Couch, 
who  had  expended  all  their  ammunition.  These 
re-enforcements  at  this  critical  moment  advanced 
upon  the  enemy,  who  recoiled.  The  tide  of  battle 
was  rolled  back."  The  battle  ended  with  great  losses 
on  both  sides,  but  the  Confederates  were  completely- 
routed.  They  gave  up  the  conflict  entirely  and  fell 
back,  followed  by  the  Union  troops,  and  becoming,  in 
their  flight  for  safety,  very  much  demoralized.  Some 
think  that  McClellan  should  have  followed  the  Con- 
federates and  captured  Kichmond,  but  there  are 
conflicting  opinions  on  the  subject.  The  Army  of 
the  Potomac  crowned  the  seventh  day  with  a  grand 
triumph  —  but  our  poor  dead!  We,  the  chaplains, 
had  not  the  sad  consolation  of  helping  most  of  them 
to  die  well,  neither  had  we  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
them  consigned  to  their  gory  graves.  Our  heroic 
brigade  left  700  of  its  bravest  officers  and  men  on 
the  bloody  fields  behind;  nearly  every  one  of  them 
Catholics,  and  we  may  almost  say  none  without 
having  shortly  before  received  the  sacraments.  Let  us 
hope  that  they  met  a  favorable  trial  before  the  dread 
Judgment  Seat;  that  their  hardships,  thirst,  hunger, 
and  the  blood  flowing  from  their  painful,  mortal 
wounds,  cried  for  pardon  for  past  sins,  and  found  a 
favorable  echo  in  the  Sacred  Wounds  of  a  benign 
Saviour,  who  had  shed  the  last  drop  of  His  blood  for 
the  salvation  of  their  precious  souls.  We  leave  them, 
as  a  tear  drops  to  their  memory,  to  meet,  we  hope,  in 
the  Kingdom  of  Peace. 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 


REST   AND   DISCIPLINE. 


THE  "Seven  Days'  Fight"  was  over,  and  we  were 
able  to  get  a  much-desired  rest  of  mind  and  body, 
situated  as  we  were,  in  a  beautiful  camp  at  Harrison's 
Landing  on  the  banks  of  the  James  Eiver.   The  Army 
of   the    Potomac  reached   this  point    July  2,    1862. 
Having  left  behind  us  the  miserable  swamps  of  the 
Chickahominy,  where  so  much  sickness  prevailed,  and 
where,  as  we  have  seen,  many  graves  were  made,  we 
enjoyed   beyond   expression   the   new,    clean  camp, 
fresh  water,  sufficiently  abundant  for  all  purposes,  and 
other   conveniences,  so    much   needed  after  fighting 
seven  days  and  marching  seven  nights  consecutively. 
The  camp  lay  for  miles  and  miles  along  the  beautiful 
James  Eiver.      Industry  took   possession    of    every 
soldier  and  officer,  and  each  vied  with  his  neighbor 
in   beautifying    his   canvas     house    and   immediate 
surroundings.     By    this  time  army  life  had   grown 
upon  us,  and  we  felt  more  at  home  in  it  as  we  became 
more  experienced  in  making  ourselves  comparatively 
comfortable.    Our  men  were  detailed  by  turns  to  build 
and  construct  lines  of  defense— trenches,  breastworks, 

(94) 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  95 

abatis,  etc.  Others  were  employed  in  making  streets, 
policing  the  camp,  and  much  time  was  given  to 
dress  parades,  regimental  and  company  drills.  In 
this  way  time  did  not  hang  heavily  on  the  soldiers 
so  as  to  make  them  dull,  uneasy,  and  discontented. 
After  the  day's  work,  the  camp-fires  were  greatly 
enjoyed,  and  around  them  were  many  scenes  of 
interest.  At  these  fires  were  recounted  tales  of  the 
bravery  of  companions  who  fell  in  the  late  terrific 
contests;  the  touching  sight  of  James  trying  to 
save  his  wpunded  brother  from  the  grasp  of  the 
enemy  was  described,  or  when  Thomas  fell,  it  was 
told  how  tenderly  he  spoke  of  his  mother.  It  was 
a  notable  fact  that  most  of  the  brave,  good  soldiers, 
expiring  from  the  effects  of  gaping  wounds,  almost 
invariably  mentioned  most  affectionately  the  one 
dearest  to  their  hearts  at  that  moment  of  sore  dis- 
tress, namely,  the  loved  mother;  while  all  devout 
Catholics  called  on  the  Queen  of  all  mothers,  Mary, 
Mother  of  Jesus,  to  assist  them,  by  her  most  powerful 
intercession,  to  die  well.  This  has  been  my  experience 
and  that  of  hundreds  of  others. 

I  remember,  among  innumerable  escapes  from 
death  almost  miraculous,  a  few  which  we  frequently 
talked  over  by  these  camp-fires  at  Harrison's  Landing. 
One  was  this:  A  young  man,  leaving  Brooklyn,  N.  Y., 
received  from  his  good  mother  a  prayer-book.  It 
was  not  bulky,  but  just  the  shape  and  size  which 
could  be  easily  carried  in  the  vest  pocket.  The 
mother,  full  of  solicitude   for  the   life  of  her  son's 


96  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

soul,  even  more  than  for  that  of  his  body,  made  him 
promise  to  say  a  few  prayers  every  day  out  of  this 
dear  little  book.  It  is  not  known  that  he  did  so 
every  day,  but  it  is  known  that  he  carried  it  in  an 
inside  pocket  near  his  heart.  In  the  battle  of  Malvern 
Hill  a  bullet  struck  the  book  in  the  center,  passed 
through  a  portion  of  it,  then  glanced  off  without 
injuring  the  man  in  the  least.  This  book  was 
treasured  ever  after  as  a  precious  relic.  Another 
soldier,  from  Philadelphia,  wore  the  five  scapulars 
given  him  by  his  kind  sister.  A  bullet  struck  the 
scapulars  on  his  breast  and  would  have  pierced  his 
body  had  not  the  five  thicknesses  of  the  scapulars 
diverted  its  course.  Hundreds  of  such  instances 
could  be  told,  and  were  told,  over  and  over,  at  the 
camp-fires. 

Good  brass  bands  in  the  camp  lent  a  most  agree- 
able service.  While  the  soldiers  enjoyed  their  camp- 
fire  chats,,  the  bands  were  playing  at  various  points 
.and  gave  a  romantic  charm  to  the  situation.  Picture 
to  yourself  thousands  of  white  tents  among  beautiful 
green  trees,  with  the  fires  glimmering  here  and 
there  for  miles  over  an  extended  plain,  furnishing 
light  and  comfort  to  over  a  hundred  thousand  armed 
men,  while  darkness  gently  spreads  its  mantle  over 
all.  As  the  hours  creep  into  the  night,  the  camp- 
fires  show  to  more  advantage,  especially  when  you 
can  imagine  how  the  scene  is  animated  by  varied 
conversations  —  some  droll  and  witty,  some  grave 
and  touching,  many  concerning  the  great,   sublime 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  97 

future.     In  this  you  have  a  faint  picture  of  our  camp 
at  night. 

Here  we  spent  about  one  month  very  profitably 
employed.  Our  new  base  of  supplies  was  excellent, 
and  we  received  a  quantity  of  fresh  food;  we  even  got 
bread — real  bread — in  place  of  ''hard-tack."  Besides 
this,  the  soldiers  were  dressed  in  new  suits,  and 
everything  was  very  clean.  This  was  a  good  prepara- 
tion for  the  hardship  and  privations  that  were  to 
follow,  as  we  shall  see  later  on  in  this  narrative. 

Discipline  in  the  army  is  very  strict,  especially  in 
active  campaigns.  Soldiers  were  punished  in  various 
ways,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  fault.  Officers, 
too,  came  under  the  rule.  For  mean,  unmanly  acts — 
flagrant  acts  of  immorality,  and  the  like — hanging  was 
generally  the  punishment.  Military  crimes,  such  as 
deserting  the  army  when  in  front  of  the  enemy,  and 
especially  passing  over  to  the  enemy,  were  punished 
by  shooting;  for  murder,  also, men  were  shot.  Officers 
who  openly  disobeyed  legitimate  orders  were  tried  by 
court-martial,  and  if  the  charge  was  proved  against 
them,  they  were  cashiered.  Crimes  of  less  gravity,  in 
the  eyes  of  military  men,  such  as  going  out  of  camp 
without  a  pass,  failure  to  perform  certain  tasks  which 
had  been  assigned,  giving  insulting  answers  to  officers, 
not  keeping  clean,  not  keeping  guns  and  other  mili- 
tary articles  in  perfect  order,  drunkenness,  etc.,  were 
punished  by  imprisonment  in  the  "guard-house," 
and  in  various  other  ways,  as  seemed  best  to  those 
in  command.  These  punishments  were  determined 
according  to  the  frequencv  of  the  offence,  and  were 
7 


98  MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

increased  in  severity  when  the  individual  concerned 
showed  a  very  incorrigible  disposition.     Sometimes 
"drumming  out  of  the  army"  was  resorted  to.     My 
attention  was  attracted  one  day  to  a  scene,  to  me, 
altogether  novel.     I  saw  at  some  distance  our  corps, 
of  perhaps  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand,  manoeuvring; 
and,  mounting  my  horse,  started  to  see  what  was  up. 
The  troops  were  forming  into  a  hollow  square,  two 
deep.     Presently  I  saw  two  men,  preceded  by  fifes 
and  drums,  playing  the  -Rogue's  March,"  and  behind 
them  two   soldiers   with  fixed   bayonets    pointed   at 
their  backs.     These  men,  who  were  private  soldiers, 
had  one-half  of  their  heads  shaved  close,  and  were 
obliged   to    pass  bareheaded   within  two  feet  of  all 
the  soldiers  in  the  ranks  facing  the  hollow  square. 
Havnig  passed  entirely  around  the  inside  line  of  the 
troops,  they  were  expelled   from    the    army  in  dis- 
■  grace  for  all  time.     This  is  what  is  termed  "drum- 
ming men  out  of   the  army."     Their  crime  was,  to 
have  been  found  dead-beats,  or  worthless  as  soldiers. 
"Dead-beat,"  is  the  worst  term  that  can  be  applied 
to  a  soldier.     It  is  a  generic  term,  implying  every- 
thing worthless  and  mean.     Besides  this,  they  had 
been  found  guilty  of  theft.     In  all  probability,  they 
had  enlisted  for  that  very  i^urpose,  at  least  so  it  was 
alleged  at  the  time,  by  those  who  knew  them.     I  give 
this  instance  now,  and  make  reference  to  disciplinary 
matters,  because  as  I  proceed  with  this  narrative  I 
will  have  occasion  to  give  an  account,  in  the  order  of 
occurrence,  of  some  of  these  army  customs  and  laws 
put  into  actual  practice. 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 


MILITARY    MASS. 


WE  will  now  turn  to  the  chaplains  and  see  how 
they  passed  their  time;   but,  first,  let  me  say 
a  word  on  the   "  Military    Mass."     Information  on 
this  subject  has  been  frequently  asked  of  me.     It  was 
not  often  we  could  celebrate  Holy  Mass  with  suitable 
or    inspiring    ceremonies.      A    first-class    "  Military 
Mass"  is  one  celebrated  in  the  ordinary  solemn  form, 
according  to  the  rubrics;  but  the  surroundings  cause 
it  to  be  styled  by  many  a  "Military  Mass."     First,  it. 
is  in  camp.     Imagine  the  entire  camp,  the  "  church 
tent,"  and  the  great  avenue  leading  to  this  tent  lined 
on  either  side  with  green  trees — put  down  for  the 
occasion — all  decorated  with    fresh    branches,  flags 
and  other  military  emblems  —  a  preparation  like  that 
made  for  a  triumphal  entry  into  a  city.     The   con- 
gregation is  composed   exclusively  of    officers    and 
soldiers,  "rank  and  file,"  each  one  armed  as  for  dress 
parade.     The  officers  carry  dress  swords  suspended 
from  their  belts,  and  wear  the  full  insignia  of  their 
office.     The  cavalry  men  carry  their  heavy  sabres  in 
the    same    way,  and    on  their  boots  the  well-known 

(99) 


100  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

formidable  spurs  that  rattle  and  click  at  every  motion 
of  the  foot.  The  infantry  soldier,  dressed  in  his 
tidy  uniform,  carries  his  shining  musket  surmounted 
by  its  sharp,  glittering  bayonet,  that  strikes  terror 
into  the  heart  of  the  enemy  when  a  desperate  charge 
is  made  by  the  intrepid  men  of  arms.  A  military 
signal,  either  by  drum  or  bugle,  is  given  at  the 
proper  time,  and  orders  are  passed  along  the  line  to 
''Fall  in!"  Once  in  ranks,  all  the  regiments  march 
under  orders  of  their  respective  officers  to  the 
"church  tent."  As  a  result  of  careful  drilling  by 
very  intelligent  officers,  the  movements  are  perfectly 
regular  and  precise,  and  form  a  very  pleasing  sight. 
The  officers  are  justly  proud  of  their  men,  while  the 
men  are  equally  proud  of  their  gentlemanly  officers. 
On  they  move,  keeping  step  and  time  to  the  music,  till 
they  reach  the  "  church  tent."  Here  the  priests,  vested 
in  rich  silk  vestments  embroidered  with  gold  and 
artistic  needle-work,  begin  Holy  Mass,  in  presence  of 
the  several  thousand  men  and  officers  on  whose  bright, 
neat  uniforms  the  gold  ornaments  sparkle  in  the  sun- 
light, while  dress  swords,  many  of  them  diamond 
hilted,  make  a  pleasing  contrast  to  burnished  sabre 
and  polished  steel  bayonet. 

Here  we  have  no  organ  on  the  "  tented  plain,"  nor 
the  shadow  of  a  lady  to  supply  the  parts  of  alto,  con- 
tralto, mezzo-soprano,  or  soprano.  All  is  stern  man- 
hood wrought  up  to  its  highest  tension  of  honor  and 
duty ;  duty  to  fellowmen,  duty  to  -country,  duty  to 
family  and  kindred;  but,  above  all,  duty  to  the  great 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  101 

God  seated  on  the  rock  of  ages  directing  the  destinies 
of  all  nations.     The  music  consists  of  the  stirring, 
martial    strains  of  the   infantry  and    marine    bands. 
During   the    more    solemn   parts  of    the    Mass    the 
soldiers   "present    arms" — an   act   of  the    highest 
respect— while  outside,  at  the  time  of  the  Consecra- 
tion  (if  we  are  not  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy), 
cannons  boom  in  various  directions;  going  forth  like 
thunder  in  the  heavens,  to  represent,  as  it  were,  the 
voice  of  God,  or  at  least  to  speak  of  the  presence  of 
Him  who  rules  from  above,  amid  the  crash  of  nations. 
Thus  we  see  how  God  is  served,  even  in  camp.     We 
behold  the  highest  honors  paid  to  Him  by  the  solemn 
offering  of  the  Holy  Sacrifice,  infinitely  holier  than 
that   offered  in  the  Temple   of   Solomon,  amid    the 
splendor  of   glittering  gold  and  the    flashing    light 
of    precious   stones.     No   military    equipage  is    too 
fine,  no  military  honors  too  great,  no  music  too  sweet 
or  too  sublime,  no  respect  too  profound,  in  honor  of 
the   great   God  in  the  transcendent  Mystery  of  His 
love  and  mercy— a  Mystery  offered  on  Mount  Calvary, 
when  Nature  herself  spoke  in  greatest  reverence  and 
covered  her  face  in  darkness,  to  hide  it  from  the  too 
great  majesty    of    the    Divine    Being.       The    p«rth 
quaked  in  holy  fear,  rocks  were  rent  in  testimony  of 
the  Creator  completing  the  sacrifice  for  the  redemption 
'  of  the  world.     Nature  gave  what  men  refused — testi- 
mony  of    Him  who  lifted  rocks  and  mountains    to 
embrace  the  clouds  of  heaven,  and  who  spread  out  the 
mighty  waters  of  the  deep.     This   is  more  than  I 


102  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

intended  to  say  on  this  point,  but  it  is  so  in  harmony 
with  the  subject  that  has  occupied  the  place  of  the 
"Old  Law,"  ever  since  its  establishment,  1829  years 
before  our  ministry  in  the  army,  I  could  scarcely  say 
less.  When  we  chaplains  could  have  a  "Military  Mass" 
we  were  glad;  but,  as  a  rule,  even  on  Sundays,  the 
Mass  was  less  brilliant,  in  point  of  ceremonies,  than 
the  one  mentioned  above.  During  the  week  we  said 
Holy  Mass  early  in  the  morning,  and  through  the 
day  said  our  office,  attended  sick  calls,  instructed 
converts,  and  heard  confessions,  especially  in  the 
evenings.  Thus  the  time  of  comparative  tranquillity, 
for  the  space  of  about  a  month,  was  spent  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  contingencies  of  the  future,  for  days 
ahead  full  of  fatigue,  hardships,  and  dangers  to  soul 
and  body. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 


LEAVING     THE     PENINSULA  —  MARCH     SEVEEE  —  DUST 
TERRIBLE  —  FOOD    WANTING. 

/^UK  long  rest  of  a  little  over  a  month  was  at  an 
^^  end.  It  was  well-timed,  considering  the  work 
before  us.  On  August  16  and  17,  1862,  the  entire 
Army  of  the  Potomac  was  in  motion.  All  wg  knew 
at  the  time  was  that  orders  had  come  to  march,  and 
we  marched.  Just  where  we  were  going,  how  long  wo 
should  be  on  the  road,  we  could  not  know.  McClellan, 
general-in-chief,  and  perhaps  a  few  major-generals, 
knew,  but  no  others.  This  was  necessary,  else  the' 
Confederates  might  discover  all  about  our  movements, 
and  thwart  our  designs.  It  turned  out  that  we  were 
ordered  to  help  Pope,  who  boasted  he  knew  no  retreat. 
Bad  for  him !  A  good  retreat,  when  necessity  requires, 
is  incomparably  better  than  an  injudicious  advance, 
and  at  times  requires  more  skill  —  so  say  experienced 
military  men.  We  passed  down  the  peninsula,  com- 
mencing our  march  on  August  16,  at  eight  in  the 
morning.  We  marched  about  eighteen  miles  that 
day,  and  having  crossed  the  Chickahominy  River, 
bivouacked  for  ihe  night.    This  river  widens  out  very 

(103) 


104  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

much  toward  its  mouth.  So,  the  ponton -bridge,  on 
which  all  the  infantry,  artillery,  etc.,  crossed,  was  over 
one  thousand  feet  long,  supported  by  100  ponton-* 
boats.  A  ponton,  or  pontoon,  is  used  expressly  for  this 
purpose.  The  name  is  derived  from  the  Latin,  pons — 
a  bridge.  Pontons  are  made  as  light  as  possible,  low 
and  flat  like  a  mud  raft,  and  are  not  infrequently  a 
simple  frame  with  canvas  bottom.  These  pontons  are 
placed  in  lines  parallel  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  about 
ten  feet  apart,  and  then  planked.  This  is  quickly  done 
by  the  pioneer  corps.  Leaving  camp  at  Harrison's 
Landing,  as  I  have  said,  we  knew  nothing  of  our 
destination,  and  I  made  no  provision  for  the  march, 
which  proved  to  be  one  of  seven  days.  We  passed 
down  the  peninsula  by  Williamsburg  and  Yorktown 
to  Newport  News,  where  we  took  shipping  for  the 
Potomac  once  more  The  first  day  I  got  on  pretty 
well.  Col.  Baker,  my  compagiion  de  voyage,  had  a 
small  box  of  sardines,  and  I  had  a  loaf  of  bread.  We 
ate  the  bread  freely,  but,  having  an  eye  to  economy, 
we  were  careful  to  take  very  small  portions  of  the 
sardines  each  meal.  The  colonel  said  to  me:  "This 
reminds  me  of  a  story.  A  poor  scholar,  as  such  were 
called  in  Europe,  very  anxious  to  get  an  education, 
boarded  here  and  there  with  poor  but  charitable 
people  of  the  neighborhood.  At  one  of  these  places 
the  milk  supply  was  short,  and  the  good  woman  of 
the  house  said  to  the  poor  scholar:  'Now,  Willie, 
you  must  take  a  big  bite  and  a  small  sup.' "  A  good 
laugh   followed,  as  we  were   then  putting    this  very 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  105 

principle  into  practice.  As  far  as  possible,  we  looked 
on  the  bright  side  of  all  our  privations,  and,  in  fact, 
this  is  the  best  way  after  all.  When  a  man  can  keep 
in  good  spirits,  hardships  do  not  prey  on  him.  How- 
ever, in  spite  of  this  philosophy,  before  we  reached 
our  journey's  end,  both  of  us,  and  many  others  in  our 
condition,  felt  pretty  hlue.  The  first  day  the  colonel 
and  I  made  our  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper — six 
meals  —  on  one  loaf  of  bread  and  a  small  box  of 
sardines,  leaving  nothing  for  the  following  day.  Next 
morning,  after  sleeping  on  the  ground,  we  arose  to 
continue  our  march.  We  started  without  even  a  cup 
of  coffee.  Eiding  on  horse-back,  in  the  fresh  air, 
gives  one  a  fine  appetite;  but  in  our  case  it  was  the 
worse  for  us.  When  noon  came,  we  were  almost 
fainting  with  hunger.  The  men  got  their  coffee  and 
"hard-tack"  dinner,  and  Col.  Baker  and  I  slept  a 
little  under  the  shade  of  a  tree.  After  an  hour's  rest, 
we  marched  on  until  we  encamped  for  the  night  — 
still  very  hungry  and  no  food.  The  road  for  the  most 
part  was  through  a  "second  growth"  of  pine,  which 
literally  made  a  wall  on  either  side.  The  ground 
was  dry,  and  the  passage  of  the  artillery,  cavalry,  and 
infantry  worked  the  road-bed  into  dust  fully  three 
inches  deep. 

The  soil  of  that  country  is  clay,  which  makes 
a  very  fine  dust  that  penetrates  everything.  The 
colonel  and  I  rode  along  at  the  head  of  our  regiment, 
having  other  regiments  before  and  behind  us.  The 
dust  was  stirred  up  both  by  the  feet  of  the  soldiers 


106  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

and  those  of  the  horses,  and  became  so  dense  that 
it  resembled,  in  a  certain  sense,  a  very  heavy  fog. 
Seated  on  my  horse,  I  could  not  distinguish  one  man 
from  another  six  feet  ahead  of  me.  Our  hair,  beards, 
and  clothes  were  literally  full  of  dust.  In  fact,  we 
were  all  dust,  and  for  anything  we  could  see,  were 
going  back  to  the  "dust  from  which  we  came." 
Add  to  this  situation  of  hunger  and  dust,  the  terrible 
heat  of  the  Southern  sun  in  the  middle  of  August, 
pouring  down  on  our  dusty  heads  as  we  passed  along 
this  road,  walled  in,  as  I  have  said,  by  the  young 
pines  growing  as  thick  as  "the  hair  on  a  dog's 
back,"  leaving  no  chance  for  a  breeze  to  reach  us. 
Thus  suffocating  from  heat  and  dust,  faint  from 
hunger  and  thirst,  we  moved  on,  becoming  more  and 
more  indifferent  to  past,  present,  and  future.  Next 
morning,  the  third  day,  we  continued  our  journey, 
still  fasting.  When  we  had  been  on  the  way  about 
two  hours,  a  drummer-boy,  belonging  to  our  brigade, 
named  Brinkworth,  a  real  character,  came  galloping 
up  to  where  the  colonel  and  I  were  moving  along.  I 
gave  him  a  few  dollars  and  told  him  to  try  to 
purchase  some  food  for  us.  As  he  was  fearless  in 
dashing  here  and  there  through  the  country,  I  knew 
he  would  have  an  opportunity  for  doing  so.  The 
morning  passed  on,  and  about  ten  o'clock  inspiration 
moved  a  soldier,  who  noticed  we  had  nothing  to  eat, 
to  bring  a  small  piece  of  raw  pork  and  a  "hard-tack" 
to  each  of  us.  As  we  have  seen  elsewhere,  the  men 
carried  rations,  but  they  were  on  foot,  and  delicacy 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  107 

would  not  allow  us  to  ask  any  of  these  poor  men  to 
give  us  a  part  of  their  hard-earned  stores,  since  we 
were  on  horseback  and  they  were  walking,  loaded 
down  with  rations,  musket,  ammunition,  etc.  Even  the 
raw  pork  and  "hard-tack,"  which  we  accepted,  tasted 
sweet,  and  we  were  very  thankful  for  the  kindness. 
We  had  lost  so  many  meals,  this  bite  only  gave  us 
appetite  for  more.  As  we  moved  on,  we  discussed  the 
ups  and  downs  of  life.  In  the  evening  we  encamped 
for  the  night  early,  to  give  time  for  the  heavy  wagons 
to  get  out  of  our  way.  We  found  a  nice,  grassy  spot 
near  the  road,  and,  as  the  sun  was  descending,  the 
shade  of  a  large  wild  cherry  tree  presented  a  lovely 
place  to  rest;  and,  like  Jonas  under  his  miraculous 
ivy,  we  did  so.  A  strange  confidence  took  possession 
of  my  mind,  and  I  said  to  Col.  Baker: 
"  We  shall  soon  get  relief." 

"Oh,  no!"  said  he,  "that  reckless  Brinkworth  went 
too  far,  and  is  captured  by  the  Confederates." 
"Well,"  said  I,  "we  will  soon  see." 
I  felt  certain  that  the  boy  would  return.  The 
colonel  had  no  confidence  in  the  seemingly  idle 
proposition.  He  took  off  his  coat,  and  placed  it  on 
the  grass  for  a  pillow,  saying  as  he  did  so:  "I  will 
sleep  off  the  hunger."  I  said  nothing  more.  In  about 
twenty  minutes  our  brave  Brinkworth  came  galloping 
on  his  old  horse,  as  he  did  in  the  morning,  and  the 
poor  animal  was  loaded  with  purchases  made  by  the 
adventurous  youth.  He  had  two  chickens,  a. sack  of 
biscuits,  and  a  sack  of  apples.     No  time  was  lost  in 


108  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

getting  these  things  ready,  and  a  first-class  repast  — 
a  real  picnic — was  very  soon  laid  out  on  the  green 
grass.  We  ate  all  we  wished,  and  carefully  took  up 
the  fragments  for  future  needs — as  the  apostles  were 
instructed  to  do  by  our  Saviour,  after  the  multiplica- 
tion of  the  loaves  and  fishes.  That  night  some  fat 
cattle  and  some  commissary  stores  reached  the  camp. 
Good  supplies  of  fresh  meat  and  other  provisions 
were  furnished  to  the  soldiers,  while  the  officers 
purchased  what  they  stood  in  need  of.  Col.  Baker 
and  I  did  not  fail  to  profit  by  the  experience  of  the 
past  few  days.  We  laid  in  a  good  supply  of  neces- 
saries for  the  remainder  of  the  journey  to  Newport 
News.  After  we  arrived  there,  it  took  considerable 
time  to  get  ships  ready  and  to  load  them  with  the 
freight  belonging  to  our  brigade.  This  gave  us  time 
to  refresh  ourselves  after  the  long,  dusty  march.  On 
the  road  we  could  have  no  Mass,  no  public  services  of 
any  kind.  I  managed  to  say  my  office  daily  during 
the  three  years  spent  in  active  campaigns,  excepting 
a  few  days  when  it  was  absolutely  impossible.  I  said 
it  on  horseback  during  short  intervals,  when  meals 
were  being  prepared,  and  even  at  night,  after  sick 
calls  and  other  duties  had  been  attended  to.  We  had 
no  lamps,  no  gas,  no  electric  lights;  but  I  always  had 
a  few  candles  with  me,  and  by  using  a  bayonet  for 
a  candle-stick,  thrusting  the  point  into  the  ground, 
managed  pretty  well. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 


-THE    BATTLE   OF 
ANTIETAM. 

T?]^  passant,  I  must  tell  an  anecdote  of  Capt. 
^  John  J.  Gasson,  or  "  Jack  Gasson,"  as  he 
was  familiarly  called  by  his  companion  officers. 
He  was  the  first  aide-de-camp  of  Gen.  Meagher. 
Gen.  Meagher  was  not  with  us  at  the  time,  and 
I  suppose  "  Jack,"  being  his  first  aide,  thought 
it  eminently  proper  that  he  should  do  something 
desperate  to  show  his  courage  and  to  save  the  nation. 
We  read  in  the  history  of  Home  that  "  an  earth- 
quake opened  a  great  gulf  in  the  forum,  and  the 
augurs  declared  that  it  would  never  close  till  the 
most  precious  things  in  Rome  were  thrown  into  it. 
Marcus  Curtius  arrayed  himself  in  complete  armor, 
mounted  his  horse,  and  leaped  into  the  chasm,  declar- 
ing that  nothing  was  truly  more  precious  than 
patriotism  and  military  virtue."  "  The  gulf,"  say 
the  historians,  "  closed  immediately  upon  him,  and 
he  was  seen  no  more."  While  we  were  encamped  on 
the  banks  of  the  York  River,  "  Jack,"  in  presence  of 
the  entire  camp,  mounted  his  horse,  and,  putting  spurs 

(109) 


110  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

to  the  animal,  dashed  down  the  bank,  which  was 
almost  perpendicular  and  nearly  one  hundred  feet  in 
height.  Horse  and  rider  tumbled  over  each  other 
till  the  bottom  was  reached,  and,  strange  to  say, 
neither  was  killed.  He  must  certainly  have  had  it  in 
his  mind  that  no  Roman  could  out-do  "  Jack  Gasson," 
a  wild  Irishman.  He  was  perfectly  fearless.  "  What 
man  can  dare,  I  dare,"  was  his  motto.  No  wonder 
the  Confederates  would  cry   out  when  they  beheld 

the  green  flag:  "  Here  comes  that  d green  flag 

again."  They  knew  the  undaunted  courage  of  the 
race,  and  had  tested  the  same  more  than  once.  Withal, 
these  very  men  were  religious,  and  like  children  in 
church. 

We  had  some  leisure  time  before  starting  on  the 
transports  for  our  destination,  and  I  .announced  that 
several  days  had  passed  without  Mass.  At  once  the 
good  men  went  to  work  building  an  altar.  That 
evening  many  went  to  confession.  I  celebrated  Mass 
next  morning  at  a  very  early  hour,  and  those  who 
were  ready  received  Holy  Communion.  We  then 
took  shipping  at  Newport  News  for  Aquia  Creek, 
under  orders  to  report  to  Gen.  Burnside  at  Falmouth, 
on  the  Rappahannock  River,  opposite  Fredericksburg. 
After  landing  at  Aquia  Creek,  we  went  by  rail  to 
Falmouth,  where  we  remained  only  a  short  time.  At 
this  time.  Pope,  with  a  large  army,  was  conducting  a 
campaign  which  resulted  in  disaster  to  the  Federal 
troops.  Great  confusion  existed,  and  we  were  ordered 
back  to  Alexandria,  our  old  camping  ground  which 


MEMOIKS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  Ill 

we  left  in  1862.  We  had  scarcely  time  to  have  food 
prepared,  when  orders  came  to  march  to  Arlington 
Heights,  opposite  Washington,  thence  on  to  support 
Gen.  Pope,  camping  at  Tenallytown.  Major-Gen. 
McClellan  was  now,  by  necessity,  put  in  command, 
not  only  of  his  own  troops  from  the  Peninsula,  but 
also  of  all  those  left  after  the  battles  fought  under 
Gen.  Pope.  Lee  determined  to  carry  the  war  into 
Maryland,  and  made  plans  to  capture  Harper's  Ferry. 
This  strong  position  was  most  disgracefully  sur- 
rendered by  Col.  Miles,  who  commanded  there,  giving 
up  47  cannons,  7,500  small  arms,  40,000  rounds  of 
ammunition,  50  rounds  of  canister-shot,  six  days' 
rations  for  12,000  men,  and  11,583  men  and  officers, 
on  September  15,  1862.  We  had  made  forced 
marches  through  Maryland  from  Tenallytown,  and, 
on  our  way,  passed  through  Frederic,  Md.  Father 
Ouellet,  S.  J.,  and  myself  stopped  at  the  Jesuits' 
residence  in  that  city,  where  we  got,  what  the  boys 
called,  "  a  square  meal,"  then  passed  on  hurriedly, 
with  many  kind  wishes  and  hearty  prayers  from  our 
hospitable  hosts.  Most  of  us  knew  nothing  of  the 
disaster  about  to  take  place  at  Harper's  Ferry.  Our 
brave  Gen.  McClellan  overtook  the  Confederates  at 
South  Mountain,  on  September  14,  1862,  and  badly 
worsted  them.  It  became  our  turn  to  lead  the  army 
next  day.  We  were  in  advance  of  all,  and,  as  we 
dashed  along,  following  the  retreating  Confederate 
forces,  we  saw,  on  every  side,  men  and  horses, 
dead    and   dying.     I  dismounted   occasionally,    and 


112  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

when  I  found  men  still  living,  did  what  I  could  for 
them.  If  Catholics,  I  heard  their  confessions,  and 
if  Protestants,  baptized  them,  as  individual  cases 
required.  Following  up  a  routed  and  retreating 
army  is  very  exciting.  The  men  seemed  to  be  wild 
in  their  pursuit  of  the  Confederates.  Finally  we 
came  up  to  Antietam.  This  stream  empties,  not 
very  far  from  where  we  were,  into  the  Potomac 
Eiver.     Here    Lee    took    a   stand.      On    September 

16,  1862,  no  great  fighting  was  done,  except  a 
fearful    cannon    duel.      Next    morning,    September 

17,  the  battle  opened.  The  Confederates  outnum- 
bered   McClellan's    force,    and,    besides,    they    had 

>^  the  choice  of  position.  Our  brigade  received  orders 
to  go  in  "  double  quick,"  that  is,  on  a  full  run. 
I  gave  rein  to  my  horse  and  let  him  go  at  full 
gallop  till  I  reached  the  front  of  the  brigade,  and, 
passing  along  the  line,  told  the  men  to  make  an  Act 
of  Contrition.  As  they  were  coming  toward  me, 
"  double  quick,"  I  had  time  only  to  wheel  my  horse 
for  an  instant  toward  them  and  gave  my  poor  men  a 
hasty  absolution,  and  rode  on  with  Gen.  Meagher 
into  the  battle.  In  twenty  or  thirty  minutes  after 
this  absolution,  506  of  these  very  men  lay  on  the  field, 
either  dead  or  seriously  wounded.  Gen.  Meagher's 
horse,  a  beautiful  bright  bay,  was  shot  under  him, 
and  also  the  horse  of  the  notorious  Jack  Gasson.  I 
shall  never  forget  how  wicked  the  whiz  of  the  enemy's 
bullets  seemed  as  we  advanced  into  that  battle.  As 
soon  as  my   men   began    to  fall,   I   dismounted  and 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  113 

began  to  hear  their  confessions  on  the  spot.  It  was 
then  I  felt  the  danger  even  more  than  when  dashing 
into  battle.  Every  instant  bullets  whizzed  past  my 
head,  any  one  of  which,  if  it  had  struck  me,  would 
have  been  sufficient  to  leave  me  dead  on  the  spot, 
with  many  of  my  brave  soldiers,  as  the  bullets  came 
from  the  Confederates  at  very  close  range.  All  the 
wounded  of  our  brigade,  numbering  hundreds,  were 
carried  to  a  large  straw-stack,  which  had  to  answer 
for  a  hospital.  Here  they  had  dry  straw  at  least;  but 
during  the  day,  as  all  could  not  get  into  the  shadow 
of  the  stack,  the  hot  sun  made  it  very  uncomfortable 
for  them.  Here  I  saw  one  poor  man  with  a  bullet 
in  his  forehead,  and  his  brains  protruding  from  the 
hole  made  by  the  ball.  Strange  to  say,  he  lived  three 
days,  but  was  speechless  and  deaf,  and  had  lost  his 
senses  entirely.  I  attended  another,  a  well-built  man, 
in  the  full  vigor  of  manhood,  and  about  thirty  years 
of  age.  A  ball  had  passed  directly  through  his  body. 
He  lived  but  two  days,  and  died  in  great  agony. 

McClellan  defeated  the  Confederates,  who  sustained 
a  terrible  loss,  and  then  marched  on  and  took  posses- 
sion of  Harper's  Ferry.  I  remained  behind  several 
days  with  the  wounded.  The  next  day  after  the 
battle  I  had  a  small  hut  erected  near  the  straw-stack, 
celebrated  Mass,  and  gave  Holy  Communion  to  all 
who  were  prepared.  In  doing  so,  I  was  obliged  to 
carry  it  to  them,  as  they  lay  here  and  there  on  the 
straw,  unable  to  move — stepping  over  some,  and 
walking  around  others.     Those  ready  to  receive  were 

8 


114  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

pointed  out  by  a  good  soldier,  or  each  made  a  sign 
for  himself.  Those  who  died  were  buried  on  the  field, 
and  the  wounded  were  removed  to  the  city,  where 
they  could  be  more  easily  cared  for.  A  glance  over 
this  battle-field  —  that  will  ever  occupy  a  prominent 
page  in  the  history  of  our  nation — shows  that  the 
battle  was  a  terrible  one  in  more  than  one  sense. 
First,  500  pieces  of  artillery  were  engaged,  and, 
counting  both  sides,  about  one  hundred  and  seventy 
thousand  men.  Had  the  Confederates  been  success- 
ful—  as  they  would  have  been  if  opposed  by  a  less 
skilful  general  than  McClellan  —  it  is  hard  to  say 
what  would  have  been  the  result.  The  field  presented 
a  sickening  sight  the  day  after  the  battle — on 
September  18,  1862.  Meagher's  brigade  did  its 
duty  as  a  military  body,  and  received  the  highest 
commendation  from  Gen.  McClellan — and  from  many 
historians  since.  Gen.  McClellan,  in  a  long  report  of 
its  charge  and  other  action  during  the  battle,  says, 
among  many  other  words  of  praise:  "The  Irish 
Brigade  sustained  its  well-earned  reputation." 

Having  passed  several  days  in  doing  all  that  I 
could  for  the  wounded  men,  finding  my  services  iio 
longer  required,  I  moved  on  to  join  my  command  at 
Harper's  Ferry.  Father  Dillon  was  not  with  me  at 
this  battle  —  he  had  been  sick,  and  was  absent  on  a 
sick  leave,— but  joined  us  at  Harper's  Ferry.  A  new 
regiment,  the  gallant  One  Hundred  and  Sixteenth 
Pennsylvania  (to  our  great  joy)  was  added  to  our 
brigade.     With  this  regiment  came  a  chaplain  fresh 


MEMOIES   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  115 

for  active  service,  and  in  excellent  spirits.  He  was 
all  new.  He  had  a  new  horse,  new  trappings,  new 
ideas.  He  was  anxious  to  try  his  horse,  to  accustom 
himself  to  horseback  riding,  so  that  on  future 
marches  he  would  be  at  home  in  the  saddle.  Conse- 
quently, he  proposed  to  take  a  ride  to  Chambersburg, 
about  twenty -two  miles  from  where  we  were  encamped 
Fathers  Costello,  D.  D.  (pastor  of  Harper's  Ferry), 
Dillon,  Ouellet,  S.  J.,  and  the  writer,  started  early  in 
the  morning,  as  we  must  return  the  same  day.  The 
new  chaplain  dashed  off  in  front  of  us,  and  was  very 
brave.  We  were  veterans,  already  inured  to  the 
business,  and  knew  how  to  save  ourselves.  We 
returned  at  seven  the  same  evening,  having  made 
forty -four  miles.  Next  morning,  our  new  chaplain 
was  very  sore,  and  he  seemed  to  be  convinced  that 
his  saddle  was  made  of  iron,  with  the  hard  side  up, 
and  that  his  horse  did  not  run  easy.  A  conviction  also 
grew  on  him  that  riding  forty -four  miles  in  one  day, 
to  try  a  new  horse,  a  new  saddle,  and  a  new  rider, 
did  not  accord  with  the  ideas  he  had  formed  from 
reading  about  "prancing  steeds,  richly  caparisoned 
war  horses."  He  kept  his  bed  for  three  weeks,  while 
the  horse  rested  and  grew  fat,  and  he  arose  an  older 
and  wiser,  if  not  a  sounder  man.  Dr.  Costello  had 
some  experience  in  riding;  but  he,  too,  although  he 
did  not  acknowledge  it,  was  pretty  sore  after  the  ride. 
Fathers  Ouellet,  Dillon,  and  the  writer,  were  as  fresh 
the  morning  after,  as  when  we  started;  in  fact,  we 
could  have  repeated,  without  the  least  inconvenience, 
the  same  journey  that  day,  with  fresh  horses. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  CAMP  AT  HAEPEE's  FEEEY — BANQUET, 
EECONNAISSANCE,  ETC. 

OUR  camp  was  a  charming  one,  located  on  Bolivar 
Heights,  the  grounds  very  clean  and  kept  in 
perfect  order.  The  country  around  us  was  delightful 
in  the  variety  of  its  scenery.  Harper's  Ferry  is 
justly  celebrated  for  its  romantic  beauty.  It  is 
situated  at  the  confluence  of  the  Shenandoah  and 
Potomac,  the  Potomac  being  the  boundary  between 
Maryland  and  Virginia.  Here  both  streams  cut 
their  way  through  the  Blue  Ridge,  or,  rather,  the 
mountain  of  rock  seems  to  have  split  in  two  and 
receded,  and  now  stands  off  in  dignified  silence  to  let 
the  roaring  waters  pass.  The  outline  of  the  mount- 
ains is  very  bold;  huge  rocks,  hundreds  of  feet  in 
height,  hanging  with  a  most  threatening  aspect  over 
the  roads  at  the  edge  of  the  water.  The  junction  of 
the  Shenandoah  and  the  Potomac  divides  the  Blue 
Ridge  in  such  a  way  that  the  mountain  is  fashioned 
into  very  fantastic  shapes,  forming  lofty  peaks  and 
craggy  walls  of  rock  that  rival  the  mountains  of 
Switzerland  in  rugged  grandeur.  Here  the  bugler 
(116) 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  117 

delighted  us  by  sounding  clear  notes  which  rever- 
berated through  the  gulches  of  the  mountains  for 
miles  and  brought  back  echoes  the  most  perfect  we 
had  ever  heard.  It  was  simply  charming.  While 
we  listened,  late  in  the  calm  evening,  seated  around 
our  camp  fires,  a  pathetic  feeling  crept  over  us,  each 
dwelling  on  his  own  thoughts,  which,  for  the  time, 
were  all  the  company  he  desired.  First  came  flash- 
ing through  our  minds  the  poor  dead  companions  we 
had  left  behind  in  their  cold  graves  at  Antietam. 
Then,  as  the  scene  of  the  late  terrible  conflict  faded 
from  our  minds,  while  still  under  the  fascinating 
charm  of  the  clear  bugle  notes,  we  found  ourselves 
wandering  back,  year  by  year,  to  our  very  childhood, 
playing  once  more  with  our  dear  sisters  and  brothers 
under  the  shadow  of  the  paternal  roof.  All  the 
vicissitudes  of  life  passed  in  review  before  our  minds, 
and  occasionally,  as  the  bugle  tones  died  softly  in  the 
distant  hollows  of  the  mountains,  we  naturally  dwelt 
on  the  unknown  but  sublime  scenes  of  the  future. 
Finally,  conversation  inspired  by  such  feelings  had 
more  than  an  ordinary  interest.  Only  late  into  the 
night,  by  an  unspoken,  common  consent,  we  retired, 
with  hearts  full  of  emotion,  and  brains  somewhat 
tired  from  too  much  thinking,  as  we  "  turned  in," 
each  on  his  favorite  plank,  to  dream  of  "  home  and 
mother."  Some  had  no  mother  on  earth  to  dream 
about;  but,  piercing  the  clouds  and  vaults  of  heaven, 
could  contemplate  the  most  glowing  of  all  scenes, 
since  there,  for  all,  was  "  home  and  mother."     Very 


118  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

vividly  do  these  reflections  and  dreams  recur  to  me. 
They  left  a  deep  impression  on  my  mind.  Harper's 
Ferry  is  between  fifty  and  sixty  miles  above  Wash- 
ington on  the  Potomac,  and  before  the  war  the  place 
had  a  population  of  two  or  three  thousand.  It  was 
also  the  seat  of  an  important  arsenal  and  armory. 
John  Brown  made  himself  famous  by  the  capture  of 
these  works,  with  a  view  to  liberating  the  slaves  of 
the  South,  and  was  hanged  December  2,  1861.  As 
we  were  in  easy  communication  with  Washington, 
many  persons  came  to  visit  relatives  in  the  army. 
Among  our  visitors  were  distinguished  ladies,  the 
wives  of  our  ofiicers.  There  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  the  wife  of  Gen.  Thomas  Francis  Meagher, 
a  lady  of  marked  character  and  possessed  of  more 
than  an  ordinary  degree  of  refinement  and  excellent 
social  virtues.  She  was  a  devout  convert  to  the 
Catholic  Church,  and  was  highly  respected  by  the 
army  officers,  many  of  whom  had  known  her  and 
her  family  in  New  York  long  before  the  war.  Here, 
also,  for  the  first  time,  I  met  the  venerable  Dr. 
Brownson.  Finally,  the  President,  Abraham  Lincoln, 
came  and  reviewed  the  entire  army.  The  camp  was 
like  a  city,  where  nearly  everyone  knew  his  neighbor, 
and  each  must  be  introduced  to  visiting  friends  and 
partake  of  the  good  things  brought  in  abundance. 
At  Gen.  Meagher's  headquarters  a  sumptuous  banquet 
was  given,  at  which  many  famous  officers,  w^ith  their 
wives,  were  present.  Among  them  was  the  gallant 
Gen.  Hancock.     Our  esteemed  Division  Commander, 


MEMOIKS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  119 

Gen.  Richardson,  of  Michigan,  was  not  there.  We 
had  left  him  in  a  country  house  near  Antietam,  where 
he  had  received  his  mortal  wound.  Dr.  Costello, 
Fathers  Dillon,  Onellet,  McKey,  and  the  writer  were 
present,  and  on  this  occasion  we  made  up  in  part  for 
the  privations  of  the  past.  The  following  Sunday, 
Dr.  Costello,  pastor  of  Harper's  Ferry,  invited  as 
many  as  his  church  could  accommodate,  and  we 
assisted  at  Mass.  After  Mass  the  same  party,  as  on 
the  previous  Thursday  at  Gen.  Meagher's  banquet, 
partook  of  a  bountiful  dinner  with  the  pastor.  So 
the  time  passed,  very  pleasantly  and  agreeably,  and 
the  much -needed  rest  served  to  recruit  the  strength 
expended  in  the  long  marches  of  the  campaign  we 
had  passed  through,  not  to  speak  of  the  racking 
excitement  of  the  battles  with  their  bloody  scenes 
of  death. 

It  may  be  noted  here  that  we  left  the  Peninsula 
on  August  17,  1862,  and  were  constantly  in 
motion  till  we  reached  Harper's  Ferry,  September 
23.  Counting  marches  and  countermarches,  we 
had  passed  over  six  hundred  miles  when  we 
arrived  at  our  camp  on  Bolivar  Heights,  after  the 
battle  of  Antietam.  The  reader  may  see  from  this 
how  badly  the  jaded  troops  were  in  need  of  rest.  In 
the  early  part  of  October,  1862,  our  brigade  was 
ordered  out  on  a  reconnaissance.  We  started  early  in 
the  morning,  passed  around  the  foot  of  the  mountain, 
and  marched  through  a  beautiful  valley.  The  weather 
was  then  cool  enough  to  be  pleasant.    The  valley  was 


120  MEMOIKS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

rolling,  and  every  now  and  then  we  reached  elevated 
ground,  enabling  us  to  overlook  a  landscape,  than 
which  I  never  saw  finer.  The  fields  were  fresh  and 
green,  and  the  persimmon  trees  were  loaded  with  their 
tempting  fruit.  The  pine  trees  were  in  groups,  and 
as  we  looked  from  the  hill-tops  we  could  see  these 
grouped  trees  exactly  resembling  islands  in  a  vast 
body  of  water.  On  we  went  until  four  in  the  evening, 
when  we  halted  near  a  place  called  Charleston,  and 
waited  for  further  orders.  There,  on  the  slope  of  a 
beautiful  hill  dotted  with  trees,  the  men  took  dinner. 
The  evening  before  our  departure  from  camp  my 
orderly  put  into  my  saddle-bags  a  chicken  which 
he  had  bought  and  cooked  for  me.  But  nothing  else 
did  he  put  in — not  even  salt,  or  bread.  Hiding  all 
day,  in  the  bracing  air,  had  given  me  an  excellent 
appetite.  I  let  my  horse  eat  grass,  and  having  found 
the  chicken,  from  which  nothing  had  been  cut  except 
one  "hind  leg,"  I  proceeded  to  make  the  most  of  the 
situation.  I  ate  the  chicken,  and  when  I  reached 
camp  at  eleven  that  night  I  got  some  bread.  The 
axiom,  fames  est  optimum  condimentum — "hunger 
is  the  best  sauce,"  was  put  to  a  practical  test.  I 
greatly  relished  the  chicken,  although  I  had  nothing 
to  eat  with  it.  We  spent  a  few  weeks  profitably  at 
Harper's  Ferry.  Keconnaissances,  followed  by  skir- 
mishes, were  kept  up  in  various  directions.  These, 
it  seems,  were  designed,  and  were  necessary  to  find 
out  the  movements,  strength,  and  ultimate  designs  of 
the  Confederates,     More  than  four  weeks  passed  in 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  121 

this  way.  About  this  time  Father  James  Dillon  was 
transferred  to  the  command  under  Gen.  Corcoran,  and 
located  for  some  time  at  Suffolk,  Va.  Father  McKey 
remained  with  us  until  we  reached  the  Eappahannock, 
when  he  resigned — being  forced  to  do  so  by  sickness. 
The  hardships  of  the  march  from  Harper's  Ferry 
completely  prostrated  him.  This  left  only  two  priests, 
where  there  had  been  four  for  a  short  time.  The 
remaining  two  were  Father  Ouellet,  S.  J.,  and  the 
writer. 


OHAPTEK  XVIII. 


AN   ARMY   EXECUTION. 


/^NE  day,  shortly  before  noon,  one  of  my  men 
^^  came  to  my  tent,  and  said  to  me:  "Father, 
there  is  to  be  an  execution  this  afternoon." 

"How  do  you  know?"  I  asked. 

"I  was  over  to  see  a  friend  in  the  next  brigade, 
and  met  an  orderly  coming  from  headquarters,  who 
told  me  all  about  it,"  he  replied. 

It  is  a  strange  fact  that  men  in  the  ranks 
frequently  had  more  news  than  any  of  us.  Those 
carrying  orders,  called  orderlies,  might,  perhaps,  be 
afraid  to  communicate  news  to  officers,  while  they 
would  tell,  in  confidence,  companion  soldiers  what 
they  knew,  or  what  they  had  heard  this  or  that 
general  say. 

I  asked  the  soldier:  "Where  is  the  man  who  is  to 
be  executed?" 

"  He  is  under  guard,  at  division  headquarters." 

The  soldier  who  told  me  was  God's  angel.  I  felt 
from  that  moment  a  great  desire  to  see  the  con- 
demned man.  It  was  raining;  but,  no  matter,  I 
started.  I  was  soon  wet  through,  and  my  feet  were 
(122) 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE  123 

very  wet;  but,  not  stopping  to  think  of  this,  I  went 
directly  to  the  general,  asked  about  the  man — who 
he  was,  and  what  he  was. 

''Indeed,"  said  the  general,  "all  I  know  about 
him  is  that  he  deserted  to  the  enemy,  was  tried  by 
court-martial,  and  he  is  sentenced  to  be  shot." 

But  he  courteously  volunteered  to  send  one  of  his 
staff  officers  with  me,  who  would  secure  the  interview 
I  desired  with  the  poor  man.  After  a  short  time,  I 
was  presented  to  the  condemned  soldier,  whom  I 
found  to  be  a  young  man  of  German  descent — born 
in  this  country.  I  asked  him  if  any  minister  attended 
him. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "but  he  is  gone  to  dinner." 

I  decided  to  do  nothing  final  in  the  absence  of  the 
minister,  since  he  was  attending  by  official  request. 
In  the  meantime,  I  questioned  the  young  man  (who 
was  not  more  than  nineteen)  about  religious  matters, 
and  found  him  very  ignorant  on  those  points.  In 
fact,  he  had  never  given  much  attention  to  religion, 
and  even  his  parents  —  as  I  afterward  learned  —  were 
equally  careless.  But,  as  he  was  about  to  die,  matters 
looked  serious  to  him — though  he  did  not  seem  to 
realize  fully  the  situation.  I  asked  him  if  he  had 
ever  been  baptized,  and  he  answered  no.  His  parents 
had  told  him  that  he  might  choose  for  himself,  when 
he  saw  fit.  He  had  never  joined  any  particular 
Church;  but  his  parents  were,  as  near  as  he  could  tell, 
members  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  When 
I  found  him  so  ignorant  of  Christian  teaching,   I 


124  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

took  a  wide  range,  and  asked  him  if  he  believed  in 
God. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said. 

"Do  you  believe  in  Christ,  and  that  He  died  to 
redeem  the  world?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  believe  in  the  Holy  Trinity?"  —  and  a 
number  of  similar  general  questions. 

I  feared  that  by  not  understanding  my  questions, 
if  put  too  deep,  he  would  say  that  he  did  not  believe 
some  vital  point.  Finally,  I  said  to  him:  "If  you 
knew  that  Christ  wished  you  to  be  a  Christian,  and 
to  be  baptized  a  Catholic,  would  you  comply  with  His 
wish?" 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  have  not  much  time  to  live 
now,  and  want  to  do  all  I  can  to  please  God." 

At  this  time  the  minister  came  along,  and  as  one 
of  the  guards  saw  him  at  a  distance,  he  said:  "Boots 
is  coming!" 

I  asked  the  guard  whom  he  intended  to  designate 

by  that  name 

He  said:    "It's  the  minister  that  'tends  this  man." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "do  you  not  consider  it  a  mark  of 
disrespect  to  call  your  minister  by  such  a  name?" 

"Oh,  no;  they  all  do  it." 

I  had  never  met  the  minister  before,  and  when  he 
came  in,  I  told  him  who  I  was,  and  why  I  came; 
namely,  to  see  if  anything  I  could  do  would  be 
acceptable  in  the  case.  He  did  not  say  much,  but 
talked    a   little  about   faith.     Then,  turning  to   the 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  125 


young  man,  whose  name  was  Adam,  he  said:  "Adam, 
do  you  believe  you  will  be  saved?" 

"Y-e-s,"  said  Adam,  falteringly. 

"I  sincerely  hope  you  will;  I  do  most  sincerely 
hope  you  will,"  said  the  minister. 

This  was  the  lesson  he  taught  the  young  man, 
and  the  only  one;  namely,  to  believe.  During  his 
remarks,  I  was  revolving  in  my  mind  what  was  best 
to  be  done.  I  ventured  to  state  that  I  had  learned 
from  the  young  man  that  he  had  not  been  baptized. 
The  minister  was  a  very  tall  gentleman,  had  very 
long  legs,  and  wore  correspondingly  long  boots. 
This  circumstance  made  the  boots  look  conspicuous, 
because,  though  the  gentleman  was  tall,  he  had 
a  short  body.  Hence  the  irreverent  called  him 
"Boots."  He  had  a  squeaky  voice,  and  in  reply  to  my 
allusion  to  baptism,  said,  in  his  peculiar  hard  tone: 
"Well,  there  is  not  much  time  now;"  and  again, 
turning  to  Adam,  asked:  "Adam,  do  you  believe 
you  will  be  saved?" 

"Y-e-a-s,"  said  Adam. 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  so;  I  do,  I  do,"  said  the  minister. 

"Now,"  said  I,  "as  w^e  have  but  little  time,  I  think 
we  should  act  promptly  about  this  question.  Not 
only  do  Catholics  believe  baptism  necessary,  but 
most  other  Christians  do  likewise." 

"Well,"  said  he,  in  a  still  higher  key  than  before, 
"  I  do  not  know  what  your  Church  teaches,  but  our 
Church  teaches  that  all  that  is  necessary  is  to  be 
baptized  in  the  Holy  Ghost.     I  will  go  and  see  the 


126  MEMOIRS   OF   CHArLAIN   LIFE. 

general,  and  learn  what  time  the  execution  is  to  take 
place." 

While  he  was  gone,  I  determined  what  to  say  to 
him  on  his  return.  In  a  few  minutes  he  entered, 
announcing  that  the  hour  was  fixed  for  one  o'clock 
p.  m.,  sharp. 

"Then,"  I  said,  "we  have  but  half  an  hour,  as  it 
is  half -past  twelve  o'clock  now  —  and  I  made  this 
proposition:  "  If  baptism  will  do  the  young  man  no 
good,  in  your  estimation,  it  will  certainly  do  him  no 
harm;  therefore,  if  you  have  no  objection,  I  will 
baptize  him." 

He  could  not  refuse.  Having  no  time  to  risk,  I 
sent  for  some  water  immediately,  and  baptized  the 
young  man.  I  said  to  him :  "  Now,  you  are  a  Chris- 
tian ;  offer  your  life  to  God  in  union  with  the  suffer- 
ings of  Christ  on  the  cross,"  and  a  few  other 
exhortations.  For  the  first  time  I  noticed  a  genuine 
softening  in  his  disposition,  as  the  light  of  faith, 
secured  to  him  by  the  sacrament,  seemed  to  show  in 
his  countenance.  He  had  only  a  few  moments  to 
live,  and  when  the  squad  of  armed  men  came  to  escort 
him  to  death,  he  went  out  as  coolly  as  if  he  were  going 
to  dinner.  Eight  or  ten  thousand  troops  were  drawn 
up  in  a  hollow  square,  with  one  end  of  the  square 
vacant.  The  condemned  man  was  placed  at  that  end. 
A  squad  of  twelve  men,  with  muskets  loaded  by  one 
of  the  sergeants,  came  forward.  According  to  rule, 
the  sergeant  puts  no  ball  in  one  of  the  guns,  and  no 
one  of  the  soldiers  knows  whether  his  gun  has  a  ball 


MEMOIllS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  127 

in  it  or  not.  The  twelve  soldiers,  under  the  command 
of  an  officer,  stood  in  front  of  the  condemned  man. 
The  sentence  was  read  and  the  provost-marshal  drew 
a  cap  over  the  man's  eyes.  Then  the  officer  gave  the 
stern  commands:  "Get  ready,  aim,  fire!"  Eleven 
bullets  struck  the  young  man;  still  he  was  not  dead. 
The  provost-marshal  was  obliged  to  use  his  own 
revolver,  to  put  him  out  of  pain.  Scenes  like  this 
jarred  my  nerves  much  more  than  a  battle.  And 
now,  when  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  has 
passed  since  this  took  place,  it  causes  a  shuddering 
sensation  to  think  of  it;  still  more  to  write  all  the 
circumstances  of  such  a  dreadful  spectacle. 


CHAPTEH  XIX. 


THE   IRISH    BRIGADE   AT    FREDERICKSBURG. 

IT  may  be  understood  that,  for  the  sake  of  order 
and  interest,  I  follow,  in  my  narrative,  our  line 
of  march  in  an  unbroken  and  consecutive  manner. 
I  also  give  the  exact  dates  for  each  principal  occur- 
rence. In  the  last  chapter,  however,  I  anticipated  a 
little  by  referring  to  the  march  from  Harper's  Ferry 
to  the  Kappahannock  Eiver.  Let  us  now  go  back 
and  start  from  Harper's  Ferry.  On  November  1, 
we  had  our  last  solemn  service  there,  and  on  Novem- 
ber 2,  1862,  general  orders  came,  and  all  the  troops 
were  put  in  motion.  We  passed  out  of  the  camp  at 
Harper's  Ferry,  took  the  east  side  of  the  Blue  Ridge, 
and  marched  toward  Warrenton.  The  weather  was 
exceedingly  fine,  and  the  valley  through  which  we 
passed  was  a  veritable  prairie.  Nothing  of  impor- 
tance occurred  on  our  way  during  the  first  few  days. 
The  two  great  generals,  McClollan  and  Lee,  seemed 
to  be  watching  each  other's  movements,  and  learning 
each  other's  designs  by  sending  out  skirmishing 
expeditions.  On  November  2,  a  sharp  fight  took 
place  at    Snicker's    Gap.       The   same    occurred   at 

(128) 


MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  129 

Ashby's  Gap  on  the  3d.  Thoroughfare  Gap  was 
occupied  on  the  3d  by  Gen.  Sigel.  It  is  well  known 
that  military  men  attach  great  importance  to  such 
positions — passes  or  gaps  through  mountains.  On 
November  5,  while  at  Warrenton,  Va.,  an  order 
came  from  Washington  relieving  Gen.  McClellan  and 
placing  in  his  stead  Gen.  Burnside.  This  created 
great  excitement  and  the  deepest  possible  regret  on 
the  part  of  officers  and  men.  Many  of  the  officers 
resigned  on  the  spot.  The  generals  waited  on 
McClellan  and  expressed  their  esteem  for  him  in  the 
most  flattering  terms.  Finally,  he  obeyed,  like  a  true 
soldier,  and  passed  the  command  over  to  Burnside, 
saying  simply  as  he  did  so:  "  Well,  Burnside,  I  turn 
the  command  over  to  you."  He  passed  through  the 
troops  who  were  in  lines  on  either  side  of  the  road, 
and  as  he  went  by,  the  wildest  excitement  prevailed. 
Salutes  were  fired  and  he  was  heartily  cheered.  When 
he  boarded  the  train  which  was  to  take  him  to 
Washington,  the  soldiers  uncoupled  the  car,  rolled  it 
back,  and  seemed  determined  not  to  let  him  go.  Ho 
spoke  to  them  and  restored  order  by  telling  them  that 
they  must  always  obey  lawful  authority.  Poor 
Burnside  deserves  credit  for  accepting  the  command 
under  compulsion,  declaring  and  confessing  his 
inability  to  replace  McClellan. 

When  we  started  from  Harper's  Ferry,  as  usual,  we 
knew  nothing  about  our  destination.  At  Warrenton, 
Burnside,  doubtless  by  advice  from  Washington, 
changed  the  plans  made   by  McClellan.     We  were 


130  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

marched  on  and  on  till  we  found  ourselves  back  on 
the  north  bank  of  the  Rappahannock,  where  we 
stopped  for  a  short  time  before  going  to  Maryland, 
prior  to  the  battles  of  South  Mountain  and  Antietam. 
And,  late  in  November,  we  were  back  again.  The 
Irish  Brigade  was  ordered  over  the  river  by  Gen. 
Sumner  to  explore  the  situation,  and,  finding  a  bat- 
tery in  position,  captured  two  of  the  guns  and  drew 
them  away  by  hand  in  short  order.  Gen.  Hancock 
said:  "Gen.  Meagher,  I  never  saw  anything  so 
splendid." 

Before  going  farther,  I  would  say  a  word  on  our 
position.     We  camped  at    Falmouth,  on    the   north 
bank  of  the  Rappahannock,  opposite  Fredericksburg. 
The  ground  here  is  elevated.      Looking  across  the 
river,  we  saw  the  city,  and  immediately  behind  the 
city  the  hills  rising  in  terraces,  in  the  form  of  a  semi- 
circle, as  if  made  by  nature  for  a  most  impregnable 
position.     It  was  now  getting  late  in  the  season,  and 
we  set  about  fixing  our  habitation  for  the  winter — 
thinking,  of  course,  that  we  were  there  to  stay.     We 
settled  down  in  earnest;  built  log  huts,  roofed  them 
with  tents,  and  built  chimneys  of  sticks  and  mud— for 
there  was  plenty  of  mud.      Streets,  walks,  and  other 
conveniences  were  constructed.    Father  Ouellet,  S.  J., 
and  I  appointed  regular  times  for  Mass,    sermons, 
and  other   religious   duties.     In    the  meantime,  the 
Confederates  massed  on  the  hills  behind  the  city,  on 
the  south  of   the  Rappahannock,  built  breastworks, 
and  got  all  their  heavy  artillery  in  the  best  possible 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  131 

positions.  To  complete  their  work  they  had  over 
three  weeks.  On  December  10,  the  gallant  Seventh 
Michigan — under  a  withering  fire  from  the  opposite 
side — constructed  a  ponton-bridge,  gaining  thereby 
the  admiration  of  the  entire  army.  This  one  daring 
deed  was  enough  to  give  national  glory  to  the  troops 
of  Michigan.  One  of  my  men,  hearing  the  rumor, 
came  to  me,  and  said:  "Father,  they  are  going  to 
lead  us  over  in  front  of  those  guns  which  we  have 
seen  them  placing,  unhindered,  for  the  past  three 
weeks." 

I  answered  him:  "Do  not  trouble  yourself;  your 
generals  know  better  than  that." 

But,  to  our  great  surprise,  the  poor  soldier  was 
right.  On  December  12,  we  were  ordered  to  move; 
marched  to  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  the  men  rested 
on  their  arms  all  that  night,  ready  to  move  at  a 
moment's  notice  in  the  morning.  During  the  day  it 
snowed,  and  the  ground  was  covered.  I  got  on  a 
small  brush-heap,  made  by  one  of  the  men,  to  keep 
myself  out  of  the  mud  and  soft,  wet  snow.  There, 
in  the  open  air  —  in  company  with  my  poor  men — I 
spent  the  night.  They  did  not  know  what  a  fearful 
fate  awaited  them  next  day.  On  the  morning  of 
December  13,  we  crossed  the  ponton-bridges.  Cheers 
were  heard  as  we  were  going  on,  and  some  said:  "  It 
may  be  our  last  cry."  We  were  formed  into  line  of 
battle,  and  ordered  up  in  front,  with  absolutely  no 
protection  for  our  ranks.  As  we  advanced,  our  men 
simply  melted  away  before  the  grape   and  canister, 


132  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

and  the  tens  of  thousands  of  muskets,  well  protected 
behind  the  carefully  constructed  breastworks.  Gen. 
Meagher  advised  every  soldier  of  the  brigade  to  put 
a  sprig  of  box-wood  in  his  cap,  so  that  he  could 
be  identified  as  a  member  of  the  brigade  should  he 
Lall.  These  men  were  found  dead  near  the  cannon's 
mouth,  on  Mary's  Heights.  A  correspondent  of  the 
London  Times,  observing  the  battle  from  the  hill- 
top, said:  "  Never,  at  Fontenoy,  Albuera,  or  Waterloo, 
was  a  more  undaunted  courage  displayed  by  the  sons 
of  Erin  than  during  those  six  frantic  dashes  which 
they  directed  against  the  almost  impregnable  position 
of  the  foe." 

But  the  place  into  which  Meagher's  brigade  was 
sent  was  simply  a  slaughter-pen.  I  have  heard  many 
blame  Meagher  for  taking  his  brigade  into  this  pen; 
but  such  persons  do  not  know  what  they  criticise. 
Gen.  Meagher  and  his  brigade  simply  obeyed  the 
orders  of  superior  officers,  and  wont  in  at  the  time  and 
place  assigned  them.  Had  Gen.  Meagher  disobeyed 
such  legitimate  orders,  he  would  have  been  liable  to 
be  cashiered,  and  thus  have  disgraced  himself  and  his 
race  for  all  future  time.  Needless  to  say,  our  brigade 
was  cut  to  pieces.  Many  were  seriously  wounded, 
and  recovered  later  on,  but  for  the  time  we  had  only 
the  remnant  of  a  brigade.  I  saw  one  of  the  officers, 
Lieut.  O'Brien,  of  the  Eighty-eighth,  shot  in  the 
neck,  the  ball  coming  out  near  the  jugular  vein. 
When  he  tried  to  eat  a  piece  of  ginger-bread  it  partly 
came  out  through  the  hole  made  by  the  ball.  Strange 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  133 

to  say,  he  recovered.  This  fact  is  recorded  for  the 
benefit  of  medical  science.  Just  as  the  remnant  of 
our  brigade  came  out  of  action,  Capt.  Sullivan  and 
I  were  talking  in  a  street  of  Fredericksburg,  and 
congratulating  each  other  that  a  few  escaped  even 
without  a  wound.  He  left  me  to  pass  across  the 
street,  and  as  he  reached  the  center — ten  feet  from 
where  we  had  been  talking — a  cannon  ball  came 
down  the  street  and  struck  him  about  four  inches 
above  the  knee,  and  cut  away  his  leg.  I  heard  his 
confession  at  once,  as  I  knew  he  could  not  live.  He 
was  carried  to  the  rear,  and  all  that  could  be  done 
by  the  faithful  surgeons  was  done;  but  he  died  that 
night.     This    was  the  experience    of    hundreds. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


CAMP   LIFE    AT    FBEDERICKSBUEG. 

THE^  battle  of  Fredericksburg  took  place,  as  we 
have  seen,  on  Saturday,  December  13.  That 
night  Gen.  Burnside  withdrew  and  recrossed  the 
Rappahannock.  This  left  most  of  our  wounded  on 
the  bloody  battlefield  where  they  fell,  and  where 
they  lay  all  night  with  undressed  wounds  and  no 
food  or  drink.  Col.  St.  Clair  Mulholland,  since 
brevetted  Major-General,  was  one  of  the  number. 
Next  day,  Sunday,  both  armies  were  engaged  in 
collecting  the  wounded  and  burying  the  dead.  After 
returning  from  the  battlefield  we  found  a  temporary 
shelter  on  the  north  side  of  the  river,  where  we  spent 
some  time  in  caring  for  such  of  the  wounded  as  had 
been  saved  from  the  battlefield;  then  we  tried  to  rest 
a  few  hours.  When  I  said  Mass  in  the  morning,  I 
had  a  very  small  congregation  compared  with  former 
ones.  After  Mass  the  day  was  given  to  visiting  the 
wounded,  who  were  transferred  as  soon  as  possible 
to  the  rear,  where  the  Sanitary  Commission  did  good, 
noble,  charitable  work,  attending  to  the  wants  of  the 
suffering,  feeding  them   luxuriously  and  binding  up 

(134) 


MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  135 

their  wounds.  All  of  us  were  sad,  very  sad.  After 
a  few  days  we  were  settled  down  in  the  same  quarters 
which  we  had  occupied  before  going  into  the  battle 
of  Fredericksburg.  Now,  for  certain,  we  thought  we 
were  in  winter  quarters  to  stay.  To  our  surprise,  w^e 
were  soon  called  to  enter  another  campaign.  The 
mud  was  so  deep  that  the  impossibility  of  moving  an 
army  at  that  season  was  soon  demonstrated.  After 
the  heavy  rains,  cannons  went  down  so  deep,  it  was 
said,  that  "the  spots  were  marked  where  they  had 
disappeared,  so  that  they  could  be  dug  out  in  dry 
weather."  Other  tales,  illustrating  the  situation,  were 
told.  One  of  them  I  remember:  "A  man  was  going 
along  on  the  edge  of  a  forest,  when,  looking  out 
into  tjie  so-called  road  where  troops  had  passed,  he 
saw  a  hat  in  a  great  mud-hole.  He  reached  out  for 
it,  and  discovered  a  head  under  it.  '  Why,  what  are 
you  doing  there  ?  '  he  cried  out.  The  man  in  the 
mud  answered:  'I  am  looking  for  my  horse;  he  is 
somewhere  below.'" 

We  spent  the  winter  in  that  very  camp.  Gen. 
Meagher  went  to  New  York  to  recruit  the  brigade. 
While  he  was  there  a  solemn  Requiem  Mass  was 
celebrated  for  those  of  the  brigade  who  fell  during 
the  campaign  of  1862,  and  especially  for  those 
slaughtered  at  Fredericksburg.  The  Mass  was  cele- 
brated in  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  and  Rev.  Father 
Ouellet,  S.  J.,  who  had  resigned  the  service,  was  the 
celebrant.  During  the  winter,  the  regular  routine 
work  of  camp  life  occupied  the  soldiers.     Mass  was 


136  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

celebrated  daily,  confessions  heard,  and  the  sick 
administered  to.  One  day  an  orderly  came  for  me  to 
go  about  six  miles,  to  attend  an  officer  of  a  Michigan 
regiment.  His  name  was  Lieut.  John  O'Callighan. 
Frequently  I  was  called  in  this  way  to  distant  parts 
of  the  army,  where  there  were  no  Catholic  chaplains, 
and  my  life,  in  this  respect,  much  resembled  that  of  a 
priest  in  charge  of  a  parish.  Later  on,  after  a  rain, 
frost  covered  the  ground  with  ice.  Gen.  Meagher, 
having  returned  from  New  York,  spent  some  of  his 
time  riding  around  among  the  soldiers'  camps,  accom- 
panied by  his  staff.  While  returning  one  day  from 
one  of  these  rides,  our  brave  Capt.  "Jack"  Gasson 
thought  it  proper  to  do  something  to  break  the 
monotony.  So,  dashing  off  in  his  usual  style,  his 
horse  slipped,  fell,  and  threw  ''Jack"  violently  on 
the  hard,  frozen  ground — where  he  lay  senseless. 
Gen.  Meagher  sent  for  me,  and  I  hastened  to  see 
"Jack,"  as  the  officer  who  came  for  me  assured  me 
that  "Jack"  was  finished  at  last.  When  I  reached 
him,  "Jack"  had  so  far  recovered  as  to  give  evident 
signs  that  he  was  not  going  to  die  just  then.  He 
had  received  no  vital  injury,  but  his  collar-bone  was 
broken,  and  he  had  several  painful  wounds.  My 
great  surprise  was  to  find  him  lamenting,  not  his 
wounds  nor  the  danger  of  life,  but  that  he  had  fallen 
on  level  ground.  If  it  had  been  going  over  a  stone 
wall  or  down  a  precipice  fifty  or  a  hundred  feet, 
there  would  have  been  some  glory  in  it;  but  to  be 
broken  up,  and  perhaps  killed,  on  level  ground  was 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  137 

ignominy  he  could  not  endure.  How  would  such  an 
unworthy  action  sound  in  history  ?  What  would  his 
New  York  and  European  friends  say  ?  He  thought 
they  would  drop  his  name  from  the  roll  of  chivalric 
knighthood  forever! 

Here  we  close  the  year  1862.  During  this  year, 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  passed  through  all  the 
well-known  battles  of  the  Peninsula  —  South  Mount- 
ain and  Antietam,  in  Maryland,  not  to  mention 
many,  many  skirmishes  —  winding  up  with  the  mem- 
orable battle  of  Fredericksburg.  To  do  this,  the 
army  had  moved  over  not  less  than  fourteen  hundred 
miles,  and  the  poor  men  had  to  carry  with  them  a  load 
equal  to  at  least  fifty-seven  pounds.  History  records 
deeds  accomplished  during  1862  which  were  features 
of  warfare  unknown  in  this  or  past  generations. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


ST.  Patrick's  day  at  camp  falmouth. 

/^UR  winter  quarters  at  Falmouth  resembled  a 
^^  large  town.  Visitors,  friends,  and  relatives  of 
the  officers  and  soldiers,  came  from  New  York,  New 
Jersey,  Philadelphia,  Boston,  and  elsewhere.  A  con- 
stant coming  and  going  was  kept  up.  Happily,  we 
were  also  so  situated  that  we  could  get  all  the  neces- 
saries of  life.  Those  of  our  number  who  had  been 
wounded  at  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg  returned 
as  soon  as  they  were  able.  They  came  not  willingly, 
but  in  one  sense,  readily -and  cheerfully.  They  wished 
to  see  and  chat  with  their  old  comrades  over  the  late 
battle  scenes,  to  find  out  how  many  were  killed,  how 
many  were  wounded,  and  how  many  still  stood  in  the 
ranks  of  the  brigade.  Occasionally,  a  squad  came  and 
brought  much  news  from  home  and  messages  from 
relatives  to  those  in  camp.  They  thoroughly  can- 
vassed the  past  history  of  the  war,  and  future  pros- 
pects. In  a  word,  our  camp-fires  were  places  of  great 
interest  for  three  months.  Besides  the  wounded,  now 
perfectly  recovered,  many  fresh  recruits  came  into 
our  ranks,  and  swelled  our  number  considerably.  It 
(138) 


MEMOIBS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.      '  139 

was  very  amusing  to  watch  this  raw  material  listen — 
with  open-mouthed  astonishment — to  the  war  stories 
told  by  their  veteran  companions,  who,  strange  to 
say,  were  not  always  satisfied  with  telling  the  naked 
truth,  which  was  certainly  harrowing  and  startling 
enough,  but  did  not  scruple  to  heighten  the  coloring 
to  satiate  the  morbid  desire  of  their  new  companions, 
who  wished  to  learn  all  about  real  war-life. 

Several  days  previous  to  St.  Patrick's  Day  prepa- 
rations were  made  for  its  worthy  celebration;  for 
St.  Patrick's  Day,  with  the  Irish  race,  is  one  of 
enthusiastic  devotion.  For  on  this  day  is  honored 
the  "Apostle  of  Ireland,"  who  brought  the  light  of 
the  Gospel  to  the  whole  nation,  and  turned  a  pagan 
country  into  one  thoroughly  Christian.  The  words  of 
the  prophet  may  be  applied  here  most  appropriately : 
"The  people  that  walked  in  darkness  have  seen 
great  light ;  to  them  that  dwell  in  the  region  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  light  is  risen."  No  nation  on  the 
face  of  the  earth  has  shown  greater  appreciation 
of  such  a  great  blessing.  Consequently,  St.  Patrick 
is  honored  as  the  instrument  in  the  hands  of  God 
in  conferring  this  inestimable  favor.  He  is  honored 
as  a  saint,  and  gratitude  to  him  is  unbounded,  since 
his  mission  was  so  blessed  that  it  lifted  the  entire 
nation  to  the  highest  standard  of  Christian  virtue, 
so  as  to  deserve  for  it  in  justice  the  title  of  "  The 
Island  of  Saints."  Looked  on  as  a  Christian  nation, 
it  is  no  wonder  that  St.  Patrick's  Day  became  a  kind 
of  national  holiday,  and  a  day  of  general  rejoicing. 


140  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

It  is  not  easy  for  strangers  to  understand  why  we 
show  such  great  love  and  veneratioh  for  St.  Patrick, 
without  taking  into  consideration  the  above  circum- 
stances.    Hence,  although  not  an  ecclesiastical  holi- 
day, on  which  no  servile  work  may  be  done,  still  the 
day  is  commemorated  by  the  Irish  race  wherever  its 
sons  and  daughters  are  to  be  found.    Gen.  Meagher, 
surrounded  by  a  very  intelligent  body  of  officers  and 
men,  "brave  and  true,"  made  elaborate  plans  for  the 
celebration  of  this  day,  March,  1863.     They  recog- 
nized it  first,  and  above  all,  as  a  day  of  devotion  and 
thanksgiving  to  God  for  the  gift  of  faith  and  means 
of  salvation.     The  primary  object  in  the  programme 
was  a  "Military  Mass" — of  which  I  have  given  an  idea 
in  chapter  XIV.     Gen.  Meagher  had  a  consultation 
with  me  as  to  what  I  would  require,  and  gave  me  a 
large  detail  of  men,  under  a  commissioned   officer, 
to  construct  a  rustic  church.   •  The  church  we  built 
in  the  following  manner:     Posts,  about  fifteen  feet 
long,  were  cut  in  the  pine  forest,  and  planted  in  the 
ground  two  feet  apart.    Along  the  tops  of  these  were 
fastened  beams,  on  which  the  rafters  rested.     This 
was  the  skeleton.      Then  the  upright  poles,  two  feet 
apart,  were  interwoven,  basket-like,  with  green  pine 
branches,  and  in  the  same  way  the  roof  was  formed. 
Such  a  roof  would  of  course  not  keep  out  rain;    but, 
fortunately,  none    fell    that    day.     It    kept    out   the 
sunbeams   effectually,  however,  and  the    inside  was 
very  cool  and   pleasant.     For  seats,  crotchets  were 
planted  in  the  ground,  and  standing  up  about  eighteen 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  141 

inches.      Large    poles    were    laid   in    the  crotchets, 
and  on  these  sat  the  officers  and  men  —  much  the 
same  as  men  sometimes  perch  on  a  rail  fence.     For 
the  general  officers  and  distinguished  guests  there 
were  placed,  in  front,  all  the  camp  stools  that  could 
be  found  in  that  portion  of  the  army.     An  altar  was 
also  constructed  and  tastefully  decorated  with  ever- 
greens.    When  the  whole  was   finished  it  presented 
a  really  delightful  picture,  and  was  in  fine  contrast 
with  the   surrounding    white   tents,    the   green  and 
white  making  a  pleasing  effect.     A  beautiful  vest- 
ment of  water-colored  silk,  richly  embroidered  with 
gold,  was  presented  to  me  by  the  officers  and  men  of 
the  brigade  and  was  worn  for  the  first  time  on  this 
occasion.     It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  this  vestment, 
first  used  over  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  is  kept 
on   exhibition  •  by   Prof.  James  F.   Edwards,  in  the 
"  Bishop's  Memorial  Hall,"  at  Notre  Dame  Univer- 
sity.    At  eight    o'clock,   after   breakfast,    the    most 
distinguished  guests  arrived,  and  the  brigade  having 
formed  ranks  under  orders,  men  and  officers  marched 
to  the  rustic  church.    The  day  previous  I  had  secured 
other  priests  to  assist  me,  and  at  my  request,  good 
Father   O'Hagan,   S.  J.,  of  the    Excelsior   Brigade, 
preached,  and  I  celebrated  the  solemn  service  of  the 
day.     Gen.  Meagher,  who  was  well  instructed  in  his 
religion,  directed  the  military  bands  when  and  how 
to  play  during  the  Mass.     Gen.  Hooker,  commander- 
in-chief,  and  many  other  distinguished  officers  were 
present.     After  Mass,   Gen.    Meagher,  accompanied 


142  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

by  his  staff,  brought  Mrs.  Col.  Van  Schaick  and 
other  ladies  to  visit  our  rustic  church,  which  was 
quite  a  curiosity,  and  also  to  inspect  the  beautiful 
vestment  which  looked  so  grand  in  camp.  The  con- 
trast with  its  surroundings  seemed  to  make  it  ten 
times  finer  than  it  would  have  appeared  elsewhere. 
I  mention  Mrs.  Van  Schaick  in  a  special  way,  because 
she  was  the  wife  of  a  nobleman  from  Europe,  who 
entered  the  army  simply  for  the  experience  to  be 
gained  in  practical  warfare.  She  was  a  practical 
Catholic,  a  brave  woman,  and  could  ride  almost  as 
well  as  her  gallant  husband.  Thus  the  day's  cele- 
bration was  devoutly  opened,  as  it  should  be;  and 
perhaps  few  congregations  on  that  day  assisted  at 
divine  service  with  greater  piety,  many  saying  to 
themselves,  "It may  be"  —  as  it  really  was  for  many 
— "  the  last  St.  Patrick's  Day  we  shall  live  to  see." 

After  the  morning's  religious  devotions  came  the 
sports.  A  general  invitation  had  been  sent  to  all 
the  officers  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  all 
that  could  come  did  so.  Ma j. -Gen.  Hooker,  then 
commander-in-chief  of  the  army,  was  present  with 
his  staff.  It  was  estimated  at  the  time  that  fully 
twenty  thousand  participated  in,  or  at  least  witnessed, 
the  sports  of  the  day.  The  novel  and  daring  nature 
of  the  celebration  "  took"  with  all  the  soldiers.  It 
was,  indeed,  so  brilliant  and  creditable  that  I  heard 
distinguished  soldiers  claim  that  their  grandmothers 
or  grandfathers  were  Irish.  Ever  after  the  fame  of 
Bull  Eun,  no  soldier  was  ashamed  to  be  an  Irishman 


MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  143 

in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and,  especially  on  this 
occasion,  when  everything  connected  with  the  cele- 
bration was  so  soldierly — we  might  say  chivalrous. 
Well-described,  the  scene  would  outshine  the  grandest 
pageants  related  of  the  most  gallant  knights  of 
Ivanhoe.  Many  festive  celebrations  had  I  seen  before, 
but  this  surpassed  my  wildest  fancy.  The  very  excit- 
ing race  most  graphically  .depicted  in  "  Ben  Hur" 
between  the  hero,  Ben  Hur,  and  his  rival,  Messala, 
would  seem  tame  in  comparison.  On  those  plains  in 
Virginia,  you  might  find,  not  one,  but  hundreds  of 
the  character  of  Ben  Hur,  educated,  handsome, 
fashioned  after  the  noblest  type  of  manhood,  spirited 
and  brave  as  any  knight  that  ever  stood  in  armor. 
They  were  equally  ready  to  dash  into  the  smoke  of 
battle  and  up  to  the  cannon's  mouth,  or  ride  a  steeple- 
chase, such  as  was  noticed  in  chapter  VIII.  of  this 
narrative.  This  feat  is  full  of  hazard  and  perils  of  the 
most  startling  nature.  A  great  stand,  built  for  the 
occasion,  was  occupied  by  the  judges  of  the  various 
feats.  Of  course  the  major-generals  were  there  too. 
Many  soldiers  and  line  officers  were  under  and 
around  the  stage,  and  when .  Gen.  Meagher  rode 
round,  as  director  of  the  whole  movement,  he  cried 
out,  as  he  neared  the  stage,  which  possibly  might 
not  have  been  too  strong:: 

"Stand  from  under!  If  that  stage  gives  way,  you 
will  be  crushed  by  four  tons  of  major-generals." 

Those  who  were  to  enter  the  steeple-chase  assem- 
bled in  the  uniforms  prescribed,  and  no  one   rode 


14:4  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

except  commissioned  officers.  Over  the  vast  plain 
could  be  seen  the  thousands  who  assembled  to  witness 
the  day's  doings,  riding  backward  and  forward,  dash- 
ing over  fences,  fallen  trees,  streams,  and  ditches. 
When  you  met  them,  you  could  see  fire  flash  from 
their  eyes,  exhibiting  the  wild  impatience  of  the 
ancient  Greeks  waiting  for  the  gates  to  open  on  the 
Olympian  games.  Conspicuous  among  the  riders,  I 
noticed  Col.  Van  Schaick  and  his  accomplished  wife. 
Other  ladies,  also,  rode  with  their  husbands,  with 
grace  and  creditable  skill;  but,  as  Col.  Van  Schaick 
came  into  view  in  full  gallop,  his  horse  springing  over 
every  obstacle,  Mrs.  Van  Schaick,  well-mounted,  came 
at  the  side  of  her  husband  with  a  clever  fearlessness 
which  proved  that,  though  not  competing,  she  deserved 
a  prize  among  the  first.  While  admiring  the  hus- 
band and  wife,  one  could  easily  discern  that  both 
had  had  much  experience  in  that  kind  of  exercise. 
Finally,  the  sports  commenced,  and  they  far  sur- 
passed the  expectations  of  the  multitude.  This  kind 
of  pastime  became  very  popular  in  the  army  ever 
after.  Under  the  extensive  bower,  constructed  of 
pine  branches,  at  headquarters,  lunch  was  served  at 
one  o'clock.  Ham  sandwiches,  lemonade  and  other 
delicacies  were  prepared  there,  and  probably  not  less 
than  fifteen  hundred  partook  of  the  generous  hos- 
pitality of  Gen.  Meagher  and  the  Irish  Brigade. 
Our  famous  Capt.  Jack  Gasson  was  in  his  glory  all 
that  day.  What  an  appropriate  hero  he  would  have 
made  for  a  novel  on  knight-errantry !     Although  he 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  145 

was  spoken  of  in  a  familiar  way  as  "  Capt.  Jack,"  he 
was  a  high-toned  gentleman  and  a  gallant  soldier. 
He  was  courteous  enough  to  attend  a  king.  The 
participants  in  the  various  sports  of  the  day  covered 
themselves  with  glory  and  drew  the  admiration  of 
the  entire  Army  of  the  Potomac. 


10 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


COLLECTION    MADE    IN    THE     BRIGADE     FOR     THE    POOR 
IN    IRELAND. 

IT  will  be  remembered  by  many  that  in  the  spring 
of  18G3  the  papers  were  filled  with    reports  of 
"the  suffering  poor  in  Ireland.     We  had  passed  the 
winter  in  comparative  comiort — we  had  all  the  sub- 
stantial food  we  wanted,  no  very  hard  marching,  and 
no    fighting.     We   saw  the    papers    very    regularly, 
even  if  we  had  to  pay  a  high  price  for  them.     Every 
day   we  were  expecting  orders  to   march ;  to  open  a 
new  campaign,  which,  of  course,  meant  a  new  series 
of  hardships,  privations,  and  battles.     Before  starting, 
we  resolved  to  do  some  act  of  charity,  that  the  Lord 
might  remember  us  in  our  own  days  of  distress.     A 
collection  was  proposed  for  the  poor  in  Ireland.     As 
soon    as    it   was  announced,   one    Sunday  at    divine 
service,   the  officers  and  men  showed  their  love  for 
their  brethren  "  down  in  the  land  of  bondage,"  and 
the  following  article,    copied   from   the  New    York 
Freeman's  Joxirnal,  of  May,  1863,  shows  the  result. 
Many  of  those  who  contributed  have  passed  to  their 
reward;  but  our  Lord  remembers  their  act  of  charity 
(U6) 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  147 

even  to  this  day.  The  names  of  all,  as  far  as  possible, 
were  given  and  are  once  more  presented  in  print  as  a 
reminiscence  of  the  war.  Perhaps  some  of  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  these  brave  men  may  rejoice  to 
read  the  names  of  their  fathers  in  connection  with 
this  act  of  charity. 


RELIEF  FOR  THE  POOR  OF  IRELAND. 


CAMP    OP   THE    IRISH    BRIGADE,    NEAR    FALMOUTH,    VA., 
MAY   25,    1863. 

To  His  Grace  the  Most  Rev.  Archbishop  of  New  York: 

Your  Grace: — I  take  the  liberty  of  inclosing  to  you  the  sum 
of  $1,240.50,  being  a  contribution  of  a  portion  of  the  officers 
and  men  of  two  regiments  of  this  brigade  and  the  Ninety- fourth 
N.  Y.  v.,  to  the  fund  now  being  raised  for  the  relief  of  the 
suffering  poor  in  Ireland. 

In  thus  intruding  on  your  kindness,  and  requesting  you  to  be 
the  medium  of  transmitting  to  the  proper  authorities  this 
handsome  contribution  from  the  gallant  men  of  the  brigade,  I 
need  scarcely  remind  Your  Grace  that  the  amount  would  have 
been  far  greater  had  not  our  ranks  been  so  terribly  thinned  by 
death,  wounds,  and  sickness  consequent  on  the  arduous  cam- 
paign of  the  past  fourteen  months.  Still,  with  that  noble 
charity  and  love  of  country,  which  has,  and  I  hope  ever  will, 
characterize  the  Irish  emigrant  in  America,  the  remaining  few 
of  the  Irish  Brigade  have  spontaneously,  and  without  any  con- 
cert of  action,  come  forward  to  contribute  their  mite  to  the 
general  subscription,  and  that,  too,  when  I  have  reason  to 
know  that  over  $35,000  were,  after  last  pay  day,  sent  to  their 
wives  and  children  in  New  York,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  and  other 
parts  of  the  country. 

When  I  reflect  on  the  hardships  and  dangers  of  a  soldier's 
life,  the  temptations  to  extravagance  which  beset  his  path,  and 
the  hardening  effect  of  constant  exposure  to  the  perils  of  the 


148  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

field  of  battle,  I  can  not  help  congratulating  myself  (as  their 
chaplain)  and  their  countrymen  at  home  and  abroad  on  the 
spirit  of  generosity  and  true  piety  which  is  exhibited  among 
the  men  of  this  brigade. 

I  may  mention,  in  conclusion,  that  the  Sixty-ninth  Regiment 
of  the  brigade  are  following  the  good  example  of  the  other  regi- 
ments, and  in  a  very  short  time  I  expect  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
intruding  again  on  Your  Grace's  kindness,  by  forwarding  that 
regiment's  contribution  also.  Had  the  subscription  been  set 
on  foot  at  the  proper  time,  I  have  no  doubt  that  this  regiment 
would  have  contributed  an  amount  commensurate  with  its 
well-recognized  gallantry.  I  also  understand  that  one  com- 
pany of  the  Twenty-eighth  Massachusetts  Regiment  of  Volun- 
teers has  forwarded  its  contribution  to  Boston. 

Annexed  is  the  list  of  contributors,  the  publication  of  which, 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying,  will  afford  pleasure  to  the  Irish 
people  at  home  and  abroad. 

I  am,  Your  Grace's  very  obedient  servant, 

Wm.  Corby,  C.  S.  C,  chaplain  with  brigade. 


THE  IRISH  BRIGADE. 


LIST  OF  SUBSCRIBERS   IN  THE   SIXTY-THIRD   REGIMENT. 

Lieut.-Col.  R.  C.  Bently,  Quartermaster  James  J.  McCormick, 
$10  each. 

Company  B. — Capt.  Gleason,  Lieut.  Carroll,  $10  each;  Sergts. 

P.  Sheridan,  W.  Hally,  Privato  P.  Kenny,  $5  each; Terry, 

$3;  Sergts.  John  Hayes,  Owen  Tumalty,  J.  Bergan,  $2  each; 
Sergts.  P.  Hickman,  E.  Gallagher,  M.  Daily,  T.  Kelly,  J.  Dacy, 
$1  each. 

Company  C. — P.  Duncan,  $5 ;  J.  Martin,  J.  Grantield, 
M.  Kelly,  M.  McGraw,  J.  O'Connor,  B.  Tausey,  A.  Linn, 
W.  Iladigan,  $1  each;  P.  McCharm,  $2. 

Company  D. — Sergts.  T.  Duffy,  J.  McMichael,  Privates 
J.  Casey,  J.  O'Meara,  J.  Caldwell,  P.  Darley,  J.  Rattigan,  $1  each. 

Company  £;.— Capt.  W.  Quirk,  $20  ;  Sergts.  W.  Cullen, 
McQuade,  O'Connell,  Meagher,  Privates  Thomas  Hughes, 
Jas.  Reynolds,  Timothy  O'Neil,  Christopher  Madden,  Edward 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  149 

O'Brien,  Michael  Hanlon,  |5  each;  Sergts.  Shehan,  Thos. 
Hannon,  $3  each;  Corporal  Looner,  Privates  John  Harris,  Wm. 
Hayes,  Wm.  Watson,  Chas.  Dodd,  Henry  C.  Church,  Thomas 
Ryan,  $2  each. 

Company  J.— Capt.  Thomas  Touhy,  Lieut.  J.  J.  Hurley,  $10 
each;  Lieut.  John  J.  Sellers,  Sergt.  Thos.  Joyce,  Corporals 
Thos.  Kelly,  Pat  McGeehan,  John  O'Brien,  $5  each;  Sergts. 
Jas.  Dwyer,  Patrick  McCarthy,  Hugh  Meehan,  Jas.  Ganey,  $1 
each;  Michael  Moore,  $3;  Dennis  Sullivan,  John  Smart,  $2 

Company  Z.-Capt.  John  Dwyer,  $10 ;  Lieut.  Matthew  Hart, 
$12;  John  Cochlan,  $5;  Jos.  J.  Elliott,  John  Murray,  $3  each; 
Michael  Sheehan,  Thos.  Rutledge,  Daniel  Lynch,  $2  each;  Jas. 

Elliott,  $1.  1.    TVT    T^ 

Sutler's  Department— James  Coleman,  $25;  Joseph  McDon- 
ough,  Albert  Root,  Michael  Roddy,  $10  each;  Bernard  Carreher, 
Richard  Roach,  $5  each;  James  Smith,  $2. 

Recapitulation.-Field  Officers,  $20;  Company  B,  $50;  Com- 
pany C,  $15;  Company  D,  $7;  Company  E,  $80;  Company  I,  $56; 
Company  K,  $10;  Sutler's  Department,  $67;  A  Friend,  $10. 
Total,  $355.00. 

EIGHTY-EIGHTH  REGIMENT. 

Col.  Patrick  Kelly,  Surgeon  Richard  Powell,  A  Friend,  $20 

Company  ^.— Capt.  Gallagher,  Sutler  D.  Renshaw,  Wm.  J. 
O'Connor,  John  Sparks,  James  Kane,  Wm.  O'Connor,  $10  each; 
Wm.  Foley,  J.  Cleary,  M.  Daly,  J.  Martin,  Elias  Boyer  (Com- 
pany F,  One  Hundred  and  Forty-eighth  Pennsylvania),  James 
Cooney  (Company  F,  One  Hundred  and  Twenty-fourth  N.Y.V.), 
$5  each;  J.  Shandly,  L.  Friery,  J.McNally,  A.  Clark,$3  each; 
P.  Dean,  J.  Farrel,  J.  Kennedy,  J.  McBridge,  M.  McDonald, 
F  Lenehan,  Joseph  O'Harra,  P.  Quinlan,  Jas.  O'Connor  (Com- 
pany H,  Ninth  N.  Y.  S.  M.),  $2  each;  T.  Crystal,  J.  Ledwich, 
P.  Meehan,  H.  Smith,  T.  Reilly,  $1  each. 

Company  B.— Michael  Reynolds,  $10;  Geo.  Geoghan,  John 
Webster,  Patrick  O'Neil,  John  Keegan,  Richard  Tinnen,  Martin 
Concannon,  $5  each;  Patrick  Sexton,  Thomas  Reilly,  Patrick 
Croghan,  John  Carver,  H.  Polster,  John  Fitzgibbon,  $2  each; 
Austin  Everson,  Geo.  Funk,  John  McDonnell,  $1  each. 


150  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Company  C— Capt.  Dennis  F.  Burke,  820;  Sergts.  Bene- 
dict J.  Driscoll,  John  Desmond,  Private  Charles  Joyce,  $5  each; 
Sergts.  James  Fox,  Richard  E.  Harrison,  Corporal  Mark 
Ternan,  Privates  Jas.  Toban,  Michael  Larkin,  Bernard  McNally, 
Daniel  Leary,  James  White,  John  Wallace,  A  Friend,  $1  each; 
John  Brady,  50  cents;  John  Cade,  Thos.  Tuomy,  $3  each; 
Michael  Linehan,  $4;  Wm.  J.  Walsh,  82. 

Company  D.— Ross  McDonald,  Edward  Johnson,  Thos. 
Sheridan,  D.  Alton,  82  each;  John  MoGowan,  Patrick  Tracy, 
Patrick  O'Brien,  Henry  Blake,  Hugh  Burns,  Daniel  Lenighan, 
Lawrence  McAuliffe,81  each;  Dennis  Kelly,  83. 

Company  ^.— Capt.  Thos.  McN.  O'Brien,  $20;  Sergt.  George 
Ford,  Private  Thos.  Lynch,  85  each;  Sergt.  John  Morton, 
Private  Michael  Hyde,  82  each;  Sergt.  Herr,  Corporal  Jas. 
Greene,  Privates  Alexander  McKenna,  Michael  Hayden,  John 
Noonan,  Wm.  Flanigan,  Bernard  Woods,  Matthew  Enghsh, 
James  Smitz,  $1  each;  Sergt.  Jos.  Hyland,  83. 

Company  i^.-  -Sergts.  Jas.  Carr,  Patrick  Hagan,  Privates 
Jas.  Flaherty,  Wm.  Henry,  Cornelius  O'Brien,  Jas.  Rolland,  $2 
each;  Sergt.  Patrick  McNamara,  Privates  Pierce  Butler, 
Michael  Geary,  Timothy  McGlynn,  83  each;  Sergt.  Jas.  Shea,  $2; 
Privates  Jos.  Dwyer,  John  Ahearn,  John  McFaddon,  $1  each. 

Company  G.  —  Capt.  Michael  Egan,  $10 ;  Sergt.  Thos. 
Smith,  |5;  Sergts.  Lawrence  Buckly,  Jas.  Birmingham,  Cor- 
porals Wm.  Coyle,  John  Gallaghan,  John  Walsh,  82  each;  Sergts. 
Thomas  Roach,  Wm.  O'Neil,  Thos.  Cahill,  Francis  Kirnan, 
Hugh  McCormick,  Joseph  Lardener,  John  Monahan,  Martin 
Fallon,  |1  each;  John  Kilcoyne,  $3. 

Company  iJ.— Capt.  Maurice  W.  Wall,  Assistant  Acting 
Adjutant-General,  820;  Hospital  Steward  Richard  Dowdall, 
810 ;  Sergts.  John  Meighan,  Robert  W.  Gordon,  85  each  ;  Sergts. 
Jas.  Sweeny,  Wm.  Burke,  $3  each;  Corporal  Geo.  Hamilton, 
Patrick  Connolly,  Patrick  Drew,  John  Small,  82  each ;  Jas. 
Nevin,  Jas.  McCarthy,  Patrick  McKenna,  John  O'Donnoll, 
John  Groves,  John  McConnell,  Hugh  Leahy,  Joseph  Daily,  $1 
each. 

Company  I. —LAQui.  Patrick  Ryder,  820;  Sergts.  M.  Mc- 
Grane,  D.  Leonard,  T.  McDonald,  Corporal  T.  Berry,  Privates 
J.  Curyan,  Wm.  Rodgers,   Patrick    Smith,    Sutler's    Clerks 


MEMOIKS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  151 

William  Hastings,  Chas.  Salmon,  John  Cusick,  John  Canton, 
An eas  Walker,  $5  each;  Sergt.  T.  Murray,  $10;  J.  O'Connor, 
J.  Marion,  $3  each ;  P.  Condon,  N.  Carroll,  M.  Hogan,  M.  Hoey, 
J.  Keifer,  John  Kane,  M.  Lynn,  J.  McGowan,  D.  O'Keefe, 
P.  Ryan,  M.  Sullivan,  Joseph  Scott,  Samuel  Mitchel,  fl  each; 
Wm.  Keating,  Thos,  Radford,  M.  Graham,  John  Ferry,  $2  each ; 
Jas.  Roe,  $13. 

Company  iT.— Lieut.  Thos.  O'Brien,  $20 ;  Lieut.  John  Madi- 
gan,  John  Shea,  $10  each;  Sergts.  Southwell,  Patrick  Healy, 
Corporals  Timothy  Doheny,  Owen  Hughes,  $5  each  ;  Sergts. 
Hugh  Curry,  Corporals  John  Dalton,  Cornelius  Ahearn,  Privates 
Jas,  Dillon,  Joseph  Devereux,  John  Foley,  Wm.  J.  Brown,  Jas. 
Maher,  Wm.  Maher,  Patrick  Shehan,  Garrett  Roach,  Patrick 
Murray,  Alex.  McCain,  Peter  Kellegher,  J»  hn  Hardyman,  $2 
each;  Edward  Burke,  Owen  Reilly,  Patrick  Murphy,  Wm.  F. 
Tighe,  Jeremiah  Crowley,  Owen  Philbon,  Michael  Carroll,  John 
Farmer,  Patrick  Eagan,  Thos.  Trainor,  $1  each;  Company  C, 
Twenty-eighth  Massachusetts,  per  Capt.  Hatton,  in  command 
of  company,  $31. 

Recapitulation.  — Yioiii  Officers,  $60;  Company  A,  $128; 
Company  B, $55;  Company  C,  $57.50;  Company  D,  $18;  Company 
E,  $46;  Company  F,  $17 ;  Company  G,  $37;  Company  H,  $62; 
Company  I,  $130;  Company  K,  $100  ;  Twenty-eighth  Massa- 
chusetts, Company  C,  $31.    Total,  $771.50. 


CHAPTEK   XXIII. 


INCIDENTS   AND   REFLECTIONS. 

TIME  is  passing  rapidly  now,  and  as  the  warm 
weather,  green  grass,  and  budding  trees  show 
that  spring  is  at  our  doors,  we  look  forward  to  another 
campaign  and  a  general  engagement.  Both  armies 
have  spent  the  winter  in  recruiting,  and  the  great 
generals  on  both  sides  have  matured  their  plans  to 
crush  each  other  and  to  "  end  the  war  in  a  few 
weeks!"' 

April  27,  1863,  found  us  all  in  motion.  General 
orders  showed  that  our  time  of  peace  and  tranquillity 
was  over.  Now  you  see  us  leave  the  old  "camping 
ground,"  our  log  huts,  our  rustic  city  and  our  rustic 
church.  Behind  us  the  remnants  of  what  was  a  camp. 
Empty  quarters  of  officers  and  men,  and  rude  chimneys 
standing  out  like  ghosts — not  even  a  dog  or  a  cat  left 
behind  to  show  that  human  beings  lived  a  whole 
winter  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Rappahannock  Eiver. 
Our  brigade  formed  a  part  of  the  army  which  was 
sent  up  the  river.  We  left  camp  at  noon,  marched 
until  midnight,  then  rested  in  the  woods  the  remainder 
of  the  night.     Next  morning,  at  daybreak,  the  march 

(152) 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  153 

was  resumed  and  we  reached  the  United  States  Ford 
on  the  night  of  the  second  day's  march.  Ponton- 
bridges  were  ready  and  we  crossed  by  the  light  of 
the  moon.  Some  of  our  wags  cautioned  their  com- 
panions, late  recruits,  to  walk  in  the  center  of  the 
bridge,  alleging  that  the  Eappahannock  at  this  point, 
near  the  junction  of  the  Eapidan,  was  full  of  alli- 
gators of  enormous  size — so  large,  indeed,  that  one  of 
them  required  two  or  three  men  for  a  breakfast !  It 
was  amusing  to  observe  the  innocent  men  watch  the 
running  stream,  expecting  every  moment  to  see  a 
monster  rise  to  the  surface  and  dart  for  his  prey  on 
the  bridge.  But,  apart  from  fancied  dangers  from 
these  monsters,  there  were  real  perils  enough  ahead 
of  us.  Some  people  regard  soldiers  as  reckless,  hard- 
ened men,  but  there  is  a  bright  side  to  this  question. 
The  Christian  soldier  does  not  fail  to  recognize  a 
Providence  always  above  him,  and  in  time  of  expected 
peril  evinces  the  real,  genuine  piety  —  that  which 
he  learned  at  his  mother's  knee  and  which  he 
imbibed  with  his  mother's  milk.  On  this  occasion,  as 
on  many  others  in  my  experience,  these  soldiers  asked 
themselves:  "What  will  to-morrow  bring  about?" 
As  a  rule,  a  soldier  does  not  wish  to  parade  his  piety, 
and  often,  through  human  respect,  he  prefers  to  be 
considered  as  possessing  a  sort  of  bravado;  but  under 
all  this,  men  of  faith,  in  times  of  serious  peril,  think 
of  the  great  future  and  pray  for  help  and  protection. 
In  the  army  desperate  cases  occasionally  occur, 
which  are  very  embarrassing,  and  at  times  the  most 


154  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

severe  measures  are  taken  on  the  spur  of  the  moment, 
by  the  officers  responsible  for  discipline.     On  one 
occasion  I  saw  an  excited  crowd  of  soldiers  around 
an  officer,  the  major  of  the  regiment.     One  of  the 
soldiers  had  mutinied,  and  was  fast  gaining  strength 
among  his  companions.     The  major  could  do  nothing 
with  him,  and  the  scene  was  growing  more  and  more 
exciting.    How  it  would  terminate  was  hard  to  foresee, 
and  the  authority  of  a  superior  officer  was  in  very 
serious  jeopardy.     As  the  excitement  grew,  the  circle 
grew  also,  and  it  was  difficult  to  reach  the  major  or 
the  soldier  in   mutiny.     Finally,  news  of  the  affair 
reached   the  colonel,  who  had  been  in  the  regular 
army  before  the  war.     He  mounted  his  horse,  put 
spurs  to  him,  and  rushed  through  and  over  the  crowd 
with  a  drawn  sabre  in  his  hand,  and,  when  he  reached 
the  soldier,  cut  him  down.     In  an  instant  the  soldier 
lay  bleeding  and  senseless  on  the  ground.     A  shudder 
passed   through    his    companions,   who   immediately 
slunk  away.     The  colonel  rode  off,  satisfied  that  for  a 
time  at  least  he  had  put  a  stop  to  disobedience.     This 
action  is  hard  to  contemplate,  and  many  would  cry 
out  that  it  was  inhuman.     Military  men,   however, 
adduce   strong   reasons   for   such    severe    measures, 
especially  when  in  an  active  campaign  and  in  front 
of  a  national  enemy.     Such   scenes  as  this   are  not 
frequent,  because  the  majority  of  men  go  into  army 
life  determined  to  obey  and  to  do  their  duty.     It  is 
not  surprising,  however,  where  there  are  so  many 
thousands,    that    some    among    them,    having    very 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  155 

quick  tempers,  fly  ofip  and  defy  authority.  Among 
officers  and  veterans  it  is  an  axiom  to  obey  first,  and 
if  there  be  a  supposed  injustice,  to  speak  of  it  after- 
ward; not,  however,  before  showing  absolute  obedi- 
ence to  the  order  given,  be  it  right  or  wrong.  On 
another  occasion  I  saw  a  man  receive  from  his  captain 
a  ball  in  the  eye.  The  man  had  defied  his  captain's 
authority,  and  the  captain  drew  a  revolver  and  put  a 
ball  in  his  head.  Fortunately,  it  did  not  kill  him. 
The  ball  glanced  outward  and  did  not  strike  a  vital 
point.  Here  I  may  note  what  remarkably  erratic 
courses  bullets  take  in  certain  cases.  I  remember 
seeing  a  colonel,  the  colonel  of  the  Sixty-first  New 
York  Infantry,  I  think  it  was,  shot  in  the  stomach, 
and  the  ball  was  cut  out  near  the  spine.  He  was 
attended  by  a  surgeon,  a  most  excellent  one.  Dr. 
Frank  Reynolds,  of  my  regiment.  The  colonel  said 
to  Dr.  Reynolds: 

*'  How  about  this  case?" 

"  Well,  I  say  it  is  certainly  serious,"  said  the  doctor. 

*'  I  know  that,"  said  the  colonel,  "  but  how  long 
may  I  live?" 

The  doctor  replied:  "  Usually  men  do  not  live  more 
than  three  days." 

To  this  there  are  many  extraordinary  exceptions. 
When  Gen.  Shields  was  a  United  States  officer  in  the 
Mexican  War,  a  ball  passed  through  his  body,  and  a 
Mexican  surgeon  passed  a  fine  silk  handkerchief 
through  the  opening,  following  the  course  of  the 
bullet,  and  by  so  doing  removed  the  clotted  blood, 


156  MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

and  the  general  recovered  and  was  able  to  figlit  in 
the  Union  ranks  in  '62-'65.  But,  to  return  to  our 
story,  about  six  weeks  later  my  brave  Dr.  Reynolds 
was  in  Washington,  and  the  doctor,  who  was  quite  a 
wag,  met  there  the  same  colonel  on  the  street  and  in 
good  health. 

"  Are  you  the  colonel  of  the  Sixty -first,  and  not 
dead?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  colonel,  "I  am  the  same  and 
not  dead,  as  you  see.     I  never  felt  better  in  my  life." 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  ought  to  have  died 
to  save  the  honor  of  my  profession." 

The  ball  had  struck  one  of  the  brass  buttons  on 
the  colonel's  coat,  and  glancing,  passed  through  the 
skin,  went  just  under  it  round  the  body,  and  was  cut 
out,  as  I  have  said,  near  the  spine.  To  all  appear- 
ances it  seemed  that  the  ball  had  passed  straight 
through  the  body,  and  in  that  case  death  was  most 
certain  to  follow  in  a  few  days  at  farthest.  This 
colonel,  no  doubt,  had  kind,  saintly  friends  at  home, 
who  never  forgot  to  pray  for  him.  His  case  was  one 
of  the  many  thousands  of  narrow  escapes  which  bore 
the  marks  of  divine  protection — to  all  appearances 
miraculous.  Oh,  how  precious  are  the  prayers  of 
loving,  devoted  hearts  under  such  circumstances !  How 
inspiring  the  thought  of  God's  providence  in  sending 
a  guardian  angel  to  spread  his  holy  wings  over  us  in 
hours  of  dread  peril — perils,  too,  at  times  which  we 
ourselves  do  not  perceive  or  realize. 

On    Saturday,  May  2,  1863,  we  were  located  at 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  157 

Scott's  Mill,  guarding  a  ford  across  the  river  at  that 
point,  only  a  few  miles  from  Chancellorsville.     This 
was  regarded  as  a  most  important  point,  and  "  to  be 
held,  cost  what  it  would."     In  this  position  we  could 
hear  the  booming  of  cannon  and  bursting  of  shells, 
and,  as  we  were  now   becoming  veterans,  we  knew 
what  might  be  expected  next  day.     Very  early  next 
morning,  Sunday,  I  prepared  to  celebrate  Mass  on  the 
slope  of  a  hill  facing  the  brigade.     In  this  locality, 
even  in  May  the  grass  was  quite  green,  the  trees  had 
a  new  spring  dress,  and  the  little  birds,  not  knowing 
what  the   cannon    and   commotion    portended,  sang 
away  as  if  to  celebrate  a  festival.     A  rustic  altar, 
constructed  the  night  previous  with   a  few   boards 
which  we  had  found  in  the  vicinity  of  the  mill,  stood 
under  a  spreading  beech  tree,  and  looked  very  pict- 
uresque.     As    I    have   said.    Mass   was  commenced 
very    early.      Shortly    afterward,    the    battle    com- 
menced, too;  but  I  continued  and  finished.     "  God 
bless    and  protect    my    men!"    was    all   the  sermon 
preached  that  morning.     I  had  scarcely  finished  Mass 
when   we    were    ordered   to    advance.     My    faithful 
hostler  had  my  horses  ready,  and  as  soon  as  I  could 
pack  the  vestments — a  task  which  I  could  perform  in 
about  seven  minutes — I  started  with  my  command  to 
celebrate  a  bloody  Sunday.     Our  men  were  in  good 
spirits,  however,  and  after  our  short  morning  service 
each  felt  that  all  that  could  be  done  under  the  circum- 
stances had  been  done,  and,  quite  resigned  to  fate, 
we  marched  into  a  battle   that  turned  out  to  be  one 
of  considerable  magnitude. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


BATTLE   OF   CHANCELLORSVILLE. 

A  T  sunrise,  Sunday  morning,  May  3,  1863,  the 
-^-^  battle  opened  with  terrific  cannonading.  Simul- 
taneously commenced  the  bursting  of  shells  and 
the  harsh,  crashing  sound  of  musketry,  reminding 
one  of  a  dreadful  storm,  the  coming  of  mighty, 
angry  winds,  driving  the  dark  and  threatening  clouds, 
sweeping  everything  material  in  their  path,  the  roll- 
ing reverberations  of  great  thunder-bolts  that  seem 
to  give  fitting  expression  to  the  thoughts  of  an 
offended  God.  The  Eleventh  Corps  was  outflanked, 
and,  being  taken  by  surprise,  fell  back  in  great  con- 
fusion. I  saw  the  entire  command — composed  of 
infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery — coming  pell-mell 
toward  our  location,  from  the  right  wing,  where  they 
broke.  Our  brigade  was  ordered  to  form  line  and 
stop  the  fugitives  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  A  panic 
has  a  strange  effect  on  men,  precisely  as  when  it  enters 
a  herd  of  cattle,  when,  as  I  have  often  seen,  they  will 
run  through  fire  to  escape  real  or  imaginary  danger. 
The  men  were  formed  into  line  once  more,  and  the 
cannon  caissons,  loaded  with  haversacks,  were  wheeled 

(158) 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE  159 

into  position;  but  in  the  disorder  many  were  killed 
and  wounded.  Our  brigade  passed  other  troops,  and 
marched  under  orders  to  a  front  position  and  was 
lustily  cheered.  This  was  invariably  the  case,  and 
was  the  best  proof  of  the  popularity  and  respect  in 
which  it  was  held  by  fellow-soldiers  in  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac.  Every  now  and  then  you  could  see 
our  men  drop  one  by  one  to  the  ground,  wounded  or 
killed.  At  this  point  the  Fifth  Maine  Battery,  which 
had  been  doing  effective  work  —  liandled  as  it  was  by 
expert  and  brave  men  —  was  left  without  men  to 
continue  the  firing,  nearly  every  one  being  killed  or 
wounded,  and  would  soon  have  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  Confederates  and  been  turned  against  us,  had 
not  the  brigade  rushed  in,  under  a  galling  fire,  and, 
with  the  loss  of  many  excellent  and  gallant  men, 
drawn  the  battery  by  hand  from  the  position  amid 
the  renewed  cheers  of  other  brigades  that  witnessed 
the  intrepid  deed.  The  wounded  were,  many  of  them, 
placed  in  the  Chancellorsville  mansion.  Here  I  went 
with  my  surgeons.  This  large  building  also  fur- 
nished quarters  for  Gen.  Hooker,  commander-in-chief. 
The  Confederates  got  exact  range  of  the  building,  and 
in  a  short  time  the  location  became  "very  hot."  As 
Gen.  Hooker  stood  on  the  porch,  a  cannon-ball  struck 
the  pillar  against  which  he  was  leaning  at  the  time, 
and  the  violent  concussion  so  stunned  him  that  he  fell 
to  the  floor.  I  saw  another  ball  strike  one  of  the 
large  brick  chimneys  and  send  the  bricks  flying 
through  the  air  with   terrific  force.      Still  another 


160  MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

came  and  struck  a  poor  soldier  who  was  quenching 
his  thirst  at  the  well  near  the  building.  We  were 
unwilling  to  leave  the  wounded,  and  while  we  were 
in  a  dilemma  as  to  what  was  best  to  do,  another  ball 
came  and  struck  the  fore-leg  of  a  beautiful  bay  horse 
belonging  to  an  officer  on  Gen.  Hooker's  staff.  It 
smashed  the  entire  leg  from  the  breast  to  the  hoof. 
The  poor  horse  jerked  back,  broke  the  halter-strap, 
fell  on  his  back,  then  recovered  himself,  arose  and 
hobbled  away  on  three  legs,  dangling  the  hoof  of  the 
fourth  leg,  which  was  held  suspended  by  a  strip  of 
skin.  This  strip  of  skin,  about  two  inches  wide,  and 
the  hoof  were  all  that  remained  of  the  fore-leg.  Blood 
flowed  profusely  and  streaked  the  ground  wherever 
he  passed.  He  was  soon  shot  and  put  out  of  pain. 
I  hardly  remember  a  sight  that  touched  my  heart  so 
keenly  during  the  entire  battle.  The  innocent  animal 
had  no  part  in  the  fight,  but  he  was  a  silent  victim. 

During  this  battle  the  gallant  "Stonewall"  Jackson, 
so  looted  in  the  Confederate  army,  while  disposing 
his  troops  on  the  plank  road  that  passes  in  front  of 
the  Chancellors ville  mansion,  was  shot  by  his  own 
men.  They  did  not  know  that  their  general  was 
outside  the  lines,  and  they  fired  briskly  at  what  they 
supposed  was  a  body  of  Union  troops.  He  was  not 
killed  outright,  but  expired  shortly  afterward,  on 
May  10,  1863.  He  received  his  wounds  less  than 
half  a  mile  from  the  Union  lines  west  of  Chancel- 
lorsville.  I  mention  the  incident,  because  the  news 
of   his  being  fatally    wounded  caused    considerable 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  161 

commotion  in  Union  circles  at  the  time,  and  also 
because  it  forms  quite  an  important  event  in  the  his- 
tory of  this  battle.  My  good  orderly  ventured  up  after 
awhile,  seeing  that  the  Confederates  had  the  exact 
range  of  the  spot,  and  said:  "Father,  you  will  stay 
here  till  you  are  killed  and  your  horses  too!"  I 
told  him  to  take  the  horses  to  the  rear.  He  did,  and 
did  not  stop  until  he  had  crossed  the  Rappahannock 
River  and  was  seven  miles  from  the  front.  He  got 
out  of  range !  Of  course,  it  was  the  great  regard  he 
had  for  the  safety  of  the  horses  that  induced  him  to 
go  so  far.  After  a  time  the  surgeons  moved  to  the 
left  into  a  forest ;  but  many  of  the  wounded  were  left, 
of  necessity,  in  the  Chancellorsville  mansion,  and, 
horrible  to  say,  were  burned,  the  place  having  caught 
fire.  Shortly  after,  it  fell  in  between  the  two  lines  of 
the  contending  forces. 

While  in  the  woods  the  surgeons  had  a  man  on  a 
rude  table  that  had  been  constructed  from  planks 
found  at  Chancellorsville,  and  while  they  were  get- 
ting ready  to  amputate  a  limb,  a  cannon-ball  swept 
the  man  off  the  table,  smashing  him  to  pieces,  and 
left  the  terrified  surgeons  on  either  side  of  the  table 
almost  paralyzed  with  consternation.  It  seemed  as 
if  a  mysterious  edict  of  God  followed  some  men, 
while  others  passed  through  the  entire  war  without 
receiving  even  a  dangerous  wound.  To  illustrate 
this,  let  me  mention  a  few  cases  that  came  under  my 
notice.     It  often  occurred  to  me  that   God  wished  to 

punish  us  for  past  sins  of  pride  and  disregard  of  His 
11 


162  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

benefits,  and  that   a  certain  number  had  to  die.     I 
know  of  a  captain  who  was  wounded,  and  by  a  strange 
accident,  in  falling  down  the  side  of  a  small  hill,  fell 
on  the  point  of  his  own  sword,  the  hilt  of  which  stuck 
firmly  in   the   ground,  and  the  blade  passed  through 
his  body.     I  saw  some  soldiers  on  the  march  chase  a 
rabbit,  and  a   beautiful    drummer  boy,  only    fifteen 
years  of  age,  ran  in  front  of  one  of  the  soldiers,  who 
was  about  to  Bhoot  at  the  rabbit,  and  the  shot  passed 
through  the   boy,  who   dropped  dead.     A  soldier  of 
our  brigade  was  out  one  night  on  picket  duty.   While 
"fooling"  with  his  musket  in   play,   one  of  his  com- 
panions asked  him  if  he  had  any  fear  of  picket  duty 
where  sharpshooters  pick  ofi:'  their  victims.     "No," 
said  he,  "  I  have  been  through  too  many  battles  to  feel 
fear  on  picket  duty."     He  had  scarcely  finished  the 
sentence  when  his  gun  accidentally  went  off  and  the 
ball  passed  through  his  head.    He  never  spoke  again. 
Another  of  our  brigade,  a  teamster,  undertook  to  pass 
over  a  small  mountain  stream  which  an  athlete  could 
jump  over,  and  it  was  not  deeper  than,  perhaps,  three 
or  four  feet.     He  was  riding  one  of  his  mules.     The 
mule  stumbled  and  fell  on  his  rider,  who  was  drowned 
then  and  there.     The  mule  had  become   tangled  in 
some  way  in   the  harness   and  could  not  get  up.     A 
young  man  whose  time  had  expired  was  honorably 
mustered  out  of  the  service  after  three  years  of  hard 
fighting  and  all  the  piavations  and  hardships  of  cam- 
paign life.     His  heart  was  full  of  joy  at  the  prospect 
of  receiving  once  more  the  embraces  of  loving  parents 


MEMOIKS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  163 

and  kind  sisters.  Just  before  starting  he  desired 
to  see  a  loved  companion,  and  he  ventured  once  more 
to  the  front.  Just  as  he  reached  the  breastworks  a 
sharpshooter  put  a  ball  through  his  head.  He  never 
spoke  another  word.  I  could  tell  so  many  cases  of 
this  kind  where  death  came  when  least  expected,  and 
often  entirely  off  the  battlefield;  but  I  must  now 
return  to  my  narrative. 

The  battle  went  against  us.  Everything  was  done 
for  the  wounded,  both  temporally  and  spiritually,  that 
circumstances  would  allow.  Night  covered  the  scene 
with  a  very  dark  mantle.  Thousands  that  day  had 
gone  to  meet  their  God — some  well  prepared,  others, 
perhaps,  in  sin;  but  let  us  hope  that  their  terrible 
sufferings  and  their  blood  piously  offered  to  God  in 
union  with  the  sufferings  of  our  Saviour  secured  their 
pardon.  Many  of  the  wounded,  besides  those  in 
the  Chancellorsville  mansion,  were  burned  as  they 
lay  helpless  in  the  burning  forest  that  night.  At 
length  I  was  nearly  exhausted  with  fatigue  and 
hunger.  On  one  of  the  horses  which  I  had  ordered 
to  be  taken  to  the  rear  by  my  faithful  orderly  —  who 
wished  to  preserve  the  lives  of  the  horses  at  any 
hazard — was  the  small  and  only  supply  of  provisions 
of  which  I  was  master.  I  borrowed  Col.  Kelly's 
horse  and  rode  for  miles,  but  I  could  find  no  trace  of 
horse  or  man.  Finally  I  crossed  the  river,  and  after 
going  a  few  miles  farther  in  the  rain  that  was  now 
pouring  down,  and  sinking  deep  at  times  into  the 
mud-lioles  made  by  the  passage  of  artillery,  I  found 
my  heroic  orderly  and  the  horses  quite  safe. 


164  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Here  I  procured  something  to  eat  and  then  spent 
the  night  in  the  woods  in  company  with  several 
officers,  the  horses,  and  my  brave  orderly.  I  had  no 
fear  while  he  was  with  me,  for  I  knew  that  he  had  a 
knack  of  saving  life.  Many  of  our  wounded  men 
were  left  in  the  hands  of  the  Confederates  and  the 
balance  were  sent  to  the  rear,  where  they  were  well 
cared  for.  Those  who  were  strong  enough  to  bear 
transportation  were  sent  to  Washington,  and  many  of 
them  were  nursed  by  the  Sisters  of  the  Holy  Cross, 
who  had  been  sent  from  Notre  Dame,  Indiana,  for  that 
purpose.  The  good  Sisters  of  Charity,  who  resided  in 
Washington,  had  also  more  than  they  could  do,  but 
day  after  day  all  these  devoted  Sisters  worked  for  the 
wounded,  letting  everything  else  go  for  the  time. 
God  bless  these  good  nurses !  Many  lives  were  saved 
by  their  skilful  care. 


CHAPTEK  XXV. 


OUR  EETURN  TO  CAMP  FALMOUTH. 

MAY  5,  1863,  found  us  recrossing  the  Rappahan- 
nock River  and  wending  our  way  back  to  the 
old  camp  at  Falmouth  on  the  left  bank  of  the  stream. 
Thus,  for  the  third  time,  we  found  ourselves  located 
there,  and  there  we  remained  during  the  remainder 
of  the  month.  While  on  our  way  to  our  old  camp 
we  went  zigzag  through  the  country.  One  evening 
we  halted,  and  in  some  way  the  soldiers  secured  for 
me  the  "fly"  of  a  tent.  This  is  just  like  the  roof  of 
an  ordinary  house  with  no  gable  ends.  It  rested  on 
a  pole  some  four  feet  from  the  ridge  of  the  roof. 
Some  of  our  men  who  had  been  rambling  about 
the  country  after  we  had  bivouacked,  found  a  good 
Catholic  family,  poor  but  honest  and  devout.  From 
this  family  they  received  kindness  not  looked  for, 
and  they  became  interested  in  them,  especially  when 
they  saw  a  young  child,  about  two  years  old,  in 
danger  of  death.  Immediately  it  occurred  to  the 
men  to  bring  me  to  baptize  the  child.  The  family 
had  not  seen  a  priest  in  two  years.  When  my  men 
came  and  told  me  the  circumstances  I  started  at  once 

(165) 


1G6  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

on  foot,  guided  by  my  zealous  friends.  After  a  long 
and  very  rough  walk  we  reached  the  cabin.  The  good 
people  were  rejoiced  to  have  the  chaplain  of  the  Irish 
Brigade  visit  them  and  perform  a  ceremony  which 
they  ardently  desired  at  that  critical  moment.  We 
conversed  with  the  good  people,  who  told  us  of  many 
trials  and  hardships  passed  through  during  the  war, 
which  had  turned  Virginia,  more  than  any  other 
State,  into  one  great  battlefield  of  blood,  devastation, 
and  misery.  They  were  on  the  verge  of  starvation. 
As  a  rule,  all  the  men  able  to  carry  guns  were  in  the 
army,  and  only  the  old  and  the  weak,  women  and 
children  were  found  at  home.  These  were  helpless 
victims,  without  temporal  or  spiritual  consolation. 
Each  of  us  gave  them  a  few  dollars,  and  the  sum  total 
surely  kept  them  from  want  for  a  part  of  the  spring 
and  summer.  I  admired  the  poor  soldier  who  earned 
his  $13  per  month  by  long  marches,  exposures  to 
perils  and  death,  on  and  off  the  battlefield,  who  was 
so  generous  when  there  was  need  for  real  charity. 
While  at  the  house,  suddenly  we  noticed  the  coming 
of  a  great  storm,  and  we  started  for  camp  on  "  double- 
quick."  It  became  very  dark  in  an  incredibly 
short  time,  and  the  rain  came  down  in  torrents. 
The  harder  it  rained,  the  harder  we  ran.  The 
ground  over  which  we  had  to  pass  was  exceedingly 
rough.  It  was  an  old  field,  left  uncultivated,  since  fts 
last  crop,  two  or  three  years  previous,  had  been  partly 
taken  from  it  by  the  brawny  colored  sons  of  toil. 
The  result  was  many  tumbles  for  us.     I  could  not 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  167 

help  laughing  at  the  awkward  plunges  some  of  my 
companions  made,  but,  finally,  my  own  turn  came. 
My  toe  struck  a  small,  sharp  elevation  of  ground, 
resembling,  in  shape  and  size,  a  pineapple,  and  down 
I  came  on  the  edge  of  an  old  fence-rail,  barking  my 
knee  and  shin  badly  and  tearing  my  trousers  from 
the  knee  down.  At  last,  drenched  and  looking  as 
sorry  as  wet  hens,  we  reached  our  camp.  I  went 
directly  to  the  improvised  "tent  fly"  to  find  my 
blanket  fixed  for  a  kind  of  bed,  folded  in  such  a  way 
as  to  catch  all  the  rain  pouring  from  the  roof,  just 
as  if  placed  for  a  trough  to  carry  the  w^ater  from  the 
eaves.  This  was  done  by  my  skilful  (?)  attendant — 
in  all  kindness,  it  is  true,  but  with  no  forethought 
whatever. 

Under  such  conditions  of  army  life  we  consoled 
ourselves  by  saying  that  even  this  condition  of  things 
was  better  a  thousand  times  than  the  fate  which  had 
befallen  many  of  our  companions  on  the  battlefield 
a  few  days  previous,  and  those  poor  fellows,  helpless 
from  serious  wounds,  who  were  caught  in  Chancellors- 
ville  in  the  burning  buildings  and  in  the  burning 
forest.  I  pushed  a  bayonet  into  the  ground  near  the 
center  of,  my  humble  roof,  where  the  rain  was  not 
falling,  lighted  a  candle  and  placed  it  in  that  portion 
of  the  bayonet  that  fits  on  the  musket.  Then,  half 
reclining  on  one  arm  near  the  feeble  light,  read  my 
office  for  the  day.  Having  finished  my  prayers  as 
best  I  could,  and  consoling  myself  with  the  thought 
of  having  secured,  by  Baptism,    the    salvation   of  a 


168  MEMOIBS    OF    CHAPLAIN*  LIFE. 

tender  soul,  redeemed  by  the  precious  Blood  of  our 
Lord,  and  of  being  instrumental  in  bringing  at  last 
some  consolation  to  a  destitute  family,  I  slept  in  my 
wet  clothes  and  wet  blanket  for  a  few  hours  until 
the  bugle  called  us  for  more  marching.  On  cam- 
paigns like  this  we  had  not  with  us  many  changes  of 
clothing,  and  the  first  thing  I  had  to  do  in  the  morn- 
ing was  to  mend  my  trousers.  I  managed  to  carry 
with  me  a  needle  and  thread,  and  at  the  mending  I 
went.  The  stitches  were  about  three  to  an  inch,  and, 
for  me,  I  thought  that  was  not  bad.  We  went  on 
very  well  the  next  day,  and  arrived,  as  I  have  men- 
tioned, at  Camp  Falmouth.  This  was  the  shortest 
campaign  we  made.  We  accomplished  little — sent 
a  few  souls  to  heaven,  exceedingly  rejoiced,  it  may 
be,  to  be  out  of  this  wicked  world  —  and  our  only 
consolation  was  that,  as  far  as  human  weakness  goes, 
we  had  all  tried  to  do  our  duty  to  our  fellow-man 
in  his  time  of  need,  either  of  soul  or  body.  Now 
we  were  in  camp,  and  we  were  very  blue.  During 
the  previous  December  our  troops  were  simply 
slaughtered  at  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg  —  that 
field  was  plainly  visible  from  Camp  Falmouth  — 
and  now,  in  the  spring,  we  had  been  in  another  battle 
scarcely  less  disastrous.  No  help  for  it  now;  it  was 
useless  to  sigh  over  the  past,  though  many  orphans 
might  weep  and  mothers  and  wives  bewail  at  home. 
The  great  nation  groans  at  the  loss  of  her  brave 
sons  in  a  fratricidal,  cruel  war.  Nevertheless,  we 
must  settle  down  to  business  once  more.     We  must 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  169 

hold  regular  services,  for  the  holy  Sacraments  bring 
consolation  to  pious,  repenting  souls,  when  all 
earthly  comfort  fails  to  do  so.  President  Abraham 
Lincoln  visited  our  camp  on  May  7,  and  had  a  long 
conference  with  Gen.  Hooker  and  other  generals. 
They  held,  in  fact,  a  regular  council  of  war,  and  in 
short  order  new  plans  for  future  campaigns  were 
matured.  The  next  chapter  will  open  an  account  of 
a  new  departure,  both  for  the  Union  and  the  Confed- 
erate armies. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


IN   CAMP   AND    ON   THE   MARCH. 

A  FEW  weeks  in  camp  passed  rapidly.  We  were 
■^-^  reconstructed,  and  early  in  June,  1863,  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  was  once  more  in  motion.  Lee 
had  his  army  headed  north,  bound  to  carry  the 
conflict  out  of  Virginia  into  Pennsylvania.  The 
range  of  mountains  passing  through  Virginia,  running 
northeast,  divides  West  Virginia  from  Virginia  proper. 
This  "Blue  Ridge"  range  figured  prominently  in  our 
campaigns.  Along  this  range  and  beyond,  on  the 
west  side,  the  Confederate  troops  passed,  while  our 
army  kept  on  the  east  side  and  crowded  th*e  Confed- 
erates as  much  as  possible  away  from  Washington. 
In  almost  parallel  lines,  both  armies  moved  on.  Just 
when  and  where  a  general  engagement  might  occur, 
was  not  known.  At  intervals  the  cavalry  of  either 
side  encountered  each  other,  and  desperate  struggles 
were  the  result.  The  infantry  and  the  flying  artillery 
were  also  brought  into  action  occasionally,  but  no 
general  engagement  occurred  during  the  month  of 
June.  Our  march  from  the  banks  of  the  historic 
Rappahannock,  this  time,  turned  out  to  be  one  of  the 
(170) 


MEMOIRS     OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE  171 

longest  which  we  had  yet  undertaken.  Counting  the 
zigzag  route  our  Second  Corps  had  taken  to  Gettys- 
burg, Pennsylvania,  it  was  between  two  and  three 
hundred  miles  in  length.  But  we  were  all  glad  to 
get  away  from  the  destructive  scenes  of  our  two  late 
campaigns.  The  poor  soldiers,  who  had  to  carry 
about  sixty  pounds  daily  under  the  burning  sun  of  a 
more  southern  climate  than  they  were  accustomed  to, 
found  the  continued  marching  of  from  sixteen  to 
eighteen  miles  per  day  very  severe.  Many  of  them 
dropped  dead  from  sunstroke.  Every  day  brought 
us  farther  and  farther  from  the  Eappahannock,  south 
of  which  lay,  in  their  last  sleep,  between  twenty-five 
and  thirty  thousand  of  our  dear  companions.  Sad 
reflections  were  made  by  our  officers  and  men,  many 
of  whom  left  behind  in  silent  graves  relatives  who 
were  to  be  seen  no  more  in  this  life,  while  all  had  to 
mourn  cherished  comrades  who  had  fought  side  by 
side  with  them  on  many  a  bloody  plain.  The  march, 
however,  was  a  relief,  as  we  entered  on  new  scenes, 
although  the  general  line  of  direction  did  not  differ 
greatly  from  former  marches,  and  since  this  was  the 
third  time  that  we  had  marched  through  Virginia,  we 
had  become  familiar  with  the  general  features  of  the 
country. 

Nothing  very  unusual  occurred  during  the  march 
until  we  reached  a  beautiful  plain  at  the  foot  of  a 
very  high  hill,  or  a  "young  mountain,"  as  the 
soldiers  called  it.  The  top  of  this  hill  was  covered 
with    splendid    rocks,    interspersed  with    trees    and 


172  MEMOIRS    OF    CHArLAIN    LIFE. 

shrubs.  As  it  was  Saturday  night,  I  determined  to 
celebrate  Mass  next  morning  on  the  top  of  this  little 
mountain.  The  idea  was  eagerly  and  enthusiastically 
received  by  my  men,  and  they  gave  all  the  help 
necessary.  Before  leaving  the  place  we  erected  a 
cross  on  the  spot  where  the  Mass  had  been  celebrated. 
This  was  over  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  and  possibly 
that  cross  stands  there  still.  During  the  entire  march 
Mass  was  celebrated  as  often  as  circumstances  would 
permit ;  but  perhaps  this  was  one  of  the  most  romantic 
ever  celebrated  in  Virginia,  even  in  the  early  missions 
among  the  Indians.  Like  high  Olympus  or  Mount 
Horeb,  here  there  was  natural  sublimity  and  grandeur 
in  the  holy  Sacrifice  on  the  mountain  top. 

As  I  come  now  in  the  line  of  march  to  Frederick, 
Maryland,  a  scene  occurs  to  me  which  took  place 
there.  I  am  not  entirely  certain  of  the  exact  spot, 
but  I  am  sure  that  it  was  near  Frederick.  A  spy  from 
the  Confederate  army  was  caught.  He  had  in  his 
possession  a  complete  account  of  our  troops,  our 
trains,  and  our  route.  He  was  tried  and  he  confessed; 
moreover,  he  said  that  if  he  had  not  been  caught,  in 
twenty-four  hours  from  that  time  he  would  have 
had  possession  of  all  our  army  train.  He  was  sus- 
pended from  a  tree  and  left  there,  and  while  the 
army  passed  I  saw  him  hanging  by  the  neck.  It  was 
rumored  at  the  time  that  some  one  had  suggested 
to  send  him  to  Washington  and  let  the  authorities  deal 
with  him  there.  If  the  rumor  is  true.  Gen.  Hancock 
swore :  "  No !  If  you  send  him  to  Washington  they  will 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  173 

promote  him."  There  was  really  so  much  kindness 
shown  in  Washington,  even  to  culprits,  that  the 
generals  in  the  field  decided  that  strict  severity  was 
necessary  somewhere,  to  keep  up  discipline.  Passing 
through  Maryland  it  was  really  admirable  to  see  how 
careful  our  men  were  of  private  property.  No  fields, 
gardens,  or  private  houses  were  at  all  injured.  The 
men  had  been  warned  that,  being  in  a  loyal  State, 
they  had  no  right  to  molest  or  destroy  private 
property.  This  told  on  the  conscience  of  each  man. 
Besides  this,  Gen.  Hancock  had  issued  a  severe 
general  order  to  our  corps,  adding  a  serious  penalty 
should  anyone  be  found  in  works  of  depredation. 
One  evening  he  rode  through  the  camp  to  see  if  his 
orders  were  in  full  force.  At  a  distance  he  saw  a 
sheep  running,  and  it  seemed  that  some  men  were 
chasing  the  animal,  thinking,  notwithstanding  the 
order,  that  a  little  nmtton  for  a  change  would  be  a 
feast.  The  general  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  when 
he  reached  the  spot  he  swore  at  the  supposed  culprits : 
"Blank,  blank,  you  blank,  blank,  scoundrels!  Did 
you  not  hear  my  orders  ?  Send  out  the  man  that  killed 
that  sheep!  I  saw  the  animal  drop!  Do  not  try  to 
evade,  or  I  will  have  the  whole  company  punished." 
No  move  was  made,  and  the  general  was  very  much 
displeased.  He  renewed  the  threat  of  punishment 
in  still  more  vigorous  language,  and  while  he  was 
in  the  midst  of  his  speech  the  sheep  jumped  out  of 
the  brush  and  ran  off.  The  general,  as  he  wheeled 
his  horse  round  to  return  to  his  quarters,  said:    ''I 


174  MEMOIRS   OF   CHArLAIN    LIFE. 

take  it  all  back.  I  am  glad  you  have  not  transgressed 
my  orders."  The  fact  is,  the  sheep,  no  doubt,  was 
chased  but  not  killed.  The  animal  was  about 
exhausted  at  the  time  and  dropped  in  the  brush,  but 
when  it  had  rested  for  a  time  it  was  all  right.  To  be 
truly  candid,  however,  I  am  of  opinion  that  that  sheep 
did  not  die  a  natural  death!  Gen.  Hancock  was  a 
great  and  a  brave  soldier,  much  respected  by  our 
corps,  which  he  commanded.  He  was  a  polished 
gentleman  and  had  a  keen  sense  of  propriety. 
Addicted  merely  through  force  of  habit  to  the  use  of 
profane  language,  when  excited,  he  would  invariably 
stop  short  when  he  discovered  the  presence  of  a 
clergyman.  This  occasion  was  no  exception,  which 
showed  his  sense  of  propriety,  as  it  is  particularly 
impolite  to  speak  in  the  presence  of  any  professional 
man  in  a  way  that  is  offensive  or  distasteful  to  that 
profession.  In  other  words,  the  general  showed  a 
respect  for  religion  in  respecting  its  ministers.  The 
following  anecdote  illustrates  the  force  of  habit  in 
swearing;  but  in  this  case  the  reflection  on  the 
bishop  is  heavy:  "An  English  Episcopalian  bishop 
said  to  a  lord  in  Parliament:  'Do  not  curse  so;  it  is 
wicked.'  'Well,'  said  the  lord,  'I  curse  considerably 
and  you  pray  considerably,  but  neither  of  us  mean 
anything,  you  know.'" 


CHAPTER  XXYII. 


FREDERICK,    MARYLAND. 

ON  June  28,  1863,  we  halted  at  Frederick  city, 
fifty  to  sixty  miles  from  Baltimore.  Frederick 
is  quite  an  old  town  of  about  9,000  inhabitants.  The 
people  might  be  called  "  old-fashioned."  Quiet, 
easy-going,  kind-hearted,  and  great  lovers  of  old 
friends  and  old  customs.  This  is  the  reputation  they 
have.  Here  is  located  a  State  institution  or  college, 
founded  in  1797.  Here  also  is  located  a  flourishing 
novitiate  of  the  Jesuit  society.  Not  far  off,  to  the 
north,  in  the  same  county,  is  the  venerable  Mount  St. 
Mary's  College,  the  alma  mater  of  many  Catholic 
bishops  and  priests.  In  going  to  Gettysburg  we  left 
Mount  St.  Mary's  to  the  right,  passing  in  our  line  of 
march  about  a  mile  or  two  from  the  grounds.  In  the 
vicinity  of  Frederick  we  found  the  country  very 
beautiful.  The  fields  were  like  gardens  in  the  highest 
state  of  cultivation.  The  fences  were  neat  and  well 
built.  The  buildings  were  not  grand,  but  they  had 
about  them  an  air  of  comfort,  and  they  looked  like 
real  homes.  I  never  entered  a  house  during  our  long 
march  of  between  two  and  three  hundred  miles  from 

(175) 


176  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

Fredericksburg,  Virginia,  to  Gettysburg,  Pennsyl- 
vania. Early  on  the  morning  of  June  29  our  corps 
started  from  Frederick  toward  Gettysburg,  and  we 
did  not  halt  for  the  night  until  about  eleven  p.  m., 
having  made  the  longest  march  made  by  infantry  of 
any  department  during  the  war.  This  achievement 
is  what  is  claimed.  Our  men  carried,  as  I  have  said 
elsewhere,  about  sixty  pounds,  including  musket, 
cartridges,  provisions,  shelter-tent,  and  blanket.  We 
marched  thirty-four  miles.  Considering  the  load  that 
the  men  had  to  carry,  it  was  a  marvellous  feat,  and  it 
was  what  CsGsar  would  call  a  "  forced  march."  Being 
more  or  less  veterans  at  this  time,  we  knew  what  it 
meant.  We  knew  that  there  was  desperate  work 
ahead  and  that  our  services  would  be  soon  required. 
We  halted  in  a  ploughed  field.  A  gentle  rain  was 
falling,  but  no  matter,  w^e  must  rest.  Beside  a  tree, 
that  seemed  to  me  in  the  dark  to  be  an  apple  tree,  I 
couched,  under  no  tent,  no  canopy,  except  the  canopy 
of  heaven.  I  folded  my  blanket  about  me  and  was 
soon  fast  asleep.  When  one  is  very  hungry  and  very 
sleepy,  it  is  hard  to  decide  which  of  the  two,  food  or 
sleep,  nature  craves  most.  I  would  put  sleep  first. 
This  has  been  my  experience.  I  must  note  here  that 
when  we  left  our  old  camp  Falmouth,  opposite  Fred- 
ericksburg, we  were  under  Gen.  Hooker.  While  on 
the  march,  on  June  28,  he  was  superseded  by  Maj.- 
Gen.  Meade.  During  the  long  march  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  I  heard  the  men  make  many  curious  remarks 
about  the  skill  of  various  generals.    Besides  this,  they 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  177 

*  talked  on  numerous  subjects,  from  philosophy  to 
"hard-tack"  and  pork!  Late  in  the  evening  some  of 
them  became  exceedingly  tired  and  declared  that  they 
could  not,  and  would  not,  go  any  farther.  "  Oh,  come 
on! "  others  cried;  "Little  Mac  is  surely  in  command." 
Where  they  got  this  idea  I  could  not  tell,  but  it  was, 
in  fact,  a  general  rumor,  which  I  heard  repeated  again 
and  again,  that  he  was  in  command  and  that  he  was 
following  up  with  an  incredibly  large  force.  Later 
on  we  heard  that  this  report  was  purposely  started  to 
give  more  confidence  to  the  rank  and  file.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  the  rumor  seemed  to  have  a  good  effect  on 
the  men.  It  was  surprising  to  see  them  holding  out 
to  the  very  last.  No  stragglers  were  found  on  the 
road  behind  —  a  very  unusual  thing  on  a  long  march. 
In  the  army  during  the  war  it  was  not  uncommon  to 
see  men  drop  from  weakness,  like  jaded  horses,  give 
out  and  fall  helpless  to  the  ground.  Besides  the 
cases  of  utter  exhaustion,  men  would  sometimes  "give 
up,"  when  very  much  fatigued,  lag  behind  and  seek 
rides  in  the  ambulances,  or  perhaps  stop  by  the  road- 
side and  sleep  till  the  morning,  and  then  leisurely 
follow  the  advance.  These  were  called  "stragglers," 
and  if  the  battle  was  over  when  they  arrived,  they 
could  sit  by  the  camp  fires  and  tell  more  about  it 
than  those  who  were  in  the  fight.  Late  in  the  even- 
ing the  marching  of  a  tired  army  is  a  sight.  As  a 
rule,  not  a  voice  is  heard.  Fatigue  and  drowsiness, 
added  to  a  rather  weak  and  faint  feeling,  indispose 
men  to  converse,   and   by   silenj;,5rij5ias^nt  eae%  one 


S^^N^  ''   ,:^i^ 


178  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

discontinues  conversation.  The  click  of  a  large  spur, 
the  occasional  rattle  of  a  sword,  and  other  mechan- 
ical movements  are  the  only  sounds  heard  above  the 
slow,  steady  tramp  of  the  line  and  the  heavy  tread  of 
the  few  horses  that  carry  mounted  officers.  Even 
these  mounted  officers  frequently  dismount  and  walk 
to  avoid  being  overpowered  by  sleep  and  to  save 
themselves  from  falling  from  the  horses.  Many, 
many  times  I  had  to  do  so.  How  men  live  through 
all  this  is  a  mystery.  But  a  kind  Providence  pressed 
many  of  us  onward  and  preserved  us,  and  for  this, 
I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  here,  few  of  us  are  truly 
grateful,  few  of  us  render  the  thanks  which  God  has 
a  right  to  expect.  One  of  the  ten  lepers  came  to 
thank  Jesus.  "Were  not  ten  made  clean?  and 
where  are  the  nine ?  "  Only  one  was  found  thankful! 
Here  He  complains  of  our  want  of  gratitude. 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII.    ^ 


GETTYSBURG. 

OUR  march  is  not  yet  at  an  end!  July  1,  1863, 
one  o'clock,  p.  m.,  found  us  at  Tanytown,  Pa., 
where  our  corps  was  massed  and  where  Gen.  Meade 
established  his  headquarters.  Suddenly  a  courier 
came  up  at  break-neck  speed,  his  horse  panting  and 
covered  with  foam.  He  announced  that  fighting  was 
going  on  at  Gettysburg.  The  Confederates,  with  a 
very  superior  force,  encountered  our  cavalry  and  the 
First  and  Eleventh  Infantry  Corps,  and  the  Union 
troops  were  driven  back. in  confusion.  Gen.  Meade 
dispatched  Gen.  Hancock,  the  commander  of  our 
corps,  to  the  scene  of  strife  with  orders  to  take  full 
charge  of  the  field — cavalry,  infantry,  and  artillery. 
Accompanied  by  his  excellent  staff,  Hancock  dashed 
off  and  was  soon  on  the  ground  restoring  order, 
examining  the  grounds,  and  forming  plans  for  a  gen- 
eral engagement  next  day.  Gen.  Meade  sanctioned 
Hancock's  plans,  and  ordered  his  adjutant-general. 
Gen.  Seth  Williams,  to  send  all  the  troops  to  the 
front.  This  was  on  the  afternoon  of  July  1,  and  at 
once  we  resumed  our  march.  We  had  about  thirteen 
(179) 


180  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

miles  to  go.  Next  morning,  July  2,  a  memorable 
day,  Hancock  posted  us  on  Cemetery  Kidge.  Oppo- 
site and  about  a  mile  from  us,  on  Seminary  Ridge, 
we  could  see  distinctly  the  lines  of  the  Confeder- 
ates. Much  of  the  day  passed  in  the  disposition  of 
troops  on  either  side.  The  two  great  contending 
forces  watched  each  other  keenly  with  beating  hearts 
and  anxious  expectation  of  what  result  might  follow 
the  pending  struggle.  Generals  are  in  a  ''brown 
study,"  staff  officers  and  orderlies  are  dashing  along 
the  lines  from  left  to  right  and  from  right  to  left, 
carrying  orders.  On  the  flanks  the  cavalry  and  light 
artillery  are  on  a  sharp  look-out,  and  all  are  astir. 
One  can  hardly  imagine  the  stupendous  task  it  is  to 
dispose  a  large  army  of  tens  of  thousands  of  men  and 
hundreds  of  cannon  to  advantage.  Each  cannon  has 
usually  six  horses,  and  the  caissons  containing  the 
ammunition,  balls,  and  shells  are  drawn  in  the  same 
manner.  Consider  what  a  line  and  a  body  all  this 
makes;  and  how  much  time  and  study  is  required  to 
bring  all  into  position,  and  to  make  such  a  combination 
as  will  give  reasonable  hope  of  success.  In  doing  this 
we  spent  most  of  July  2,  until  about  four  o'clock,  p.  m. 
And  now,  the  two  great  armies  are  confronting  each 
other.  Lee  Kad  eighty  to  a  hundred  thousand  men 
and  over  two  hundred  cannon.  Meade  had  even 
more  men,  and  over  three  hundred  cannon,  but  he 
could  not  use  them  all  at  once  on  account  of  the 
broken  nature  of  the  country.  Gettysburg,  the 
county   seat  of   Adams  County,  is  a  small  town  of 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  181 

about  8,000  inhabitants  and  is  located  in  a  basin  or 
valley.  We  can  scarcely  imagine  the  trepidation  of 
these  poor  people — men,  women,  and  children — in  their 
defenseless,  quiet  homes,  surrounded  by  such  armies 
as  were  there  from  the  first  to  the  fourth  of  July, 
1863.  Many  fervent  prayers  were  said  and  holy 
vows  pronounced,  no  doubt,  especially  on  the  nights 
of  the  first  and  second.  The  proportions  of  the 
pending  crash  seemed  so  great,  as  the  armies  eyed 
each  other,  that  even  veterans  who  had  often  '*smelled 
powder"  quailed  at  the  thought  of  the  final  coniQict. 
At  about  four  o'clock  the  Confederates  commenced 
firing,  and  one  hundred  and  twenty  cannon  from 
their  side  belched  forth  from  their  fiery  throats  mis- 
siles of  death  into  our  lines.  The  Third  Corps  were 
pressed  back,  and  at  this  critical  moment  I  proposed 
to  give  a  general  absolution  to  our  men,  as  they  had 
had  absolutely  no  chance  to  practise  their  religious 
duties  during  the  past  two  or  three  weeks,  being 
constantly  on  the  march.  Here  I  will  quote  the 
account  of  Maj.-Gen.  St.  Clair  Mulholland,  then  a 
colonel  in  the  Irish  Brigade,-  a  Christian  gentleman 
and  as  brave  a  soldier  as  any  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  to  which  his  wounds  and  his  army  record 
will  testify: 

''Now  (as  the  Third  Corps  is  being  pressed  back), 
help  is  called  for,  and  Hancock  tells  Caldwell  to  have 
his  men  ready.  'Fall  in!'  and  the  men  run  to  their 
places.  'Take  arms!'  and  the  four  brigades  of 
Zook,  Cross,    Brook,  and  Kelly  are  ready   for  the 


182  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

fray.  There  are  yet  a  few  minutes  to  spare  before 
starting,  and  the  time  is  occupied  by  one  of  the  most 
impressive  religious  ceremonies  I  have  ever  witnessed. 
The  Irish  Brigade,  which  had  been  commanded  for- 
merly by  Gen.  Thomas  Francis  Meagher,  and  whose 
green  flag  had  been  unfurled  in  every  battle  in  which 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  been  engaged  from  the 
first  Bull  Kun  to  A^pom^ttox,  and  was  now  com- 
manded by  Col.  Patrick  Kelly  of  the  Eighty-eighth 
New  York,  formed  a  part  of  this  division.  The 
brigade  stood  in  column  of  regiments,  closed  in  mass. 
As  a  large  majority  of  its  members  were  Catholics, 
the  Chaplain  of  the  brigade.  Rev.  William  Corby, 
proposed  to  give  a  general  absolution  to  all  the  men 
before  going  into  the  fight.  While  this  is  customary 
in  the  armies  of  Catholic  countries  in  Europe,  it  was 
perhaps  the  first  time  it  was  ever  witnessed  on  this 
continent,  unless,  indeed,  the  grim  old  warrior,  PoneC 
de  Leon,  as  he  tramped  through  the  Everglades  of 
Florida  in  search  of  the  Fountain  of  Youth,  or  De 
Soto,  on  his  march  to  the  Mississippi,  indulged  this 
act  of  devotion.  Father  Corby  stood  on  a  large  rock 
in  front  of  the  brigade.  Addressing  the  men,  he 
explained  what  he  was  about  to  do,  saying  that  each 
one  could  receive  the  benefit  of  the  absolution  by 
making  a  sincere  Act  of  Contrition  and  firmly  resolv- 
ing to  embrace  the  first  opportunity  of  confessing 
his  sins,  urging  them  to  do  their  duty,  and  remind- 
ing them  of  the  high  and  sacred  nature  of  their  trust 
as  soldiers  and  the  noble  object  for  which  they 
fought.     .       .      ,      .      The  brigade  was  standing  at 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  183 

'Order  arm?!'  As  he  closed  his  address,  every  man, 
Catholic  and  non-Catholic,  fell  on  his  knees  with  his 
head  bowed  down.  Then,  stretching  his  right  hand 
toward  the  brigade.  Father  Corby  pronounced  the 
words  of  the  absolution : 

'Dominus  noster  Jesus  Ghristus  vos  absolvat,  et  ego, 

auctoritate  ipsius,  vos  ahsolvo  ah  omni  vinculo,  exoom- 

muniGationis  interdicti,  in  quantum  possum  et  vos 

X     indigetis  d^mde  ego  ahsolvo  vos,  a  pecatis  vestris,  in 

nomini  Patris,  et  Filii,  et  Spiritus  Sancti,  Amen.'* 

"The  scene  was  more  than  impressive;  it  was  awe- 
inspiring.  Near  by  stood  a  brilliant  throng  of 
officers  who  had  gathered  to  witness  this  very  unusual 
occurrence,  and  while  there  was  profound  silence  in 
the  ranks  of  the  Second  Corps,  yet  over  to  the  left,  out 
by  the  peach  orchaid  and  Little  Round  Top,  where 
Weed  and  Vincent  and  Hazlitt  were  dying,  the  roar 
of,  the  battle  rose  and  swelled  and  re-echoed  through 
the  woods,  making  music  more  sublime  than  ever 
sounded  through  cathedral  aisle.  The  act  seemed  to 
be  in  harmony  with  the  surroundings.  I  do  not  think 
there  was  a  man  in  the  brigade  who  did  not  offer  up 
a  heart-felt  prayer.  For  some,  it  was  their  last;  they 
knelt  there  in  their  grave  clothes.  In  less  than  half 
an  hour  many  of  them  were  numbered  with  the  dead 
of  July  2.  Who  can  doubt  that  their  prayers  were 
good?  What  was  wanting  in  the  eloquence  of  the 
priest  to  move  them  to  repentance  was  supplied  in 
the  incidents  of  the  fight.  That  heart  would  be 
incorrigible,  indeed,  that  the  scream  of  a  Whitworth 


184  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

bolt,  added  to  Father  Corby's  touching  appeal,  would 
not  move  to  contrition." 

In  performing  this  ceremony  I  faced  the  army. 
My  eye  covered  thousands  of  officers  and  men.  I 
noticed  that  all,  Catholic  and  non- Catholic,  officers 
and  private  soldiers  showed  a  profound  respect,  wish- 
ing at  this  fatal  crisis  to  receive  every  benefit  of 
divine  grace  that  could  be  imparted  through  the 
instrumentality  of  the  Church  ministry.  Even  Maj.- 
Gen.  Hancock  removed  his  hat,  and,  as  far  as  compat- 
ible with  the  situation,  bowed  in  reverential  devotion. 
That  general  absolution  was  intended  for  all  —  ^V^ 
quantum  poss^im — not  only  for  our  brigade,  but  for 
all.  North  or  South,  who  were  susceptible  of  it  and 
who  were  about  to  appear  before  their  Judge.  Let 
us  hope  that  many  thousands  of  souls,  purified  by 
hardships,  fasting,  prayer,  and  blood,  met  a  favorable 
sentence  on  the  ever  memorable  battlefield  of  Gettys- 
burg. The  battle  lasted  three  days  and  was  the 
greatest  of  the  war.  A  comparison  between  the 
battles  of  Gettysburg  and  Waterloo  has  frequently 
been  made  by  various  writers;  the  greater  of  the  two 
is,  very  likely,  that  at  Gettysburg. 

During  a  visit  to  the  Gettysburg  battlefield,  about 
a  year  ago,  in  1889,  Maj.-Gen.  Mulholland  told  me 
that  a  soldier  of  his  regiment  knelt  near  him  while 
the  general  absolution  was  being  given  and  prayed 
with  more  fervor  than  the  Greneral  had  ever  before 
witnessed.  Twenty  minutes  later  that  poor  soldier 
was  a  corpse! 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  185 

The  Irish  Brigade  had  very  many  advantages  over 
other  organizations,  as  it  was  at  no  time  during  the 
war  without  a  chaplain;  but  I  was  the  only  one  at 
the  battle  of  Gettysburg.  Often  in  camp  and  some- 
times on  the  march  we  held  very  impressive  religious 
services,  but  the  one  at  Gettysburg  was  more  public, 
and  was  witnessed  by  many  who  had  not,  perhaps, 
seen  the  others.  The  surroundings  there,  too,  made 
a  vast  difference,  for  really  the  situation  reminded 
one  of  the  day  of  judgment,  when  shall  be  seen 
"men  withering  away  for  fear  and  expectation  of 
what  shall  come  upon  the  whole  world,"  so  great  were 
the  whirlwinds  of  war  then  in  motion. 

About  a  week  after  the  battle,  while  on  the  march, 
a  captain,  a  non-Catholic,  rode  up  to  me,  and  after  an 
introduction  by  a  friend,  said:  "  Chaplain,  I  would 
like  to  know  more  about  your  religion.  I  was  present 
on  that  awful  day,  July  2,  when  you  '  made  a  prayer,' 
and  while  I  have  often  witnessed  ministers  make 
prayers  I  never  witnessed  one  so  powerful  as  the  one 
you  made  that  day  in  front  of  Hancock's  corps  just 
as  the  ball  opened  with  one  hundred  and  twenty  guns 
blazing  at  us."  Just  then  I  found  use  for  my  hand- 
kerchief to  hide  a  smile  which  stole  to  my  coun- 
tenance caused  by  the,  to  me,  peculiar  phfs^^logy 
in  which  the  good  captain  expressed  his  mind.  I 
could  not  but  admire  his  candid,  outspoken  manner, 
though,  and  I  gave  him  an  invitation  to  call  on  me 
in  camp,  when  I  would  take  pleasure  in  giving  him 
all  the  information  in  my  power.     One  good  result 


186  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

of  the  Civil  War  was  the  removing  of  a  great  amount 
of  prejudice.  When  men  stand  in  common  danger, 
a  fraternal  feeling  springs  up  between  them  and 
generates  a  Christian,  charitable  sentiment  that  often 
leads  to  most  excellent  results. 


s^ 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


GETTYSBURG  —  THE    TWENTY-FIFTH    ANNIVERSARY. 

THROUGHOUT  this  narrative  I  have  followed 
my  subject  chronologically.  Here,  by  way  of 
parenthesis,  I  feel  impelled  to  write  a  chapter  on  the 
celebration  of  the  twenty -fifth  anniversary  of  the 
Battle  of  Gettysburg,  which  celebration  took  place 
in  July,  1888.  It  will  not  be  out  of  place  here  in 
connection  with  the  account  of  the  battle  itself. 
Plans  on  an  extensive  scale  had  been  prepared  for  a 
national  celebration  of  this  anniversary.  The  sur- 
viving veterans  of  the  Irish  Brigade  sent  me  a  pressing 
invitation  to  attend  with  them ;  considering,  as  they 
expressed  it,  that  "such  a  meeting  would  be  incom- 
plete without  the  chaplain  who  had  been  their  com- 
panion in  prosperity  and  adversity  since  the  very  first 
campaign  made  by  the  brigade."  I  accepted,  and  am 
glad  I  did  so.  I  witnessed  there  one  of  the  grandest 
and  most  interesting  sights  of  my  life.  The  emotions 
that  filled  my  breast  when  I  met  the  surviving  officers 
and  men  once  more  on  the  field  that  drank  in  the 
blood  of  so  many  of  our  dead  companions  may  be 
more  easily  imagined  than  described.     I  shall  never 

(187) 


188  MEMOIRS    OF    CHArLAIN    LIFE. 

forget  that  meeting.  It  was  estimated  that  fully 
fifty  thousand  were  present  —  embracing  North  and 
South,  East  and  West.  Some  came  from  California 
to  be  present,  others  from  far  distant  Alaska,  and 
thousands  from  the  Gulf  States  swelled  the  waves  of 
moving,  surging  humanity.  Officers  and  men,  women 
and  children,  came  from  every  quarter.  The  old 
soldiers,  from  North  and  South,  wished  to  visit  once 
more,  before  their  death,  the  spot  of  such  thrilling 
interest ;  the  spot  that  formed  the  greatest  and  fullest 
chapter  of  war  history;  the  spot  that  received  the 
blood  of  many  times  ten  thousand  heroes;  the  spot 
that  still  gives  war  incidents  which  thrill  the  blood  of 
a  generation  then  unborn,  and  which  will  continue  to 
do  so  for  many  generations  in  the  future.  There  is 
now  a  growing  interest  circling  around  Gettysburg 
battlefield,  more  than  any  other,  in  the  school-boy  of 
to-day  that  is  really  marvellous.  Not  only  did  the 
old  soldier  wish  to  revisit,  in  peace,  this  historic  spot 
where  he  had  fought,  and  possibly  bled  and  left  a 
limb,  but  he  also  desired  his  wife,  taken  to  his  bosom 
perhaps  since  the  war,  his  sons  and  daughters,  many 
of  whom  were  also  born  since  the  war,  to  see  the  place 
which  not  only  the  nation  but  nations,  had  talked  about 
so  much.  Yea,  he  desired  even  his  friends  and  rela- 
tives to  enjoy  with  him  the  reminiscences  of  July  1, 
2,  and  3,  1863.  The  meeting  did  not  consist  of  an 
idle  gathering.  There  were  programmes  for  each  day 
and  each  part  of  the  day.  The  dedication  of  monu- 
ments was  a  prominent  feature.     Brass  bands  led  the 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  189 

way  to  some  particular  locality  where  a  monument 
had  been  erected  by  a  military  brigade  or  division  to 
commemorate  the  identical  place  where  such  organ- 
ization fought  twenty -five  years  before.  Here  great 
numbers  clustered  around  a  stage  or  platform,  from 
which  some  distinguished  general  or  selected  orator 
addressed  the  multitude.  Besides,  the  old  field  was 
covered  with  tents,  numbering  probably  ten  thousand. 
Many,  after  every  tent  and  every  house  in  the  town 
was  filled,  slept  on  the  ground.  No  matter,  camp  life 
again!  I  learned  that  from  twelve  to  twenty  trains 
on  one  railway  alone,  bringing  thousands  more,  were 
blocked  on  the  route,  so  great  was  the  flood  of  human- 
ity constantly  pouring  into  Gettysburg  for  this  cele- 
bration. The  sight  was  in  great  contrast  with  the 
scene  enacted  there  twenty -five  years  previous.  Then 
it  was  war,  now  peace;  then  we  heard  the  roar  of 
cannon  and  the  groans  of  the  dying;  now  we  hear 
the  rich  stentorian  voice  of  the  enthusiastic,  patriotic 
orator,  the  inspiring  strains  of  martial  music  and  the 
merry  laugh  of  youth  and  beauty,  whose  hearts  long 
to  distinguish  their  lives  by  great  heroic  deeds  worthy 
a  nation  now  so  exalted  among  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth — a  free  nation  handed  down  to  us  by  our  illus- 
trious forefathers  to  be  kept  intact  and  united  till  the 
end  of  time;  a  nation  born  of  the  patriotic,  liberty- 
loving  heroes  over  a  century  ago  and  now  cemented 
in  the  blood  of  their  children's  children,  never  again 
to  be  disrupted  by  political  strife  or  ungovernable 
passion.  Much  time  was  agreeably  spent  in  looking 
over  the  battle  grounds,  which  are  very  extensive. 


190  MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

The  government  purchased  the  locality  and  mapped 
out  the  whole  area  fought  over  during  the   battle. 
Twenty-five  years'  skill  and  industry  have  wrought  a 
great  change  in  the  place.     At  the  time  of  the  battle 
it  was:  '' Wheatfield,"'  "Peach  Orchard,"  "Seminary 
Eidge,"  "  Cemetery  Hill,"  "Bloody  Angle,"  "Devil's 
Den,"  etc.     Now  it  is:    "Battle  Avenue,"   "Gulp's 
Hill    Avenue,"     "Hancock    Avenue,"    "  Keynold's 
Avenue,"    "Sickles'    Avenue,"    " Howard    Avenue," 
"Cemetery  Gate,"  etc.     I  must  note  here  that  the 
national  cemetery  at  Gettysburg  is   a  credit  to  our 
country.     There  are  soldiers  buried  there,  unclaimed 
by  relatives,  to  the  number  of  nearly  four  thousand. 
In  various  other  national  cemeteries  in  the  United 
States   (many  of  which  I  have  visited — notably  the 
one  in  Louisiana,  near  New  Orleans,  where  there  are 
twelve   thousand    graves)    there    are    buried    three 
hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  one  hundred  and 
forty-three  patriots.     All  these  cemeteries  are  kept  in 
an  artistic  style  that  rivals  our  handsomest  city  parks. 
This  is  done  at  the  expense  of  the   general  govern- 
ment, and  each  cemetery  receives   daily  the  personal 
supervision  of  the   officer  in   charge   and  such  care 
that  the  most  fastidious  can  find  no  fault,  while  it 
delights  every  man  of  good  sense  to  see  such  respect 
shown  our  fallen  heroes.    My  remarks  are  much  longer 
than  I  had  intended,  but  the  deep  interest  I  feel  in 
the  subject  must   be  my  apology  to   any  reader  who 
may    find   them    uninteresting.  p^I  will  now  devote 
another  short  chapter  to  the  actual   doings  of  the 
Irish  Brigade  at  Gettysburg  in  July,  1888. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


ANNIVERSARY   EXERCISES — GETTYSBURG . 

FOLLOWING  our  plan  in  all  former  celebrations, 
we  opened  our  celebration  of  July  2  (the 
exact  anniversary  day  of  our  deadly  struggle  there  as 
a  brigade)  with  a  "  Military  Mass."  Father  Ouellet* 
was  with  us  again  on  this  occasion  and  sang  the  Mass. 
The  choir  came  from  New  York,  while  the  members 
of  the  local  choir  did  their  best  to  make  everything 
pass  off  creditably.  Among  the  singers  present  from 
New  York,  I  remember  Mrs.  Florence  Eice  Knox, 
who  possesses  a  rich,  smooth,  and  powerful  voice, 
full  of  pathos;  Miss  Ritta  E.  Bronson,  whose  voice 
was  very  sweet  and  pleasing,  and  Prof.  Edward 
O'Mahony,  who  held  his  own  pretty  well,  considering 
the  charms  of  the  voices  around  him:  Mrs.  Knox, 
Miss  Bronson,  and  the  splendid  chorus  too  numerous 
to  mention,  even  if  I  could  remember  their  names. 
I  must  not  forget  to  mention  the  organist,  one  of  no 

*  The  Rev.  Thomas  Ouellet,  S.  J.,  was  chaplain  with  me  in 
the  brigade  from  November,  1861 ,  till  April,  1862,  when  he 
resigned.  He  re-enlisted  February  15,  1864,  and  contmued 
until  the  end  of  the  war  in  1865.  Between  these  dates  he  acted 
as  hospital  chaplain  at  Newbern,  North  Carolina. 
(191) 


192  MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

ordinary  ability,  Miss  Grace  Haverty,  daughter  of 
our  former  quartermaster.  Here  I  wish  to  mention 
also  the  great  service  rendered  us  by  the  pastor  of 
Gettysburg,  who,  by  the  way,  became  pastor  the  year 
after  the  battle,  continued  twenty-four  years  in  the 
same  position,  and  is  still  there.  His  name  is  the 
Kev.  Joseph  A.  Ball.  While  not  yet  ordained  priest, 
and  being  in  vacation,  he  walked  eighty  miles  to  the 
battlefield  when  it  was  covered  with  the  fresh  horrors 
of  war.  He  had  but  two  dollars  on  which  to  make 
this  trip.  While  repairing  the  steeple  of  his  church 
twenty-four  years  after  the  battle,  his  carpenter  found 
a  bullet  in  the  timber  which  had  been  fired  from  the 
South.  I  am  now  in  possession  of  said  bullet.  I 
was  urged  to  address  the  multitude  at  the  Anniver- 
sary Mass  service.  Imagine  one  who  ought  to  be  a 
"grim  old  warrior"  standing  before  his  "companions 
in  arms"  addressing  them  after  a  separation  that 
dated  to  March  20,  1865,  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
century!  At  first  I  got  on  reasonably  well,  until, 
looking  over  those  assembled,  the  surviving  members 
of  our  illustrious  and  numerous  band  as  it  appeared 
at  Alexandria,  Va.,  in  the  fall  of  '61,  I  happened  to 
make  this  statement,  "  Here  is  what  is  left  of  us; 
where  are  the  others?  "  when  I  filled  up  very  unex- 
pectedly and  could  not  speak  for  several  minutes.  I 
had  struck  a  very  tender  chord.  The  celebrant, 
although  eleven  years  older  than  I,  wept  like  a  child, 
and  the  brave  old  warriors  before  me  who  had  stood 
the  shock  of  many  battles  also  wept.    We  were  on  the 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  193 

spot  where  many  of  the  "others"  had  fallen;  heroes 
whom  we  had  helped  to  carry  out  of  our  ranks.  The 
place,  the  circumstances,  the  remembrances,  the  old 
friendships  renewed,  contributed  to  emotions  that 
perhaps  may  not  be  well  understood  except  by  the 
participants. 

I  was  credibly  informed  that  among  the  dozens  of 
orators — most  of  whom  were  generals  —  who  spoke 
at  the  various  dedications  of  monuments,  many  were 
so  choked  with  emotion  as  to  be  obliged  for  a  time 
to  stop  speaking.  This  is  a  new  proof  of  what  we 
often  notice  in  history — that  the  bravest  of  generals 
have  tender  hearts.  It  may  seem  paradoxical;  never- 
theless, it  is  true.  Well,  the  grand  "  Military  Mass  " 
being  over,  an  hour  or  so  was  passed  in  talking  over 
old  times.  Then  we  proceeded  to  the  dedication  of 
the  monument  erected  to  the  memory  of  the  Irish 
Brigade,  a  beautiful  structure,  the  shaft  terminating 
in  the  form  of  a  Latin  cross.  This  was  solemnly 
blessed  and  the  particulars  of  the  following  pro- 
gramme were  strictly  carried  out. 


13 


194  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 


PROGRAMME 

OF  MEMORIAL  CEREMONIES,  JULY  2,  1888, 

of  the  survivors  of  the 
IRISH   BRIGADE. 


In  dedicating  and  presenting  to  the  Gettysburg  Battlefield 
Association,  on  behalf  of  the  State  of  New  York, 

A    MONUMENT 

To  the  Memory  of  the  Members  of  the  New  York  Commands 

of  the  Brigade,  who  fought  on  many  well-stricken 

fields  for  the  preservation  of  the 

Union  and  in  the 

CAUSE   OF   UNIVERSAL  LIBERTY. 


1.  The  President,  Capt.  Toal,  introduces  Gen.  Nugent  as 

presiding  officer. 

2.  Gen.  Nugent  introduces  Chaplains. 

3.  Religious  Services  and  Address  by  Rev.  W.  Corby. 

4.  Address  by  Chairman. 

5.  Letters  from  Distinguished  Absentees. 

6.  Song  by  Florence  Rice  Knox  and  Miss  Ritta  E.  Bronson. 

7.  Chairman  introduces  Orator  of  the  Day. 

8.  Gen.  Burke  delivers  Oration. 

9.  Poem  by  William  Collins. 

10.  Benediction  by  Brigade  Chaplains  of  the  Cross,  De  Pro- 

fundis  and  Miserere  chanted  for  the  dead  by  the  choir 

11.  Presentation  to  Gettysburg  Monument  Association,  by 

Col.  James  D.  Brady. 

12.  Response  by  the  Gettysburg  Monument  Association. 

13.  Song  by  Prof.  Edward  O'Mabony— "  How  Sleep  the  Brave 

Who  Sink  to  Rest." 

14.  Poem  by  William  Geoghegan. 

15.  "  Star-Spangled  Banner." 

16.  Benediction. 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  195 

Master  of  Ceremonies.— President  of  the  I.  B.  V.  A.,  Capt. 
John  T.  Toal,  Sixty-ninth  N.  Y. 

'  ^SpeciaZ  Aids.— Vice-President,  Dennis  SulUvan,  Sixty-third 
N.  Y.;  Capt.  John  R.  Nugent,  Sixty-ninth  N.  Y.;Dr.  Wilham 
O'Meagher,  Sixty-ninth  N.  Y. ;  Capt.  W.  L.  D.  O'Grady,  Eighty- 
eighth  N.  Y. 

Chairman  and  Senior  Officer.— Bng.-Gen.  Robert  Nugent, 
U.  S.  A. 

Chaplains— Yei  J  Rev.  Wilham  Corby,  C  S.  C;  Rev.  Thomas 
Ouellet,  S.  J. 

Orators.— Brig. -Gen.  Denis  F.  Burke,  U.  S.  V.;  Col.  James 

D.  Brady,  Sixty-third  N.  Y. 

Choir  and  Glee  Club.—MTs.  Florence  Rice  Knox,  Miss  Ritta 

E.  Bronson,  Prof.  Edward  O'Mahony,  with  chorus. 
Poefs.— Wilham  CoUins,  Wilham  Geoghegan. 
Sculptor. — Hon.  Maurice  J.  Power, 
^warfermas^er.— Lieut.-Col.  James  Quinlan,  Eighty-eighth 

N.  Y. 

Commissary.— Wd].  P.  M.  Haverty,  Eighty-eighth  N.  Y. 

Officer  of  the  Day.— Caipt.  Chas.  M.  Grainger,  Eighty-eighth 
N.  Y. 

Officer  of  the  Ouard.—LiievLt.  David  Burke,  Sixty-ninth 
N.  Y. 

Special  Aids.— John  Londregan,  Sixty-ninth  N".  Y.;  Lieut. 
John  Dillon,  Sixty-third  N.  Y.;  Alexander  Mcllhargy,  Sixty- 
ninth  N.  Y.;  Michael  Corcoran,  Eighty-eighth  N.  Y.;  Wilham 
Moran,  Sixty-third  N.  Y.;  Patrick  Lucy,  Sixty-third  N.  Y.; 
John  Smith,  Sixty-ninth  N.  Y. 

Color  Guard.— WiWmm  Parrington,  Sixty-ninth  N:  Y.; 
Joseph  Devereux,  Eighty-eighth  N.  Y.;  Con.  Ahearn,  Eighty- 
eighth  N.  Y.;  James  Dwyer,  Sixty- third  N.  Y.;  Wilham  F. 
Maher,  Fourteenth  Battery. 

Reception  Committee.— Jjient. -Col.  James  Smith,  Sixty- 
ninth  N.  Y.;  Maj.  Dwyer,  Sixty- third  N.  Y.;  Lieut.-Col.  J.  D. 
MulhaU,  Sixty-ninth  N.  Y.;  Alexander  Jeffreys,  Fifteenth  Bat- 
tery; Lieut.  E.  M.  Knox,  Fifteenth  Battery;  Walter  Bogan, 
Fourteenth  Battery;  Capt.  P.  J.  Healy,  Eighty-eighth  N.  Y.; 
Peter  F.  Rafferty,  Sixty-ninth  N.  Y.;  Lieut.  John  Murphy, 
Sixty-ninth  N.  Y.;  Lieut.  John  O'Connell,  Sixty-ninth  N.  Y. 


196  MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 


IN  MEMORY  OF  THE  FALLEN  DEAD  OF  THE 
IRISH  BRIGADE. 


Whose  Monument  was  Unveiled  on  the  Battlefield  of  Gettys- 
burg, July  2, 1888. 


BY   WI£,LIAM   COLLINS. 


Peace  spreads  her  wings  of  snowy  white 

O'er  Gettysburg  to-day  ; 
No  sound  is  heard  of  coming  fight, 

No  marshaling  for  the  fray  ; 
War's  grim  battalions  dream  no  more 

At  morn  the  foe  to  greet ; 
The  long,  long,  fitful  strife  is  o'er, 

And  we  as  comrades  meet. 

II. 

We  meet  in  love,  and,  hand  in  hand, 

Above  our  brothers'  graves, 
We  pledge  true  fealty  to  the  land 

O'er  which  our  banner  waves; 
But  while  its  folds  in  glory  swell 

And  proudly  flaunt  the  air 
We  think  of  those  who  fought  and  fell 

To  keep  it  floating  there! 

III. 

Of  those  who  in  their  manhood  died 

To  blot  out  Slavery's  stain, 
And  rear  aloft  in  all  its  pride 

Fair  Freedom's  flag  again! 
'Tis  ours  to  raise  this  cross  on  high 

Above  the  Irish  dead, 
Who  showed  mankind  the  way  to  die. 

When  Truth  and  Freedom  led. 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  197 

IV. 

They  came  from  a  land  where  Freedom  was  only  known  by 
fame; 

Where  Slavery's  spell,  like  a  breath  of  Hell,  had  banned  and 
barred  her  name; 

Where  the  brave  man  moaned  in  fetters,  and  the  patriot  wept 
in  thrall, 

And  red  with  the  blood  of  martyrs  the  despot  ruled  o'er  all ! 

But  when  on  Freedom's  soil  they  stood  and  saw  her  banner 
soar, 

And  heard  the  foeman's  mustering  shout  re-echo  on  our  shore. 

They  leaped,  as  leaps  the  lightning's  flash  athwart  the  storm- 
tossed  sky, 

For  that  old  flag  with  bosoms  bare,  to  triumph  or  to  die ! 


This  soil  is  the  grave  of  heroes — it  is  not  common  mold ! 
Each  foot  is  dyed  and  sanctified  with  the  blood  of  the  brave 

and  bold; 
And  an  incense  rises  from  their  graves  to  light  us  on  to  fame. 
And  mingles  in  each  patriot  soul  and  sets  his  heart  aflame, 
And  nerves  the   veriest  slave  that  e'er  shrank  from  a  tyrant 

foe 
To  leap  to  life  with  armed  hand,  and  give  him  blow  for  blow — 
To  strike  the  despot  to  the  death  though  bulwarked  round  in 

steel, 
And  right,  with  fierce  and  desperate  strength,  the  wrongs  that 

brave  men  feel! 

VI. 

Here,  on  the  field  of  Gettysburg,  where  treason's  banner  flew: 

Where  rushed  in  wrath  the  Southern  gray  to  smite  the  North- 
ern blue; 

Where'er  that  blue,  by  valor  nerved,  in  serried  ranks  was 
seen 

There  flashed  between  it  and  the  foe  the  daring  Irish  Green ! 


198  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

And  never  yet,  on  any  land,  rushed  forth  to  Freedom's  aid 
A  braver  or  more  dauntless  band  than  Ireland's  brave  Brigade. 
Pause  on  their  graves!      'Tis  holy  dust  ye  tread  upon  to-day — 
The  dust  of  Freedom  s  martyred  dead,  whose  souls  have  passed 
awayl 


VII. 


No  more  the  ringing  bugle  blast 

Shall  fright  the  trembUng  air; 
No  more  the  squadrons  hurrying  fast 
To  meet  the  charge — perchance  their  last — 

Amid  the  battle's  glare; 
Their  pride,  their  strength— all,  all  are  past. 

In  peace  they  slumber  there, 
And  comrades  true  beside  them  lie, 

Who  oft,  on  field  and  flood, 
Fought  in  the  strife  for  Liberty 

And  sealed  their  faith  in  blood; 
But  never  yet  beat  hearts  as  proud 

As  those  which  Ireland  gave. 
Night's  sable  mantle  was  their  shroud. 

The  battlefield  their  grave! 


But  though  from  earth  have  passed  away 

Their  spirits  bold  and  true. 
And  tombed  in  cold  and  senseless  clay 
The  hearts  that  bounded  warm  and  gay 
III  war's  wild  wassail— every  fray 

Where  men  could  dare  and  do — 
Their  deeds  will  shine  in  Freedom's  ray, 

While  tyrants  stand  appalled; 
Their  name  and  fame  shall  last  for  aye, 
And  brighter  burn  from  day  to  day 
Till  the  sun  sinks  into  eternity, 

And  the  Judgment  Roll  is  called! 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  199 


THE  IRISH  BRIGADE  AT  GETTYSBURG. 


Respectfully  Dedicated  to  the  Surviving  Veterans  of  that 
Famous  Corps. 


BY    WILLIAM    GEOGHEGAN. 


O  comrades,  step  with  reverent  tread 

Toward  this  historic  mound  ; 
The  soil  that  soaks  the  brave  man's  blood 

Is  always  holy  ground. 
Here  five  and  twenty  years  ago 

An  Irish  phalanx  stood, 
And  here  they  swelled  the  battle  tide 

With  generous  Celtic  blood. 


Thro'  many  a  fierce,  ensanguined  fight 

Two  banners  o'er  them  flew — 
The  emblems  of  the  land  they  left 

And  the  land  they  came  unto ; 
No  stain  e'er  fell  on  either's  folds— 

No  foeman  e'er  could  say 
He'd  plucked  a  tassel  from  those  staffs 

Or  snatched  a  shred  away. 

III. 

Though  rent  and  splintered,  flags  and  staffs - 

With  foemen  face  to  face — 
Above  the  vanguard's  fire-swept  line 

Those  flags  maintained  their  place. 
And  out  of  Stonewall  Jackson's  lips 

The  wrathful  sentence  drew: 
"  There  goes  that  damned  green  flag  again 

Beside  the  Yankee  blue  I " 


200  MEMOIBS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

IV. 

On  Fair  Oaks  field,  on  Marye's  heights, 

Thro'  Fredericksburg's  dread  days. 
Well,  well,  the  Southland's  veterans  knew 

Those  blended  banners'  blaze. 
Where'er  the  fight  was  desperate 

And  spears  struck  fire  from  spears, 
Those  flags  flashed  out  above  the  lines 

Of  the  Irish  Brigadiers. 


The  war  drum's  throb  and  bugle  sound 

Ye  loved  to  hear  is  o'er— 
The  damp,  cold  earth  is  heaped  above 

Your  hearts  forevermore; 
But  memory  of  your  gallant  deeds 

Enlivens,  stirs,  and  thrills. 
Like  echoes  of  a  clarion  call 

Around  Killarney's  hills.* 


"ONE  LINE  OF  EMMET'S  EPITAPH  HAS  BEEN 
WRITTEN  ! " 


"  Tenting  on  the  Old  Camp  Ground  "  was  then  rendered. 
The  recollections  of  five  and  twenty  years  ago  and  the  pathos 
of  the  voices,  especially  that  of  Mrs.  Rice  Knox,  left  few  dry 
eyes  "on  the  Old  Camp  Ground."  An  excellent  reed  organ 
brought  all  the  way  from  New  York,  was  skilfully  presided 
over  by  Miss  Grace  Haverty.  It  stood  near  the  rock  from 
which  general  absolution  had  been  given  to  the  army,  July  2i 
1863.  In  an  almost  similar  way,  three  days  were  spent  in  dedi- 
cating numberless  monuments  that  dot  the  entire  battlefield 
of  July  1,  2,  and  3,  1863. 


*  The  echoes  of  a  bugle  or  horn  blast  reverberate  among  the  Kil- 
larney  hills  long  after  the  original  sound  producing  them  has  died 
entirely  away. 


CHAPTEK   XXXI. 


FROM    GETTYSBURG   TO    THE    RAPPAHANNOCK. 

WE  now  return  to  take  up  the  thread  of  our 
narrative,  which  we  dropped  at  the  end  of 
the  battle  of  Gettysburg  to  tell  the  story  of  the 
celebration  of  the  twenty -fifth  anniversary  of  that 
battle. 

Gettysburg  battle  once  over,  the  army  followed  up 
Lee,  and  as  he  retreated  toward  the  Rappahannock 
River  we  also  moved  in  the  same  direction.  July  1 
found  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  fighting  at  Gettys- 
burg, after  a  zigzag  march  of  between  two  and  three 
hundred  miles  from  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock 
to  the  battlefield.  Now,  after  the  battle  (having 
spent  some  time  in  burying  the  dead),  we  began  to 
march  again  and  were  obliged  to  retrace  our  steps  to 
the  place  from  which  we  had  started  in  June.  I  will 
not  ask  the  reader  to  follow  this  counter  march,  but 
will  simply  relate  a  few  incidents  which  occurred  on 
the  way.  During  our  return  we  had  occasional  spats 
with  the  Confederates.  One  morning,  after  march- 
ing all  night,  we  received  orders  at  break  of  day  to 
halt  and  prepare  some  coffee.     Just  as  the  small  fires 

(201) 


202  MEMOIKS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

began  to  send  their  tiny  columns  of  smoke  toward 
the  sky  the  sun  peeped  out,  as  it  were,  to  see  what 
was  going  on.  Acting-Brigadier  Kelly,  commander  of 
our  brigade,  and  myself  had  just  halted  under  a  large 
wild  cherry  tree,  when,  to  our  consternation,  a  cannon 
ball  crashed  through  its  branches  over  our  heads ! 
This  ball  was  followed  by  another  and  another.  We 
had  no  notice  whatever  of  the  Confederates  being  so 
near  us,  and  it  was  a  complete  surprise.  Had  not  our 
men  been  veterans,  and  brave  ones  too,  we  might  have 
L-- witnessed  a  genuine  panic.  One  of  our  officers 
remarked  that  it  was  an  insult  to  call  so  early,  "even 
before  breakfast."  It  did  seem  very  impolite,  but  no 
time  was  lost.  Our  men  grasped  their  arms.  Pettit 
wheeled  his  battery  into  position,  with  his  usual  skill, 
"got  the  drop  on  them,"  and  soon  put  a  stop  to  the 
intrusion.  In  this  conflict  I  lost  my  horse,  but,  fortu- 
nately, I  had  another  at  my  disposal.  The  loss 
caused  me  very  great  inconvenience,  however,  as  I 
lost  also  a  small  altar  stone  and  some  other  necessary 
articles  which  I  always  carried  with  me  for  the  Holy 
Mass.  Needless  to  say,  we  also  lost  our  coffee.  The 
Confederates  withdrew,  but  only  to  seek  a  better 
chance  to  annoy  us  later  in  the  day.  We  started  to 
gain  "vantage  ground,"  and  they  did  the  same. 
There  was  considerable  timber  and  brush  in  that 
locality,  and  the  ground  was  so  uneven  that  we  could 
not  see  the  enemy  nor  could  he  see  us.  As  we  came 
to  a  clear  spot  along  a  railway  that  passed  our  moving 
column,  I  noticed  almost  in  front,  but  somewhat  to 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHArLAIN    LIFE.  203 

the  left  of  us,  a  line  of  soldiers  at  the  edge  of  a  wood. 
I  remarked  to   one  of  our  officers:  "Why  are  those 
troops  out  there?     I  supposed  we  were  in  the  lead!" 
"Oh,"  said  he,   "there  are  no  troops  there — can  not 
be."     "  Well,"  said*  I,    "  there  ^r^,    and  if  you  will 
mount  my  horse  you  can  see  them."     I  dismounted, 
and  the  lieutenant,  who  was  on  foot,  stepped  into  the 
stirrup  and  at  a  glance  saw  the  troops,  who,  by  this 
time,  were   a  little  closer;  and  he  saw,  too,  that  they 
were  Confederates  who  were  trying  to  outflank  us 
and  gain  the  "vantage  ground"  first.    We  dispatched 
word  immediately  by  an  orderly  to  the  commander, 
who  ordered  a  "halt!  front  face!  march!"  Then  "halt! 
ground  arms!"     The  commander  took  advantage  of 
the  bed  of  the  railway.    It  passed  through  an  elevation, 
making  a  cut  that  was  perhaps  two  or  three  feet  deep. 
In   this  cut — an  excellent  breastwork — the  Union 
troops  rested  on  their  arms  and  waited  for  the  Confed- 
erates to  come  up.    Had  I  not  seen  the  Confederates, 
mounted  as  I  was  on  a  horse  fully  sixteen  hands  high, 
we  might  have  been  cut  to  pieces.     Each  army,  or 
portion  of  an  army,  watched  the  other  and  manoeuvred 
for  quite  awhile.    As  we  could  do  nothing,  two  doctors 

\ and  myself  proposed  to  retire  and  get  some  coffee,  and 

to  find  a  place  for  the  wounded  in  case  there  should 

i^  be  a  battle,  as  by  this  time  it  was  getting  late  in  the 
afternoon.  We  selected  a  place  which  we  thought 
would  be  suitable,  with  ambulances  and  hospital  men 
ready  and  awaiting  results.  The  young  man  who 
attended  me  had  been  very  much  demoralized  by  the 


204  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

experience  of  the  morning  surprise,  and  he  had  lost 
our  coffee  and  provisions.  We  made  a  fire,  however, 
and  procured  a  few  ears  of  corn  from  the  supply 
brought  for  the  horses,  cooking  it  in  the  fire,  which 
half  burned  and  half  roasted  it.  This  we  were  eat- 
ing as  best  we  could,  when  a  scout  suddenly  rushed 
in  and  told  us  that  we  were  cut  off  from  our  troops 
^  by  the  Confederate  cavalry.  It  was  getting  dark 
and  we  hurried  away.  The  doctors  mounted  and  I 
did  the  same.  They  were  gallant  young  surgeons. 
One  rode  on  either  side  of  me  and  several  men  were 
mounted  and  followed  after  us.  To  an  excited 
lieutenant  who  had  charge  of  the  ambulance  I  looked 
very  much  like  a  general.  Riding  up  in  front  of 
our  calvalcade  and  tipping  his  hat  to  me,  he  said: 
"General,  where  shall  I  direct  the  ambulances?" 
I  did  not  undeceive  him  but  replied,  in  a  tone  of 
authority:  "  Have  them  driven  to  Fairfax!"  I  knew 
that  so  far  the  command  was  correct,  and  the 
lieutenant  did  as  I  told  him.  We  marched  the  night 
through,  having  had  nothing  to  eat  all  day  except  the 
parched  corn.  At  four  o'clock  next  morning,  having 
passed  over  a  small  river,  the  Occoquon,  I  think,  and 
finding  ourselves  safely  out  of  the  trap,  we  halted, 
tied  our  horses  to  some  small  trees,  and,  though  it  was 
raining  gently,  slept  on  the  ground  until  seven. 
Then  started  again,  and,  coming  to  a  small  log  cabin, 
entered  and  asked  for  something  to  eat.  The  poor 
people  seemed  to  be  alarmed  and  said  they  had  nothing. 
"  Oh,"  we  said,  "we  do  not  wish  to  deprive  you,  and 


MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE,  205 

we  are  willing  to  pay."  Then  they  took  courage 
and  gave  us  some  fat  pork,  corn  bread,  and  a  kind  of 
coffee,  made,  I  think,  out  of  burned  peas.  But  it 
was  warm.  There  were  three  of  us,  the  two  doctors 
and  myself.  We  gave  our  hosts  five  dollars,  and  they 
were  delighted,  and  so  were  we.  Hunger  made  that 
breakfast  the  most  delicious  we  had  in  six  months. 
We  continued  our  journey,  and  when  we  reached 
Fairfax,  again  near  to  our  troops,  we  saw  a  tent  where 
a  sutler  was  selling  cakes  and  canned  meats.  One  of 
my  companions  went  in  to  make  our  purchases  while 
I  stayed  outside  with  the  other.  After  marching  all 
night  and  sleeping  in  the  rain,  I  had  quite  lost  the 
appearance  of  a  general,  for  which  I  had  been  mis- 
taken on  the  evening  previous.  While  standing  out- 
side the  sutler's  tent,  covered  with  mud,  horse-hair, 
and  oak-leaves,  my  hair  and  beard,  unkempt  and 
uncombed  for  three  days,  flying  in  the  wind,  a  man  on 
horseback  dashecl^up  to  the  same  tent,  dismounted  with 
considerable  nonchalance,  and  with  scarcely  a  glance 
at  me,  peremptorily  ordered  me  to  hold  his  horse. 
Suiting  the  action  to  his  words,  he  extended  his  bridle- 
rein  toward  me.  It  was  customary  in  those  days  to 
hand  a  boy  or  an  idle  loafer  ten  or  twenty -five  cents 
for  holding  an  officer's  horse  for  a  short  time.  The 
occurrence  was  somewhat  stunning.  ^  ''  How  hath  my 
greatness  fallen  in  one  night !  "  I  soliloquized.  '*  Last 
night  I  was  taken  for  a  general;  this  morning  I  am 
taken  for  a  loafer  waiting  to  earn  ten  or  twenty-five 
cents."      The  man  who  had  commanded  me  to  hold 


206  MEMOIllS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

his  horse  was  not  an  officer,  as  far  as  I  could  ascer- 
tain.    He  looked  like  one  who  was  earnest  in  his  duty. 
Just  as  he  was  extending  the  bridle-rein  to  me,  the 
doctor,  who  had  been  making  the  purchases  in  the 
tent,  came  out,  and,  lifting  his  right  hand  to  his  hat 
very  politely,   by    way   of   salute,  said:      "  General 
(keeping  up  the  joke),  I  have   a   good   supply   for 
to-day."     The  stranger  who  owned  the  horse  looked 
sharply   at  me,  with   terror  in  his  face,  and  quickly 
darted  out  of  sight.     He  seemed  confounded  at  the 
thought  of  having  asked  a  general  to  hold  his  horse. 
A  few  days'  marching  brought  us  within  five  miles 
of  Warrenton,  where  we  encamped.     Here  we  had  a 
chance  to  wash,  comb  our  hair  and  beards,  and  feel 
like  white  men  once  more.     I  could  not  say  Mass  the 
whole  week,  as  I  had  not  the  means.     On  Saturday, 
however,  it  happened  that  information  came  to  me  that 
there  was  a  Catholic  Church  in  Warrenton.   I  started 
at  once,  and  found  a  small  church.     There  were  not 
many    Catholics    at   any    time  in  the    town,  and    I 
learned  that  the  church   had  been   erected  by   the 
Semmes'   family,  aided   by    one  ^  or  two  other  rich 
families.     Mrs.  Semmes  was  at  'this  time  a  widow. 
I    found   her    to    be    a    very    dignified,    intelligent 
lady.      She  had  a  large  family  of    brilliant  daugh- 
ters.    Many  of   the  daughters  and  female  relatives 
had    married   officers   in    the    army   and  navy;  but, 
if    I   mistake   not,    most  of  the   male  portion  were 
engaged  in  the  war  in  the  Confederate  cause.      Mrs. 
Semmes  herself  had  strong  secession  proclivities.  She 


MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  207 

had  charge  of  the  church,  and  gave  me  a  small  altar 
stone  and  also  baked  some  altar  breads  for  me,  and, 
although  she  thought  I  was  on  the  "  wrong  side,"  as 
she  expressed  it,  we  parted  good  friends,  united  in 
holy  Faith  which  no  war  can  disrupt,  and  against 
which  even  "  the  gates  of  hell  can  not  prevail."  I 
have  ever  since  cherished  an  esteem  for  the  family, 
and  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  several  mem- 
bers, notably  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  a  most  accomplished 
lady  and  one  of  the  best  harpists  I  have  ever  heard. 
Also,  Mrs.  Dr.  Clarke,  an  equally  refined  and  accom- 
plished lady,  well  known,  especially,  in  the  best  Cath- 
olic society  in  New  York  City.  Next  day,  Sunday, 
to  my  great  joy  and  to  the  joy  of  all  our  men,  I  cele- 
brated Holy  Mass  on  the  "  Tented  Plain,"  coram 
"  Multibus  in  armisy  Thus  we  sanctified  another 
spot  in  Virginia  on  our  march,  as  we  had  done  hun- 
dreds of  times  before,  and  which  we  continued  to  do 
until  we  reached  the  end  on  the  banks  of  the  Appo- 
mattox River  near  Petersburg.  The  children  of  Israel 
were  conducted  by  a  pillar  of  fire  in  the  night  and  a 
cloud  in  the  day ;  so,  in  our  darkest  hours  and  during 
our  longest  marches,  the  Holy  Sacrifice  made  us  feel 
that  we  had  God  with  us  to  guide  and  assist  us  to 
live  well,  and,  if  need  were,  to  die  well. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


AN  OFFICER  S    PIIEPAEATION    FOB    EXECUTION. 

FOR  obvious  reasons  real  names  can  not  be  given 
in  the  following  account.  In  July,  1863,  there 
were  in  our  camp  two  officers,  both  captains,  whose 
tents  were  next  each  other,  separated  by  only  a  few 
feet.  The  canvas  walls  did  not  obstruct  the  sound  of 
the  voice.  In  one  of  the  tents  was  Capt.  Peter  (let 
us  call  him)  and  in  the  other  Capt.  Paul.  One  day 
Capt.  Peter  heard  the  conversation  going  on  in  Capt. 
Paul's  tent.  It  was  about  himself  and  of  a  dispstrag- 
ing  nature.  Capt.  Peter  felt  his  blood  boil,  but  he 
went  out  of  his  tent  so  that  he  might  not  hear  any 
more  of  the  talk.  After  awhile  he  returned  to  his 
tent,  sat  down  all  alone,  and  began  to  read.  Again 
he  heard  the  conversation  about  himself,  and  growing 
still  worse,  in  proportion,  probably,  as  more  wine  had 
been  taken.  Capt.  Peter  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
He  got  up  to  remonstrate,  and,  with  no  serious  inten- 
tion, just  as  he  was  passing  out  of  his  tent  took  up  a 
revolver  that  lay  on  a  stand  near  the  door,  and  walked 
over  to  the  front  of  his  neighbor's  tent.  He  turned 
back  a  portion  of  the  canvas  that  formed  the  closing, 
and  demanded,  in  a  stern  voice: 
(208) 


MEMOIKS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  209 

"  Captain,  do  you  mean  what  you  have  been  saying 
about  me?  " 

"Yes,"  came  the  defiant  reply,  ''  and  more." 
Having  the  revolver  in  his  hand,  he  shot  Capt. 
Paul.  That  moment  his  regret  was  so  great  he 
wished  the  arm  that  did  the  shooting  had  dropped 
from  his  body  in  time  to  save  the  life  of  his  fellow- 
officer.  But  his  regret  was  too  late.  He  was  court- 
martialed  and  sentenced  to  be  shot.  He  did  not 
belong  to  my  command,  but  he  sent  for  me  and  told 
me  the  entire  circumstances  as  given  above.  Then 
he  said  to  me:  "  Father,  do  what  you  can  for  me.  I 
have  but  a  short  time  to  live — only  a  few  days."  I  put 
him  on  retreat  and  spent  all  the  time  I  could  with 
him ;  and  oh,  how  fervently  the  poor  man  prayed! 
He  ate  almost  nothing,  wept  bitterly  over  the  sins  of 
his  past  life,  asked  God  thousands  of  times,  day  and 
night,  to  pardon  him  and  all  his  enemies;  begged  for 
mercy,  also,  for  the  poor  soul  he  had  sent  prematurely 
to  eternity;  and,  finally,  he  made  a  confession  with 
heartfelt  sorrow.  I  kept  before  his  mind  the  infinite 
mercy  of  God,  the  sufferings  of  Christ  on  the  cross, 
and  other  reflections  of  a  similar  nature.  I  spent 
most  of  the  night  previous  to  the  day  set  for  his  exe- 
cution in  his  tent,  and  was  seriously  affected  by  his 
groans  and  lamentations  over  past  transgressions. 
Next  morning  I  brought  him  Holy  Communion.  He 
received  most  devoutly,  and,  after  making  a  pious 
thanksgiving,  told  me  that  he  had  prayed  all  night — 

had  not  slept  one  hour.     Finally  the  time  came,  and 
14 


210  MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

a  squad  of  men,  with  fixed  bayonets,  were  at  hand  to 
lead  him  out.     Just  then  an  officer  came  dashing  for- 
ward and  cried:    "  Halt!    A  dispatch  received!     Par- 
don  granted!"      The    prisoner    was  in  the   act  of 
moving  out  in  sad  silence  to  meet  his  death  when  this 
announcement  fell  on  his  ears.       The  reaction  was 
too    much    for    him — he   dropped   into   a  seat   and 
fainted.      He   had  nerved   himself    to   meet   death, 
and,  very  unexpectedly,  he  was  free.     This  narrative, 
although  touching  by   the  nature  of  the  subject,  is 
still  far  short  of  the  reality.     One  must  witness  such 
scenes  to  realize  them  to  the  full  extent.   It  occurred  to 
me  at  the  time,  and  frequently  since,  that  his  earnest 
preparation  for  death  would  form  an  excellent  model 
for  all  of  us.     It  was  one  full  of  faith  and  self -con- 
viction, accompanied  with   deep  humility   and  true 
contrition.  0  In  August  I  received  from  his  accom- 
"plished  wife  the  following  letter,  which  I  copy  ver- 
bdtim,  written  in  answer  to  the  one  I  had  written  to 
her  breaking  the  news  of   her  husband's   fate,  and 
offering  all  the  consolation  I  could  under  the  circum- 
stances : 

u  X ,  Ky.,  Aug. ,  1863. 

"  The  Rev.  William  Corby: 

"  I  have  received  yours  of  July  30,  and  feel  deeply  indebted 
and  truly  grateful  to  you  for  the  kindness  you  manifested 
toward  my  husband  in  the  hour  of  his  great  trial.  The  conso- 
lations of  religion  are  always  sweet— always  soothing  to  the 
soul  of  the  believer;  but  when  called  upon  to  sever  earthly  ties, 
to  bid  farewell  to  earthly  scenes,  when  our  days  and  hours  are 
numbered,  oh!  how  precious  then  is  the  assurance  of  a  Lover's 
undying  love;  His  promise  of  pardon  and  life  everlasting  to  all 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  211 

who  believe  in  Him  How  welcome,  then,  is  the  Minister  of 
God,  to  point  the  way  to  that  glorious  rest  prepared  for  the 
children  of  God  in  heaven!  Be  assured,  then,  of  my  heartfelt 
thanks  for  your  kindness.  My  earnest  prayer  is  that  you  may 
long  continue  in  your  labor  of  love;  that,  like  St.  Paul,  you  will 
have  fought  a  good  light,  and  there  will  be,  therefore,  laid  up 
for  you  a  '  Crown  of  Life.' 

"  Very  respectfully, 

"Jane  ." 

Other  priests  in  the  army  had,  possibly,  incom- 
parably more  chances  than  I  to  bring  consolation  to 
the  afflicted,  to  minister  to  the  needy  the  rites  of  the 
church,  and  to  extend  a  helping,  hand,  not  only  to  the 
sick,  wounded,  and  dying  soldiers,  but  also  to  send 
authentic  accounts  to  the  anxious  and  weeping  rela- 
tives at  home,  which  must  have  been  to  them  a  balm 
to  aid  in  healing  and  curing  their  bleeding  hearts. 
Amid  the  long  marches,  during  derivations  of  food 
and  shelter,  those  chaplains  felt  their  mission  was 
not  absolutely  and  entirely  a  fruitless  one.  In  my 
limited  experience  I  can  say  that  the  answers  to  hun- 
dreds of  letters,  written  at  the  request  of  distressed, 
sick,  wounded,  and  dying  soldiers,  were  teeming  with 
sentiments  of  sincere  gratitude.  But  who  can  tell 
what  a  boon  it  was  for  the  poor  departing  soul  to  have 
a  chance,  far  from  all  churches,  far  from  home;  yea! 
perhaps  in  the  depths  of  a  dismal,  mountainous  land, 
covered  with  wild  forests,  to  receive  the  sacraments 
of  Holy  Church !  The  good  soldiers  were  not  unmind- 
ful of  such  advantages,  and,  consequently,  would 
sacrifice  all  comfort  and  make  almost  any  sacrifice  to 
accommodate  the  priest  whom  the   Church,  in  her 


212  MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

maternal  care  for  souls,  placed  over  them  to  minister 
to  their  spiritual  wants, 
f^  We  continued  our  routine  of  marching  and  counter- 
marching until  we  finally  entered  a  campaign  called 
*'  Mine  Kun."  But  from  this  Gen.  Meade  was 
obliged  to  fall  back  about  November,  12,  1863. 
Some  cavalry  and  artillery  fighting  followed  up 
our  corps,  the  2d.  We  met  some  loss  and  some 
of  us  had  "  very  close  calls."  However,  we  captured 
a  battery  of  six  guns  and  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
prisoners.  Another  move  was  made  in  December 
across  the  Eapidan,  iDut  no  general  engagement  took 
place.  This  closed  the  year  1863,  and  our  troops 
went  into  winter  quarters  on  the  north  banks  of  the 
Eapidan  Eiver,  which  empties  into  the  Kappahan- 
nock  about  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  up  the  river  from 
Fredericksburg,  Va. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 


WE    GO    TO    NEW    YORK    CITY    AND    RETURN. 

THE  time  for  which  most  of  the  men  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  had  enlisted  had  now  nearly- 
expired.  A  general  move  was  made  to  induce  the 
veterans  to  re-enlist  "for  the  war."  The  members 
of  the  Irish  Brigade  were  among  the  very  first  to  do 
so.  In  December,  1863,  the  Government  gave  us 
free  transportation  to  New  York  for  ourselves,  horses, 
and  servants.  We  reached  New  York  City  January 
2,  1864,  and  lived  in  the  city  a  portion  of  that  win- 
ter. A  grand  banquet  was  tendered  us  in  Irving 
Hall,  where  Gen.  Meagher  made  one  of  his  typical, 
eloquent  speeches.  He  was  followed  by  many  others. 
The  hall  was  a  commodious  one  and  highly  decorated. 
American  shields  were  placed  around  on  the  walls, 
and  the  names  of  all  the  battles  in  which  the  brigade 
had  taken  part,  from  that  of  Yorktown  to  that  of 
Gettysburg,  were  written  on  them.  The  old  flags, 
full  of  bullet  holes,  were  suspended  amid  the  new 
ones  lately  presented  by  friends  in  New  York.  So 
the  hall  presented  an  appearance  well  suited  to  the 
occasion.  The  galleries  were  full  of  ladies,  many 
(213) 


214  MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

and  most  of  them,  were  related,  so  to  speak,  to  the 
brigade.  It  was  noticed  that  most  of  them  were 
dressed  in  black.  We  naturally  asked  ourselves  the 
questions:  Was  there  a  mother  there  who  had  not 
lost  a  son?  Was  there  a  daughter  there  who  had 
not  lost  a  loving  father?  Was  there  a  sister  there 
who  had  not  lost  a  noble,  promising  brother?  And 
for  what  ?  In  what  cause  ?  In  the  cause  of  Union 
and  Liberty !  A  boon  the  sons  of  Erin  could  appre- 
ciate, since,  under  the  hand  of  tyranny  and  oppres- 
sion, .many  of  their  forefathers  had  died  of  starvation 
and  want.  Even  at  that  very  time  cries  of  suffering 
came  across  the  billows  of  the  Atlantic,  telling  how 
precious  was  the  liberty  they  were  enjoying  in  the  land 
of  their  adoption  and  under  whose  flag  they  had 
marched  and  fought;  and,  even  if  many  had  died,  bet- 
ter die  in  a  good  cause  than  starve  to  death  under  the 
iron  heel  of  despotism;  and  these  sentiments  were 
often  expressed  during  our  sojourn  in  New  York.  The 
men  visited  their  homes,  and  found  themselves  once 
more  in  the  embrace  of  their  loving  families. 

The  number  of  our  men,  however,  was  not  large. 
Battles  and  sickness  had  served  to  thin  our  ranks; 
nevertheless,  those  who  were  at  home  were  real 
heroes  and  were  idolized  as  such  by  the  people. 
Their  friends  "  trotted  them  out,"  to  use  a  homely 
phrase,  as  one  would  show  off  curiosities  in  a  museum. 
The  veterans,  too,  were  full  of  war  stories  without 
drawing  on  their  imagination  to  manufacture  them. 
Simple  oral  narrations  of  what  occurred  in  the  camp, 


\ 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  215 

on  the  march,  in  the  battle,  with  a  description  of 
the  life  they  led,  their  sleeping  places,  their  food, 
the  kind  of  water  they  had  to  drink  and  use  in  mak- 
ing their  coffee,  were  all  more  impressive  than  any 
written  page,  from  the  very  fact  that  such  accounts 
were  known  to  be  real.  The  soldiers  did  almost  noth- 
ing but  talk,  and  the  people  and  friends  looked  on  in 
silent  admiration.  Thus  passed  the  time,  while  on 
Sundays  they  had  the  pleasure  of  once  again  going 
to  their  parish  churches  to  be  refreshed  by  the  sweet 
music  of  the  choirs  and  organs  and  the  eloquence  of 
their  beloved  pastors,  whom,  thank  God,  they  lived  to 
see  once  more. 

The  officers,  however,  were,  on  the  other  hand, 
very  busy.  One  of  the  objects  of  our  visit  "  on 
furlough  "  to  New  York  was  to  recruit  the  decimated 
ranks  of  our  brigade,  and  by  an  extraordinary 
effort  wonders  were  accomplished.  Lest,  perhaps, 
too  much  luxury  in  city  life  might  unfit  us  for  the 
hardships  of  war,  we  received  timely  notice  to 
return  to  camp.  During  January  and  February, 
especially,  much  had  been  done  to  fill  up  the  brigade, 
and,  as  we  made  ready  to  return  to  camp,  we  found 
many  new  companions  anxious  to  learn  of  us — who 
were  now  regarded  as  authorities,  having  been  so 
long  in  the  field  and  having  passed  through  so  many 
battles — all  about  the  life  of  a  soldier  in  "  active  serv- 
ice." Our  situation  was  enviable,  and  we  felt  our 
dignity  too.  .  Many  of  our  officers  remained  behind 
to  complete  the   work  of   recruiting,  and  as  fast  as 


216  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

they  could  they  sent  on  large  numbers  of  recruits, 
so  that  the  spring  of  1864  found  us  back  in  camp 
Brandy  Station,  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Rapi- 
dan,  from  which  we  started  for  New  York,  with  our 
ranks  so  thoroughly  replenished  that  we  were  nearly 
as  numerous  as  in  the  beginning,  September,  1863. 
Here  we  spent  the  spring-time,  with  nothing  to  do 
except  to  keep  up  the  routine  work  of  camp  life 
in  winter  quarters.  I  was  very  much  pleased  to 
learn  that  my  old  companion,  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Ouellet,  S.  J.,  who  resigned  on  April  25,  1862, 
had  re-enlisted  as  chaplain,  with  commission  dated 
February  15,  1864.  Father  Ouellet  was  a  good 
little  man  and  a  very  genial  companion.  The  men 
and  ofl&cers  were  delighted  to  see  him  back.  He  was 
very  popular  when  with  us  before,  and  during  his 
absence  of  nearly  two  years  we  had  learned  to  appre- 
ciate his  value,  and  his  reception  was  really  a  cordial 
one.  We  ''  put  our  heads  together,"  as  the  saying 
goes,  to  plan  out  the  spiritual  work  for  the  coming 
campaign,  which  we  knew  must  take  place  as  soon  as 
the  weather  and  the  roads  would  permit.  In  the 
interval,  we  spent  our  time  in  giving  every  opportu- 
nity to  our  men  to  practise  their  religious  duties,  and 
took  care  to  draw  in  the  raw  recruits  by  giving  them 
to  understand  that  once  the  campaign  opened,  as  we 
knew  by  experience,  there  might  be  a  general  engage- 
ment at  any  time,  and  when  least  expected.  Pru- 
dence, therefore,  suggested  that  preparation  for  the 
worst  should  be  made  in  advance.     I  met  one  good 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  217 

man  who  was  rather  slow  in  following  this  advice. 
He  was  familiarly  known  as  "Jack."  In  fact,  I 
never  found  out  his  family  name.  He  thought  there 
was  time  enough,  and  remarked  to  me,  in  a  vein  of 
good  humor: 

"Father,  will  you  not  be  with  us  on  the  march?  " 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied. 

"  Then,"  said  he,  "  I  will  get  a  touch  just  before 
the  battle." 

"Oh,  you  will?  May  be,"  said  I,  "you  may  get 
killed  before  the  regular  'fighting  '  begins." 

"And  do  you  tell  me  so?     How  is  that?"  said  he. 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  a  sharpshooter  from  behind 
a  tree,  or  even  from  the  top  of  a  tree  nearly  a  mile 
away  from  you,  can  send  a  ball  that  is  sufficient  to 
send  you  into  eternity  ?  Besides,  a  cannon-ball  or 
shell,  sent  from  a  big  gun  that  is  several  miles  off, 
may,  and  often  does,  send  a  dozen  or  more  to  their 
last  home." 

"  O  holy  Moses!  Father,  are  you  in  earnest,  or 
are  you  only  joking  with  me  ?  How  can  they  see  so 
far?" 

"  I  am  in  earnest.  The  sharpshooters  have  tele- 
scopes that  run  along  the  barrels  of  their  guns. 
Ask  any  of  the  veterans." 

"Well,  Father,  I  will  take  your  advice  and  be 
around  to  see  you  this  evening  after  the  'taps.'  I 
have  been  wild  enough  in  my  early  days,  and  it  is 
time  now  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf."  He  kept  his 
word,  arid  was   ever  after   faithful  to  his  religious 


218  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

obligation.  There  was  considerable  life  in  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  during  the  spring  months  of  March 
and  April,  1864.  Many  of  the  officers  had  visits 
from  their  wives.  Friends  and  relatives  came  to  the 
camp,  and  many  festivities  of  a  harmless  nature  served 
to  keep  up  the  good  spirits  of  the  troops  until  a 
general  move  would  be  commenced.  There  was  a 
large  hall  built  for  army  purposes  of  common  lumber 
in  our  camp.  This  was  at  the  disposal  of  the  Com- 
manding General,  Coldwell,  and  on  Friday  he  kindly 
sent  word  to  me  that  I  might  have  the  use  of  it  for 
services  for  the  Irish  Brigade  on  the  following  Sun- 
day, which  happened  to  be  the  first  Sunday  of  March, 
1864.  I  gladly  accepted  the  offer,  and  went  to  work 
to  prepare  my  little  sermon  for  the  occasion  with 
more  than  ordinary  care,  knowing  that  many  of  mixed 
creeds  would  be  present.  In  this  I  was  not  disap- 
pointed. Gen.  Coldwell,  though  not  a  Catholic,  as 
far  as  I  know,  and  all  his  staff,  composed  of  brilliant 
young  officers,  attended  in  a  body.  What  other 
officers  and  men  attended  not  belonging  to  our  brigade, 
I  could  not  tell.  At  all  events,  the  great  hall  was 
more  than  crowded.  The  officers  were  seated  in  front, 
and  back  to  the  door  and  away  out  on  the  grounds 
the  men  of  the  brigade,  and  others,  in  devotional 
reverence,  clustered  to  hear  Mass  and  to  listen  to  an 
instruction,  such  as  it  was.  This  "  Military  Mass  "  was 
celebrated  by  my  friend,  Father  Ouellet,  S.  J.,  and 
seemed  to  be  a  service  c^ract^rized  by  special  fervor 
and  piety.   The  brigade  felt  very  much  complimented 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  219 

at  the  spontaneous  and  kind  offer  of  our  good  Gen. 
Coldwell,  whom  we  always  regarded  with  great 
respect  for  his  excellent  soldierly  and  gentlemanly 
qualities.  Besides,  the  honor  conferred  by  the  pres- 
ence of  these  officers  was  highly  appreciated.  Many 
of  the  non- Catholics  who  attended  pronounced  the 
service  the  most  inspiring  and  religious  in  form, 
which  they  had  witnessed  since  entering  the  army. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


THE    EXECUTION    OF    A    SOLDIER. 

IN  camp  the  officers  have  time  to  attend  to  many 
duties  which  have  been  necessarily  postponed 
on  account  of  marching,  fighting,  or  reconnaissances 
incompatible  with  such  duties.  So,  when  in  camp,  all 
cases  for  military  offences  were  tried,  and  old  decisions 
disposed  of.  Early  in  April,  1864,  the  case  of  a 
soldier  named  Thomas  R.  Dawson,  not  of  my  brigade 
but  of  the  Nineteenth  Massachusetts  Regiment,  then 
in  the  Second  Corps,  came  up.  He  had  been  court- 
martialed  and  condemned  to  die — to  "hang  by  the 
neck  until  dead."  He  sent  for  me,  and  before  I  began 
to  do  anything  for  him  he  told  me  his  story,  in  a 
simple,  candid  way,  that  left  no  doubt  in  my  mind  as 
to  the  truth  of  what  he  said.  Still,  the  sentence  had 
been  passed  and  he  must  die.  The  facts  as  given  to  me 
were  as  follows :  He  with  two  other  soldiers  wandered 
from  camp,  and,  coming  to  a  house,  they  found  there 
wine  or  liquor  of  some  sort,  and,  needless  to  say, 
they  indulged  freely.  He  said  he  became  so  stupid 
he  knew  not  what  followed.  Some  men  and  officers  on 
duty,  passing  that  way,  arrested  him  on  a  charge  of 

(220) 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  221 

rape  made  by  an  old  woman  of  about  sixty.  The  other 
two  got  away  and  escaped  arrest ;  but  he  was  so  "  full" 
that,  unable  to  move,  he  became  an  easy  victim. 
His  being  under  the  influence  of  liquor  was  not,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  law,  a  sufiicient  excuse,  for  many 
reasons;  especially  because  he  was  out  of  camp,  and, 
besides,  he  had  no  business  to  be  intoxicated.  Still, 
taking  human  nature  as  it  is,  and  in  consideration  of 
the  other  excellent  qualities  of  Dawson,  the  officers 
of  the  regiment  did  not  wish  to  see  him  die.  They 
manifested  the  greatest  sympathy  for  him.  However, 
I  beeran  to  instruct  him  and  to  aid  him  all  I  could 
in  making  a  good  general  confession  of  his  whole 
life.  He  entered  on  his  religious  exercises  with 
exceeding  great  fervor.  Meanwhile  his  friends  were 
not  idle.  The  officers  of  his  regiment  drew  up  a 
petition  to  the  President,  Abraham  Lincoln,  and 
came  to  me  and  asked  me  if  I  would  be  so  kind 
as  to  go  to  Washington  and  present  it.  I  urged 
them  to  form  a  committee  among  themselves  for  that 
purpose;  but  they  insisted  on  my  going.  After  I 
had  consented,  they  mtide  a  new  copy  of  the  follow- 
ing petition: 

HEADQUARTERS,  NINETEENTH  MASSACHUSETTS 
VOLUNTEERS. 
Cole's  Hill,  Culpeper  Co.,  Va., 
April  17,  1864. 

Hon.  Abraham  Lincoln,  President  of  the  United  States: 

Your  Excellency: — We,  the  undersigned,  humbly  petition 
that  Private  Thomas  R.  Dawson,  Company  H,  Nineteenth 


222  '       MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Massachusetts  Volunteer  Infantry,  now  in  charge  of  the  provost- 
guard,  Second  Division,  Second  Army  Corps,  under  sentence 
of  death,  may  be  pardoned  and  returned  to  duty  in  his  regi- 
ment. Previous  to  the  commission  of  the  violent  act  for  which 
he  has  been  condemned,  he  was  an  excellent  soldier,  intelligent 
and  obedient.  Since  his  trial,  he  has  been  on  one  occasion, 
while  sick,  an  inmate  of  the  Regimental  Hospital  without  a 
guard,  and  had  every  opportunity  to  effect  his  escape  had  he 
desired  to  do  so.  His  course  at  that  time  is  very  creditable  to 
him.  He  served  during  the  Crimean  War  in  the  ranks  of  the 
British  Army  and  obtained  the  Victoria  Medal  and  Cross 
of  Honor,  bestowed  only  upon  the  bravest  and  most  daring 
soldiers  of  that  splendid  force.  As  in  duty  bound,  we  will  ever 
pray.  Your  obedient,  humble  servants : 

Edward  Rice,  Major  Commanding,  Nineteenth  Mass.  Vols. 
Elesha  a.  Hiaaks,  Captain,  "  "  " 

John  I.  B.  Adams,  1st  Lieut.,  "  "  " 

Thomas  F.  Winthrop,  1st  Lieut,  and  Reg.  Q.  M.,     "  " 

I.  P.  Pratt,  Assist.  Surgeon,  "  "  " 

John  B.  Thompson,  1st  Lieut,  "  "  " 

John  C.  Ferris,  1st  Lieut.,  "  "  " 

Charles  Sidney  Palmer,  1st  Lieut.,  "  "  " 

Ephrem  Abbott  Hall,  Jr.,  1st  Lieut.,        "  "  " 

I  certify  to  the  above;  all  the  officers  present  with  the 
regiment. 

William  M.  Curtis, 
First  Lieut,  and  Adjutant  of  the  19th  Mass.  Vols. 
This  will  be  presented  by  W.  Corby,  Chaplain,  Irish  Brigade, 

Second  Army  Corps. 


I  made  no  deky ;  got  a  pass  to  Washington,  and 
boarded  the  train  at  9  a.  m. ;  but,  although  the  dis- 
tance was  not  perhaps  sixty  miles,  I  did  not  reach 
Washington  until  about  twelve  that  night.  The 
army  train  was  composed  of  box  cars  and  flat  cars, 
freights,  and  these  were  crowded  with    sick   soldiers 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  223 

and  wounded  men,  who  were  too  weak  to  be  sent 
sooner  since  the  last  battles  and  raids.  The  poor  sick 
and  wounded  suffered  terribly  on  this  tedious  trip, 
necessarily  prolonged  on  account  of  the  frequent 
stops  we  were  obliged  to  make  in  order  to  let  other 
trains,  bringing  provisions  to  the  front,  have  the 
right  of  way.  I  counted  my  own  hunger  and  fatigue 
as  nothing  in  comparison,  although  I  had  had  nothing 
to  eat  from  the  time  I  left  until  I  reached  Washing- 
ton, at  midnight.  The  length  of  time  on  the  way 
gave  me  a  better  opportunity  to  think  over  my  plans 
and  speeches,  so  as  to  insure  a  show  of  success  in  my 
important  mission  to  the  President. 

Next  day  I  brushed  up,  and,  being  comparatively 
young,  I  felt  like  a  fresh,  blushing  lieutenant  as  I 
neared  the  "  White  House."  I  met  the  guard,  sent 
up  my  card,  and  received  an  immediate  response  to 
enter.  I  did  so,  and  made  known  the  object  of  my 
visit  in  a  few  clear  terms.  The  good  President  was 
inclined  to  be  positive;  said  it  was  a  "hard  case," 
promised  to  take  the  matter  into  consideration, 
and,  across  the  back  of  the  petition,  which  was 
folded  in  the  long  form  usual  with  military  papers, 
wrote:  "See  for  the  25th  of  April."  This  was 
intended  for  a  note  to  remind  him  of  the  time  set  for 
the  execution.  Feeling  that  my  case  was  about  gone 
I  put  in  a  few  more  pleadings.  The  President  then 
asked  what  had  I  to  say  in  extenuation  of  the  crime. 
I  answered  that  I  could  not  say  anything  on  that 
score,  since  the  man  had  been  tried  by  court-martial 


224  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

and  had  been  found  guilty;  but  I  added  that  good 
reasons  had  been  set  forth  in  the  petition  for  mercy 
and  pardon.  I  showed  that  an  actual  injustice  had 
been  done,  according  to  military  standards,  in  keep- 
ing the  man  so  long — some  months — under  sentence ; 
the  suspense  he  had  undergone  must  be  considered 
as  unnecessary  cruelty.  Still  the  President  was  not 
inclined  to  grant  the  pardon,  and  said  that  sus- 
pense was  more  or  less  inevitable,  on  account  of  the 
movements  of  the  army.  But,  finally,  I  touched  a 
tender  chord.  All  who  knew  President  Lincoln  knew 
that  he  was  a  very  tender-hearted  man.  I  said, 
almost  in  despair  of  my  case:  "Well,  Mr.  President, 
since  I  have  seen  from  the  start  that  it  was  out  of  the 
question  to  plead  the  innocence  of  this  man,  or  to  say 
anything  in  mitigation  of  his  crime,  I  have  confined 
myself  to  pleading  for  his  pardon;  but,  since  Your 
Excellency  sees  fit  not  to  grant  it,  I  must  leave  his 
life  in  your  hands."  This  was  too  much!  His  ten- 
der heart  recoiled  when  he  realized  that  a  man's  life 
depended  upon  his  mercy.  As  I  started  across  the 
"  green  room  "  to  take  my  departure  he  turned  in 
his  chair,  and,  throwing  one  of  his  long  legs  over  the 
other,  said:  "Chaplain,  see  here!  I  will  pardon 
him  if  Gen.  Meade  will,  and  I  will  put  that  on 
the  petition."  Then,  under  the  note  "  See  for  the 
25th  of  April,"  he  wrote: 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  225 


15 


226  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

I  felt  proud  of  my  success,  and  thought  often  of 
the  importance  of  the  document  which  I  carried  back 
to  the  "  front  "  and  delivered  to  the  officers  who  had 
drawn  up  the  petition.  It  showed  that  my  mission 
was  not  an  entire  failure.  Still,  I  felt  that  Gen. 
Meade  would  not  take  it  on  himself  to  put  in  writing 
his  assent  to  the  man's  pardon.  I  wanted  the  offi- 
cers to  go  to  Meade  in  a  body,  but  they  were  shy  of 
such  duty,  and  bagged  me  to  do  so.  I  did,  but  with 
little  hope  of  succesk  I  called  on  Gen.  Meade,  then 
commander-in-chief  or  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and, 
producing  the  documeii/t  with  the  name  of  the  Presi- 
dent, I  told  the  general  the' whole  story  in  a  few  words. 
He  looked  at  the  paper  a  few  moments,  and  then  said: 

"  Father,  I  know  that  your  mission  is  one  of  char- 
ity; but  sometimes  charity  to  a  few  means  cruelty  to 
many.  If  our  discipline  had  been  severe,  or  cruel, 
if  you  will,  in  the  beginning,  we  would  not  have  so 
many  causes  for  execution  now.  Besides,  the  Presi- 
dent has  the  final  acts  of  that  court-martial  in  his 
possession,  and  he  should  have  given  the  final  and 
positive  decision.     I  will  not  act." 

"Then  the  man  must  die,"  said  I. 

"  You  may  see  the  President  again." 

"There  is  not  enough  time  left.  The  execution  is 
set  for  the  25th,  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "you  may  telegraph;  I  will  give 
you  the  use  of  the  military  wires." 

"No,"  said  I,  "the  case  seems  to  me  to  be  now 
between  you  and  the  President.  I  have  done  all  I 
could." 


MEMOIKS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  227 

The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  at  that  time  the  generals 
in  the  field,  or  some  of  them  at  least,  thought  that 
the  kind-hearted  President  was  too  good  in  pardoning 
so  many,  and  some  blame  was  attached  to  him  on 
this  account.  Now,  the  general-in-chief  could  not 
see  his  way  clear  to  do  what  had  been  found  fault 
with  in  the  President.  I  returned  with  a  heavy 
heart  and  told  the  officers  of  the  failure.  They  still 
urged  me  to  telegraph,  and  I  went  and  consulted  our 
good  friend.  Gen.  Hancock,  commander  of  our  corps. 
He  advised  me  to  telegraph. .  "You  can  do  so  from 
my  headquarters,"  he  said,  and  he  wrote  an  order  to 
the  operator  for  me.  I  telegraphed,  but  I  was  told 
afterward  that,  in  all  probability,  the  message  never 
reached  the  President.  The  secretary  of  war,  very 
likely,  put  the  dispatch  in  the  fire,  for  I  never 
received  an  answer.  All  this  time  our  poor  sufferer 
was  between  hope  and  despair.  He  made,  however, 
a  good  preparation  for  death.  God  gave  him  the 
special  grace  of  what  seemed  " perfect  contrition"; 
for,  like  Mary  Magdalen  washing  the  feet  of  Christ 
with  her  tears,  he  also  bedewed  the  ground  with 
tears  of  sorrow  and  sincere  repentance.  Shortly 
before  the  hour  of  execution  the  officer  of  the  pro- 
vost-guard sent  to  me  for  permission,  or,  rather,  asked 
if  I  would  allow  the  condemned  soldier  some  whisky 
to  brace  him  up.  I  promptly  replied:  "No!  his 
faith  will  brace  him  up.  I  want  my  penitent  to  die 
sober;  to  die  with  a  clear  mind  and  with  a  heart  pre- 
fixed by  true  contrition  and  the  holy  sacraments." 


228  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

The  troops  were  drawn  up  and  massed  in  front  of  the 
scaffold.  I  accompanied  my  penitent,  encouraging 
him  to  make  a  generous  sacrifice  of  his  life  for  Him 
who  did  not  hesitate  to  die  for  our  redemption.  He 
felt  confident  that  he  had  done  all  he  could;  had 
confessed  contritely,  received  Holy  Communion 
devoutly,  and  trusted  the  rest  to  God's  mercy.  He 
walked  with  a  firm  step.  He  had  permission  to 
speak,  and  he  said:  "You  may  break  my  neck,  but 
you  can  not  break  the  seal  of  manhood."  He  seemed 
to  be  roused  to  say  more,  but,  fearing  he  might 
become  excited,  I  suggested  that  he  ought  to  stop 
there,  and  he  did.  The  black  cap  was  adjusted  over 
his  eyes,  the  rope  placed  about  his  neck,  the  signal 
was  given,  and  he  dropped  into  eternity,  April  25, 
1864.  By  his  death,  encountered  with  Christian  sen- 
timents and  united  with  the  merits  of  Christ,  he 
wiped  out  the  sins  of  his  past  life.  Had  he  been 
pardoned  he  might  not  in  the  end  have  died  in  as 
excellent  dispositions. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   WILDERNESS. 

THE  spring  campaign  opened  May  4, 1864.  Gen. 
Meade  still  continued  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac.  Grant,  who  was  confirmed 
by  the  United  States  Senate  as  lieutenant-general 
and  commander-in-chief  of  all  the  troops,  on  the 
2d  of  March,  18G4,  made  his  headquarters  with  us 
in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  and  had  much  to  say 
about  our  movements.  He  ordered  Meade  to  advance 
across  the  Eapidaii  on  the  above  date.  The  "ball" 
opened  on  the  5th,  and  until  about  the  20th  of  June 
we  were  almost  continually  under  fire,  not  being  out 
of  range  during  the  whole  of  that  time.  Counting 
reserves,  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  160,000  men. 
The  Irish  Brigade,  having  recruited,  as  stated  else- 
where, during  the  winter,  went  on  this  campaign  in 
strong  force.  We  abandoned  our  winter  quarters 
and  started  out  on  one  of  the  most  severe  campaigns 
of  the  war,  fighting  and  marching  almost  con- 
tinually. Our  brigade,  with  the  rest  of  the  army, 
started  across  the  Rapidan  early  in  the  day,  and  after 
marching,  halting,  and  marching  again,  we  stopped 

(229) 


230  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

in  the  night  on  an  open  plain.  All  we  knew  was 
that  we  were  to  stay  there  jpro  tern.  Good  Father 
Ouellet  and  myself  stretched  out  on  one  army  blanket 
and  put  another  over  us.  I  placed  my  soft  military 
hat  over  my  face  to  keep  out  the  damp  night  air. 
Our  heads,  as  we  discovered  in  the  morning,  were 
only  about  ten  feet  from  a  country  road  and  on  this 
some  troops  passed  before  reveille  floated  on  the 
morning  breeze. 

Some  soldier,  while  passing,  saw  my  hat  and 
evidently  made  up  his  mind  that  it  was  a  better  one 
than  his  own.  Of  course,  he  did  not  know  who  I 
was  or  what  I  was,  and  cared  less.  If  it  had  been 
Gen.  Grant,  the  circumstance  would  not  disturb 
his  equilibrium  or  annoy  his  conscience  more  or 
less  on  that  account.  So,  softly  lifting  my  hat  from 
my  face,  he  replaced  it  with  his  own.  Soldiers  sleep 
soundly  after  marching  fifteen  or  twenty  hours.  It 
was  so  in  my  case,  and  I  did  not  feel  or  perceive  the 
loss  of  my  hat  until  reveille,  when  we  arose.  Father 
Ouellet  and  I  noticed  at  once  the  strange  hat,  and  it 
did  not  require  much  study  to  understand  the  situation. 
My  hat  was  new,  and  consequently  clean;  the  hat 
which  I  found  in  its  place  must  have  been  in  use  two 
or  three  years.  It  was  originally  a  soft  hat,  but  at 
this  period  of  its  existence  it  had  become  quite  hard, 
with  grease  and  dirt  soaked  and  ground  into  every 
fiber,  and  it  looked  as  though  it  had  been  covered 
with  black  wax  more  or  less  polished.  The  lining 
had  been  torn  out  a  year  or  two  previous,  and  the  bell 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  231 

of  the  hat  had  assumed  the  form  of  a  cone  or  pine- 
apple! Just  entering  on  a  desperate  campaign  as 
we  were,  I  could  not  go  back  nearly  a  hundred  miles 
to  get  a  new  hat,  and  to  find  the  stolen  hat  would 
have  been  as  finding  a  crow-bar  in  mid-ocean.  There 
was  no  alternative;  I  must  wear  that  very  dirty, 
greasy,  and  unseemly  hat  or  go  bareheaded.  The 
thought  of  it  spoiled  my  morning  meditation.  In 
due  time  I  mounted  my  horse  and  started  on  the 
march.  As  I  rode  out  among  the  ofiicers  and  men, 
even  my  own  troops  did  not  know  me.  Many  of 
them  thought  some  "dead  beat"  had  stolen  my  horse, 
since  the  horse  was  well  known  in  the  Second  Corps. 
Here  and  there  I  was  recognized  and  had  to  enter 
into  an  explanation  of  the  hat  business.  This  was 
great  fun  for  many,  but  not  for  me.  However,  we  had 
not  very  far  to  go  till  we  came  in  contact  with  the 
Confederates,  May  5.  This  was  the  beginning  of  the 
famous  "  Battle  of  the  Wilderness,"  the  first  under 
Grant  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  It  was  a  terrible 
battle,  in  which  many  of  our  poor  men  fell,  and  was 
continued  all  the  next  day  .with  increased  fury.  On 
the  7th,  Lee  fell  back  to  Spottsylvania  Court  House, 
and  on  the  8th,  Sunday,  Father  Ouellet  and  I  man- 
aged to  say  Mass  while  both  armies  were  making 
preparations  to  renew  the  bloody  strife.  The  soldiers 
who  had  been  seriously  wounded  waited  with  anxiety 
for  the  Holy  Communion,  which  was  given  them 
early,  their  confessions  having  been  heard  the  pre- 
vious evening.     On  the  9th,  there  was  considerable 


232  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

skirmishing.  Having  attended  all  our  wounded  as 
best  we  could,  and  being  on  the  point  of  starting 
under  orders  to  cross  the  Potomac  River,  I  made  one 
more  round,  and  up  to  the  left  I  found  Daniel  Lynch, 
a  private  soldier  of  a  most  obliging  disposition,  and 
for  a  long  time  detailed  to  assist  in  the  quarter- 
master's department.  Poor  Lynch  was  a  good- 
natured  fellow,  had  many  friends  and  no  enemies; 
but  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties  he  made  many 
blunders  for  want  of  system  and  education,  and  on 
this  account  he  was  returned  to  the  ranks  again  to 
carry  a  musket.  He  was  a  brave,  dutiful  soldier, 
and  when  I  found  him  he  knew  me  perfectly.  His 
mind  was  clear,  but  he  had  in  his  body  eight  bullets. 
I  prepared  him  for  death,  and,  dropping  a  parting  tear, 
was  obliged  to  leave  him  to  his  fate  in  the  Wilder- 
ness of  Virginia.  Out  of  his  goodness  and  kindness 
of  heart  he  had  rendered  me  many  services  in  '62-3. 
I  remember  on  one  occasion  we  secured  some  beans, 
which,  with  a  limited  quantity  of  pork,  would  be  for 
us  a  genuine  feast,  as  at  that  time  we  had  no  provisions. 
Instructed  to  cook  them,  he  started  to  a  farm-house 
to  get  water,  but  could  find  no  pail  to  get  water  from 
the  deep  well,  so  he  tied  the  black  pot  to  a  pole  and 
let  the  pot  down  into  the  well.  The  beans  were  in 
the  pot.  The  string  broke  and  pot,  beans,  and  all 
were  lost.  After  waiting  for  a  long  time  for  some- 
thing to  eat  the  captain  in  charge  sent  for  "Dan,"  as 
he  was  familiarly  called,  and  as  he  came  up  he  showed 
signs  of  trepidation. 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  233 

The  captain  roared  at    him:      "Dan,    where    are 
those  beans?" 

The  reply  came  slowly,  for  Dan  had  an  impediment 
in  his  speech:     '*The  p-p-p-p-ot's  in  the  w-well." 
"But  the  beans!     Where  are  the  beans?" 
"T-the  b-b-beans  w-w-was  in  t-the  po-p-pot!" 
Then,  poor  Dan  fled  before  the  anger  of  a  hungry, 
infuriated  captain,  and  the  prayers  that  followed  the 
poor  fellow  on  that  occasion  were  not  holy.     Dan, 
however,  did  not  mind  these  little  exhibitions.     He 
became    used  to  them,  and  was  just  as  cheerful  an 
hour  afterward,  just  as  willing  to  do  a  kind  service, 
as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  disturb  the  peaceful 
mind  of  a  modern  "Tribe"  camped  on  the  banks  of 
the  "River  Po." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


BATTLE   OF    SPOTTSYLVANIA. 

/^N  the  lOth  of  May  the  battle  began.  The  fire 
^^  of  musketry  and  cannon  opened  all  along  the 
line,  and  smoke  rolled  up  into  great  clouds.  The 
fierceness  of  the  conflict  showed  a  fury  born  of 
desperation  on  both  sides.  Wild  dashes  were  made 
by  our  men  and  lines  were  captured,  to  be  in  turn  lost 
and  captured  again.  The  battle  proved,  finally,  to 
be  the  most  sanguinary  of  the  entire  campaign.  Our 
men  fell  in  every  direction,  and  this  gave  abundant 
occupation  for  the  priests  who  were  there.  Father 
Ouellet  and  myself  had  all  (and  more  than)  we  could 
do  in  attending  to  those  who  were  mortally  wounded, 
while  we  must  be  in  readiness,  at  a  moment's  notice, 
to  administer  the  last  rites  of  the  Church  to  the  new 
victims  of  the  engagement.  That  evening,  as  we 
moved  up  with  the  advancing  troops,  the  battle  at  a 
late  hour  finally  ceased,  and  we  reconnoitered  to  see 
where  we  could  locate  for  the  night.  Near  a  spot 
where  many  of  our  wounded  were  being  collected, 
we  found  a  small  island,  a  stream  of  clear  water  hav- 
ing divided  and  passed  on  either  side.     The  little 

(234) 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  235 

stream  passing  round  us  was  not  more  than  four  feet 
wide  and  about  three  feet  deep.  The  island  was 
perhaps  fifty  feet  long  and  thirty  feet  wide.  It  was 
covered  with  beautiful  evergreens,  mostly  pines,  that 
furnished  excellent  shade  in  the  heat  of  the  day, 
should  we  happen  to  stay  there  a  few  days  to  enjoy 
it.  The  ground  was  clean  and  covered  with  the 
'' pine-needles"  that  fell  from  the  trees  and  lay  quite 
dry  on  the  ground.  These  pine-needles  we  used  to 
call  "  Virginia  feathers."  We  flattered  ourselves  that 
we  had  found  a  veritable  paradise  on  a  small  scale, 
where  we  could  spend  at  least  a  part  of  the  night  in 
sweet  repose.  Congratulating  ourselves  on  our  find, 
we  determined  to  hold  this  little  fort  as  long  as  we 
could,  as  our  headquarters,  while  ministering  to  the 
wounded,  of  whom  there  were  by  this  time  a  large 
number.  All  this  being  determined.  Father  Ouellet, 
who  carried  a  lantern,  and  I  started  out  to  see  what 
new  cases  might  need  our  ministerial  services.  We 
spent  a  good  portion  of  the  night  on  this  service,  and, 
returning  exhausted  by  fatigue,  lay  down  to  rest  and 
slept  very  soundly.  In  the  morning  we  were  both 
literally  covered  with  wood- ticks.  These  vermin 
infested  that  spot  and  turned  our  paradise  into  a  land 
"cursed  to  bring  forth  evil  things."  These  wood- 
ticks  are  of  a  livid  color,  a  species  of  "Acarus." 
They  bury  their  heads  and  shoulders,  so  to  speak, 
in  the  skin,  and  as  they  feed  on  your  blood  their  heads 
swell  inside  the  skin  and  their  bodies  swell  outside. 
The  body   assumes  the  size  and  shape  of    a  large 


236  MKMOIIIS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

pea,  and,  to  remove  them,  you  must  break  the  body 
and  leave  the  head  bedded  in  your  flesh.  Father 
Ouellet  and  I  had  to  go  through  this  morning 
exercise  by  way  of  making  our  toilet.  During  the 
day  we  suffered  terribly.  The  heads  of  those  pests 
were  still  in  deep  and  caused  a  burning  sensation 
that  was  anything  but  comfortable.  That  night 
we  secured  a  quantity  of  salt  and  washed ,  in  water 
impregnated  with  the  salt.  This  helped  us  some, 
but  for  many  days  we  endured  great  pain.  When 
perspiring,  the  raw  wounds  filled  with  the  perspiration 
and  smarted  so  as  to  throw  us  into  a  fever,  and  we 
passed  whole  nights  in  sleepless  agony.  It  may 
seem  strange  to  introduce  this  theme  in  the  midst  of 
such  fierce  conflicts,  but  this  is  precisely  my  reason 
for  doing  so.  Hundreds,  thousands,  I  may  say,  have 
written  up  those  conflicts  and  painted  them  in  the 
bloodiest  colors.  Whereas  few,  if  any,  have  entered 
at  length  into  the  details  of  other  trials  and  suffer- 
ings incurred  by  the  poor  soldier  while  serving  his 
country.  What  I  relate  is  personal  experience;  but  I 
hope,  by  the  relation  of  such,  to  give  my  readers — if 
I  should  have  any — a  notion  of  war  life  not  entirely 
made  up  of  the  "blood  and  thunder"  of  the  battle- 
field. This  will  also  help  to  depict  what  hundreds  of 
thousands  endured  during  the  war.  At  the  end  of 
this  tenth  day  Gen.  Grant  formulated  his  famous  dis- 
patch to  Secretary  Stanton.  After  passing  his  opin- 
ion on  the  result  of  the  six  days'  fighting,  he  said:  "  I 
propose  to  fight  it  out  on  this  line  if  it  takes  all 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  237 

summer."      On  the  11th  we  had  no  fighting  of  any 
account,  and  had  more  time,  consequently,  to  look 
after  the  wounded  and  dying  soldiers.     On  the  12th, 
our  Second  Corps,  of  which  the  Irish  Brigade  formed 
a  part  from  the  beginning,  made    a  charge  and  cap- 
tured three  thousand  men  and  forty  guns.     As  we 
started  early  that  morning  to  accomplish  the  strate- 
gic movement,  we  passed  over  some  ground  contested 
by  the  pickets  and  skirmishers  on  the  day  previous, 
and,  in  the  woods,  on  the   slope  of  a  hill  and  even 
along  the  roadside,  we  passed  many  dead  soldiers  not 
yet  buried.     I  found  one  Confederate  who  was  mor- 
tally wounded,  but  who  still  had  fuU  consciousness. 
He  had  not  been  baptized,  and  after  some  instruction, 
at  his  request,  I  baptized  him  and  hastened  on  to 
attend,  if   necessary,   any    others    that    might   need 
help.     The  battle  of  this  day  continued  till  late  and 
ended  a  fearful  struggle  of  eight  days,  during  which 
time  the  Union    army  lost,  in  killed  and  wounded 
and  missing,    29,850  men— a  large  army  in  itself; 
while   the    Confederates   lost,    perhaps,    even  more. 
Heavy  rains  set  in,  and  no  serious  or  important  move 
occurred  till  about  the  17th  of  May.     That  morning 
our  troops  were  ordered  to  advance,  and  more  carnage 
'  was  looked  for.     Very  early  that  morning  the  colonel 
of    the    Twenty -eighth    Massachusetts,    a    regiment 
which  formed  a  part  of  our  brigade,  called  on  me  and 
told  me  that  \\<dfelt  that  he  should  get  his  "  discharge" 
that  day.     He  was  a  very  brave  officer,  and  up  to 
this  time  had  no  serious  misgivings,  although  he  had 


238  MEMOIllS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

not  missed  a  battle  of  any  note  from  the  beginning. 
But  this  morning,  having  made  his  confession,  he 
gave  me  a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  he  had  marked 
down  what  he  wanted  me  to  do — namely,  to  turn 
over  to  the  quartermaster  a  horse  he  had  purchased 
in  Washington  a  short  time  before,  and  on  this  horse 
was  afterward  discovered  the  brand ''  U.  S." — showing 
that  it  Y^as  the  property  of  the  Government.  He  had 
been  deceived,  but  still  did  not  wish  to  keep  what  he 
found  out  the  man  in  Washington  could  not  in 
honesty  sell.  Other  items  were  to  be  attended  to, 
and  then  he  handed  ,me  the  following  letter,  which 
has,  by  a  mere  accident,  remained  in  my  possession 
ever  since.  It  was  addressed  to  his  wife,  and  ran  as 
follows : 

"  May  17, 1864. 
"  My  Dear  Ellen:— I  am  well.  No  fighting  yesterday;  but 
we  expect  eome  to-day.  Put  your  trust  and  confidence  in  God. 
Ask  His  blessing.  Kiss  my  poor  little  children  for  me.  You 
must  not  give  up  in  despair— all  will  yet  be  well.  My  regiment 
has  suffered  much  in  officers  and  men.  I  am  in  p^ood  health 
and  spirits.  I  am  content.  I  fear  nothing,  thank  Heaven,  but 
my  sins.  Do  not  let  your  spirits  sink;  we  will  meet  again.  I 
will  write  you  soon  again;  but  we  are  going  to  move  just  now. 
Good-by,  good-by;  and  that  a  kind  and  just  God  may  look  to 
you  and  your  children  is  my  fervent  prayer. 

"  Richard." 

The  letter  was  written  with  a  lead-pencil,  and  the 
address  of  his  wife  was  legibly  written  on  the  back 
of  the  folded  paper,  but  not  put  into  an  envelope. 
He  requested  me  to  send  it  to  his  wife  in  case  he  got 
killed,  as  he  expected.     One  can  see  from  the  tone  of 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  239 

the  letter  that  he  had  a  strong  presentiment  then  and 
there  of  his  death ;  for,  although  trying  to  console 
and  keep  up  the  spirits  of  his  beloved  wife,  he 
could  not  conceal  his  sentiments;  as,  for  instance, 
where  he  says:  "  Kiss  my  poor  little  children  for  me"; 
and,  again,  when  he  says:  "We  will  meet  again,"  he 
had  evidently  in  his  mind  the  world  to  come.  Sure 
enough,  he  received  his  death-wound  very  soon  after; 
but  in  the  mercy  of  God  he  was  not  killed  outright. 
He  lived,  I  was  told,  to  be  transported  to  Washington, 
where  his  loving,  faithful,  and  weeping  wife  and  chil- 
dren met  him  and  embraced  him  before  he  departed  for 
the  unknown  future.  I  can  not  tell  just  why,  but  among 
all  the  other  terrible  and  touching  scenes  of  this 
campaign  up  to  the  date  of  the  above  letter,  not  one 
made  such  a  deep  impression  on  me.  Even  now, 
after  about  a  quarter  of  a  century,  while  penning 
these  lines,  tears  of  sympathy  fill  my  eyes.  Of 
course,  I  never  sent  the  letter  to  his  wife;  because, 
first,  I  was  not  to  do  so  unless  he  got  killed;  and, 
secondly,  under  the  circumstances,  he  reached  Wash- 
ington before  the  letter  could  possibly  get  there 
except  tak«n  by  hand  on  the  cars.  Although  we  did 
not  lose  many  on  the  17th,  on  the  next  day  we  lost 
in  killed  and  wounded  one  thousand  two  hundred, 
and  on  the  19th  about  fourteen  hundred. 

It  would  be  tedious  for  the  reader  to  follow  the 
march  in  all  its  ramifications  during  this  campaign, 
so  I  will  simply  summarize,  in  as  brief  space  as 
possible,  up  to  the  20th  of  June.     As  we  have  seen, 


240  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

this  campaign  opened  on  May  4,  when  we  crossed 
the  Eapidan  and  headed  for  Richmond.  From  that 
time  on,  we  marched,  fought  great  battles  and  small 
ones,  and  engaged  in  many  fierce  skirmishes  in 
which  considerable  loss  took  place.  We  encountered 
untold  hardships  from  heat,  dust,  hunger,  and  thirst. 
Many  of  our  horses  died  from  thirst  or  were  over- 
come by  the  heat.  Men,  too,  dropped  in  the  road 
and  expired.  This  was  kept  up  from  the  4th  of  May 
till  the  20th  of  June.  In  the  interval,  we  crossed 
the  old  rivers  made  so  familiar  to  us  during  our  cam- 
paign under  McClellan,  in  '62;  namely,  the  Potomac, 
North  Anna,  Pamunky,  Chickahominy,  James,  and 
others,  and  landed  in  front  of  Petersburg,  Virginia. 
In  this  campaign,  out  of  160,000  we  lost  100,000  men 
in  less  than  two  months !  This  will  give  the  reader 
some  idea  of  the  hardships  of  those  who  survived, 
following  the  hardships  of  war  step  by  step  in  this 
campaign.  In  all  that  time,  although  not  fight- 
ing every  day,  we  were  only  at  very  short  intervals 
out  of  bullet-range  of  the  Confederate  rifles,  and  the 
poor  men — covered  with  perspiration,  dust,  and  vermin 
— could  not  even  wash,  part  of  the  time;  for  want  of 
water;  besides,  marching,  fighting,  digging  rifle-pits, 
etc.,  kept  them  engaged  so  constantly  as  to  prevent 
them.  Father  Ouellet  and  myself  followed  also  the 
fortunes  of  war,  and  with  our  dauntless  brigade 
marched  by  day  and  by  night  just  as  our  troops  had 
to  do.  Piety  was  put  to  a  severe  test  in  this  cam- 
paign; still,  when  a  halt  was  sufficiently  long,  we 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  241 

said  Mass,  and  encouraged  our  men  by  exhortations 
as  best  we  could.  When  one  of  them  was  found 
dying  from  sickness  or  mortal  wounds,  the  priest  was 
of  substantial  service;  and  from  the  carnage  and 
hardships  of  this  dreadful  campaign  one  may  easily 
see  that  the  opportunities  to  assist  dying  soldiers 
were  not  wanting  every  day  in  the  week.  ''  Fighting 
it  out  on  this  line"  was  expensive  in  men  and  money. 
But  it  satisfied  the  cry:     ''On  to  Richmond!" 


16 


CHAPTEE  XXXVII.  . 


OUR   LIFE    AT    THE 


I 


N  front  of  Petersburg  there  were  some  very  scientific 
•  works  of  defense  built  by  the  Confederates,  under 
the  skilful  direction  of  generals  in  the  Confederate 
service.  They  were  so  constructed  that  when  troops 
captured  an  outer  line  another  line  would  command 
the  flank  of  the  capturing  party,  and  the  troops  in 
possession  of  the  second  line  could  get  in  an  enfilad- 
ing fire.  This  is  a  most  destructive  fire,  and  for 
persons  not  familiar  with  military  terms,  I  would  say, 
it  is  simply  shooting,  not  across  the  line,  but  length- 
loise — just  as  a  hunter  desires  to  shoot  birds  perched 
on  a  rail  along  the  line  of  a  fence.  ^^.^ 

This  reminds  me  of  a  story  told  by  a  hunter,  given 
to  exaggeration,  and  will  illustrate  my  point.  He 
stated  that  on  one  occasion  his  shot  gave  out,  but  he 
had  plenty  of  powder;  and  seeing  a  long  line  of  wild 
/|)igeons  perched  on  a  board  fence,  he  put  in  his  ram- 
rod on  top  of  a  heavy  charge  of  gunpowder  and 
fired,  and  strung  on  the  ram-rod  ninety-nine  of  the 
birds!  His  friends  asked  him  why  he  did  not  say  a 
hundred?     *' Do  you  think,"  said  he,  "  I  would  tell  a 

lie  for  one  bird?     No,  sir!" 
(242) 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  243 

After  these  works  fell  into  the  possession  of  the 
Union  troops,  Father  Ouellet  and  I  went  to  inspect 
them  in  some  of  our  free  time.     Having  done  so,  we 
ventured  out  still  farther  in  front  of  our  troops,  and 
as  we  rode  along  we  came  to  the  top  of  the  high  hill 
^or  bank  from  which  we  could  look  down  into  the 
valley  of  the   Appomattox   Eiver,   on  the   banks  of 
which  Petersburg  is   built.     We   were  "  taking  in" 
the  scenery,  and  trying   to  discover,  if  possible,  the 
position  of  the  Confederate  army.     Finally,  beyond 
the  plain  and  far  off  on  the  side  of  an  elevation  of 
ground  we  noticed  something  very  indistinctly  stirring 
up  a  dust.     The  dust  seemed  to  be  about  the  size  of 
smoke  made  by  the   discharge  of    a   cannon.     We 
watched  the  dust  made  there  and  the  progress  it  was 
making,  but  had  no  fears  or  apprehensions  whatever. 
We  had  neglected  to  take  our  field-glasses  with  us, 
not  thinking  we  would  have  any  use  for  them,  so  our 
observations  were  not  very  satisfactory  to  us,  and  at 
such  a  great   distance  we   could  see  only  very  indis- 
tinctlyc     But,  evidently,  officers  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
dust  had  not  forgotten  their  field-glasses;  for,  in  less 
time  than  it  takes  to  write  it,  after  we  observed  the 
first  sign  of  dust,  they  discharged  a  cannon  which 
sent  a  ball  at  us  with  a  screeching   whiz  that  was 
really  wicked  in  the  extreme.     Father  Ouellet  was 
seated  on  his  white  horse  and  I  on  a  large  chestnut 
horse.     The  Confederates  had  our  range,  and  it  was 
probably  the  white  horse  that  first  drew  their  atten- 
tion; thinking,  likely,  that  we  were  officers  inspecting 


244  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

their  works,  to  which  they  wished  to  put  a  stop  at  all 
events.  Father  Ouellet  wheeled  his  horse  round 
without  delay,  and  while  doing  so,  and  instantly  after 
the  first,  came  a  second  shell  and  struck  the  bank 
just  in  front  of  us,  nearly  on  an  exact  line.  Father 
Ouellet,  while  putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  was  making 
quick  tracks,  but  I  had  a  semi-view  of  his  face, 
turned  partly  toward  me,  as  he  cried  out:  *'Did  you 
see  that?"  The  expression  of  consternation  on  his 
face  made  me  laugh  outright ;  for,  although  I  felt 
that  the  danger  was  serious,  he,  as  a  Frenchman, 
was  quicker  than  I  and  took  in  the  situation  more 
perfectly  the  first  instant.  The  first  ball  passed  over 
our  heads  and  the  second  one  was  a  little  too  low,  but 
if  they  had  had  the  exact  range  the  first  time,  our- 
selves and  our  horses  would  have  been  blown  into 
fragments!  We  retreated,  however,  in  good  order, 
and  there  was  no  casualty!  In  this  place  our  lines 
were  advanced  by  degrees  till  we  were  close  to  the 
Confederate  lines;  so  much  so  that  balls  fired  by 
sharpshooters  frequently  passed  through  our  ranks, 
and  on  one  occasion,  when  Father  Ouellet's  tent  and 
mine  were  side  by  side,  a  ball  passed  through  his 
tent  near  where  he  was  saying  his  office.  It  became 
so  hot  for  us,  after  a  while,  that  many  of  the  troops. 
Father  Ouellet  and  myself  included,  built  bomb-proof 
huts  by  excavating  in  the  hillside  and  covering  the 
top  with  logs  split  in  two,  flat  side  down.  This  was 
a  precaution  taken  not  only  as  a  security  against  stray 
rifle  bullets,  but  also  against  cannon-balls  or  shells. 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  245 

Our  front  line  was  so  close  to  the  Confederate  breast- 
works that  it  was  not  possible  to  fire  cannon  with  any 
effect  in  a  direct  line,  so  mortars  were  used.  These 
sent  their  shells  at  a  high  angle  of  about  forty-five 
degrees  or  more,  and,  having  reached  the  highest 
point,  dropped  into  the  Confederate  lines.  The  Con- 
federates, in  tarn,  sent  some  of  these  "messengers  of 
death"  into  our  lines  in  the  same  way.  Hence  the 
necessity  of  bomb-proof  huts.  We  often  spent  a 
part  of  the  night  watching  the  bombs  passing  up  and 
then  descending.  The  course  of  the  bomb  or  shell 
could  be  easily  followed  by  the  eye  at  night,  as  the 
burning  fuse  attached  to  it  was  distinctly  visible. 
The  second  day  that  I  was  located  in  this  place,  while 
standing  near  my  tent  talking  to  an  officer,  one  of 
those  dangerous  things  passed  over  our  heads  and 
killed  a  horse  tied  to  a  post  a  few  yards  away.  This 
locality  was  not  only  uncomfortable  to  our  troops  on 
account  of  the  proximity  of  the  Confederate  guns, 
but  also  on  account  of  the  burning  sand  and  lack  of 
shade,  excepting  what  we  had  in  our  little  huts, 
underground  and  only  fit  for  wood-chucks.  How- 
ever, there  we  remained,  like  "patience  on  a  rock 
monument,"  or,  imitating  the  example  of  Micawber, 
"waiting  for  something  to  turn  up." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


EXECUTION   AT    CITY    POINT — MOTHER  S   LETTER. 

ON  July  12,  1864,  I  received  the  following  com- 
munication from  Gen.  Meade: 

"Headquarters  Army  op  the  Potomac, 
"  July  12,  1864. 
"JRev.  TF.  Corby,  Irish  Brigade,  Second  Corps: 

"  Rev'd  Sir: — There  are  two  men  to  be  executed  on  the  15th 
inst.,  one  of  whom,  especially,  is  very  anxious  to  secure  the 
services  of  a  priest.  If  you  will  be  pleased  to  attend  him,  the 
provost-marshal  at  headquarters  will  be  instructed  to  furnish 
you  all  facilities  necessary  to  discharge  the  functions  of  your 
sacred  office.    By  order  of  "  Maj.-Gen.  Meade, 

"  S.  S.  Williams,  "  Com'd'g  Army  of  Potomac. 

"  Acting  Adj't-General." 

I  ordered  my  horse  at  once,  and,  accompanied  by 
the  aide-de-camp  and  orderly  who  were  sent  with  the 
message,  I  was  conducted  to  headquarters.  The 
acting  provost-marshal  was  informed  of  my  arrival, 
and  instructed  to  see  that  I  received  all  the  necessary 
information  and  means  to  prepare  the  condemned. 
On  being  introduced  to  the  provost-marshal,  the 
name  seeming  strangely  familiar,  "  Eichard  F. 
O'Beirne,"  I  asked  him  if  he  were  not  from  Detroit, 
Mich.  He  said,  "  yes,"  and  looked  inquiringly  at  me. 
(246) 


MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  247 

I  told  him  that  I  was  also  from  the  same  place,  and  a 
son  of  Daniel  Corby.  "0!  Father  Corby,  how  are 
you?"  he  cried,  grasping  my  hand.  "I  have  heard 
your  name  frequently  mentioned  here  in  the  army, 
but  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  from  Detroit  and  a 
son  of  Daniel  Corby,  whom  I  know  so  well!  "  This 
officer,  then  acting  provost-marshal,  had  not  met  me 
nor  I  him  since  we  were  small  boys,  about  fifteen 
years  of  age.  He  was  a  very  exemplary  youth, 
served  in  the  cathedral  in  Detroit  as  censer-bearer 
for  many  years,  and  stood  in  great  favor  with  the 
Right  Reverend  Bishop  and  the  clergy  in  the  city. 
After  we  had  talked  over  old  times  a  few  minutes,  the 
question  of  attending  the  poor  condemned  soldier 
came  up.  Provost  O'Beirne  gave  me  a  tent  and  had 
my  horse  cared  for,  and  I  went  immediately  to  the 
place  where  my  future  penitent  was  under  guard.  I 
found  a  man  who  was  quite  young,  possibly  about 
twenty,  of  an  excellent  frame,  healthy  and  strong. 
He  had  a  good  mind  and  was  somewhat  educated. 
He  was  not  a  low,  depraved  person  by  any  means, 
but  in  time  of  temptation  he  had  fallen.  The  crime 
was  much,  if  not  entirely,  the  fault  of  his  accomplice 
rather  than  his  own.  I  spent  a  few  days  with  him 
and  instructed  him  as  best  I  could.  On  the  evening 
of  the  14th  I  said  to  my  friend,  the  provost-marshal, 
that  I  wished  to  say  Mass  the  next  morning,  so  as  to 
communicate  my  penitent  on  the  morning  of  his 
execution,  and  asked  the  marshal  if  he  could  still 
serve   Mass.      "It   has   been   a   long   time   since   I 


248  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

performed  that  duty,"  he  replied;  "but  with  the  aid  of 
my  prayer-book,  no  doubt  I  can."  Everything  was 
made  ready,  and  next  morning  I  said  Mass,  com- 
municated my  penitent  under  guard,  and  having 
taken  some  coffee  which  my  friend  had  ordered  for 
me,  I  spent  the  balance  of  the  time  with  the  doomed 
prisoner  till  about  nine  o'clock,  when  a  general  move- 
ment took  place.  Troops  began  to  march,  and  there 
was  a  silence  that  made  one  feel  the  presence  of 
death.  Scarcely  a  word  was  spoken,  and  all  one 
could  hear  was  subdued  orders  given  by  an  officer 
here  and  there :  "  Fall  in !"  "  Eight  face !"  "  For- 
ward!"  "March!"  and  a  few  other  necessary  direc- 
tions. Excepting  the  steady  tramp  of  the  soldiers 
and  an  occasional  rattle  of  a  saber,  scarcely  a  sound 
disturbed  the  solemn  tranquillity  that  reigned  on  that 
morning  of  the  15th  of  July,  1864.  The  troops 
finally  closed  "en  masse"  in  front  of  a  large  scaffold. 
There  were,  perhaps,  ten  thousand  men  present.  A 
strong  guard  conducted  the  prisoner  to  the  scaffold, 
and  I  rode  beside  him  till  we  reached  the  spot.  Then 
we  dismounted  and  the  brother  of  one  of  the  victims 
held  my  horse  while  I  attended  the  two  men  and 
escorted  them  up  to  the  scaffold.  Without  very  much 
ceremony  the  ropes  were  adjusted  about  their  necks, 
and,  while  both  continued  to  pray  for  God's  mercy,  a 
silent  signal  was  given  and  both  dropped  dangling  at 
the  end  of  the  ropes — dead!  As  I  have  observed 
before,  these  scenes  were  harder  on  the  nervous 
system  than  the  scenes  witnessed  in  the  midst  of  a 


MEMOIKS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  249 

battle,  where  there  is  rattle,  dash,  and  excitement  to 
nerve  one  up  for  the  occasion.  And  the  poor  brother 
who  witnessed  the  scene!  What  anguish!  What  a 
wail  of  grief  filled  his  young  heart!  But,  oh!  what 
lamentations  filled  the  bosom  of  his  heart-broken 
mother  when  she  beheld  the  corpse  of  her  loved  son, 
sent  to  her  as  the  first  news  of  his  fate!  Let  her 
own  words  in  the  following  letter,  which  she  sent  me 
long  after  the  event,  tell  what  she  felt.  I  give  it 
verhatirriy  omitting  names: 

"  Westpield,  Dec .  22,  1864. 

"Dear  Father  in  Jesus  Christ:— I  am  the  unfortunate 
mother  of  X,  who  was  executed  at  the  headquarters  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  near  City  Point,  Virginia,  July  15. 
As  I  have  learned  from  his  own  writings  that  you  were  the 
priest  God  sent  to  prepare  him  for  death,  may  that  God  bless 
and  protect  you  and  give  you  a  share  in  His  heavenly  kingdom 
when  you  require  it,  is  the  prayer  of  my  heart. 

"  Dear  Father,  I  wish  to  inform  you  that  my  son's  remains 
came  to  my  view  two  hours  previous  to  the  tidings  of  his  death; 
thus  unexpectedly  did  I  see  my  child's  remains  come  to  me. 
The  very  day  I  received  these  tidings  I  was  preparing  to  see 
my  boy  after  three  long  years  of  weary  servitude;  but  welcome 
be  the  will  of  God  in  every  shape  and  way  it  may  appear. 

"  Dear  Father,  my  boy  requested  me  not  to  forget  to  have 
frequent  Masses  celebrated  for  the  good  of  his  soul,  and  thus 
far  I  have  had  three  solemn  high  Masses  and  two  low  Masses 
said.  May  the  Almighty  God  give  him  the  benefit  of  them.  I 
would  like  to  comply  with  all  my  dear  child's  dying  requests ; 
but  in  one  respect  I  can  not;  that  is,  not  to  grieve  for  the  death 
he  had  to  undergo.  Now  he  is  over  five  months  buried.  I  must 
acknowledge  to  you  that  my  tears  and  grief  are  as  fresh  as 
when  I  first  heard  of  it,  and  will  be  until  the  day  of  my  death- 
I  have  begged  of  God  to  give  me  grace  to  forgive  those  who 
have  deprived  me  of  him,  in  our  blessed  Saviour's  name,  who 


250  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

forgave  the  Jews  that  crucified  Him,  and,  thank  God,  I  have 
obtained  it;  for  I  have  never  said  any  worse  of  them  than  to  beg 
God  that  my  floods  of  tears  might  not  injure  them  in  either  soul 
or  body;  and  I  beg  of  God  that  He  will  give  me  grace  to  bear 
the  hard  shock  of  my  child's  death  with  resignation  to  His 
holy  will;  and  that  the  holy  Virgin  Mary  may  intercede  for 
him,  and  may  his  soul  rest  in  peace. 

"  Dear  Father,  I  hope  you  will  let  me  know  if  my  dear  child 
died  reconciled  with  leaving  this  world  and  going  to  meet  his 
God.  I  am  always  under  the  impression  that  the  grief  of  heart 
caused  me  troubled  him  more  than  anything  else  in  this  world 
except  his  own  soul.  I  also  have  to  inform  you  that  his  move- 
ments in  going  toward  that  place  of  execution,  and  the 
spectacle  of  his  bereft  and  heart-broken  brother  looking  at  him 
for  twenty  or  thirty  minutes,  as  I  have  been  informed  by  him, 
stand  continually  before  my  eyes.  I  offer  all  my  trials  and 
sufferings,  with  the  death  of  my  son,  in  union  with  the  death 
and  sufferings  of  my  dear  Jesus  and  His  blessed  mother,  in 
satisfaction  for  X's  sins  and  mine.  • 

"  Dear  Father,  I  have  deferred  this  writing  long,  but  I  have 
done  it  as  soon  as  I  felt  able.  I  hope  you  will  answer  this  and 
send  some  words  of  consolation  to  my  grieved  heart.  I  must 
conclude  by  humbly  asking  your  blessing,  and  believe  me  to 
remain,  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  JMrs   — — — 

"Westfield,N.  Y." 

I  give  this  letter  in  full  because  in  it  there  are  full 
expressions  of  a  mother's  grief,  and,  also,  a  profes- 
sion of  faith  and  solid  piety  that  is  truly  edifying. 
Persons  of  such  faith  do  not  commit  suicide!  They 
patiently  suffer  their  slow  martyrdom  till  it  pleases 
God  to  send  consolation  or  draw  them  to  His  own 
kingdom  with  the  expression:  "Well  done,  good 
and  faithful  servant." 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  251 

Not  since  the  war  have  I  met  my  friend,  O'Beirne; 
but  a  few  days  ago  I  clipped  from  a  daily  newspaper 
the  following  item  regarding  him : 

"  DEATH  OF  COL.  RICHARD  O'BEIRNE. 

"  HE   EXPIRED  WHILE   ON  A  LEAVE   OF  ABSENCE   ON   ACCOUNT    OF 
HIS   HEALTH. 

"  New  York,  Feb.  24,  '91.— Richard  F.  O'Beirne,  colonel  of 
the  Twenty-first  Infantry,  United  States  Army,  died  at  a  New 
York  hotel,  of  Bright's  disease.  Until  November  last  he  was 
in  command  of  Fort  Sheridan,  near  Chicago.  *  *  *  He 
was  appointed  to  the  full  rank  of  colonel  three  weeks  ago.  His 
father  was  private  secretary  to  Gen.  Cass,  of  Detroit,  during  the 
latter's  incumbency  as  Secretary  of  State,  besides  being  a 
prominent  judge  at  one  time  in  the  same  city,  Detroit,  Michi- 
gan. So,  one  by  one,  the  war  companions  pass  off  and  leave 
behind  them  many  sorrows  in  this  deceitful  world.  'Sic 
transit  gloria  mundi . '" 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


NEW   RECEUITS  —  EXPEDITION   TO 

IN  July,  while  we  were  under  fire  at  Petersburg, 
Col.  Robert  Nugent,  of  the  Sixty-ninth,  and 
Lieut. -Col.  James  E.  McGee  were  doing  excellent  work 
in  New  York.  They  turned  their  whole  energy  to 
recruiting  and  filling  up  the  depleted  ranks  of  the 
Irish  Brigade,  fearfully  reduced  during  the  cam- 
paigns of  '62,  '63,  '64.  They  swelled  with  fresh 
recruits  our  numbers  beyond  all  expectation,  and  we 
felt  proud  once  more  of  our  standing  as  a  brigade. 
Under  the  patronage  of  Gen.  Burnside,  principally. 
Col.  Pleasants,  of  the  Forty-eighth  Pennsylvania 
Volunteer  Infantry,  excavated,  with  great  skill  and 
labor,  a  tunnel  five  hundred  and  ten  feet  long,  stop- 
ping directly  under  the  Confederate  fort,  in  which 
were  many  cannon  and  a  strong  force  of  infantry. 
Then  he  branched  to  the  right  and  left  in  the  form 
of  a  T,  to  the  right  thirty  feet  and  to  the  left  twenty- 
seven.  Here,  under  the  feet  of  the  Confederate 
garrison  and  batteries,  he  placed  eight  thousand 
pounds  of  powder.  The  object  was  to  blow  up  the 
fort   and    thus   to   enable    troops    to    penetrate   the 

(252) 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  253 

Confederate  lines.  A  part  of  our  Second  Corps, 
commanded  by  Gen.  Hancock,  marched  under  orders, 
July  26,  across  the  Appomattox  and  James  rivers,  to 
Deep  Bottom,  toward  Richmond.  We  marched  all 
night.  With  no  delay,  a  desperate  attack  was  made 
by  Hancock  on  the  Confederate  lines,  capturing  four 
guns  and  two  hundred  prisoners.  This  manoeuvre 
was  intended  to  deceive  the  Confederates  so  far  that 
they  would  send  troops  to  protect  Richmond,  and  thus 
weaken  the  force  opposite  the  mine.  In  the  evening, 
on  July  29,  we  were  ordered  back,  and  again  marched 
all  night  under  cover  of  darkness  and  halted  about 
daylight  in  the  vicinity  of  the  mine  on  July  30,  the 
time  set  for  the  explosion,  ready  to  help  in  case  of 
necessity.  Soon  the  fuse  was  ignited,  and  we  wit- 
nessed from  some  distance  the  destructive  work  of 
death.  A  great  mass  of  earth  was  lifted,  with  a 
sudden  electric  force,  carrying  heavenward  with  it 
batteries,  men,  timber — in  a  word,  the  contents  of 
the  fort — until,  reaching  a  certain  height,  it  spread 
out  like  a  cloud  and  then  all  came  crashing  down  in 
a  horrid  confusion,  burying  alive  many  poor  fellows 
who  had  been  asleep  when  the  mine  was  fired.  The 
cavity  made  by  this  explosion  was  thirty  feet  deep, 
sixty  feet  wide,  and  one  hundred  and  seventy  feet 
long.  Through  this  breach  in  the  Confederate  works 
the  Union  troops  pushed,  but  by  some  misunder- 
standing confusion  set  in  and  prevented  the  success- 
ful accomplishment  of  the  well-devised  plan  on  the 
part  of  Col.  Pleasants,  who  accomplished  his  work 


254  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

admirably   well,  notwithstanding  the  difficulties  he 
labored  under;   obliged,  as  he  was,  to  calculate*  the 
exact  distance  in  the  face  of  the  Confederate  guns, 
and,  as  he    himself  complained,   furnished   with  an 
old-fashioned  the(5(iolite  to  make  the  proper  triangula- 
tions.     Union  loss,  four  thousand;  Confederate,  four- 
teen hundred— sad  for  all.     Everyone  turned  in  to 
help  care  for  the  wounded,  and  every  help  for  soul  and 
body  was  rendered,  as  far  as  our  means  enabled  us  to 
do  so.     The   next  day,  July  31,  a  letter  reached  me 
in  the   evening,  from  City  Point,  about  eleven  miles 
from  where  we  were  encamped.     The  letter  had  been 
written  by  a  sick  soldier  who  was  in  a  hospital  tent. 
I   mounted  my   horse  and  started  at  once.     Just  at 
dusk  I  came  to  a  mountain  stream  which  had  sud- 
denly become,  by  recent  rains,  so  wild  a  torrent  that  it 
had  swept  away  the  bridge;  and  as  I  rode  up  to  the 
stream,  some  troops  encamped  on  the  banks  warned 
me  not  to  attempt  to  cross  it  as  it  was  very  dangerous. 
I  said  I  must  cross  to  minister  to  a  sick  soldier.     I 
had  a  very  strong  and  intelligent  horse,  a  good  swim- 
mer and  sure-footed.     "Well,"  said  the  men,   "  pass 
over  here  to  the  left,  so  as  to  avoid  any  of  the  sunken 
timbers  of  the  bridge  lately  swept  away."     I  directed 
my  horse  as  instructed  and,  fortunately,  passed  over 
in  safety.     "The  Kubicon  was  passed."     After  ful- 
filling my   mission,  I  started  to  return  and  came  to 
this  same  stream  about  midnight.     I  wished  to  pass 
over  in  the  same  way  I  had  come.     My  horse  had 
remarkable  instinct,  and  whenever  I  passed  in  certain 


MEMOIES    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  255 

/ 
directions,  he  desired,  on  returning,  not  to  deviate  a 
foot  from  the  same  line.  So  when  we  plunged  into 
the  stream,  I  talked  to  him,  calling  him  by  name, 
*' Prince,"  and  told  him  to  be  careful.  He  persisted 
in  going  a  little  to  the  right,  and  I  said  to  him: 
"Prince!  you  are  wrong  for  once,"  and  I  pulled  him 
to  the  left.  Presently  he  began  to  stumble  over 
some  sunken  beams.  Ah!  then  I  let  him  have  his 
own  way.  He  kept  to  the  right  and  after  we  reached 
the  bank  I  could  see  by  the  light  of  a  timely  camp 
fire,  that  he  had  brought  me  out  at  the  very  spot 
where  we  had  entered  the  stream  the  previous 
evening,  under  the  instructions  of  the  soldiers. 

Mounted  soldiers  become  very  fond  of  their  horses, 
because  these  faithful  servants  are  their  daily  com- 
panions, and  very  often  they  spend  dreary  nights  in 
each   other's    company,   while    marching;  moreover, 
they  partake  of  similar  privations  and  perils.     The 
horse  soon  learns  to   know  his  master,  and  forms  a 
particular  affection  and  respect  for  him.     In  1864, 
when   we    were    encamped  at  ''Brandy   Station,"   a 
major,  of  the  Fifth  Michigan,  I  think,  was  the  owner 
of  a  beautiful  bay  horse  and  he  lost  him,  or,   most 
likely,  some  one  took  a  fancy  to  him  and  borrowed 
him  and  forgot  or  neglected  to  bring  him  back.     The 
major    was    inconsolable,    and   searched   everywhere 
for  his  pet  horse.     Finally  he  came  to  a  corral  about 
six  miles  from  his  own  camp.     In  this  corral  there 
were  many  horses  used  for  military  purposes.     The 
major  passed  along  the  lines  of  horses,  feeding,  when 


256  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

suddenly  he  saw  his  own  horse  in  the  line,  and  was  in 
turn  recognized  by  the  horse,  who  turned  his  head 
toward  his  master  and  whinnied  affectionately,  a  clear 
sign  of  recognition.  '-'- Res  clamat  Domino  T  The 
major's  heart  was  touched,  and,  drawing  his  sword,  he 
said  in  feeling  and  determined  tones :  "  I  would  like 
to  see  a  man  dare  prevent  my  taking  this  horse;"  and, 
loosing  him,  took  him  back  to  camp  in  triumph, 
no  one  presuming  to  utter  a  word  in  opposition. 
It  is  hard  to  say  which  rejoiced  most,  the  horse, 
in  his  way,  or  the  master.  Such  incidents  go  to  fill 
up  the  soldier's  life  in  active  campaigning. 

But,  to  return  to  our  sick  in  army-tented-hospitals. 
It  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  many  died  in  those  tents 
unknown  and  without  the  consolations  of  their  relig- 
ion. They  were  more  or  less  careless  when  well,  and 
becoming  sick  they  either  did  not  know  where  or 
how  to  get  a  priest;  and  even  if  they  did,  it  may  be, 
they  became  in  a  short  time  so  ill  as  to  be  uncon- 
scious of  the  danger  in  which  they  were,  and  having 
no  Catholic  "  chum"  to  attend  to  the  matter,  passed 
off  quietly  and  were  put  in  the  ground.  If  an 
infantry  soldier,  the  customary  volleys  are  fired  over 
his  grave ;  if  a  cavalry  soldier,  the  trumpeter  sounded 
the  thrilling  notes  of  "taps"  and  "lights  out." 
These  notes  are  followed,  in  slow  succession,  by  several 
more,  and  as  the  sounds  drift  over  the  distant  hills 
and  down  the  valleys,  the  sad  tale  told  by  "  lights 
out "  was — the  soul  is  gone.  This  is  the  last  bugle  call 
for  him  on  earth  till  the  great  day  when  the  angel 


MEMOIKS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  257 

messenger  from  heaven  will  sound  the  dread  trumpet 
for  the  general  resurrection  of  the  dead.  In  war  or 
in  peace,  one  sees  the  epitome  of  man's  existence  in 
these  few  words :  "He  lived;  he  died."  Hence  men 
exposed  to  the  dangers  everywhere  found  in  soldier 
life  should  be  always  ready  to  die.  And  the  words 
of  the  royal  Prophet  should  be  constantly  on  their 
lips:  '*  Lord,  enlighten  my  eyes  that  I  may  not  sleep 
in  death,  lest  my  enemies  say  they  have  prevailed 
against  me."  The  same  reflection  and  practice  is 
good  for  all  men. 


17 


CHAPTEK  XL. 


EXPLOSION  OF  A  GREAT  BOAT  FILLED  WITH  OEDNANCE 

SECOND  EXPEDITION  TO  DEEP  BOTTOM HOESE 

DEINKS  IN  JAMES  EIVER  AND  IS  FEIGHTENED  — 

BATTLE  ON  THE  WELDON  E.  E. MEN  AT  CAEDS 

SHOOT  AND  DEOP  A  CONFEDEEATE  FEOM  A  TEEE 

CAPT.  BEOWNSON  KILLED. 

OUR  camp  near  Petersburg,  already  referred  to, 
was  a  very  unpleasant  one.  Wlien  we  first 
arrived  in  this  camp  we  found  ourselves  on  burning 
sands — no  shade  and  no  water.  In  July  and  August, 
under  the  rays  of  a  Southern  sun,  the  alligator 
flourishes;  but  the  white  man  from  the  North  finds 
the  situation  almost  intolerable.  I  shall  never  forget 
how  water  was  first  secured  for  a  refreshing  (?) 
drink  of  coffee  in  that  locality.  Our  men  went  into 
a  deep,  dry  ravine  between  two  sand  hills,  and  in  the 
very  bottom  they  found  a  spot  that  showed  signs  of 
—  mud.  Here  they  loosened  the  baked  clay  with 
their  bayonets,  and  by  the  aid  of  an  old  saber  made  a 
small  hole,  perhaps  a  foot  and  a  half  deep.  In  this 
hole  the  water  showed  itself,  but  the  mud  in  it  made  it 
nearly  as  thick  as  "  vegetable  soup."    They  rested  for 

(258) 


MEMOIKS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  259 

a  while  till  the  soup — the  water  —  had  settled  some- 
what, and  then  dipped  out  the  material.  It  was  not 
inviting,  but  it  resembled  water.  When  men  are 
parched  with  thirst,  moisture  of  any  kind  seems 
refreshing.  Well,  they  put  this  water  in  small 
cans,  boiled  it,  and  furnished  us — coffee !  Life  grew 
very  tiresome  there,  as  we  had  simply  to  stay  and 
watch.  We  were  perhaps  twelve  miles  or  so  from 
City  Point,  on  the  James  River,  and  that  locality 
was  our  base  of  supplies  of  provisions  and  news- 
papers. An  enterprising  boy  would  go  to  the  landing 
on  the  irrepressible  army  mule,  stay  at  the  landing 
all  night  in  a  dry-goods  box  or  under  a  wagon,  and  as 
soon  as  the  steamer  came  with  the  papers  he  put  in 
front  of  him  his  quantum  of  several  hundreds  and 
came  galloping  out  to  the  camp,  crying  out  at  the 
top  of  his  voice :  '^  New  York  Herald!'^  He  charged 
us  twenty-five  cents  apiece  for  the  papers,  but  even 
at  that  price  we  were  delighted  to  get  the  news,  and 
he  sold  his  papers  like  hot  cakes.  In  the  early  part 
of  August,  1864,  the  monotony  of  our  life  was  broken 
by  a  terrific  explosion  of  an  ordnance  boat  on  the 
James  River  at  City  Point,  where  army  supplies  were 
stored  in  great  quantities,  and  near  which  a  number 
of  troops  were  stationed.  The  explosion  caused  a 
damage  of  several  million  dollars ;  killed  and  wounded 
a  large  number  of  men,  and  put  the  balance  into  a 
perfect  panic.  The  troops,  not  knowing  exactly  the 
cause  of  the  unearthly  report  made  by  the  explosion, 
that,  earthquake-like,  shook  the  ground  around  them 


260  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

for  miles  and  sent  forth  bursting  shells  and  other 
missiles  of  death  with  dreadful  force,  thought  that 
forty  dozen  Confederate  ironclads  had  suddenly  come 
down  the  James  from  Richmond  and  let  fly  at  them. 
As  I  was  going  to  City  Point  about  this  time,  I  was 
appalled  by  the  devastating  effect.  I  saw  fish,  even 
a  half  mile  from  the  river,  that  had  been  scooped 
up  out  of  the  water  and  cast  forth  with  various  sorts 
of  rubbish  by  the  terrible  explosion.  On  the  13th 
of  August  we  were  again  ordered  to  Deep  Bottom, 
where  the  Irish  Brigade  took,  without  delay,  the  front 
line  of  the  Confederate  works.  Just  before  going 
into  the  battle  I  rode  my  horse  down  into  the  James 
River  to  water  him,  letting  him  go  down  into  the 
water  alongside  the  ponton-bridge  that  crossed  the 
river  at  this  place.  The  bridge  was  a  few  feet  above 
the  spot  where  he  was  drinking.  Just  then  a  two- 
hundred  pound  ball  was  discharged  from  a  parrot 
gun  from  a  large  war-ship  which  was  anchored  out 
in  the  river.  The  sudden  and  frightful  report  seemed 
to  come  up  from  the  water.  In  an  instant  my  horse 
made  a  bound  like  that  of  an  antelope  and  landed  on 
the  top  of  the  ponton-bridge,  three  or  four  feet  above 
the  drinking  place;  then,  wheeling  around,  made  for 
land.  He  went  about  a  hundred  yards  before  I  could 
get  him  under  control.  I  wanted  to  rein  him  back 
to  finish  his  drink;  but  no — I  really  believe  if  he 
had  been  dying  of  thirst,  no  power  could  have 
induced  him  to  drink  again  in  that  river,  at  least  in 
that  vicinity.     After  finishing  the  strategic  intention 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  261 

of  this  expedition,  our  corps  was  ordered  back  south 
of  the  James  to  help  the  Fifth,  now  hard  pressed  on 
the  left.  At  this  season,  the  hottest  part  of  August, 
we  found  our  long  march  to  the  Weldon  railroad  a 
very  hard  one;  besides,  many  of  our  men,  marching 
in  this  great  heat,  under  their  usual  load  of  about 
sixty  pounds,  dropped  dead  from  sunstroke.  Some, 
being  overheated,  were  placed  in  the  shade  of  an  old 
fence  or  dusty  tree;  where  they  received  the  last 
sacraments,  and  were  left  to  live  or  die.  The  priest 
could  not  stay  with  them,  because  another  might  fall 
at  any  minute  and  be  entirely  neglected.  Finally  we 
reached  our  destination,  where,  fortunately,  we  found 
a  wooded  country,  and  the  shade  was  most  desirable 
and  refreshing.  It  was  related  at  the  time,  that  some 
of  our  Second  Corps  were  sent  out  on  picket  duty, 
and  after  the  first  line  had  been  deployed  some  of  the 
balance  on  reserve  determined  to  engage  in  a  quiet 
game  of  cards  in  order  to  pass  the  time.  While  at 
the  game  they  were  somewhat  startled  by  the  whiz 
of  a  bullet,  which  passed  uncomfortably  near  them. 
Shortly  afterward  another  and  another;  but  the  third 
shot  revealed  whence  the  bullets  came.  They  saw 
a  Confederate  sharpshooter  in  a  tree,  full  thirty  feet 
from  the  ground.  One  of  the  men  interested  in  the 
quiet  game  stood  up,  angry  at  the  interruption.  He 
was  from  the  West,  where  in  his  early  days  he  prided 
himself  on  being  able  to  cut  off  the  head  of  a  wild 
pigeon  with  his  rifle.  As  he  reached  out  for  his  gun, 
he  said,  coolly,  to  his  companions :  "That  gray  squirrel 


262  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

is  pretty  frisky,  and  I  must  stop  his  fun  to  stop  him 
spoiling  ours."  He  drew  a  bead  on  the  man  in  the 
tree  and  fired.  As  the  Confederate  sharpshooter 
came  crashing  through  the  branches  to  the  ground, 
the  Westerner  sat  down  and  asked:  "What's  trumps  ?" 
He  seemed  as  unconcerned  as  if  he  had  killed  a  mos- 
quito that  had  been  annoying  him.  On  the  22d  of 
August  we  reached  our  destination  on  the  extreme 
left,  and  were  then  ordered  to  destroy  the  Weldon 
railroad.  On  the  25th,  desperate  fighting  had  taken 
place  at  this  point.  In  killed,  wounded,  and  captured 
the  Union  loss  was  two  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
forty-two. 

These  incidents  I  mention  to  show,  in  as  simple  a 
form  as  possible,  the  real  life  we  led  in  the  army.  At 
one  time  undergoing  great  fatigues,  losing  many 
men,  both  by  exposure  and  by  battle;  at  other  times 
experiencing  events  of  a  sensational  and  thrilling 
interest ;  again  seeing  and  hearing  of  occurrences  eo 
novel  as  to  serve  to  enliven  our  ranks  and  even  to  amuse 
the  troops  and  lift  up  their  drooping  spirits  amid  all 
their  hardships.  But  behind  all  this  was  constantly 
present  to  our  eyes  and  miud  the  scene  of  a  great 
stream,  a  procession,  so  to  speak,  of  human  souls  on 
their  way  to  eternity.  Many  of  our  brigade  passed  off 
during  this  campaign.  One,  who  was  not  exactly  of 
our  brigade,  but  Inspector  of  our  Second  Corps  and  a 
member  of  Gen.  Hancock's  staflP,  dropped  in  this  very 
battle  on  the  Weldon  railroad.  The  one  I  allude  to 
was  Capt.  E.  P.  Brownson,  son  of  the  great  American 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  263 

philosopher,  the  Christian  Plato,  Orestes  Augustus 
Brownson.  I  mention  his  death  in  particular,  because, 
like  his  venerable  father,  he  was  a  convert  to  our 
faith,  and  his  conduct,  even  in  the  rough  army  life, 
gave  great  edification.  When  circumstances  per- 
mitted, he  was  a  weekly  communicant,  and  always 
entered  the  battlefield  fortified  by  the  sacraments. 
To  this  end  did  the  priests  accompany  their  men  on  all 
occasions  and  on  all  the  marches,  ample  opportunity 
being  thus  given  the  officers  and  men  to  go  to  con- 
fession at  least,  except  in  extraordinary  cases,  when  a 
continued  march,  day  and  night,  rendered  it  impos- 
sible to  perform  this  duty.  For  a  long  time  the  good 
captain  was  my  penitent;  and  when  he  so  suddenly 
passed  to  eternity,  a  strange  sensation  filled  my  soul; 
but  I  had  the  consolation  to  know  that  he  was  well 
prepared. 

At  this  battle  we  had  our  hands  full  looking  after 
the  wounded.  After  the  smoke  and  thunder  of  battle 
had  passed  over,  after  all  had  been  attended  to,  our 
thoughts  were  turned  in  another  direction  by  the 
celebration  of  the  third  anniversary  of  the  brigade. 


CHAPTEK  XLI. 


MASS,      ETC. 

A  LTHOUGH  in  a  former  chapter  I  gave  some 
-^-^  general  notions  of  a  "Military  Mass,"  I  will 
here  enter  more  fully  into  details.  On  or  about 
the  4th  day  of  September,  1864,  Gen.  Meagher, 
who  was  on  a  visit  with  Gen.  Hancock  at  the  time, 
prior  to  his  departure  for  the  department  of  Gen. 
Sherman,  to  whom  he  had  been  assigned  for  duty, 
proposed  an  anniversary  celebration  for  the  brigade. 
The  brigade  was  now  three  years  old,  having  been 
born  in  September,  1861.  As  usual,  he  wished  to 
have  the  anniversary  commemorated  in  a  religious 
manner.  I  mention  this  to  the  credit  of  the  general, 
because  he  was  proud  of  his  faith,  and  considered  no 
celebration  dignified  or  worthy  the  name  that  did  not 
begin  by  invoking  God's  blessing  in  the  most  solemn 
form  possible.  He  came  to  me,  therefore,  and  asked 
if  I  would  be  so  kind  as  to  arrange  a  Solemn  High 
Mass  for  the  occasion.  I  wasonly  too  glad  to  do  him 
this  favor,  for  several  reasons,  but,  especially,  because 
it  encouraged  his   religious  tendency,   and  gave   an 

(264) 


_Jk, 


--fr— ,,^  _<:^^.-;^.— - 


RUSTIC    ALTAR. 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  265 

excellent  example  to  the  soldiers  in  the  field.  Invi- 
tations were  sent  out  to  various  other  commanders  to 
join  us  in  the  celebrations.  These  invitations  were 
accepted  by  quite  a  number  of  other  commands,  and 
by  the  following  generals,  namely:  Hancock,  Miles, 
Berney,  Gibbons,  Mott,  De  Trobriand,  and,  of  course, 
Meagher  himself  would  be  expected.  Details  of  men 
with  willing  hands  were  directed  in  clearing  up, 
beautifying  the  grounds,  planting  pine  and  cedar 
trees,  and  making  the  entire  camp  like  fairy-grounds. 
A  beautiful  chapel  tent  was  erected,  and  a  grand 
avenue  lined  with  evergreens  led  to  the  front  entrance 
of  the  grounds  and  to  the  chapel,  which  was  on  a  slight 
eminence.  Seats  were  provided  for  the  invited  guests 
as  far  as  possible.  About  nine  o'clock  the  bugles 
were  sounded,  and  the  whole  brigade,  at  this  signal, 
began  to  make  preparations  to  receive  their  guests. 
With  military  precision  every  man  reported,  and  in  a 
short  time  one  could  see  the  ranks  formed  in  perfect 
order.  Muskets  shining,  shoes  polished,  and  all,  in  a 
word,  fit  to  be  seen  on  dress  parade  by  the  "  Queen 
of  the  Fairies."  Precisely  at  ten  o'clock,  the  hour 
fixed  for  service,  the  guests  began  to  arrive.  First, 
Maj.-Gen.  Hancock,  surrounded  by  his  intelligent, 
handsome  staff-officers.  Then  each  general  above- 
mentioned,  with  that  exactness  peculiar  to  army  life 
and  excellent  discipline  (attended  in  the  same  way), 
arrived  just  on  time.  As  they  approached,  tlie  numer- 
ous bands  began  to  play  "Hail  to  the  Chief! "in 
special  compliment  to    Maj.-Gen.  Hancock,    for  the 


266  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

commander  of  our  corps,  besides  being  so  distinguished 
in  many  ways,  was  notably  so  at  the  battle  of  Gettys- 
burg, where  he  showed  superior  skill.  Each  general 
in  that  brilliant  group  having  made  his  mark  and 
record,  to  form  very  bright  pages  of  history,  received 
special  marks  of  respect  on  that  occasion.  The 
generals  were  seated  first,  and,  as  each  company, 
battalion,  or  regiment  of  invited  troops  arrived,  place 
was  allotted  them,  the  members  of  the  brigade  "doing 
the  honors,"  in  politely  seeing  to  the  wants  of  the 
guests  first,  thinking  of  themselves  last.  The  Kev. 
Thomas  Ouellet,  S.  J.,  Paul  E.  Gillen,  C.  S.  C,  and 
the  writer,  appeared  before  a  simple  altar,  dressed  in 
modest  taste,  at  the  very  moment  ten  o'clock  was 
sounded  by  the  bugle.  By  this  time  we  had  become 
experienced  in  such  celebrations,  and  it  is  with  some 
laudable  pride  that  we  refer  to  them  now.  Gen. 
Meagher,  being  well  versed  in  the  ceremonies  of  the 
Mass,  acted  as  Master  of  Ceremonies,  in  as  far  as  the 
music  and  the  military  duties  were  concerned.  As 
soon  as  the  priests  are  ready,  the  As2)erges  me  is 
announced,  and,  instead  of  a  grand  choir,  such  as  is 
heard  in  the  royal  cathedrals  of  Christendom,  the 
bugles,  followed  by  the  report  of  numerous  guns, 
announce  the  beginning.  Then,  under  the  direction 
of  Gen.  Meagher,  at  the  Introibo  various  military 
bands  discourse  solemn  music  until  after  the  Credo^ 
when,  again,  by  a  sign  from  the  Master  of  Ceremonies 
to  the  Officer  of  the  Day,  another  discharge,  a  grand 
salute  of  guns,  testify  to   Credo  in  unuin  Deum — I 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  267 

believe  in  one  God.  The  bugle  follows  with  its 
well-known  notes,  "tara-taran-tara,"  and  again  the 
bands  play.  Now  their  music  is  soft,  low,  and  sweet, 
suitable  to  the  devotion  that  immediately  disposes 
the  faithful  for  the  more  sacred  portion  of  the  Mass. 
The  Sa7ictus!  sanctus!  sanctus!  rouses  all  to  a  fixed 
attention  and  is  accompanied  by  a  sudden  rattle  of 
dozens  of  kettle-drums,  with  an  occasional  thunder- 
ing sound  from  the  bass  drums.  Shortly  after  this 
comes  that  moment  of  moments  in  the  offering  of  the 
sublime  mysteries.  The  preparatory  is  over,  and 
now  you  see  men  bow  down  in  deep  devotion  as  the 
priest  leans  over  the  altar  and  takes  up  the  Host. 
Here,  at  a  sign  from  the  Master  of  Ceremonies,  the 
bugle  notes,  "  tara-taran-tara,"  ring  out  over  the 
tented  fields,  and  the  same  grand  evidence  of  respect 
and  faith  is  given  by  the  sound  of  cannon  and  the  roll 
of  musketry,  as  the  sublime  words,  full  of  power  and 
purpose — the  supreme  words  of  Consecration — are 
pronounced.  Soft  music  is  again  in  order  at  intervals, 
until  the  end,  which  is  proclaimed  in  turn  by  guns, 
drums,  and  bugles  that  prolong  a  grand /naZ^.  The 
writer  preached  a  short  but  well-prepared  sermon  at 
the  conclusion,  to  which  Maj.-Gen.  Hancock  and  the 
other  generals  present  listened  with  much  attention 
and  respect,  although  many  of  these  generals  were 
not  Catholics.  After  all  was  over,  the  guests  were 
invited  to  lunch,  and,  notwithstanding  it  was  Sunday, 
several  hours  were  spent  at  the  tables,  where  some 
very  interesting  speeches  were  made,  and  good  wishes 


268  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

expressed  for  the  brigade.  Speeches  were  made  by 
Gen.  Meagher,  who,  in  genuine  oratory,  was  head  and 
shoulders  above  any  general  in  the  army;  by  Maj.- 
Gen.  Hancock,  who  spoke  in  the  highest  terms  of  the 
bravery  and  devotedness  of  the  Irish  Brigade;  by 
Gen.  Miles,  who  gave  testimony  to  the  same  effect,  as 
witnessed  by  himself  at  the  latest  battle,  and  mention- 
ing the  details.  Gens.  Gibbons,  Mott,  and  Birney 
also  spoke,  and,  finally,  Gen.  De  Trobriand,  who  said 
that  his  Irishmen  claimed  him  as  one  of  their  own, 
stating  that  his  name  was  in  reality  only  slightly 
Frenchified  from  the  original  (  O'Brien)  which  caused 
prolonged  merriment.  This  lunch  and  the  speeches 
alluded  to  served  as  a  final  parting  with  Gen.  Meagher, 
who  then  left  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  joining  the 
army  in  the  Southwest,  where  he  was  assigned,  to 
duty.  This  celebration  throws  additional  light  on 
the  character  of  the  Irish  Brigade.  When  all  the 
rest  of  the  army  was  more  or  less  dormant  or  bewail- 
ing the  situation  and  longing  for  "the  flesh-pots  of 
Egypt,"  the  Irish  Brigade  was  making  fun  and  cheer 
for  itself  and  all  the  friends  it  could  accommodate. 
Its  hospitality  was  limited  only  by  its  purse,  and 
sometimes  it  even  borrowed  or  anticipated  the  salary 
of  the  coming  "pay-day." 


REV.  JOSEPH  C.  CARRIEK,  C.   S.  C. 

Taken  by  Lillibrige,  of  Chicago,  in  April,  1863.  as  the  former  was  on  his  way  to 

the  seat  of  war  (Vicksburg,  Miss.),  as  Chaplain  of  the 6th  Missouri  Vols.;  but 

his  field  of  action  extended  unofficially  over  the  whole  army  of  Gen.  Grant, 

as  he  was  the  sole  Catholic  Chaplain,  at  that  time,  in  the  whole  command. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


"passes"  —  EIGHT   PRIESTS    OF    HOLY  CROSS,     NOTRE 

DAME,      CHAPLAINS ARCHBISHOP  IRELAND     AND 

BISHOP     m'mAHON    CHAPLAINS  —  A  NOBLE    SOUTH- 
ERN   PRIEST. 

AFTER  the  celebration  mentioned  in  the  last 
chapter,  a  few  expeditions  brought  us  into  the 
fall  of  1864.  Nothing  of  great  importance  is  now 
to  be  recorded  relative  to  our  movements  in  this 
portion  of  the  army.  At  this  time  I  received  an 
order  from  my  ecclesiastical  superior  to  return  to 
Notre  Dame.  The  Very  Rev.  B.  Moreau,  then 
Superior- General,  had  ordered  an  election  of  a  pro- 
vincial superior  for  this  country,  to  preside  over  the 
department  of  the  United  States  and  Canada,  and  to 
this  election  I  was  summoned.  I  remained  home  for 
several  weeks,  and  as  the  Chapter  or  Council  for 
the  said  election  was  postponed,  I  returned  to  the 
army  and  remained  to  give  the  soldiers  an  opportunity 
of  receiving  the  Sacraments,  of  making  their  Easter 
duty,  and  thus  preparing  them  to  enter  the  spring 
campaign,  which  put  an  end  to  the  war.  When  I 
(269) 


270  MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

arrived  in  Washington  I  called  on  Gen.  Hardee,  who 
kindly  furnished  me  the  follo^ng  pass: 

"  War  Department,  February  22,  1865. 
"  Pass  Rev.  William  Corby,  missionary,  to  Fortress  Monroe 
and  City  Point,  Virginia,  and  return,  with  free  transportation 
on  a  Government  transport.     .    .    . 

"  To  be  used  but  once. 
"  By  order  of  the  Secretary  of  War. 

"Jas.  a.  Hardee, 
"  Colonel  and  Inspector-General  U.  S.  A." 

A  pass  of4Ms~tind  was  a  great  favor  in  those  days 
and  could  scarcely  be  obtained  by  any  except  per- 
sons connected  with  the  army.  Even  within  the 
army  limits,  passes  were  necessary,  and  when  I 
arrived  at  the « J' front"  I  made  application  for  one 
and  received  Me- Mfowi«^ 

"HEADQUARTERS,  ARMY  OF  POTOMAC. 

"Office  of  Provost-Marshal-General. 
"  City  Point,  Va.,  25th  Feb.,  1865. 
"  Chaplain  Wm.  Corby  has  permission  to  labor  in  the  Second 
Corps,  and  to  apply  to  Capt.  Schuyler  for  transfer  to  Fifth  Corps 
whenever  he  desires  it. 

"W.  V.  R.  Patrick, 

"  Provost-Marshal-General." 

These  passes  I  still  possess,  and  they  are  to  me 
mementos  of  days  full  of  history,  full  of  tender  feel- 
ing. They  bring  to  mind  the  faces  of  many  dear 
friends,  of  many  noble  souls,  and  of  many  distin- 
guished heroes,  whose  names  and  fame  will  never 
fade  from  my  memory.     My  good  long  rest  gave  me 


KEV.  P,  r.  COONEY,  C.  S.  C. 
Chaplain  3r,th  Ind. 


MEMOIKS   OP   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  271 

fresh  vigor,  and  I  spent  my  time,  I  trust,  profitably. 
Judging  from  the  demonstrations  they  made,  my 
return  was  a  delight  to  my  men.  This  was  not  con- 
fined to  the  Catholics.  Non- Catholics,  officers,  and 
men,  gave  me  a  hearty  welcome,  and,  disregarding 
hardships  and  privations,  I  felt  glad  to  be  back  again 
at  the  post  of  duty. 

The  religious  feature  in  an  army  is,  indeed,  no 
small  matter.  "  Conscience  doth  make  cowards  of  us 
all"  is  quite  applicable  in  a  very  forcible  manner  in 
this  connection.  Men  who  are  demoralized  and  men 
whose  consciences  trouble  them  make  poor  soldiers. 
Moral  men — men  who  are  free  from  the  lower  and 
more  degrading  passions— make  brave,  faithful,  and 
trustworthy  soldiers.  Rome  stood  proudly  mistress 
of  the  world  while  she  held  morality  sacred — when  a 
Lucretia  put  a  stiletto  into  her  own  heart,  not  wishing 
to  live  after  a  brutal  man,  by  no  fault  of  hers,  had 
violated  her;  when  a  Roman  officer,  Virginius,  pierced 
the  chaste  bosom  of  his  lovely  young  daughter  rather 
than  see  her  lose  her  virginity ;  when  the  vestal  virgin 
was  buried  alive  if  found  violating  her  vow  of  virgin- 
ity ;  when,  in  a  word,  morality  was  practised  and  held 
up  for  admiration — during  these  ages  the  Roman 
soldier  had  no  equal  in  the  world.  When  these  same 
Romans  were  pampered  with  the  luxuries  of  every 
clime;  when  the  wealth  of  nations  poured  into  Rome 
and  enabled  them  to  indulge  every  appetite,  every 
passion,  then  the  dauntless  Roman  became  effem- 
inate, in  the  presence  of  the  enemy  a  coward,  and 


272  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

great  Eome  sank  into  oblivion.     Apart,    therefore, 
from  the  actual  good  done  for  religion — and  this  must 
not  be  underrated — the  soldier  is  all  the  better  as  a 
soldier  when  assisted  by  religion.     "When  he  is  gently 
induced  to  practise  his  duty  to  God  and  to  keep  alive 
in   his   heart   his  love  of  virtue,  he  is  not  made  a 
coward  by  his  guilty  conscience;  on  the  contrary,  he 
is  willing,  if  necessary,  to  lay  down  his  life  for  justice 
or   for   his   country,  and   to   leave   to  posterity  an 
example   worthy    of    emulation.     In   view   of    this, 
Notre  Dame  sent  out  seven  priests  as  chaplains,  and, 
counting  the  Rev.  Dr.  Kilroy,  who  is  also  a  child  of 
Notre  Dame,  there  were   eight  priests  of  the  Com- 
munity of  the  Holy  Cross  rendering  spiritual  aid  to 
the    poor   soldier  in   the   field   and  in  the  hospitals. 
These  were  the  Revs.  J.  M.  Dillon,  C.  S.  C;  P.  P. 
Cooney,  C.   S.  C;  Dr.  E.  B.  Kilroy,  C.  S.  C;  J.  C. 
Carrier,  C.  S.   C;  Paul  E.  Gillen,  C.  S.  C;  Joseph 
Leveque,  C.  S.  C,  and  the  writer,  W.  Corby,  C.  S.  C. 
Many  of  the  above  went  to  an  early  grave ;  but  while 
they  were  able  they  braved  the  dangers  of  the  battle- 
field and  the  pestilence  of  the  hospitals.     I  am  not 
writing  a   history  of   all   the    Catholic   priests   and 
sisters  who  did  noble   Christian  work  for  distressed 
thousands  during  the  late  war.     I  have  neither  time 
nor  ability  to  do  so.     There  is  one  now  engaged  at 
that  task — our  Rev.   Father   Cooney.      However,    I 
can  not  omit  here  the  names  of  a  few  who  spent  all 
the  time  they  could,   consistently,  with  other  grave 
duties,  in  the  army. 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  273 

The  Rev.  John  Ireland,  now  the  illustrious  Arch- 
bishop of  St.  Paul,  Minn.,  gave  a  bountiful  share 
of  his  time  and  talent  to  the  good  work — the  chap- 
laincy. A  year  of  his  time  and  brilliant  talent  was 
more  than  six  years  as  compared  with  that  of  ordinary 
men.  His  groat  ability  was  exercised  with  the 
enthusiasm  that  has  distinguished  Msfwhole  career. 
His  name  was  and  ia  aj|fcwer.  The^^ev.  Lawrence 
S.  McMahon,  TfSs?^  the  distinguished  Bishop  of  Hart- 
ford, Conn.,  also  performed  a  generous  share  of 
chaplain  labor.  It  would  require  an  entire  volume  to 
do  justice  to  either  of  these  worthy  prelates,  and 
this  task  I  must  leave  to  historians,  to  men  of  "  facile 
pen."  The  good  achieved  by  post-chaplains,  and 
by  priests  who,  though  not  chaplains,  nevertheless 
exercised  their  holy  ministry  among  the  soldiers,  is 
beyond  computation.  God  alone  has  a  complete 
record  of  their  self-sacrificing  devotion.  For  the 
sake  of  edification,  however,  let  some  one  put  in  print 
the  good  deeds  they  have  done.  And  here  we  may 
quote  a  paragraph  concerning 

"A  NOBLE  SOUTHERN  PRIEST." 

THE  ONLY  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIG- 
ION AMONG  THE  30,000  WAR  PRISONERS  AT  ANDER- 
SONVILLE. 

[Prom  the  July  number  of  the  Century,  which  contains  an 
article  on  Andersonville,  the  first  of  a  series  of  papers  on  prison 
life  during  the  late  war.] 

The  writer,    Dr.    T.    H.    Mann,   says   of    Father 

18 


274  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Hamilton,  a  Catholic  priest  belonging  to  the  diocese 
of  Mobile: 

"  The  only  authorized  representative  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion  who  possessed  enough  of  it  to  visit  the 
30,000  men  in  the  prison  pen  was  a  Roman  Catholic 
priest.  Father  Hamilton,  who  came  in  quite  regularly, 
at  least  every  Sabbath,  for  several  weeks.  He  talked 
kindly  to  us,  displaying  much  sympathy  for  our  con- 
dition, and  administering  the  last  rites  of  the  Church 
to  all  the  dying  men  who  would  accept,  without  regard 
to  individual  beliefs.  He  stated  that  strong  efforts 
were  being  made  to  bring  about  an  exchange  by  both 
the  North  and  the  South,  and  that  their  efforts  would 
probably  soon  be  successful.  Upon  the  strength  of 
this  report  we  concluded  to  let  our  tunnel  remain 
quiet  for  a  time,  thinking  that  if  exchange  failed  we 
could  have  final  resource  to  it.  The  exchange  did 
fail,  and  a  heavy  thunder-shower  loosened  one  of  the 
timbers  of  which  the  stockade  was  composed,  so  that 
it  settled  into  the  shaft,  discovering  to  the  authorities 
our  tunnel,  and  they  quietly  filled  it  up. 

"After  the  war,  Father  Hamilton  was  located  in 
Mobile,  and  at  times  officiated  at  various  churches  in 
other  cities  of  the  State.  He  died  about  four  years 
ago,  in  Louisville,  Ky.,  while  on  a  visit  to  that  city, 
and  was  buried  there." 

Sixty  Sisters  of  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Cross  went 
out  under  the  intelligent  Mother  Mary  Angela  as 
superioress.  (Mother  Angela  was  a  cousin  of  the  Hon. 
James  G.  Blaine.)     These  Sisters  volunteered  their 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  275 

services  to  nurse  the  sick  and  wounded  soldiers, 
hundreds  of  whom,  moved  to  sentiments  of  purest 
piety  by  the  words  and  example  of  their  angel  nurses, 
begged  to  be  baptized  in  articulo  Tnortis — at  the  point 
of  death.  The  labors  and  self-sacrifices  of  the  Sisters 
during  the  war  need  no  praise  here.  Their  praise  is 
on  the  lips  of  every  surviving  soldier  who  experi- 
enced their  kind  and  careful  ministration.  Many  a 
soldier  now  looks  down  from  on  high  with  com- 
placency on  the  worthy  Sisters  who  were  instrumental 
in  saving  the  soul  when  life  could  not  be  saved.  Nor 
was  it  alone  from  the  Order  of  the  Sisters  of  the  Holy 
Cross  that  Sister-nurses  engaged  in  the  care  of  the 
sick  and  wounded  soldiers.  Many  other  orders  made 
costly  sacrifices  to  save  life  and  to  save  souls,  nota- 
bly the  noble  Order  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity.  To 
members  of  this  order  I  am  personally  indebted. 
When  prostrate  with  camp-fever,  insensible  for  nearly 
three  days,  my  life  was  intrusted  to  their  care.  Like 
guardian  angels  these  daughters  of  St.  Vincent 
watched  every  symptom  of  the  fever,  and  by  their 
skill  and  care  I  was  soon  able  to  return  to  my  post 
of  duty.  I  subjoin  an  enthusiastic  eulogy  pro- 
nounced by  a  non- Catholic  officer  whose  enthusiasm 
on  this  subject  is  shared  by  all  who  came  under  the 
care  of  these  daughters  of  Christ: 


276  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

"SISTEKS  IN  THE  ARMY." 

[From  a  speech  made  by  Capt.  Crawford,  the  "  Poet  Scout."] 
"On  all  of  God's  green  and  beautiful  earth  there 
are  no  purer,  no  nobler,  no  more  kind-hearted  and 
self-sacrificing  women  than  those  who  wear  the  sombre 
garb  of  Catholic  Sisters.  During  the  war  I  had 
many  opportunities  for  observing  their  noble  and 
heroic  work,  not  only  in  the  camp  and  the  hospital, 
but  in  the  death -swept  field  of  battle.  Right  in  the 
fiery  front  of  dreadful  war,  where  bullets  hissed  in 
maddening  glee,  and  shot  and  shell  flew  wildly  by 
with  demoniac  shrieks,  where  dead  and  mangled 
forms  lay  with  pale,  blood- flecked  faces,  yet  wearing 
the  scowl  of  battle,  I  have  seen  the  black-robed 
Sisters  moving  over  the  field,  their  solicitous  faces 
wet  with  the  tears  of  sympathy,  administering  to  the 
wants  of  the  wounded,  and  whispering  words  of  com- 
fort into  the  ears  soon  to  be  deafened  by  the  cold, 
implacable  hand  of  death.  Now  kneeling  on  the 
blood-bespattered  sod  to  moisten  with  water  the 
bloodless  lips  on  which  the  icy  kiss  of  the  death 
angel  had  left  its  pale  imprint;  now  breathing  words 
of  hope  of  an  immortality  beyond  the  grave  into 
the  ear  of  some  mangled  hero,  whose  last  shots  in 
our  glorious  cause  had  been  fired  but  a  moment 
before;  now  holding  the  crucifix  to  receive  the  last 
kiss  from  somebody's  darling  boy  from  whose  breast 
the  life-blood  was  splashing,  and  who  had  offered 
his   life    as   a  willing  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  his 


MEMOIES    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  277 

country;  now  with  tender  touch  and  tear-dimmed 
eyes  binding  gaping  wounds  from  which  most  women 
would  have  shrunk  in  horror;  now  scraping  together 
a  pillow  of  forest  leaves  upon  which  some  pain-racked 
head  might  rest  until  the  spirit  took  its  flight  to 
other  realms — brave,  fearless  of  danger,  trusting 
implicitly  in  the  Master  whose  overshadowing  eye  was 
noting  their  every  movement;  standing  as  shielding, 
prayerful  angels  between  the  dying  soldier  and  the 
horrors  of  death.  Their  only  recompense,  the  sweet, 
soul-soothing  consciousness  that  they  were  doing 
their  duty ;  their  only  hope  of  reward,  that  peace  and 
eternal  happiness  which  awaited  them  beyond  the 
star-emblazoned  battlements  above.  Ah!  my  friends, 
it  was  noble  work. 

"How  many  a  veteran  of  the  war,  who  wore  the 
blue  or  gray,  can  yet  recall  the  soothing  touch  of  a 
Sister's  hand,  as  he  lay  upon  the  pain-tossed  couch 
of  a  hospital!  Can  we  ever  forget  their  sympa- 
thetic eyes,  their  low,  soft-spoken  words  of  encour- 
agement and  cheer  when  the  result  of  the  struggle 
between  life  and  death  yet  hung  in  the  balance? 
Oh !  how  often  have  I  followed  the  form  of  that  good 
Sister  Valencia  with  my  sunken  eyes  as  she  moved 
away  from  my  cot  to  the  cot  of  another  sufferer,  and 
have  breathed  from  the  most  sacred  depths  of  my 
faintly -beating  heart  the  fervent  prayer,  '  God  bless 
her!     God  bless  her!' 

"My  friends,  I  am  not  a  Catholic,  but  I  stand 
ready   at  any  and  all  times  to  defend  those  noble 


278  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

women,    even  with  my    life,   for  I  owe  that  life  to 
them." 

The  following  tribute  also,  taken  from  the  Phil- 
adelphia Sunday  Times,  I  feel  impelled  to  quote: 

"WHAT  THEY  DO  WITH  THEIR  BEGGINGS." 

"During  the  late  war,  and  while  Gen.  S.  was  in 
command  of  the  department  at  New  Orleans,  the 
Sisters  of  Charity  made  frequent  applications  to  him 
for  assistance.  Especially  were  they  desirous  to 
obtain  supplies  at  what  was  termed  'commissary 
prices'  —  that  is,  at  a  reduction  or  commutation  of 
one -third  the  amount  which  the  same  provisions 
would  cost  at  market  rates.  The  principal  demand 
was  for  ice,  flour,  beef,  and  coffee,  but  mainly  ice,  a 
luxury  which  only  the  Union  forces  could  enjoy  at 
anything  like  a  reasonable  price.  The  hospitals  were 
full  of  the  sick  and  wounded,  of  both  the  Federal 
and  Confederate  armies,  and  the  benevolent  institu- 
tions of  the  city  were  taxed  to  the  utmost  in  their 
endeavors  to  aid  the  poor  and  the  suffering,  for 
those  were  trying  times,  and  war  has  many  victims. 
Foremost  among  these  Christian  workers  stood  the 
various  Christian  sisterhoods.  These  noble  women 
were  busy  day  and  night,  never  seeming  to  know 
fatigue,  and  overcoming  every  obstacle,  that,  in  so 
many  discouraging  forms,  obstructed  the  way  of  doino- 
good — obstacles  which  would  have  completely  dis- 
heartened less  resolute  women,  or  those  not  trained 
in  the  school  of  patience,  faith,   hope,  and  charity, 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  279 

and  where  the  first  grand  lesson  learned  is  self- 
denial.  Of  money  there  was  little;  and  food,  fuel, 
and  medicine  were  scarce  and  dear;  yet  they  never 
faltered,  going  on  in  the  face  of  all  difficulties, 
through  poverty,  war,  and  unfriendly  aspersions, 
never  turning  aside,  never  complaining,  never  despair- 
ing. No  one  will  ever  know  the  sublime  courage 
of  these  lowly  Sisters  during  the  dark  days  of  the 
Rebellion.  Only  in  that  hour  when  the  Judge  of  all 
mankind  shall  summon  before  Him  the  living  and 
the  dead  will  they  receive  their  true  reward,  the 
crown  everlasting,  and  the  benediction :  '  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant.' 

"It  was  just  a  week  previous  to  the  Red  River  cam- 
paign, when  all  was  hurry  and  activity  throughout 
the  Department  of  the  Gulf,  that  Gen.  S.,  a  stern, 
irascible  old  officer  of  the  regular  army,  sat  at  his 
desk  in  his  office  on  Julia  Street,  curtly  giving  orders 
to  subordinates,  dispatching  messengers  hither  and 
thither  to  every  part  of  the  city  where  troops  were 
stationed,  and  stiffly  receiving  such  of  his  command 
as  had  important  business  to  transact. 

"In  the  midst  of  this  unusual  hurry  and  prepara- 
tion, the  door  noiselessly  opened,  and  a  humble 
Sister  of  Charity  entered  the  room.  A  handsome 
young  lieutenant  of  the  staff  instantly  arose,  and 
deferentially  handed  her  a  chair,  for  those  sombre 
gray  garments  were  respected,  if  not  understood, 
even  though  he  had  no  reverence  for  the  religious 
faith  which  they  represented. 


280  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

*'  Gen.  S.  looked  up  from  his  writing,  angered  by 
the  intrusion  of  one  whose  'fanaticism'  he  despised, 
and  a  frown  of  annoyance  and  displeasure  gathered 
darkly  on  his  brow. 

"'Orderly!' 

"  The  soldier  on  duty  without  the  door,  who  had 
admitted  the  Sister,  faced  about,  saluted,  and  stood 
mute,  awaiting  the  further  command  of  his  chief. 

" '  Did  I  not  give  orders  that  no  one  was  to  be 
admitted?' 

'"Yes,  sir;  but—' 

"  '  When  I  say  no  one,  I  mean  no  one,'  thundered 
the  general. 

"The  orderly  bowed  and  returned  to  his  post.  He 
was  too  wise  a  soldier  to  enter  into  explanations  with 
so  irritable  a  superior.  All  this  time  the  patient 
Sister  sat  calm  and  still,  biding  the  moment  when  sh-e 
might  speak  and  meekly  state  the  object  of  her  mis- 
sion. The  general  gave  her  the  opportunity  in  the 
briefest  manner  possible,  and  sharply  enough,  too, 
in  all  conscience. 

'"Well,  madam?' 

"  She  raised  a  pair  of  sad,  dark  eyes  to  his  face,  and 
the  gaze  was  so  pure,  so  saintly,  so  full  of  silent 
pleading,  that  the  rough  old  soldier  was  touched  in 
spite  of  himself.  Around  her  fell  the  heavy  muf- 
fling dress  of  her  order,  which,  however  coarse  and 
ungraceful,  had  something  strangely  solemn  and 
mournful  about  it.  Her  hands,  small  and  fair,  were 
clasped  almost  suppliantly,  and  half  hidden  in  the 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  281 

loose  sleeves,  as  if  afraid  of  their  own  trembling 
beauty;  hands  that  had  touched  tenderly,  lovingly,  so 
many  death-damp  foreheads,  that  had  soothed  so 
much  pain ;  eyes  that  had  met  prayerfully  so  many 
dying  glances;  lips  that  had  cheered  to  the  mysteri- 
ous land  so  many  parting  souls,  and  she  was  only  a 
Sister  of  Charity — only  one  of  that  innumerable 
band  whose  good  deeds  shall  live  after  them. 

"  'We  have  a  household  of  sick  and  wounded  whom 
we  must  care  for  in  some  way,  and  I  came  to  ask  of 
you  the  privilege,  which  I  humbly  beseech  you  will 
not  deny  us,  of  obtaining  ice  and  beef  at  commissary 
prices.' 

"The  gentle,  earnest  pleading  fell  on  deaf  ears. 

"  '  Always  something,'  snarled  the  general.  '  Last 
week  it  was  flour  and  ice;  to-day  it  is  ice  and  beef; 
to-morrow  it  will  be  coffee  and  ice,  I  suppose,  and  all 
for  a  lot  of  rascally  rebels,  who  ought  to  be  shot^ 
instead  of  being  nursed  back  to  life  and  treason.' 

"'General!' — the  Sister  was  majestic  now — 'Eebel 
or  Federal,  I  do  not  know;  Protestant  or  Catholic,  I 
do  not  ask.  They  are  not  soldiers  when  they  come 
to  us — they  are  simply  suffering  fellow-creatures. 
Rich  or  poor,  of  gentle  or  lowly  blood,  it  is  not  our 
province  to  inquire.  Ununiformed,  unarmed,  sick,  and 
helpless,  we  ask  not  on  which  side  they  fought.  Our 
work  begins  after  yours  is  done.  Yours  the  carnage, 
ours  the  binding  up  of  wounds.  Yours  the  battle, 
ours  the  duty  of  caring  for  the  mangled  left  behind 
on  the  field.     Ice  I  want  for  the  sick,  the  wounded, 


282  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

the  dying.  I  plead  for  all,  I  beg  for  all,  I  pray  for 
all  God's  poor  suffering  creatures,  wherever  I  may 
find  them.' 

"  ^  Yes,  you  can  beg,  I'll  admit.  What  do  you  do 
with  all  your  beggings?  It  is  always  more,  more! 
never  enough ! ' 

"  With  this,  the  general  resumed  his  writing, 
thereby  giving  the  Sister  to  understand  that  she  was 
dismissed.  For  a  moment  her  eyes  fell,  her  lips 
trembled — it  was  a  cruel  taunt.  Then  the  tremulous 
hands  slowly  lifted  and  folded  tightly  across  her 
breast,  as  if  to  still  some  sudden  heartache  the  unkind 
words  called  up.  Very  low,  and  sweet,  and  earnest 
was  her  reply. 

"  '  What  do  we  do  with  our  beggings?  Ah!  that  is 
a  hard  question  to  ask  of  one  whose  way  of  life  leads 
ever  among  the  poor,  the  sorrowing,  the  unfortunate, 
the  most  wretched  of  mankind.  Not  on  me  is  it 
wasted.  I  stand  here  in  my  earthly  all.  What  do 
we  do  with  it?     Ah!  some  day  you  may  know.' 

"She  turned  away  and  left  him,  sad  of  face,  heavy 
of  heart,  and  her  dark  eyes  misty  with  unshed  tears. 

"'Stay!' 

"The  general's  request  was  like  a  command.  He 
could  be  stern,  nay,  almost  rude,  but  he  knew  truth 
and  worth  when  he  saw  it,  and  could  be  just.  The 
Sister  paused  on  the  threshold,  and  for  a  minute 
nothing  was  heard  but  the  rapid  scratching  of  the 
general's  pen. 


MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  283 

'* '  There,  madam,  is  your  order  on  the  Commissary 
for  ice  and  beef  at  army  terms,  good  for  three  months. 
I  do  it  for  the  sake  of  the  Union  soldiers  who  are, 
or  may  be,  in  your  care.  Don't  come  bothering  me 
again.     Good-morning!' 

"  In  less  than  three  weeks  from  that  day  the  slaugh- 
ter of  the  Red  River  campaign  had  been  perfected, 
and  there  neared  the  city  of  New  Orleans  a  steamer 
flying  the  ominous  yellow  flag,  which  even  the  rebel 
sharp-shooters  respected  and  allowed  to  pass  down 
the  river  unmolested.  Another  and  still  another  fol- 
lowed closely  in  her  wake,  and  all  the  decks  were 
covered  with  the  wounded  and  dying,  whose  bloody 
bandages  and,  in  many  instances,  undressed  wounds 
gave  woeful  evidence  of  the  lack  of  surgeons,  as  well 
as  the  completeness  of  the  rout.  Among  the  des- 
perately wounded  was  Gen.  S.  He  was  borne  from 
the  steamer  to  the  waiting  ambulance,  writhing  in 
anguish  from  the  pain  of  his  bleeding  and  shell-torn 
limb,  and  when  they  asked  where  he  wished  to  be 
taken,  he  feebly  moaned: 

"  'Anywhere,  it  matters  not.  Where  I  can  die  in 
peace.' 

"So  they  took  him  to  the  Hotel  Dieu,  a  noble  and 
beautiful  institution  in  charge  of  the  Sisters  of 
Charity.  The  limb  was  amputated,  and  there  he 
was  nursed  for  weeks  through  the  agony  of  the 
surgical  operation,  the  fever,  the  wild  delirium,  and 
for  many  weary  days  no  one  could  tell  whether  life 
or  death  would  be  the  victor.     But    who    was  the 


284  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

quiet,  faithful  nurse,  ever  at  his  bedside,  ever  minis- 
tering to  his  wants,  ever  watchful  of  his  smallest 
needs?     Why,  only  'one  of  the  Sisters.' 

"At  last  life  triumphed,  reason  returned,  and  with 
it  much  of  the  old,  abrupt  manner.  The  general 
awoke  to  consciousness  to  see  a  face  not  altogether 
unknown  bending  over  him,  and  to  feel  a  pair  of 
small,  deft  hands  skilfully  arranging  a  bandage,  wet 
in  ice-cold  water,  around  his  throbbing  temples, 
where  the  mad  pain  and  aching  had  for  so  long  a 
time  held  sway.  He  was  better  now,  though  still, 
very  weak;  but  his  mind  was  clear,  and  he  could 
think  calmly  and  connectedly  of  all  that  had  taken 
place  since  the  fatal  battle— a  battle  which  had  so 
nearly  cost  him  his  life,  and  left  him  at  best  but  a 
maimed  and  mutilated  remnant  of  his  former  self. 

"Yet  he  was  thankful  it  was  no  worse — that  he  had 
not  been  killed  outright.  In  like  degree  he  was 
grateful  to  those  who  nursed  him  so  tenderly  and 
tirelessly,  especially  the  gray-robed  woman,  who  had 
become  almost  angelic  in  his  eyes,  and  it  was  like 
him  to  express  his  gratitude  in  his  own  peculiar  way, 
without  preface  or  circumlocution.  Looking  intently 
at  the  Sister,  as  if  to  get  her  features  well  fixed  in 
his  memory,  he  said: 

"  '  Did  you  get  the  ice  and  beef?' 

"  The  Sister  started.  The  question  was  so  direct  and 
unexpected.  Surely  her  patient  must  be  getting 
— really  himself ! 

" '  Yes,'  she  replied,  simply,  but  with  a  kind  glance 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  285 

of  the  soft,  sad  eyes,  that  spoke  eloquently  her 
thanks. 

"  '  And  your  name  is — ' 

"  'Sister  Francis.' 

"  '  "Well,  then,  Sister  Francis,  I  am  glad  you  got  the 
things — glad  I  gave  you  the  order.  I  think  I  know 
now  what  you  do  with  your  beggings  —  I  compre- 
hend something  of  your  work,  your  charity,  your 
religion,  and  I  hope  to  be  the  better  for  the  knowl- 
edge. I  owe  you  a  debt  I  can  never  repay,  but  you 
will  endeavor  to  believe  that  I  am  deeply  grateful 
for  all  your  great  goodness  and  ceaseless  care.' 

"'Nay,  you  owe  me  nothing;  but  to  Him,  whose 
cross  I  bear,  and  in  whose  lowly  footsteps  I  try  to 
follow,  you  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  unbounded. 
To  His  infinite  mercy  I  commend  you.  It  matters 
not  for  the  body;  it  is  that  divine  mystery,  the  soul, 
I  would  save.  My  work  here  is  done.  I  leave  you 
to  the  care  of  others.     Adieu.' 

**  The  door  softly  opened  and  closed,  and  he  saw 
Sister  Francis  no  more. 

"Two  months  afterward  she  received  a  letter  sent 
to  the  care  of  the  Mother  Superior,  inclosing  a  check 
for  a  thousand  dollars.  At  the  same  time  the  gen- 
eral took  occasion  to  remark  that  he  wished  he  were 
able  to  make  it  twice  the  amount,  since  he  knew  by 
experience,  'what  they  did  with  their  beggings.'" 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


THE     EEV.     JAM:ES    M.    DILLON,  C. 

TPIE  SIXTY-THIRD  N.  Y.  VOL.,  IRISH  BRIGADE. 

IN  the  summer  of  18G1,  the  Eev.  Father  Dillon 
was  in  New  York,  on  business  for  Notre  Dame. 
While  there,  he  became  acquainted  with  several  of 
the  officers  who  were  then  organizing  the  Sixty -third 
Eegiment  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  and  took  a  deep 
interest  in  the  officers  and  men,  who  were  almost 
exclusively  Catholics,  and  were  offering  their  lives 
for  the  safety  of  the  nation.  At  the  urgent  request 
of  these  officers,  he  volunteered  to  go  as  chaplain, 
provided  I  would  go  with  him.  He  wrote  to  me 
requesting  my  consent,  and,  by  return  mail,  I  sent 
an  affirmative  answer.  Father  Dillon  was  young, 
but  of  mature  mind,  and  quite  eloquent.  He  was 
impulsive  and  ardent,  and  threw  his  whole  soul  into 
any  good  work  he  undertook.  He  helped  to  organize 
the  command,  and  spared  no  labor  to  form  his  men 
in  virtuous  habits  from  the  very  start.  The  following 
facts,  concerning  Father  Dillon's  first  official  acts  in 
the  regiment,  have  been  kindly  furnished  me  by 
Maj.  John  Dwyer,  an  officer  of  the  Sixty-third,  Irish 

(286) 


KEY.  JAMES  DILLON,  C.   S.    C, 
Chaplain  GSdN.Y.Vol. 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  287 

Brigade,  during  the  war,  now  editor  and  proprietor  of 
the  Sandy  Hill  Herald,  New  York.  These  facts  show 
the  zealous  and  active  part  taken  by  Father  Dillon. 
Whatever  concerned  the  welfare  of  his  men  he  was 
foremost  in  promoting,  and  this  disposition  he  retained 
during  the  time  he  was  able  to  stay  in  the  service. 

THE  CHAPLAIN  IN  COMMAND  BRINGS 
ORDER  OUT  OF  CONFUSION. 

While  the  Irish  Brigade  was  entering  the  bloody 
battle  at  Malvern  Hill,  July  1,  1862,  the  regiment 
being  advanced  in  line,  a  general  (who  proved  to  be 
Fitz  John  Porter)  came  dashing  from  the  front, 
accompanied  with  a  numerous  staff. 

"What  regiment  is  this?"  was  his  inquiry. 

"This  is  the  Sixty-third,  of  Gen.  Meagher's 
brigade,"  was  the  response  of  Lieut. -Col.  Fowler. 

"I  am  Gen.  Porter,  in  command  of  this  part  of 
the  field.  I  order  you  to  remain  here  until  a  field 
battery  comes  up,  which  I  have  sent  for.  Support 
the  battery  until  ordered  to  the  contrary." 

Col.  Fowler  saluted,  and  said  he  would  see  that  the 
order  was  obeyed. 

Porter  and  his  staff  then  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
ness toward  the  front.     Col.  Fowler  gave  the  order: 

"Battalion!  order  arms!     In  place  rest!" 

Gen.  Meagher  and  his  staff  at  this  time  came 
hastily  from  the  front. 

"Who  is  in  command  here?  What  regiment  is 
it?"  he  asked. 


288  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Lieut. -Col.  Fowler  rode  up  and  said  he  was  in 
command,  and  that  it  was  the  Sixty -third. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  while  your  comrades 
are  being  slaughtered?     Follow  me!" 

Fowler  said  tliat  Gen.  Porter  had  directed  that 
the  regiment  remain  here  until  a  battery  came  up, 
which  he  must  support. 

"Do  you  refuse,  sir,  to  obey  the  orders  of  your 
general?"  was  Meagher's  question. 

"I  do  not  refuse, general,  but  I  must  obey  the  prior 
orders  of  Gen.  Porter,  who  is  in  command  here,"  was 
the  answer. 

The  fiery  Meagher  was  wild  with  rage,  while  he 
dashed  down  the  front  of  the  regiment  and  back 
again  to  the  right  where  Fowler  stood. 

"Give  me  your  sword,  sir!  You  are  a  disgrace  to 
the  Irish  Brigade.     I  place  you  under  arrest,  sir!" 

Then  turning  to  an  oflB-cer,  one  of  his  own  staff, 
who  was  near: 

"  Capt.  Gosson,  take  that  man's  sword! "  which  was 
done. 

Capt.  Joseph  O'Neil,  the  senior  officer  present, 
then  took  command.  Meagher  called  on  the  men  to 
follow  him.  Some  were  for  doing  so,  and  the  two 
right  companies,  (A)  First  Lieut.  Joseph  McDonough, 
and  (G)  Capt.  P.  J.  Condon,  gave  orders  to  their 
men,  and  the  two  companies  followed  their  general 
to  the  front.  Having  reached  the  top  of  the  hill, 
the  companies  were  halted,  when  it  was  decided  to 
return  to  the  regiment,  that  all  might  act  together. 


MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  289 

Having  taken  their  place  in  the  ranks  again,  the 
command  was  found  to  be  somewhat  demoralized  in 
consequence  of  the  loss  of  Col.  Burke  and  the  retire- 
ment of  Lieut.-Col.  Fowler.  (Maj.  R.  C.  Bentley 
was  absent.)  Add  to  this  the  exposed  condition  of 
the  men,  who  were  being  constantly  hit  by  fragments 
of  shell,  round  shot,  and  musketry  fire.  In  the 
confusion  O'Neil's  voice  could  not  be  heard,  and 
only  a  limited  number  of  the  companies  on  the  right 
knew  that  he  was  in  command.  At  this  juncture 
some  one  shouted: 

"Who  is  commanding  officer,  anyhow?" 

"Col.  Burke!"  some  one  responded. 

"No,  Col.  Fowler  is!"  shouted  a  soldier  from  the 
left. 

"Men,  neither  is!"  said  an  officer  in  Company  D. 
"Capt.  O'Neil  will  lead  this  regiment  to-night." 

"This  is  Father  Dillon's  regiment!"  a  rough  voice 
from  the  center  called  out. 

"Yes,  yes!  We  want  Father  Dillon!  Give  us 
Father  Dillon!" 

The  chaplain  was  a  few  paces  to  the  rear,  giving 
the  consolation  of  his  holy  office  to  a  badly  wounded 
soldier,  who  was  stricken  down  a  few  moments 
previous. 

This  good  man  promptly  responded.  He  passed 
down  the  ranks,  and  told  the  men  he  was  with  them, 
and  would  remain  here. 

"I  will  take  command,  if  no  one  else  does  so.  Lie 
down,  boys,  and  wait  for  orders!" 

19 


290  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

The  order  was  promptly  obeyed.  While  they  were 
lying  down,  he  went  from  right  to  left  and  informed 
the  men  that  Capt.  O'Neil  was  now  in  command, 
being  the  senior  officer  on  the  field. 

The  battery  had  by  this  time  put  in  an  appearance, 
coming  like  a  whirlwind  from  the  right,  regardless 
of  the  dead  and  wounded  lying  thick  on  the  ground. 

"Attention,  battalion!"  rang  out  from  O'Neil. 
"Forward!  By  the  right  flank!  Double  quick! 
March!" 

And  the  Sixty -third  hung  on  to  the  rear  of  the  flying 
battery,  taking  position  in  front  of  the  guns.  Every 
man  lay  flat  on  the  ground.  The  cannon  continued 
to  fire  for  an  hour  at  least,  their  aim  directed  by  the 
flash  of  the  enemy's  guns.  Two  attempts  were  made 
to  capture  the  battery,  but  their  well-directed  fire 
sent  the  desperate  Confederates  back  in  confusion, 
aided  by  a  volley  from  the  rifles  of  the  Sixty -third. 

This  ended  the  battle  of  Malvern  Hill,  and  the 
last  of  the  famous  "Seven  Days."  Before  daylight, 
nothing  remained  on  the  field  held  by  the  Union 
hosts  but  the  dead  and  badly  wounded,  and  the  wreck 
and  ruin  caused  by  the  struggle  of  200,000  men. 

The  next  day  saw  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
resting  at  Harrison  Landing,  on  the  banks  of  the 
James,  where  it  recruited  previous  to  its  retirement 
from  the  Peninsula,  to  enter  on  the  second  Bull 
Eun  campaign. 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  291 

TEMPEEANCE   SOCIETY. 

To  prepare  for  the  realities  of  war,  the  Sixty-third, 
N.  Y.  v.,  was  encamped  on  David's  Island,  in  the 
East  River,  Long  Island  Sound,  in  November,  1861. 
R.  C.  Enright  was  colonel  of  the  regiment,  and  the 
Rev.  James  M.  Dillon,  C.  S.  C,  was  the  chaplain. 

Camps  of  Union  troops  were  abundant  in  the 
neighborhood  of  New  York,  filling  up  companies 
and  regiments  for  the  inevitable  struggle  soon  to 
come  with  the  rebellious  Southern  States.  Seeing 
the  result  of  camp  life  on  the  young  men  composing 
these  skeleton  commands,  the  good  chaplain  of  the 
Sixty-third  was  determined  to  guard  his  boys  against 
the  prevailing  vices,  especially  that  of  drunkenness, 
which  was  the  predominant  failing,  and  always  char- 
acteristic of  camp  life. 

A  talk  of  organizing  a  Temperance  Society  in  the 
regiment  was  rife  for  several  days,  and  assumed  formal 
shape  on  Sunday,  November  17.  The  Holy  Sacrifice 
was  offered,  as  usual,  that  morning  in  the  dining 
hall,  where  probably  700  officers  and  men  were 
present.  (The  regiment  was  composed  almost  entirely 
of  Roman  Catholics.) 

Chaplain  Dillon,  at  the  close  of  the  service,  took 
as  his  text  the  subject  of  "Temperance."  He  went 
on,  in  his  usual  eloquent  style,  depicting  the  evils  of 
intemperance.  He  said  it  was  the  father  of  all  crimes, 
especially  among  those  with  Irish  blood  in  their  veins. 
"Show  me,"  he  said,  "an  Irish  Catholic  who  is  not 


292  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

addicted  to  the  vice  of  drunkenness,  and  I  will  find  a 
good  citizen  of  the  Republic.  Give  me  an  abstainer 
from  the  cup  that  inebriates,  and  I  will  show  you  an 
obedient,  brave  soldier  willing  to  die  for  the  flag. 
History  is  full  of  incidents  where  ignominious  defeat 
has  followed  dearly -bought  victory,  owing  to  the 
indulgence  in  strong  drink.  I  have  in  my  mind,"  he 
went  on  to  say,  *'one  conspicuous  example  in  the 
hopeless  struggle  of  Ireland,  in  '98,  where  the  insur- 
gents met  disaster  after  routing  the  enemy,  because 
they  gave  way  to  festivity  when  they  should  have 
taken  advantage  of  their  dearly -bought  success. 

"You  are  going  to  the  war,  my  comrades.  Many 
of  you  will  find  a  grave  in  the  sunny  South.  I  can 
not  say  how  many,  but  the  number  will  be  large,  as 
it  will  not  be  a  holiday  excursion.  The  South  has  a 
population  of  five  millions,  and  vast  wealth.  So  has 
the  North.  Believe  me,  the  longest  purse  will  carry 
the  day.  It  is  my  honest  "Opinion  that  the  Irish 
Brigade,  to  which  you  will  be  attached,  under  the 
leadership  of  the  chivalrous  Thomas  Francis  Meagher, 
will  be  always  in  the  van,  in  the  post  of  danger,  the 
post  of  honor.  It  has  been  ever  thus.  It  is  a  tribute 
to  your  Irish   valor,  and  you  should  be  proud  of  it. 

"Go,  then,  to  the  front  as  temperate  men.  If  you 
do,  you  will  be  equal  to  all  emergencies.  I  will  give 
you  an  opportunity  to  be  temperate  soldiers,  for  I 
propose  this  very  day — ^now  and  here — to  organize  a 
temperance  society  for  the  war. 

"How  many  will  join  it?  Let  every  officer  and 
man  present  do  so,  and  God  will  bless  you!" 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  293 

All  who  would  not  fall  in  under  the  temperance 
banner  he  requested  to  fall  back.     Not  one  did  so. 

The  enthusiastic  priest  said  much  more,  being 
visibly  affected,  as  were  his  hearers.  There  was  a 
rush  for  the  front,  and  the  aid  of  several  secretaries 
was  required  to  take  the  names.  Father  Dillon  was 
surprised  at  the  success  of  his  efforts,  and  when  all 
the  names  had  been  taken,  he  recited,  slowly,  and  in 
a  distinct  voice,  the  words  of  the  pledge,  which  all 
were  requested  to  repeat  after  him.  They  did  so, 
and  the  voices  of  those  700  stalwart  men  sounded 
like  surf  on  the  beach,  only  a  few  rods  distant. 

The  speaker  announced  that  in  a  few  days  they 
would  elect  their  officers  and  get  in  working  order 
for  the  temperance  campaign. 

Accordingly,  on  the  following  Thursday,  Novem- 
ber 21  (a  feast  of  the  Blessed  Virgin),  after  Mass, 
the  chaplain  spoke  again  on  the  subject  of  "Temper- 
ance," after  which  the  following  officers  were  elected 
for  the  society :  President,  the  Rev.  J.  M.  Dillon; 
Vice-President,  Dr.  Michael  G.  Gilligan;  Recording 
Secretary  and  Treasurer,  Lieut.  Patrick  Gormerly; 
Corresponding  Secretary,  Capt.  Michael  O'Sullivan. 

The  effects  of  the  "Temperance  Society"  were 
soon  apparent  in  the  regiment.  Daily  and  Sunday 
attendance  at  Mass  was  sensibly  augmented,  and 
there  was  a  decided  diminution  in  camp  carousals. 
So  elated  was  Father  Dillon  that  he  decided  to 
have  a  medal  struck  to  commemorate  the  event.  A 
design  was  prepared  and  placed  in  the  hands  of  an 


294  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

engraver  in  New  York  City,  and  several  hundred 
were  cast.  They  had  an  appropriate  inscription  on 
each  side,  and  in  size  resembled  a  silver  dollar.  Even 
at  this  day,  thirty  years  after  the  incident  above 
alluded  to,  "Father  Dillon's  Temperance  Medals" 
are  frequently  met  with  in  the  hands  of  the  remnant 
of  the  Sixty-third  or  their  descendants. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  all  who  'Hook  the 
pledge"  on  that  Sunday  morning  in  November,  1861, 
kept  it  inviolate,  but  it  is  equally  certain  that  many 
did.     This  incident  will  illustrate: 

McClellan's  grand  army  of  over  100,000  fighting 
men  invested  the  Confederate  capital  the  summer 
succeeding  (June,  1862).  The  Irish  Brigade  was 
among  them,  including  the  "Temperance  Regiment." 
The  camps  were  right  in  the  swamps  of  the  dreaded 
Chickahominy,  a  disease-breading  and  poisonous 
spot.  The  water  was  so  execrable  that  commissary 
whiskey  was  dealt  out  daily  to  officers  and  men,  at 
the  expense  of  the  government.  Even  then  malaria, 
dysentery,  fever  and  ague,  and  kindred  troubles  were 
fearfully  prevalent. 

The  men  who  wore  the  temperance  medals  received 
their  rations  with  the  rest,  but  they  absolutely  refused 
to  touch  the  stuff.  The  writer  remembers  distinctly 
(he  was  a  "Medal  Man")  what  a  scramble  there 
was  daily  for  his  whiskey  ration.  And  the  same  was 
true  of  others.  On  one  occasion  Sergt.  Quinn,  a 
six-footer,  thought  he  had  a  prior  claim  to  Sergt. 
Dwyer's  ration.     Private  Rutledge — short  but  gritty 


tempp:eance  medal. 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  295 

— of  Co.  K,  Albany  company,  differed  from  his  big 
comrade.  It  was  decided,  as  the  only  way  to  solve 
the  problem,  that  they  fight  for  it.  A  ring  was 
formed  of  too- willing  soldiers,  both  contestants  strip- 
ping to  the  waist.  In  about  three  minutes,  the 
little  Albany  soldier  laid  out  the  big  fellow,  who  went 
sprawling  his  full  length  on  the  grass. 

Pri\^ate  Kutledge  then  received  his  whisky  ration, 
having  won  it  in  a  fair  encounter.  From  that  day 
forth,  until  the  army  left  the  sluggish  Chickahominy 
far  behind,  and  the  whisky  rations  were  stopped. 
Private  Kutledge  had  a  mortgage  on  Sergt.  Dwyor's 
"commissary." 

The  Sixty-third  regiment  was  on  David's  Island, 
and  on  the  6th  of  November,  1861,  a  delegation  of 
Irish-Americans,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  came  to  the 
Island,  headed  by  Gen.  Thomas  Francis  Meagher. 
All  were  residents  of  the  metropolis.  They  came  in 
a  chartered  steamer,  accompanied  by  Dods worth's 
famous  band.  They  had  with  them  two  beautiful 
silk  flags:  one  the  national  colors,  the  other  Erin's 
immortal  green — the  "Sunburst."  The  ten  com- 
panies of  the  regiment  were  drawn  up  on  the  parade 
ground,  when  Gen.  Meagher,  in  behalf  of  the  donoi^s, 
presented  the  flags  in  a  patriotic  speech  that  called 
forth  repeated  cheers  from  the  soldiers.  Col.  Enright 
of  the  Sixty -third  responded  briefly. 

The  chaplain,  the  Rev.  James  M.  Dillon,  being 
called  upon,  addressed  the  command.  He  reminded 
tlie  officers  and  men  of  the  great  compliment  paid  the 


296  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

regiment  by  their  New  York  friends,  who,  instead  of 
waiting  for  the  United  States  Government  to  do  it, 
generously  contributed  the  beautiful  standards,  which 
were  to  be  borne  in  the  forefront  of  battle.  To 
defend  these  flags  was  their  duty — even  at  the  sacri- 
fice of  their  lives.  "They  are  fit  companions  in 
freedom's  battle."  Then  he  asked,  in  stentorian 
tones : 

"Officers  and  men:  Are  you  willing  and  ready  to 
defend  these  emblems  of  freedom  with  your  lives?" 

The  response  came  from  a  thousand  throats: 

"We  are!     We  are!" 

"Then  go  forth  to  battle,  my  friends  and  comrades, 
and  never  let  it  be  said  that  the  Sixty-third  regiment 

—  which  is  to  hold  the  second  place  of  honor  in  the 
Irish  Brigade — permitted  their  flag  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemies  of   the  Union  and  liberty. 

"Let  me  impress  on  you  the  fact  that  to  be  faithful, 
brave  soldiers,  you  must  be  practical  Christians. 
There  is  no  braver  soldier  in  this  world,  in  any 
country,  under  any  form  of  government,  than  a 
consistent  Catholic.  The  fathers  of  most  of  you  have 
fought  on  every  battlefield,  from  Fontenoy  to  Cha- 
pultepec,  and  their  bayonets  were  ever  in  the  van. 
Let  it  be  said  of  you,  ere  this  causeless  rebellion  is 
suppressed,  that  the  soldiers  of  the  Irish  Brigade 
have  emulated  the  heroism  of  their  forefathers. 

"Ours  is  a  country  and  cause  worth  fighting  for 

—  dying  for!" 

The  glowing  words  of  the  chaplain  were  vociferously 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  297 

cheered,  again  and  again,  and  when  he  concluded, 
the  ceremonies  were  brought  to  a  close. 

Father  Dillon  was  a  young  man  in  the  prime  of 
manhood  at  the  time — about  twenty-eight  years  old. 
He  was  mustered  into  the  service  October  30,  1861, 
and  was  discharged  for  disability  (sickness), October 
18,  1862.  ^ 

I  give  the  following  account  of  a  presentation  to 
my  dear  friend  and  companion,  Father  Dillon,  with 
the  foregoing,  as  a  kind  memento  of  him.  Moreover, 
this  account  will  help  to  show  how  popular  he  was, 
and  how  enthusiastic  in  everything  that  pertained  to 
his  men  and  the  organization  to  which  he  belonged : 


PRESENTATION   TO  THE  REV.  J.  M.  DILLON,  CHAP- 
LAIN OF   CORCORAN'S  IRISH  LEGION. 


On  Monday,  February  9, 1863,  the  Rev.  Father  Dillon,  chap- 
lain of  Corcoran's  Irish  Legion,  was  presented  with  a  splendid 
set  of  horse  equipments,  consisting  of  bridle,  saddle,  spurs,  and 
gauntlets.  The  spurs  are  of  a  very  superior  style  and  worth. 
The  presentation  took  place  in  the  Clerk's  Office  in  the  City 
Hall,  Alderman  Wm.  Walsh  making  the  presentation  speech  in 
the  presence  of  the  Aldermen  and  Councilmen  and  a  few  select 
friends.  Alderman  Walsh's  address  was  brief,  and  in  substance 
this:  That  these  offerings  were  testimonials  of  their  late  visit  to 
Suffolk,  where  thej  spent  such  a  pleasant  time,  and  a  mark  of 
their  esteem  for  the  Reverend  Father  who  so  creditably  filled 
the  position  to  which  he  was  assigned,  and  he  hoped  whenever 
the  Father  used  these  gifts  he  would  be  pleased  to  remember 
the  donors. 

In  reply  Father  Dillon  said: 

"  Mr.  President  and  Gentlemen: — You  will  believe  me 
when  I  tell   you  I  that  can  not  find    words  to  express  niy 


298  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

feelings  to  you  on  this  occasion,  for  they  are  feelings  of  the 
heart,  and  to  these  no  human  language  can  give  utterance* 
'The  language  of  the  heart,'  it  is  said,  and  truly,  '  is  silence.' 
But  this  I  will  say,  that  when  you  came  to  Suffolk  to  pay 
honor  to  our  Irish  nationality  in  the  person  of  our  great 
and  worthy  Irish  chieftain,  Gen.  Corcoran  [applause],  it 
became  a  matter  of  duty  to  me  to  do  all  I  could  to  honor 
you,  the  representatives  of  the  great  city  of  New  York,  and  for 
tl^e  doing  of  which  I  deserve  no  credit.  You,  though,  have  been 
pleased  to  think  otherwise;  and  I,  gentlemen,  am  glad  of  it,  not, 
indeed,  because  of  the  value  of  these  gifts,  valuable  as  they 
may  be  and  are,  but  because  of  the  feeling  that  prompted  the 
offering.  But  this  presentation  is  not  only  a  subject  of  pleasure 
to  me,  it  is  one  also  of  honest  pride.  For,  gentlemen,  you  do 
not  know  how  proud  I  am  to  hear  my  name  mentioned  in  con- 
nection with  a  man  and  an  organization  so  eminently  calculated 
in  the  future  as  in  the  past  to  do  good  service  in  the  great 
struggle  in  which  we  are  now  engaged  and  to  reflect  undying 
credit  on  our  nationality.  [Applause]  Then,gentlemen,  I  accept 
these  gifts,  and  I  thank  you;  and  whenever  I  use  them,  whether 
on  the  tented  field,  or  on  the  broad  prairies  of  my  Western 
home,  my  only  regret  will  be  that  I  will  not  have  the  pleasure 
of  the  company  of  the  munificent  donors." 

The  Joint  Committee  of  the  Common  Council  also  gave,  on 
the  evening  of  February  7,  a  dinner  at  the  "  Maison  Doree''  to 
the  Rev.  James  M.  Dillon,  chaplain  of  Corcoran's  Legion,  who 
was  assiduous  in  his  att3ntions  to  the  comfort  of  the  committee 
while  they  were  at  Suffolk,  and  who  is  now  in  the  city  on  a 
brief  business  visit  connected  with  the  Irish  Legion.  The 
dinner  was  of  the  most  elegant  description.  In  addition  to  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Dillon  and  Alderman  Walsh— the  latter  occupying  the 
head  of  the  table -there  were  present  several  other  aldermen 
and  other  prominent  gentlemen.  The  entertainment  passed  off 
very  agreeably.  Addresses  were  made  by  several  of  the  gentle- 
men present,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dillon  responding  for  the "  Irish 
Legion,"  Alderman  Mitchell  for  "Gen.  Corcoran,"  Mr.  Walsh 
for  "The  Board  of  Aldermen,"  Mr.  Healy  for  "  The  Board  of 
Councilmen,"  Mr.  Manning  for  "  The  Press,"  and  Mr.  Hardy, 
in  a  very  handsome  manner,  for  "The  Ladies." 


f 

A 

'm    m^ 

1 

k 

^  \ 

1 

^^B  ^^S 

^aKl 

! 

KEV.    TIIOS.    OUELLET,    S.    J., 
Ex- Chaplain  G9th  N.  Y.  S.  V. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


BOMAN   CATHOLIC   CHArLAINS   IN    THE    WAE THE    REV. 

THOMAS    OUELLET,    S.    J.,    IRISH    BRIGADE.* 

THE  Rev.  Thomas  Ouellet,  S.  J.,  though  not  of 
our  race,  having  been  born  in  Lower  Canada, 
of  French  parents,  was  one  of  the  most  zealous 
priests  in  the  army.  When  the  war  commenced, 
Father  Ouellet  was  attached  to  St.  John's  College, 
at  Fordham,  and,  hearing  that  a  Catholic  regiment 
required  a  chaplain,  offered  his  services  to  Arch- 
bishop Hughes,  the  Nestor  of  the  Catholic  Church*of 
America,  who  assigned  Father  Ouellet  to  the  Irish 
Brigade. 

Father  Ouellet  was  the  direct  antithesis  of  Father 
Corby  in  manner,  and  in  dealing  with  the  men 
intrusted  to  his  spiritual  charge.  Father  Corby  was 
gentle  and  conciliating,  while  the  subject  of  this 
sketch    was    a    perfect   martinet   in   everything  that 


*  Written  for  the   New  York  Tablet  by  General  Dennis 
BURK,  I.  B. 


(299) 


300  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

pertained  to  his  sacred  duties;  full  of  energy,  and 
possessing,  in  a  high  degree,  the  positiveness  of  his 
race.  We  remember  forming  our  first  opinion  of  this 
clergyman  at  Camp  California,  Va.,  in  the  winter 
of  1862.  The  brigade  was  assigned  to  the  division 
^commanded  by  that  brave  and  accomplished  old 
soldier,  Gren.  E,  V  Sumner,  then  lying  near  Alex- 
andria, Va.  The  brigade  consisted  at  this  time  of  the 
Sixty-ninth,  Sixty-third,  and  Eighty-eighth,  New 
York  Volunteers. 

The  Sixty-ninth  was  commanded  by  Col.  Nugent; 
Sixty-third  by  Col.  Burke,  and  the  Eighty-eighth 
by  Col.  Baker.  It  was  customary  on  every  Sunday 
to  hold  a  joint  assemblage  of  the  entire  command  at 
the  celebration  of  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass. 
One  Sunday  morning,  on  our  way  to  Mass,  we  heard 
an  altercation  between  Father  Ouellet  and  a  captain 
of  the  Sixty-ninth.  The  captain  had  been  using 
language  toward  some  members  of  his  company  that 
offended  the  sensibilities  of  the  good  priest's  ear, 
and  he  was  reproving  the  captain  for  his  words.  The 
captain  had  a  very  exalted  opinion  of  himself  and 
the  position  he  occupied  in  the  army.  When  reproved 
by  the  good  Father,  he  said:  "Do  you  know,  sir,  I 
am  a  captain  of  this  regiment,  and  you  are  only  a 
captain  of  cavalry  on  detached  service  ?  "  (A  chaplain 
of  the  army  receives  the  same  pay  and  allowances,  as 
a  captain  of  mounted  troops.)  Father  Ouellet,  seeing 
the  consequential   gentleman   he  had   to  deal  with, 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  301 

ceased  his  argument  with  him,  and  went  to  the  church 
to  perform  his  sacred  duties.  'When  the  time  for 
exhortation  came  Father  Ouellet  paid  his  respects  to 
the  captain  in  a  form  that  ever  afterward  made  him 
dreaded  by  the  backsliders  of  our  organization.  He 
said,  in  his  peculiar  French  accent:  "I  have  been 
told  to-day,  by  an  officer  of  my  regiment,  when 
reproving  him  for  profanity  in  the  presence  of  his 
men,  who  are  to  share  with  him  on  the  battlefield 
the  dangers  of  a  soldier's  life,  that  I  was  only  a 
captain  of  cavalry,  and  had  no  business  to  interfere 
in  the  discharge  of  his  duties.  I  never  intended  to 
interfere  in  the  discipline  of  the  regiment,  but  I  want 
to  tell  that  captain,  as  well  as  all  here  assembled  to 
worship  God,  that  I  did  not  enter  the  army  as  a 
captain  of  cavalry,  but  as  a  soldier  of  the  Saviour  to 
preach  the  doctrine  of  our  holy  Church,  and  I  shall,  on 
all  occasions,  as  one  of  the  spiritual  directors  of  this 
command,  reprove  vice,  and  preach  to  you,  undefiled, 
the  religion  of  your  fathers." 

From  that  occasion  to  the  end.  Father  Ouellet 
enjoyed  the  esteem  and  confidence  of  the  entire  body 
of  men  composing  the  organization  of  which  he  was 
in  part  the  spiritual  guide.  No  matter  at  what  time, 
or  how  much  it  would  inconvenience  him,  he  was 
always  ready  for  duty.  On  the  march,  in  bivouac,  or 
in  battle,  Father  Ouellet  was  distinguished  for  zeal, 
and  indefatigable  in  the  performance  of  his  sacred 
mission.     He  was  an  intense  lover  of  the  Union  and 


302  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

believed  in  the  war  for  the  suppression  of  the  rebell- 
ion. He  hated  cant  and  duplicity.  Honesty  of  pur- 
pose, combined  with  a  high  belief  in  true  Christian 
character,  always  guided  this  remarkable  man. 

Father  Ouellet  was  in  build  small  of  stature  and 
lithe  of  frame,  but  immense  in  energy.  He  loved  his 
sacred  calling,  and  never  neglected  its  important 
duties.  During  Gen.  McClellan's  famous  seven  days' 
retreat  before  Richmond,  he  was  always  to  the  front 
on  every  occasion  ministering  to  the  wounded,  and 
always  predicting,  to  those  who  happened  to  be  faint- 
hearted, the  certainty  of  final  success.  It  was  after 
this  terrible  trial  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  that 
Father  Ouellet  made  use  of  two  expressions  that  are 
to-day  in  the  mouth  of  every  soldier  who  served  in 
that  army;  and  we  doubt  if  one  out  of  a  hundred 
knows  the  author.  On  the  first  Sunday  after  the 
retreat  to  Harrison's  Landing,  after  the  permanent 
establishment  of  the  camp,  the  good  priest,  in  his  usual 
energetic  manner,  had  a  chapel  erected  and  sum- 
moned the  brigade  to  attend  Mass.  Father  Corby  was 
the  celebrant,  and  Father  Ouellet  was  to  preach  the 
sermon  of  the  day.  The  men  were  tired,  and,  as  it 
was  about  breakfast  time,  some  of  them  sat  down  in 
their  shelter  tents,  placing  their  repast  outside,  as 
there  was  but  little  room  inside  the  modern  army  tent 
for  any  purpose  but  to  lie  down.  The  energetic 
priest  noticed  the  action  of  the  backsliders,  and, 
suddenly  descending  from  the  hill  where  the  church 
was  situated,  walked  along  the  company  streets  and 


MEMOIES    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  303 

kicked  the  vessels  containing  the  coffee  over,  spilling 
their  contents,  amid  the  general  howls  of  the  hungry 
soldiers.  He  then  ascended  the  altar  and  addressed 
the  assembled  veterans  as  follows:  "I  know  all  who 
are  regardless  of  your  regimental  designation.  I  can 
tell  the  good  and  bad  of  you.  The  good  came  here 
this  morning  to  thank  God  for  their  deliverance  from 
death,  and  the  rest  who  remained  to  satisfy  their 
appetites  were  fellows  that  were  coffee-coolers  and 
skedaddlers  during  our  retreat."  Ever  afterward, 
there  was  little  necessity  for  the  chaplain  to  call  the 
attention  of  the  men  when  circumstances  permitted 
the  celebration  of  the  Mass.  They  all  attended, 
particularly  if  Father  Ouellet  was  in  camp. 

Father  Ouellet  was  loved  by  all  that  remained  of 
the  Irish  Brigade,  and  respected  by  every  member  of 
the  Second  Army  Corps,  from  the  gallant  commander, 
W.  S.  Hancock,  to  the  humblest  private  in  the  ranks. 

FATHER    OUELLET    TRIES   HIS    HAND  AT 
HOUSE  BUILDING. 

[From  Notes  by  St.  John  Dwyer,  Sixty-third  New  York.] 
In  December,  1862,  Burnside  stormed  the  heights 
of  Fredericksburg  with  50,000  men  —  the  Right 
Grand  Division  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  The 
attack  was  a  total  failure,  as  was  the  attempt  of 
Franklin's  Left  Grand  Division,  below  the  city 
proper,  to  turn  the  Confederates'  right  flank.  On 
the  night  of  the  15th,  the  ill-fated  but  gallant  army 


S04  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

recrossed  the  Rappahannock,  on  the  ponton-bridges, 
leaving  the  city  filled  with  the  Union  wounded,  and 
the  slopes  of  Mary's  Heights  littered  with  the  heroic 
dead. 

The  morning  of  December  16  found  the  troops 
occupying  their  old  camps  again,  minus  12,353 
men  than  when  they  were  there  less  than  one 
week  previous.  (Union  loss:  Killed,  1,180;  wounded, 
9,028;  missing,  2,145—12,353.  Confederate  loss: 
Killed,  579;  wounded,  3,870;  missing,  127—4,576.) 
It  was  discouraging  to  the  men;  and,  besides,  they 
were  compelled  to  rebuild  their  huts  in  many 
instances,  having  destroyed  them  when  leaving. 
Not  an  officer  or  man  in  the  army  believed  for  a 
moment  that  we  should  be  under  the  necessity  of 
re-occupying  our  temporary  homes. 

Passing  an  abandoned  winter  hut  on  the  morning 
of  the  16th,  the  attention  of  the  writer  was  attracted 
to  the  efforts  of  an  individual  to  put  his  house  in 
order  once  more.  The  sides  were  there,  but  the 
canvas  roof  was  missing,  as  were  its  frail  rafters.  It 
proved  to  be  Father  Thomas  Ouellet,  chaplain  of  the 
Sixty-ninth  New  York,  of  the  Irish  Brigade.  The 
writer  reined  up  a  moment  to  witness  the  novel  sight 
— a  priest  rebuilding  his  "  homestead"  unaided!  He 
made  sorry  work  of  it,  but  appeared  to  be  in  no  way 
disconcerted.     Addressing  him,  the   writer  said: 

"Good-morning,  Father  Ouellet." 

"Oh,  good-morning.  Lieutenant." 

"I  fear.  Chaplain,  you  are  but  an  indifferent  car- 
penter.    The    Sixty-ninth    men   would  be   only  too 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  305 

glad  to  do  that  work  for  you.  Why  don't  you  ask 
Adjutant  Smith  for  a  detail?" 

"Indeed,  he  furnished  me  with  a  detail,  but  the 
poor  fellows  are  so  used  up  with  our  experience  at 
the  Heights,  there  are  hardly  enough  of  them  left  to 
put  up  their  own  huts,  and  furnish  men  for  guards 
and  picket.  They  would  willingly  help  me,  but  I 
sent  them  away." 

"Then  let  me  send  you  a  dozen  men  of  the  Sixty- 
third.     Several  of  them  are  carpenters." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  Lieutenant.  But,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  you  are  no  better  off  than  the  Sixty - 
ninth  boys.  You  have  not  100  men  left  in  your 
whole  regiment.  You  passed  me  Wednesday  on  the 
dock  over  in  Fredericksburg,  as  you  came  out  of 
the  fight." 

The  good  man  was  correct.  The  Sixty-third  did 
not  muster  fifty  muskets  after  the  assault. 

As  I  turned  to  leave,  seeing  that  he  would  not 
accept  the  proffered  aid,  he  remarked: 

"I  will  get  along  slowly;  all  I  want  is  a  roof  to 
keep  out  the  cold  and  rain." 

He  did  "get  along"  in  some  way,  as  toward  even- 
ing the  tent  roof  was  in  place,  his  sheet-iron  stove 
going,  and  he  was  apparently  as  happy  as  though  he 
were  in  a  cozy  rectory  in  a  northern  city. 

I  put  my  head  in  at  the  door  and  remarked: 

"  I  see  you  are  all  right  again.  Father.  '  Where 
there's  a  will  there's  a  way!'" 

20 


306  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

He  laughed  and  invited  me  in  to  enjoy  the  warmth 
of  his  "  home,"  which  could  not  compare  with  that 
of  the  humblest  private. 

Father  Ouellet  was  in  the  terrible  carnage  of  the 
Seven  Days  on  the  Peninsula.  Soldiers  who  wit- 
nessed the  scene  tell  that  when  bullets  came  thick 
and  fast  he  was  there,  and  paid  no  attention  to  the 
danger,  announcing  that  he  was  not  only  a  soldier 
of  McClellan's  army,  but  that  he  was  also  a  soldier 
of  Christ  An  incident  which  occurred  at  the  battle 
of  Malvern  Hill  is  related  by  Major  Haverty.  The 
soldiers  were  in  a  fierce  conflict  and  were  fighting 
and  firing  by  the  light  of  Confederate  guns  and 
bursting  shells.  Father  Ouellet,  with  his  stole  on 
and  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  was  out  at  the  very  front 
of  the  line  of  battle.  To  the  wounded  he  would  say: 
*'Are  you  a  Catholic?  and  do  you  wish  absolution?" 
One  man,  whom  he  asked,  was  badly  wounded,  but 
replied:  "No,  but  I  would  like  to  die  in  the  faith  of 
any  man  who  has  the  courage  to  come  and  see  me  in 
such  a  place  as  this." 

Father  Ouellet  gave  the  poor  man  conditional 
baptism,  and  then  went  on  in  his  work  of  mercy,  giving 
the  wounded  absolution,  and  exhorting  them  to  have 
courage  and  to  put  their  trust  in  Christ,  who,  for 
love  of  them,  was  wounded  so  "  there  was  not  a  sound 
spot  in  Him."  The  love  which  the  "boys"  had  for 
Father  Ouellet  could  be  equalled  only  by  his  zeal  for 
their  salvation.  Father  Ouellet  resigned  in  1862,  and 
re-enlisted  in  1864,  as  has  been  stated  in  a  previous 
chapter. 


KEV.    PAUL    E.    GILLEN,    C.    S.    C. 


CHAPTEK  XLV. 


THE   REV.    PAUL   E.    GILLEN,    C.    S.    C,    AS   CHAPLAIN. 

THE  Keverend  Paul  E.  Gillen,  one  of  the  Fathers 
of  Holy  Cross,  left  Notre  Dame  in  the  early  part 
of  the  war  of  '61-5  to  accomplish  what  good  he  could 
among  the  soldiers  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  In 
the  beginning  he  accepted  no  commission  and  wanted 
none.  A  commission,  in  his  opinion,  would  be  an 
impediment  rather  than  a  help  to  his  work,  wishing 
to  be  free  to  pass  from  one  portion  of  the  army  to 
another.  He  had  a  singular  faculty  for  finding  the 
Catholic  soldiers,  and  among  them  he  did  a  remark- 
able amount  of  good.  His  way  of  going  through 
the  army  was  thoroughly  practical,  and  by  his  own 
ingenious  plans  he  had  a  very  successful  time  of  it 
until  Gen.  Grant  spoiled  his  fun.  The  mode  of 
travel  adopted  by  him  was  this.  Having  secured  a 
strong  horse  he  purchased  also  an  old-fashioned,  flat- 
bottomed  rockaway  in  Washington,  D.  C.  From 
this  vehicle  he  had  the  front  seat  removed  and  from 
the  back  seat  he  drove  his  faithful  horse  whom  he 
called  "Sarsfield."  In  this  rockaway  were  trans- 
ported a  few  army  blankets  for  sleeping  purposes,  a 

(307) 


308  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

small  amount  of  provisions,  a  chapel  tent  —  con- 
structed according  to  his  own  architectural  plan — 
and  a  folding  altar.  In  this  conveyance  he  lived. 
He  travelled  in  it  by  day  and  slept  in  it  at  night. 
By  turning  the  "  north-end,"  as  he.  called  it,  to  the 
storm,  after  the  fashion  of  the  buffalo  in  the  West, 
he  could  stand  against  the  chilling  winds  with  great 
security. 

Father  Paul  Gillen,  before  his  ordination  and 
before  the  war,  was  well  known  in  Virginia  for  his 
piety  and  general  zeal.  Being  a  man  "in  whom 
there  was  no  guile,"  he  seemed  to  have  the  freedom 
of  the  State,  war  or  no  war.  Once,  during  the  war, 
he  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  notorious  Mosby  men; 
but  when  they  learned  who  he  was  they  let  him  go, 
taking  nothing  from  him,  but  sent  him  on  his  way 
rejoicing.  In  1862,  after  his  chapel  tent  was  finished 
in  Philadelphia,  he  went  to  get  it  and  take  it  with 
him  to  the  front.  He  tied  it  to  the  center  of  a  long 
"tent  pole,"  and,  moreover,  had  some  clothing,  a 
small  demijohn  of  Mass  wine,  and  a  quantity  of 
prayer-books  and  other  articles,  suspended  also  from 
the  pole.  All  this  was  quite  bulky  and  pretty  heavy. 
He  induced  a  friend  (B.  E.)  to  help  him  carry  it  to 
the  railroad  depot.  Placing  one  end  of  the  pole  on 
his  friend's  shoulder  and  the  other  on  his  own,  they 
started  through  Philadelphia  at  half-past  eleven 
o'clock,  p.m.  All  this  was  done  so  as  not  to  keep  a 
poor  expressman  out  late  at  night,  but  principally  to 
save  expenses.     Our  good  men  got  on  well  enough 


MEMOIKS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  309 

until  they  reached  a  business  street,  where  some  police- 
men, not  asleep,  regarded  the  proceeding  with  suspi- 
cion. *'  How  is  it  that  these  men  are  carrying  so  mach 
plunder  at  midnight?"  they  asked.  Our  travelers 
were  arrested  and  taken  to  the  lock-up.  I  must  say 
when  the  police  heard  the  simple  story,  examined  the 
goods  in  question,  and  learned  the  use  to  which  they 
were  to  be  put,  they  were  much  ashamed  of  the 
arrest;  still  they  felt  that  they  had  only  done  their 
duty.  Of  course  Father  Gillen  was  not  only  released, 
but  helped  and  directed  on  the  balance  of  his  journey 
to  the  depot. 

His  work  in  the  army  consisted  in  going  from 
regiment  to  regiment,  and  wherever  he  found  a 
few  dozen  Catholics,  there  he  "pitched  his  tent," 
staid  a  day  or  two,  heard  all  their  confessions,  cele- 
brated holy  Mass,  and  communicated  those  ready  to 
receive.  Then  "striking  his  tent"  he  pushed  on  to 
another  regiment.  After  a  time  he  acquired  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  the  various  organizations  which  had  no 
Catholic  chaplain,  and  he  made  compacts  to  attend 
them  periodically,  as  far  as  practicable.  Ma j.- Gen. 
Hancock  often  met  good  Father  Gillen  on  the  march, 
and,  although  he  perhaps  never  spoke  to  him,  he  still 
conceived  a  great  admiration  for  the  venerable  priest 
who  showed  such  zeal  and  earnest  unselfishness 
in  his  labor  of  love.  Frequently  I  had  occasion  to 
see  Gen.  Hancock  on  business,  as  he  was  my  corps 
commander,  and  he  invariably  inquired  after  the 
health  and  welfare  of  Father  Gillen.     But  after  a 


310  MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

time,  a  general  order  was  issued,  forbidding  any 
"citizen"  to  come,  and  remain  within  army  limits, 
and,  as  he  was  not  commissioned,  he  came  under  this 
order.  Moreover,  the  same  order  excluded  all  vehicles 
which  were  not  provided  for  by  the  army  regulations 
—  under  this  came  Father  Gillen's  rockaway.  One 
day,  at  a  distance,  Grant  saw  the  strange -looking 
land-boat  in  which  Father  Gillen  was  making  his 
way,  and  ordered  him  arrested  and  sent  out,  rockaway 
and  all.  After  this,  Father  Gillen  went  to  the  Cor- 
coran Legion,  then  at  Norfolk,  Va.,  and  accepted  a 
commission  of  one  of  the  regiments  of  that  organiza- 
tion. They  were  only  too  glad  to  receive  the  experi- 
enced war  chaplain.  In  this  command  he  labored 
with  marked  success,  and  gave  general  satisfaction 
until  the  end  of  the  war.  He  was  beloved  and 
respected  by  Catholics  and  non-Catholics.  He  could 
do  double  the  work,  and  endured  twice  as  much 
hardship  as  ourselves  —  much  younger  men  and  much 
more  pretentious.  Father  Gillen,  C.  S.  C,  lived  and 
labored  many  years  after  the  war,  and  finally  died, 
at  an  advanced  age,  on  October  20,  1882.  He  is 
buried  within  gunshot  of  where  I  write  these  lines, 
under  the  shadow  of  the  cross,  his  banner  in  the 
army  of  Jesus  Christ,  carried  fearlessly  and  zealously 
in  the  desperate  struggle  against  sin  and  Satan. 

I  regret  I  have  not  material  for  a  longer  history  of 
good  Father  Gillen's  labors.  I  give  only  what  came 
to  my  personal  knowledge ;  and,  as  most  of  the  time 
we  were  in  very  different  parts  of  the  army,  I  did  not 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  311 

learn  as  much  as  I  could  wish.  Perhaps,  when  these 
lines  go  out  in  print,  some  friendly  war  companion, 
who  knew  him  intimately  in  his  army  work,  may 
give  many  more  interesting  facts  concerning  him. 
Besides,  I  am  in  hopes  that  what  I  write  in  this 
modest  book  will  serve  to  refresh  the  memories  of 
officers  and  men,  and  induce  them  to  give  their 
experiences  on  many  points  touched  apon,  as  I  am 
now  jotting  down  simply  my  own  observations  and 
impressions,  so  indelibly  printed  on  the  tablets  of  my 
memory  that  I  shall  not  forget  them  until  I  forget 
my  prayers. 


CHAPTER  XL VI. 


The  following  facts  were  furnished  by  the  Rev.  Constantine 
L.  Egan,  O.  P.  They  are  full  of  interest,  and  one  can  not  help 
admiring  the  noble  self-sacrificing  spirit  with  which  he  fulfilled 
his  arduous  duties.  He  entered  the  service  as  a  regular  chap- 
lain in  September,  1863,  and  would  have  entered  in  the  early 
part  of  the  war  had  he  realized  the  great  want  in  the  army  of 
Catholic  chaplains.  W.  G. 

Toward  the  end  of  August,  1863,  a  messenger 
came  to  our  convent,  in  Washington  City,  from  the 
War  Department,  asking  me  to  call  at  the  department 
the  next  morning.  I  called,  as  requested,  and  was 
informed  by  Gen.  James  A.  Hardee,  then  assistant 
secretary  of  war,  that  Gen.  Meade  had  dispatched  to 
the  secretary  of  war  to  send,  if  possible,  a  Catholic 
priest  down  to  the  army,  to  minister  to  two  of  the 
five  soldiers  who  were  to  be  shot  on  the  Saturday 
following  for  the  crime  of  desertion.  I  told  him  1 
would  willingly  comply  with  the  request,  so  he  gave 
me  a  pass,  and  the  next  day  I  started,  taking  the  train 
at  Alexandria,  Va. 

Having  arrived  at  Bealton  Station,  a  few  miles 
north  of  the  Rappahannock  River,  I  was  met  by  a 

(312) 


;'  / 


rp:v.  c.  l.  egan,  u.  p., 
Ex-Chaplain  9th  Massachusetts  Vol. 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  313 

chaplain  of  the  One  Hundred  and  Eighteenth  Penn- 
sylvania Volunteers,  and  escorted  to  the  headquarters 
of  his  regiment.  He  introduced  me  to  Col.  Herring, 
commander  of  said  regiment,  who  received  me  very 
kindly,  and  gave  orders  to  the  guards  to  let  me  have 
free  access  to  the  prisoners.  I  went  to  the  tent 
where  the  prisoners  were  confined,  heard  their  con- 
fessions that  evening,  and  came  back  to  the  colonel's 
tent.  He  kindly  tendered  me  his  hospitality ;  told  me 
I  was  to  sleep  in  his  tent  that  night,  and  while  I 
remained  with  his  regiment  in  the  performance  of 
the  sad  mission  for  which  I  had  been  called.  Thank- 
ing him,  I  accepted  his  hospitality. 

Next  morning  a  tent  was  erected,  where  I  said 
Mass  for  the  condemned  men,  and  administered  to 
them  Holy  Communion,  I  spending  the  greater  part  of 
that  day  with  them  in  their  tent.  Next  morning  I 
celebrated  Mass  for  them,  and  both  men  received 
Holy  Communion.  During  the  forenoon,  prepara- 
tions were  going  on  for  their  execution.  About  one 
o'clock,  the  Fifth  Corps,  to  which  the  prisoners 
belonged,  were  drawn  up  on  a  slope  of  a  hill,  from 
which  all  could  witness  the  execution.  Then  a  death 
procession,  composed  of  the  culprits,  a  Jewish  rabbi. 
Chaplain  O'Neil,  a  Methodist  preacher,  myself,  the 
guard,  the  shooting  party,  and  the  band,  playing  a 
solemn  dirge,  passed  down  the  line,  and  halted  in 
front  of  the  graves. 

The  religious  belief  of  the  prisoners  varied;  one 
was   a   Jew,   two   were   Methodists,    and    two   were 


314  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

Italian  Catholics.  We  were  allowed  fifteen  minutes 
to  pray,  and  the  poor  doomed  men  made  good  use  of 
the  short  time  they  had  to  live  in  the  fervency  of 
their  prayers  to  Almighty  God.  The  time  having 
expired,  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  soldiers  detailed 
for  the  shooting  placed  a  white  bandage  over  the 
eyes  of  each  prisoner,  read  the  death-warrant,  and 
gave  the  order  to  his  company:  "Make  ready!  Aim! 
Fire!"  Down  fell  the  five  men  on  their  coffins,  on 
which  they  sat,  and  in  less  than  three  minutes  they 
were  pronounced  dead  by  the  surgeon  of  the  regi- 
ment. Their  lifeless  bodies  were  placed  in  coffins 
and  lowered  to  their  graves;  then  the  troops  marched 
back  to  their  camps,  with  the  bands  playing  merry 
tunes. 

After  performing  the  funeral  service  over  the 
graves  of  the  two  men,  Col.  Patrick  Guiney,  of  the 
Ninth  Massachusetts  Volunteers,  invited  me  to  his 
regiment.  The  Ninth  Massachusetts  enlisted  at  the 
commencement  of  the  Rebellion,  with  Father  Scully 
as  their  chaplain;  but  he,  on  account  of  bad  health, 
had  been  compelled  to  resign.  This  regiment  was 
composed  entirely  of  Irishmen.  After  Father  Scully 
left  them,  they  had  no  priest;  nor,  in  fact,  was  there 
any  priest  in  the  Fifth  Army  Corps,  nor  in  any  of  the 
whole  Army  of  the  Potomac,  except  Father  William 
Corby,  C.  S.  C,  who  was  chaplain  in  Meagher's 
brigade,  in  the  Second  Army  Corps.  Father  Corby 
joined  the  army  after  the  breaking  out  of  the  war, 
and  remained  as  chaplain  of  the  Eighty -eighth  New 
York,  Irish  Brigade,  until  the  war  terminated. 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  315 

Next  day  being  Sunday,  I  said  Mass  for  the  Ninth 
regiment,  and  announced,  after  Mass,  that  I  would 
remain  with  them  during  the  week,  thus  giving  them 
an  opportunity   to   approach   the  Holy   Sacraments; 
during  each  day  of  the  week  I  would  hear  confessions 
in  the  tent  chapel  erected  for  me,  and  on  each  morn- 
ing, at  seven  o'clock,  would  say  Mass.     That  evening 
Col.  Guiney  and  myself  rode  to  the  headquarters  of 
Gen.  Griffin,  commander  of  the  First  Division  of  the 
Fifth  Army  Corps.     The  general  received  us  very 
cordially.    I  said  to  him  that  I  would  remain  eight  or 
ten  days  in  the  army  in  order  to  give  the  Catholic 
soldiers  of  his  division  an  opportunity  of  attending 
their  religious  duties.     He  said  he  was  glad  I  could 
do  so,  adding  that  it  seemed  to  him    very  strange 
that  his  division  was  left  without  a  Catholic  priest,  so 
many  of  the  soldiers  in  his  command  being  Catholics. 
He  then  issued  an  order  suspending  the  drill  during 
the  week,  in  order,  as  he  said,  "to  let  the  Catholic 
soldiers  in  his  division  attend  their  religious  duties." 
I    thus   spent   ten   days   on   this    mission,    hearing 
soldiers'  confessions  each  day,  celebrating  Mass  each 
morning,  and  administering  Communion  to  all  who 
were  at  confession  the  previous  day,  thus  giving  to 
all  an  opportunity  of  approaching  the  Holy   Sacra- 
ments,  of  which  opportunity  not  only  the  soldiers  of 
the  Ninth  regiment  availed  themselves,  but  numbers 
of    the   three   divisions    of    the    Fifth    Corps.      My 
mission  then  being  finished,  I  prepared  to  leave  for 
Washington. 

Previous  to    my   departure.  Col.   Patrick    Guiney 


316.  MEMOIKS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

and  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  his  regiment,  and 
many  others  from  the  Fifth  Corps,  came  to  me,  and 
entreated  me  to  remain  in  the  army,  saying:  *'It 
is  not  just  or  religious  to  have  so  many  Catholic 
soldiers,  subject  as  they  are  every  day  to  the  danger 
of  death,  without  the  services  of  a  priest;"  that 
they  were  fighting  in  a  just  cause,  to  presei-ve  the 
integrity  of  the  United  States  Government  they 
loved  so  well,  which  gave  them  a  friendly  welcome 
and  a  home  when  driven  from  their  own  native  land 
by  the  tyranny  of  a  cruel  and  oppressive  government, 
such  as  England  had  always  been  to  them.  Seeing, 
therefore,  the  need  of  my  services  in  the  army — the 
good  I  could  do  for  such  brave  men  —  and  being 
myself  patriotic  in  the  cause  —  sharing  the  feelings 
and  sentiments  of  my  own  countrymen  —  I  told  Col. 
Guiney  I  would  become  their  chaplain;  but  it  was 
necessary  for  me,  first  of  all,  to  get  permission  from 
the  Provincial  of  my  Order.  On  my  return  to  Wash- 
ington, I  met  our  Provincial,  and  earnestly  entreated 
him  to  give  me  permission  to  accept  a  chaplaincy  in 
the  army,  pointing  out  to  him  the  great  need  of  a 
priest's  services.  He  willingly  granted  me  this  per- 
mission, giving  me  a  letter  to  that  effect,  of  which 
the  following  is  a  copy: 

"  St.  Dominic's  Church,  Washington,  D.  C, 
"  September  13, 1863. 
*'  From  motives  of  Christian  charity  to  the  soldiers  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  I  freely  grant  permission  to  the  Rev. 
Constantine  L.  Egan  of  our  Order  to  accept  the  chaplaincy  of 
the  Ninth  Massachusetts  Regiment.         M.  A.  O'Brien, 

"  Vice  Provincial  of  the  Province  of  St  Joseph's,  " 


MEMOIRS   0^   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  317 

I  wrote  immediately  to  Col.  Guiney  to  procure  my 
commission  as  chaplain  of  his  regiment.  Some  time 
after,  I  was  asked  by  the  Secretary  of  War  to  go  to 
Gen.  Newton's  corps,  which  was  camped  near  Cul- 
pepper Court  House,  Va.,  to  minister  to  another 
deserter  sentenced  by  court-martial  to  be  shot.  I 
started  the  next  morning,  and  reached  Gen.  Newton's 
headquarters  about  ten  o'clock  that  night.  The  gen- 
eral told  me  I  had  better  see  the  prisoner  soon, 
as  he  would  certainly  be  shot  the  next  morning.  I 
started  at  once  to  where  the  prisoner  was  confined, 
heard  his  confession,  and  staid  the  remainder  of 
that  night  at  Gen.  Robinson's  headquarters.  Next 
morning  I  said  Mass  for  the  prisoner  in  the  provost- 
marshal's  tent,  administering  to  the  poor  condemned 
man  Holy  Communion.  Afterward,  I  was  invited  by 
the  provost-marshal  to  partake  of  a  cup  of  coffee  and 
some  hard-tack — such  as  he  had  for  breakfast  him- 
self. After  breakfast,  the  provost-marshal  commenced 
loading  the  twelve  rifles  for  the  shooting  party, 
one  of  the  rifles  being  loaded  with  a  blank  cartridge 
only — the  other  eleven  were  loaded  with  bullets. 
After  a  while,  an  ambulance  was  in  readiness,  accom- 
panied by  a  squad  of  soldiers  to  guard  the  prisoner 
to  the  place  of  execution.  The  prisoner  was  placed 
in  the  ambulance,  and  I  took  my  place  by  his  side. 
During  the  sad  journey,  of  about  two  miles,  we  w^ere 
occupied  saying  the  rosary  and  litanies,  the  poor 
prisoner  praying  with  much  fervor  during  the  short 
time  he  had  to  live. 


318  MEMOIKS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

Arriving  at  the  place  of  execution,  we  saw  a 
coffin  ready  and  a  grave  prepared  for  the  reception 
of  the  poor  soldier's  remains,  and  the  whole  of  the 
First  Army  Corps  drawn  up  in  a  position  to  witness 
the  prisoner's  death.  We  got  a  few  minutes  to  pray, 
and  before  the  white  bandage  was  placed  over  his 
eyes,  the  prisoner  stood  up,  and  in  a  steady  voice 
said:  "I  ask  pardon  of  all  whom  I  have  offended; 
I  forgive  every  one  who  has  offended  or  injured  me; 
boys,  pray  for  me." 

The  officer  then  read  the  death-warrant,  and  placing 
the  white  bandage  over  the  prisoner's  eyes,  gave  the 
order  to  the  firing  party:  "Make ready!  Aim!  Fire!" 
The  poor  soldier  fell  on  his  coffin,  and  death  was 
almost  instantaneous.  After  the  burial  service  was 
performed,  I  went  to  the  corps'  headquarters,  where 
I  got  dinner,  and  after  that  was  escorted  in  an 
ambulance  to  the  railroad,  and  returned  some  time  at 
night  to  Washington. 

A  few  days  after  this,  I  received  a  letter  from 
Col.  Guiney,  with  my  commission  as  chaplain  from 
Gov.  Andrews,  of  Massachusetts.  I  then  made  prep- 
arations to  join  my  regiment,  procuring  a  light  set 
of  \estments  and  things  necessary  for  divine  service, 
and  started  as  soon  as  I  could,  joining  my  regiment 
in  the  vicinity  of  Warrenton,  Va.  During  the  month 
of  October  our  corps  had  considerable  marching 
from  one  point  to  another,  and  on  the  14th  we  had 
a  sharp  battle  at  Bristow  Station,  repulsing  the 
enemy,  who    left    their    dead    and    wounded   on    the 


MEMOIRS    Ot    CHAFLAIJ^    LIFE.  HIO 

field.  We  captured  several  hundred  pr.isoners  and 
seven  guns  —  two  of  wliicli  the  Confederates  subse- 
quently recovered.  During  the  remainder  of  October 
not  much  fighting  was  done,  but  on  November  7 
a  battle  was  fought  at  Eappahannock  Station  and 
Kelly's  Ford,  in  which  our  troops  were  victorious, 
capturing  four  guns  and  2,000  stands  of  arms, 
and  about  one  thousand  six  hundred  officers  and  men 
were  taken  prisoners.  We  remained  here  in  camp 
until  November  24.  On  this  morning  we  broke 
camp,  and  marched  in  the  direction  of  the  Rapidan 
River,  but,  on  account  of  the  violence  of  a  rainstorm 
that  set  in,  we  countermarched  and  returned  to  our 
old  quarters,  where  we  remained  until  the  26th. 

When  we  again  marched  from  our  headquarters 
toward  the  Rapidan,  we  crossed  at  Culpepper  Ford, 
moving  on  the  Culpepper  plank-road.  On  the  even- 
ing of  this  day,  Greg's  cavalry,  in  our  advance,  had 
a  sharp  fight,  in  which  many  of  the  troopers  fell.  The 
wounded  were  gathered  into  Newhope  church,  where 
I  spent  a  good  part  of  the  night  ministering  to  the 
wounded  and  dying.  I  recollect  a  kind-hearted  sur- 
geon, belonging  to  the  cavalry,  who  held  a  lighted 
candle  for  me  as  I  was  reading  the  prayers  of  the 
ritual  in  administering  extreme  unction  to  the  dying 
men.  On  the  29th,  we  advanced  to  Mine  Run  and 
formed  a  line  of  battle,  and  bivouacked  for  the  night. 
The  enemy  were  posted  on  the  east  side,  about  one 
mile  from  the  stream  called  Mine  Run,  on  a  center 
ridge  nearly  one  hundred  feet  above  the  surface  of 


320  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

the  stream.  -Their  works  could  easily  be  seen  by  us 
posted  on  the  west  ridge  of  the  run.  They  were 
strongly  fortified,  their  works  bristling  with  abatis, 
infantry  parapets,  and  epaulements  for  batteries.  About 
three  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  30th,  the  order 
was  given  to  charge  the  enemy's  line.  At  four  o'clock 
the  soldiers  stacked  their  knapsacks,  so  that  the  field 
resembled  a  meadow  covered  with  stacks  in  the  shape 
of  soldiers'  knapsacks,  overcoats,  etc.,  piled  in  large 
heaps. 

Seeing  the  danger  of  death  before  us,  I  asked  the 
colonel  to  form  his  regiment  into  a  solid  square  so  that 
I  could  address  the  men.  He  did  so.  I  then  spoke 
to  them  of  their  danger,  and  entreated  them  to  prepare 
for  it  by  going  on  their  knees  and  making  a  sincere 
Act  of  Contrition  for  their  sins,  with  the  intention  of 
going  to  confession  if  their  lives  were  spared.  As  the 
regiment  fell  on  their  knees,  other  Catholic  soldiers 
broke  from  their  ranks  and  joined  us,  so  that  in  less 
than  two  minutes  I  had  the  largest  congregation  I 
ever  witnessed  before,  or  even  since.  Having  pro- 
nounced the  words  of  General  Absolution  to  be  given 
in  such  emergencies  and  danger,  I  spoke  a  few  words 
of  encouragement  to  them,  exhorting  them  to  remem- 
ber that  they  were  fighting  in  a  just  cause  to  preserve 
the  integrity  of  the  United  States  Government,  which 
had  never  committed  an  act  of  tyranny  toward  any 
of  its  citizens;  that  they  were  fighting  the  battle  of 
liberty,  justice,  and  even  for  the  rights  of  humanity 
itself,  not  only  for  those  under  our  own  government 


MEMOIKS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  321 

but  for  the  poor  oppressed  of  all  nations;  that  the 
tyrannical  and  oppressive  governments  of  Europe 
were  aiding  and  abetting  in  every  way  possible  the 
misguided  people  of  the  South  in  their  revolt  against 
the  best  of  governments;  that  England,  who  largely 
fomented  the  Rebellion  by  her  emissaries  in  this 
country,  hypocritically  crying  out  against  the  bar- 
barity of  slavery,  was  now  aiding,  by  her  cursed, 
ill-gotten  gold,  the  Southern  people  to  maintain  in 
perpetual  slavery  4,000,000  human  beings.  All 
this  in  order  to  divide  us  and  break  up  our  glorious 
principle  of  self-government,  wrested  from  her  tyran- 
nical hand  by  the  brave  heroes  of  the  Revolution, 
who  won  for  us  our  inheritance  of  liberty. 

After  talking  to  the  soldiers  and  finishing  my 
remarks,  they  arose  from  their  knees,  grasping  their 
muskets  with  a  firm  clinch,  and  went  back  to  their 
respective  commands,  awaiting  the  hour  to  expire 
to  make  the  assault.  In  the  meantime,  Maj.-Gen. 
Warren,  who  made  a  closer  reconnoissance  of  the 
enemy's  works  than  he  had  made  the  day  before, 
when  he  urged  Gen.  Meade  to  make  a  general  assault 
on  the  enemy's  works,  now  reported  that  their  works 
were  so  strong  they  could  not  betaken.  Accord- 
ingly, Gen.  Meade,  being  a  prudent,  humane,  and 
cautious  man,  rescinded  the  order,  which  saved  his 
army;  for  if  the  attack  had  been  made,  our  army 
would  have  been  slaughtered  worse  than  it  had  been 
the  year  before  at  Fredericksburg.  A  retrograde 
movement  was  decided  upon,  however,  and  the  next 

21 


322  MEMOIKS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

evening  at  nightfall  we  retreated,  the  Fifth  Corps  in 
the  advance,  and  crossed  the  Rapidan.  In  the  morn- 
ing, about  two  hours  before  daylight,  we  bivouacked 
on  the  north  bank  of  the  Rapidan,  and,  after  resting  a 
few  hours,  resumed  our  march,  crossing  the  Eappa- 
hannock  on  December  3,  and  camped  along  the 
Orange  &  Alexandria  railroad  for  its  protection, 
where  we  remained  until  the  month  of  March  follow- 
ing. 

Previous  to  our  march  to  Mine  Run,  I  received  a 
petition  from  the  Fourteenth  regulars  to  visit  their 
brigade  and  minister  to  their  spiritual  wants;  but  on 
account  of  the  movements  of  the  army  and  camp 
rumors  that  were  rife  of  an  immediate  move  of  the 
whole  army  toward  Richmond,  I  could  not  comply 
with  their  request.  The  following  is  a  copy  of  the 
petition  I  received: 

"Camp  near  Bealton,  Va.,  Nov.  14, 18G3. 
"Reverend  AND  Dear  Sir:— At  the  requestof  several  Catholic 
soldiers,  with  my  brother  officers,  who  are  Catholics,  I  have 
ventured  to  urge  your  paying  the  regiment,  the  Fourteenth 
U.  S.  Infantry,  v\rith  which  I  am  connected,  a  visit.  You,  no 
doubt,  are  aware  that  a  majority  of  the  enlisted  men  composing 
the  troops  of  the  regular  army  are  of  our,  the  Catholic,  faith, 
and  that  there  is  a  respectable  number  of  officers  included  in 
its  membership.  We  are  without  a  chaplain,  and  have  had  no 
visitation  from  one  since  Father  Tissot,  S.  J.,  left  the  field- 
nearly  nine  months  ago.  This  gentleman,  at  that  time  chaplain 
of  the  Thirty-seventh  N.  Y.  Volunteers,  visited  our  regiment 
and  brigade  at  such  hours  as  he  had  convenient  opportunity, 
and  was  always  welcomed  and  appreciated  with  the  same 
apparent  warmth  by  the  dissenters  as  by  the  sons  of  the 
Church.    His  missions  were  undoubtedly  productive  of  good, 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  323 

and  I  shall  be  exceedingly  glad  if  you  can,  like  him,  visit  us, 
even  if  you  can  not  devote  as  much  time  as  he  did.  A  soldier 
of  the  company  I  command,  was  yesterday,  I  fear,  fatally 
wounded  by  accident.  He  has  begged  pitifully  for  a  priest,  and 
we  know  of  no  other  one  than  yourself  in  our  corps  to  ask  to 
come  and  see  him.     Will  you  come  ?    I  am  with  respect, 

"  Yours  sincerely,  ^ 

"  Rev.  C.  L.  Egan,  I.F.Miller, 

'*Ninth  Majs.  Vols.  Capt  Fourteenth  U.  S.  Infantry." 

After  settling  down  in  winter-quarters,  I  decided 
to  visit  the  brigade  of  regulars,  who  were  mostly 
Catholics,  and  also  other  brigades  of  the  Fifth  Army 
Corps.  A  corps  is  divided  into  three  divisions,  each 
division  into  three  brigades,  and  each  brigade  into 
five  regiments.  During  the  winter  I  gave  missions 
through  the  whole  corps,  pitching  my  little  chapel 
tent  in  each  brigade,  having  a  soldier  with  me  from 
my  own  regiment  to  take  care  of  my  horse,  cook  our 
rations,  and,  of  course,  do  our  washing  in  as  good 
style  as  a  big,  rough  Irish  soldier  could  perform  an 
art  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed. 

Finishing  my  visits  and  missionary  duties  in  this 
corps,  I  moved  on  in  the  month  of  February,  1864, 
to  Culpepper,  where  the  First  Army  Corps,  com- 
manded by  Maj.-Gen.  John  Newton,  was  camped. 
Also  in  that  vicinity  were  several  brigades  of  cavalry 
under  the  command  of  Gens.  Custer,  Merritt,  and 
McKenzie.  Calling  on  Gen.  Newton,  I  told  him  I 
came  from  my  own  regiment  to  perform  missionary 
duties  for  the  Catholic  soldiers  in  his  command, 
knowing  there  was  no  Catholic  priest  in  his  corps. 


324  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

He  said  he  was  very  glad,  and  thanked  me  for  doing 
so,  at  the  same  time  remarking,  that  he  was  very  much 
chagrined  and  displeased  with  the  Catholic  bishops 
for  their  gross  neglect  of  the  Catholic  soldiers,  whom 
they  left,  subject  as  they  were  every  day  to  death, 
without  the  service  of  a  priest  to  administer  to  them 
in  their  dying  moments  the  Last  Sacraments.  The 
general  ordered  for  me  a  tent  and  a  requisition  from 
the  quartermaster  for  forage  for  my  horse,  telling  me 
if  I  needed  anything  he  would  most  willingly  have  my 
wants  supplied,  in  order  to  help  on  the  good  work  in 
which  I  was  engaged. 

My  tent  was  pitched  where  the  greater  number  of 
the  troops  were  camped,  each  day  hearing  confes- 
sions, celebrating  Mass  the  following  morning,  and 
administering  Communion  to  those  at  Confession  the 
day  previous.  Having  finished  my  mission  in  the 
First  Army  Corps,  and  also  in  the  cavalry  brigades, 
where  I  met  a  large  number  of  Catholics,  especially 
among  the  New  York  regiments,  I  returned  in  the 
month  of  March  to  my  regiment,  thereby  giving  them 
an  opportunity  to  prepare  and  put  their  souls  in 
order  for  the  danger  to  be  met  during  the  summer 
campaign.  Gen.  Grant,  and  Sheridan,  his  chief 
lieutenant,  were  now  destined  to  take  command  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  According  to  camp  talk, 
there  would  soon  be  hard  fighting  under  these  gen- 
erals; no  more  retreating  and  falling  back  as  there 
had  been  during  the  previous  year.  Gen.  Lee  would 
not  be  permitted  to  follow  his  old  tactics  of  whipping 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  325 

and  driving  us  back,  and  then  sending  the  prime  of 
his  army  to  reinforce  other  points  of  the  Confederate 
army  as  he  did  at  Chicamauga,  when,  driving  Meade's 
army  to  Centerville,  Va.,  in  the  month  of  September, 
he  sent  Longstreet's  heavy  corps  of  veterans  to  aid 
Bragg  against  Rosecrans  at  Chicamauga. 

On  April  28,  1864,  we  broke  camp,  marched 
to  the  Rappahannock,  and  bivouacked  for  the  night; 
next  morning,  crossing  the  river,  we  marched  to 
Brandy  Station  and  camped  there  for  about  four 
days.  The  Sixth  Army  Corps  were  all  camped  in 
that  vicinity.  I  erected  my  chapel  tent  in  order  to 
give  the  Catholics  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  who  had  no 
priest,  an  opportunity  of  approaching  the  holy 
sacraments,  hearing  confessions  each  day  and  a 
good  part  of  the  night,  and  giving  them  Communion 
each  morning  at  Mass.  On  May  3,  in  the  after- 
noon, we  received  orders  to  march,  the  army  moving  in 
the  direction  of  Culpepper.  About  sundown  our 
corps  halted,  lighted  our  camp-fires,  cooked  our  sup- 
per, got  our  little  dog  tents,  as  they  were  called,  in 
readiness,  and  went  to  sleep.  About  midnight  we 
were  aroused  from  our  slumbers  and  told  to  move 
quickly.  In  about  fifteen  minutes  we  were  in 
motion,  moving  to  the  left  in  the  direction  of  the 
Rapidan  river.  At  daybreak  we  reached  the  river, 
crossing  at  Germania  Ford  and  advancing  about  five 
miles,  where  our  column  halted  on  the  Lacy  farm, 
and  bivouacked  near  the  Lacy  House  the  remainder 
of  that  day  and  night. 


326  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

On  the  next  morning,  May  5,  our  corps  was 
ordered  to  move  to  Parker's  store,  five  miles  distant 
southwest  of  our  camping  ground.  We  had 
advanced  about  one  mile  when  we  were  attacked  by 
an  unlooked-for  advance  of  Confederate  infantry 
under  Gen.  Hill.  Getting  into  position  as  best 
we  could,  the  battle  commenced,  striking  heavily 
against  Gen.  Griffin's  division,  in  which  division  was 
my  regiment.  In  about  ten  minutes  my  regi- 
ment lost,  in  killed  and  wounded,  150  offi- 
cers and  men,  among  whom  were  Col.  Guiney, 
who  received  a  bullet  in  the  right  eye,  and  Capts. 
Phelan  and  McNamara,  who,  in  advance  of  their 
companies,  were  urging  their  men  to  retake  the  guns 
which  the  rebels  had  captured  from  one  of  our 
batteries.  Capt.  Phelan  was  killed  instantly; 
Capt.  McNamara  was  brought  off  the  field  alive, 
but  died  that  night.  In  the  rear,  a  corps  field  hos- 
pital was  established  in  an  old  deserted  farm-house. 
Here  the  wounded  were  gathered.  I  got  as  many 
of  the  wounded  officers  and  men  of  my  regiment  into 
the  old  house  as  could  find  room,  and  the  rest  were 
put  under  cover  of  the  tents.  After  attending  to 
their  spiritual  wants  and  alleviating  their  bodily 
suffering  as  much  as  I  could,  my  services  were 
needed  by  other  Catholics  belonging  to  our  corps. 
The  ambulances  came  in  droves  bringing  in  the 
wounded  all  day  and  far  into  the  night.  Surgeons 
were  busy  at  work  amputating  broken  limbs;  men 
were    employed  digging    long  trenches    where    we 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  327 

buried  our  dead.  All  this  was  fearful  to  see,  and 
it  was  awful  to  hear  the  groans  and  screams  of  our 
wounded  men,  wrestling  all  night  in  their  agony. 
At  daylight  next  morning.  May  6,  the  shrill  rattle 
of  musketry  was  heard  in  our  front  and  soon  extended 
along  the  line.  This  was  to  be  the  great  day  of 
test  between  the  two  armies,  for  both  had  resolved 
to  take  the  offensive. 

It  might  be  called  almost  a  hand-to-hand  fight 
the  day  through,  between  the  two  conflicting  lines 
of  men,  who  were  irregularly  formed  among  the 
dense  thickets,  and  swayed  back  and  forth  dur- 
ing the  whole  day,  first  at  one  point  and  then  at 
another.  But  the  most  desperate  effort  of  the  enemy 
was  made  just  at  night-fall,  the  rebels  making  a 
furious  dash  on  our  extreme  right,  and  driving 
before  them  two  entire  brigades.  The  rebels  were 
soon  checked  and  compelled  to  fall  back,  but  suc- 
ceeded in  taking  with  them  about  four  thousand 
prisoners.  If  they  had  succeeded  in  turning  our 
right  wing,  which  was  their  object,  our  whole  army 
would  have  been  severed  from  its  supplies  across  the 
Rapidan,  and  our  defeat  would  have  been  almost 
inevitable.  Thus  ended  the  battle  of  the  Wilderness, 
which  was  indecisive. 

Both  armies  rested  upon  their  arms  in  their 
respective  positions  on  the  field.  During  this  day 
our  field  hospital  of  the  Fifth  Army  Corps  was  greatly 
crowded  by  the  numbers  of  wounded  men  who  were 
brought  off  the  field.     I  suppose  we  must  have   had 


328  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

in  the  neighborhood  of  at  least  four  thousand  men. 
Early  next  morning  some  guns  opened  fire  on  the 
right  of  our  line,  but  there  was  no  reply.  As  Gen. 
Lee  had  intrenched  his  whole  front  and  was  unwill- 
ing to  fight  except  behind  his  breastworks,  Grant 
resumed  his  march  to  Spottsylvania  Court  House. 
And  our  corps  started,  preceded  by  cavalry.  During 
the  day  we  were  confronted  by  Longstreet's  Corps 
where  we  lost  heavily,  in  all  about  fifteen  hundred 
officers  and  men.  The  loss  in  my  own  regiment  in 
this  fight,  in  killed  and  wounded,  was  also  very 
great. 

Next  day.  May  8,  commenced  the  battle  of  Spott- 
sylvania, which  lasted  from  the  8th  until  the  19th 
of  May.  Our  corps  field  hospital  was  established  in 
the  rear,  about  the  center  of  our  whole  army  line 
of  battle,  with  Hancock  on  the  right,  Sedgwick  on 
the  left,  and  Warren  commanding  our  corps  in  the 
center.  In  the  afternoon  the  battle  became  furious, 
ambulances  bringing  in  the  wounded  until  a  late 
hour  that  night.  The  next  day,  the  9th,  opened  com- 
paratively quiet ;  but  in  the  afternoon  there  was  sharp 
skirmishing  at  various  points  of  the  line.  On  this 
evening  Gen.  Sedgwick  was  killed — a  great  loss  to 
his  corps,  and  severely  felt  by  the  army.  The  morn- 
ing of  the  10th,  a  sharp  cannonade  commenced, 
preparatory  for  a  general  attack  to  be  made  along 
the  entire  line.  The  battle  during  the  whole  day 
was  furious,  yet  indecisive  in  its  results. 


MEMOIKS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  329 

On  the  11th,  it  rained  very  heavily  during  the  day, 
and  all  remained  quiet  until  the  afternoon,  when  some 
slight  skirmishing  took  place.  On  May  12,  it  was 
fearful;  the  rain  falling  heavily,  the  dark  clouds 
lighted  now  and  then  by  flashes  of  lightning,  and 
the  loud  peals  of  thunder  were  hardly  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  roaring  of  the  cannons.  Ambu- 
lances came  from  every  direction,  plowing  their  way 
as  best  they  could  through  the  undergrowth  and 
brush.  Surgeons  had  their  long  tables,  practising 
their  art  in  sawing  off  the  broken  limbs  of  our  brave 
soldiers.  The  fighting  on  this  day  was  of  the  most 
obstinate  nature  until  after  dark;  was  renewed  again 
about  nine  o'clock,  and  continued  off  and  on,  with 
more  or  less  vigor,  all  night. 

On  the  14th,  15th,  16th,  and  17th,  there  was  con- 
siderable marching  and  counter-marching  in  quest 
of  a  weak  point  on  the  enemy's  defenses.  On  the 
18th,  there  was  heavy  fighting,  but  after  that  the 
army  moved  to  the  left  and  resumed  next  night  its 
march  to  Richmond.  On  the  23d,  Griffin's  division 
of  the  Fifth  Corps  crossed  the  North  Anna  River 
at  Jerico  Ford  and  entrenched  on  the  bank  of  the 
river  in  a  kind  of  works  hardly  breast  high,  when 
we  were  soon  attacked  by  a  strong  force  of  infantry, 
who  were  repulsed.  We  remained  there  that  night 
until  the  Second  Corps  could  cross  at  the  Chester- 
field Bridge;  but  Hancock  was  confronted  by  a 
division  of  Longstreet's  Corps  on  the  south  bank  of 
the  river.    A  vigorous  attack  was  made  by  Egan  and 


330  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

Pierce's  brigades  of  Birney's  division,  who  swept 
over  the  plain  on  the  double-quick  and  swarmed  over 
the  parapets,  driving  out  the  garrison.  The  passage 
across  the  river  was  then  quietly  made  by  Hancock's 
Corps,  on  the  south  side  of  the  river. 

Lee  had  chosen  a  strong  position,  having  the  inside 
track  in  the  march,  and  crossing  the  North  Anna 
before  us.  Grant,  seeing  that  Lee's  position  was 
absolutely  invulnerable,  withdrew  from  the  enemy's 
front  and  recrossed  the  river,  taking  our  line  of 
march  on  the  road  to  Richmond.  After  about  two 
days  we  reached  the  Pamunkey  without  loss,  and 
crossed  the  river  to  Cold  Harbor.  But  Gen.  Lee,  as 
usual,  had  a  much  shorter  road  and  was  already  in 
a  strong  position  in  our  front.  Notwithstanding  his 
strong  position,  our  generals  unwisely  determined  to 
assault  his  lines  on  June  3,  an  attack  being  ordered 
along  the  whole  line,  and  in  less  than  an  hour 
10,000  of  our  brave  fellows  were  either  killed  or 
wounded — more  in  proportion  even  among  the  killed 
than  we  had  in  any  of  our  previous  battles. 

Some  hours  after,  Meade  gave  orders  to  the  differ- 
ent corps  commanders  to  renew  the  assault,  but  the 
men  unanimously  refused  to  obey  his  orders  —  know- 
ing it  was  murder  to  themselves  to  attempt  it.  A 
few  days  after,  the  time  of  my  regiment's  three 
years'  service  expired,  so  they  were  relieved  from  duty, 
and  made  preparations  to  return  home  to  Boston. 
The  day  before  we  left,  Gen.  GrifRn  sent  for  me. 
When  I  reported  to  him  he  said:     "You  ought  not 


MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  331 

to  leave  the  Catliolics  in  my  division  without  the 
services  of  a  priest."  I  told  him  I  would  like  to 
remain,  but  it  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  stay  in 
the  army  without  being  connected  with  it  officially. 
He  told  me  to  write  out  an  application  to  the  Presi- 
dent for  a  commission  and  that  he  would  endorse  it, 
and  also  get  the  commander  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  to  endorse  the  application.  So  I  immedi- 
ately wrote  out  an  application,  which  was  sent  to 
Washington  for  action. 


CHAPTER  XL VII. 


CONTINUATION   OF    FATHER    EGAN'S    NARRATIVE. 

IN  the  meantime  I  returned  to  Boston  with  my 
regiment;  but  on  account  of  some  delay  in  the 
mustering  out  of  the  regiment,  I  went  home  to 
Washington  before  the  formalities  were  gone  through 
with,  to  make  sure  accompanying  the  army  again, 
where  I  knew  my  services  were  so  much  needed  by 
the  Catholic  soldiers.  At  Washington  I  met  the 
Rev.  James  Dillon,  C.  S.  C,  on  his  way  to  City 
Point,  Va.,  to  join  his  regiment  in  the  Second  Corps. 
He  had  accompanied  me  to  the  army,  but  went  home 
some  time  previous  to  this  meeting  to  Notre  Dame 
University,  in  a  bad  state  of  health;  being,  in  fact, 
far  gone  in  consumption;  but  his  great  zeal  for  the 
soldiers  of  his  regiment,  who  needed  his  services, 
caused  him  to  return  to  them  again. 

He  joined  his  regiment  at  their  camp,  before 
Petersburg,  but  could  not  remain;  and,  returning  to 
Notre  Dame,  he  died  a  short  time  afterward  from  the 
dire  disease  contracted  in  the  army  during  the  first 
two  years  of  the  war.  He  was  truly  a  noble,  self- 
sacrificing  priest. 

(332) 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  333 

A  general  field  hospital  now  being  established  at 
City  Point,  where  all  the  wounded  soldiers  of  our 
army  before  Petersburg  were  being  taken  care  of,  I 
remained  for  some  weeks  attending  to  the  spiritual 
wants  of  our  Catholic  soldiers  until  I  received  my 
commission  from  the  war  department.  I  then  left 
the  hospital  and  reported  to  Gen.  Griffin,  whose 
headquarters  was  about  twenty  miles  distant,  near 
the  Weldon  railroad.  From  this  time  to  the  ter- 
mination of  the  Rebellion,  I  remained  attached  to 
Gen.  Griffin's  staff,  having  full  freedom  to  attend  not 
only  the  Catholics  of  the  Fifth  Army  Corps,  but 
also  those  of  the  Ninth  Army  Corps,  who  had  no 
Catholic  chaplain  among  them  from  City  Point. 
During  the  months  of  July  and  August,  a  railroad 
was  built  in  the  rear  of  our  line  up  to  the  Weldon 
railroad,  a  distance  of  about  twenty -three  miles. 
This  transit  gave  me  free  access  to  the  general  field 
hospital  at  City  Point,  and  to  the  troops  along  the 
line,  in  breastworks  and  in  forts,  about  one  mile 
distant  from  each  other. 

On  the  80th  of  July  heavy  cannonading  was  heard 
in  the  evening  all  along  our  line.  It  was  occasioned 
by  the  explosion  of  the  mine  before  Petersburg,  where 
a  breach  was  made  in  the  rebel  lines,  dashing  into 
the  air  and  killing  several  hundred  poor  human 
beings,  leaving  a  great  hollow  or  crater  of  loose  earth 
150  feet  long  by  60  feet  wide  and  25  deep.  The 
only  thing  efPected  by  this  was  a  death-trap  for  our 
own  brave  men,  who  were  massed  into  the  gap  of  the 


334  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

crater  and  slaughtered  or  made  prisoners  of  by  the 
rebels.  Our  loss,  in  killed  and  wounded,  in  this  affair 
was  4,400;  while  that  of  the  enemy,  including  300 
blown  up  in  the  fort,  was  barely  one  thousand. 

On  the  18th  of  August  our  corps  moved  on  to  take 
the  Weldon  railroad,  only  about  three  miles  distant. 
Advancing  about  a  mile,  the  enemy  was  met  and 
attacked;  and,  after  a  spirited  fight  on  both  sides,  our 
men  planted  their  colors  on  the  railroad  and  held  it, 
which  was  a  great  loss  to  the  enemy.  Our  loss  in 
this  engagement  was  about  one  thousand,  including 
200  prisoners,  captured  in  the  commencement  of 
the  fight.  Everything  remained  quiet  along  the 
line  until  the  29th  of  September,  when  a  movement 
was  made  to  our  left.  Warren  moved  with  two 
divisions  of  his  corps,  and  two  on  the  Ninth,  under 
Gen.  Park,  with  Greg's  cavalry  in  advance,  reaching 
the  Squirrel  Level  road,  and  carrying  two  or  three  small 
works  at  different  points.  There  was  sharp  fighting 
throughout  this  and  the  following  day,  we  holding 
the  newly  gained  ground  and  intrenching  on  it. 
Breastworks  were  immediately  made  to  connect  with 
our  former  position  across  the  Weldon  railroad. 
I —  On  the  27th  of  October  another  advance  was  made 
toward  Hatchers'  Run,  but  it  failed  in  effecting  its 
object,  and  ended  with  our  whole  army  falling  back 
to  our  old  intrenchments  before  Petersburg,  and 
thence  to  Warren's  works,  covering  the  Weldon  rail- 
road and  the  Vaughn  and  Squirrel  Level  highways. 
During  the  months  of  January,  February,  and  March 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  835 

there  were  few  movements  of  the  army,  which  gave 
me  an  opportunity  of  giving  missions  through  the 
Fifth  and  Ninth  Corps,  holding  our  lines  from  near 
Hatchers'  Run  down  to  Fort  Steadman  on  the  way 
to  City  Point. 

On  March  25,  1865,  my  missions  ended  at  Fort 
Haskel.  On  the  24:th  I  heard  confessions  for 
about  four  hours  in  the  fort,  and  early  next  morn- 
ing a  place  was  erected  for  me  in  which  to  celebrate 
Mass.  I  began  to  say  Mass  before  daylight  on  the 
25th,  and,  before  finishing  Mass,  I  heard  some  sharp 
rattling  of  musketry,  followed  by  loud  cannonading. 
I  hurried  through  Mass  and  the  administering  of 
Communion  to  about  sixty  soldiers,  then,  getting  my 
vestments  together  and  placing  them  in  my  saddle 
bags,  mounted  my  horse  and  rode  out  of  the  fort, 
just  as  the  gunners  were  ordered  to  mount  the  para- 
pets. Fort  Steadman,  the  next  fort  on  the  right,  was 
attacked  and  taken  by  assault,  the  Confederates  sur- 
prising the  Fourteenth  New  York  Artillery,  who  were 
in  Fort  Steadman,  in  front  of  which  the  Ninth  Corps 
were  camped.  The  fort  was  taken  and  carried  at  a 
single  bound,  and  its  guns  turned  on  our  troops. 
Three  mortar  batteries  adjoining  it  were  also  taken; 
however,  the  rebel  victory  was  of  short  duration,  for 
our  surrounding  artillery,  supported  by  the  Ninth 
Corps,  were  brought  to  bear  upon  Fort  Steadman,  the 
fire  of  which  became  so  hot  that  the  victors  had  to 
abandon  the  fort,  and  many  of  them,  afraid  to  recross 
the  intervening  space  to  their  own  lines,  surrendered. 


B36  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

When  I  returned  to  camp,  meeting  Gen.  Griffin 
and  staff  in  advance  of  the  division,  moving  out  after 
breaking  camp,  I  fell  in  with  the  staff.  Advancing 
about  seven  miles  on  the  left  towards  Hatchers'  Run, 
we  were  met  by  Gen.  Meade  and  staff.  Making 
short  halt,  Gen.  Meade  gave  a  verbal  order,  saying: 
"  Griffin,  you  advance  with  your  command  and  attack 
the  enemy  where  you  meet  him.  If  you  drive  him 
do  not  go  beyond  the  Boyton  plank-road  until  you 
connect  with  the  Second  Corps." 

Immediately  our  line  of  battle  was  formed,  with  a 
skirmish  line  in  our  front,  Bartlett's  brigade  on  our 
right,  Pearson's  on  the  left,  and  Chamberlain's 
brigade  in  the  center.  Advancing  about  a  mile 
through  open  fields,  our  skirmishers  were  met  by  the 
enemy,  and,  with  sharp  firing  on  both  sides,  our  skir- 
mishers were  driven  back  to  the  line  of  battle.  The 
rebel  infantry,  advancing  out  of  the  woods  with  their 
accustomed  rebel  yell,  came  nearer  to  our  line,  and 
so  impetuous  were  they,  that  one  man  would  crowd 
before  another,  not  keeping  steady  or  closed  ranks  in 
their  line  of  battle.  On  the  other  hand,  our  troops 
advancing  slowly,  and  in  a  steady,  closed  line,  took 
deliberate  aim,  our  officers  shouting  to  their  men: 
*'  Steady,  close  up,  aim  low."  Griffin  ordered  our 
right  and  left  wing  to  advance, as  the  rebels  approached, 
seemingly  determined  to  break  through  our  center. 
Gen.  Chamberlain,  who  held  the  center,  advanced 
before  the  troops,  waving  his  sword  and  shouting  in 
a  shrill  voice:  ''  Forward,  boys,  forward."     His  horse 


MEMOIKS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  337 

was  riddled  with  bullets  and  fell  under  him,  he  receiv- 
ing four  wounds.  Still  he  advanced  before  his  com- 
mand, bleeding  profusely  from  his  wounds,  but 
crying  out  and  waving  his  sword  to  the  soldiers  with 
the  command  "Forward!"  After  a  few  volleys  of 
steady  firing  from  our  line,  the  rebels  recoiled  and 
broke,  falling  back  and  running,  with  our  men  in 
pursuit  of  them. 

Surgeon  De  Witt,  surgeon  chief  of  our  division, 
and  myself  viewed  the  battle  as  it  was  progressing, 
from  a  little  elevated  ground,  where  Gen.  Griffin 
stood  directing  the  fight.  As  soon  as  the  battle  was 
over.  Surgeon  De  Witt  ordered  me  to  go  back  to  the 
rear  and  give  his  commands  to  the  division  sur-, 
geons  to  hurry  up  and  attend  the  wounded.  Riding 
back  about  a  mile  I  met  the  doctors  and  returned 
with  them.  After  attending  to  the  Catholics  who 
were  in  danger  of  death,  I  helped  the  wounded  into 
ambulances,  which  carried  them  back  to  the  field 
hospital.  It  rained  very  heavily  during  the  evening, 
but  we  succeeded  in  burying  the  dead,  both  our  own 
and  the  Confederate. 

Returning  from  the  field  wet  and  weary,  just  at 
dark,  seeking  some  place  of  shelter  to  bivouac  for 
the  night,  the  sentiments  expressed  by  my  country- 
man, the  Irish  poet.  Col.  O'Hara,  under  similar 
circumstances,  came  to  mind: 


22 


338  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

"  The  muffled  drum's  sad  roll  has  beat 
The  soldier's  last  tattoo ! 
No  more  on  life's  parade  shall  meet 

That  brave  and  fallen  few. 
On  fame's  eternal  camping-ground 

Their  silent  tents  are  spread, 
And  glory  guards^with  solemn  round 
The  bivouac  of  the  dead!  " 

We  halted  for  the  night  in  the  old  Lewis  farm- 
house, deserted  by  its  inhabitants  the  day  before,  our 
corps  resting  in  front  of  the  rebel  intrenchments  and 
covering  the  White  Oak  road.  The  Fifth  Corps  was 
placed  by  Gen.  Grant  under  Gen.  Sheridan's  com- 
mand, and  moved  in  the  direction  of  Five  Forks, 
-where  Sheridan  was  and  had  been  fighting,  endeavor- 
ing to  turn  the  right  wing  of  Lee's  army 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  April  1, 
Sheridan  and  staff  rode  over  to  where  Griffin's  divis- 
ion was  resting  a  few  minutes.  After  the  day's 
march,  Sheridan,  alighting  from  his  horse,  drew  out 
his  plan  of  attack,  tracing  the  lines  on  the  dust  of 
the  road  with  the  point  of  his  sword,  also  showing 
Griffin  the  rebel  position.  The  plan  of  battle  was 
to  attack  the  enemy's  whole  front,  Merritt's  two 
divisions  to  make  a  feint  of  turning  the  right  flank 
of  the  enemy,  while  the  Fifth  Corps  should  vigor- 
ously assail  his  left.  Having  mounted  his  horse  again, 
Sheridan  remarked  before  starting:  "Griffin,  your 
right  flank  will  be  taken  care  of  by  McKenzie,  who 
will  be  pushed  over  toward  the  Ford  road  and 
Hatchers'  Run.    We'll  have  them,"  he  said,  as  he  gave 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  339 

spurs  to  his  horse,  "in  an  Jiour  and  a  half  from 
this."  And  sure  enough  we  had,  capturing  the 
rebel  works  and  turning  their  right  flank,  which 
caused  Lee  the  next  night  to  leave  his  whole  line  of 
works  before  Petersburg. 

After  the  battle  was  over,  De  Witt,  chief  surgeon 
of  the  division,  told  me  to  take  care  of  the  wounded 
and  to  gather  them  over  to  a  farm-house  on  the  battle- 
field, and  he  would  go  after  the  doctors  and  bring 
them  up  as  soon  as  he  could.  I  rode  along,  collecting 
all  the  straggling  soldiers  who  were  on  the  field,  and 
ordering  them  to  take  the  wounded  over  to  that  house 
near  by.  The  inhabitants  had  already  left  the  house, 
locking  the  door.  Breaking  open  the  door,  we  got 
all  the  beds  that  we  could  find  down  on  the  first 
floor,  and  placed  our  dying  soldiers  on  them  and 
outside  on  the  porch.  The  other  wounded  men  were 
placed  in  rows  on  the  ground  inside  the  picket  fence, 
inclosing  an  area  of  about  half  an  acre  or  more 
around  the  house. 

All  the  linens  and  calicoes  that  could  be  found 
about  the  place  were  torn  up  in  strips  to  bind  the 
wounded  limbs  of  our  men  and  to  keep  them  from 
bleeding  to  death  until  the  surgeons  could  give  them 
proper  treatment.  About  twelve  o'clock  at  night  the 
surgeons  and  our  ambulances  arrived.  I  told  my 
orderly  to  get  our  horses  ready,  for  we  should  be 
obliged  to  go  down  to  headquarters  in  order  to  be  up 
with  our  command,  as  soon  as  they  moved;  for  I 
knew  that  Sheridan  would  have  us  on  the  go  before 


340  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

daylight.  Seeing  him  on  the  evening  of  the  battle 
riding  from  one  division  commander  to  another,  as 
he  was  directing  the  whole  movemxCnt  along  the  line, 
it  gave  me  an  impression  of  his  ceaseless  activity  of 
body,  with  his  mind  intently  fixed  on  the  business  he 
had  to  do,  and  his  indomitable  will  pledged  to  execute 
it.  I,  therefore,  concluded  there  was  very  little  rest  for 
us  until  Sheridan  had  accomplished  his  work  of  cap- 
turing Lee's  army,  and  so  it  happened.  The  advance 
was  sounded  next  morning  before  daylight,  Sheridan 
ordering  our  corps  to  connect  with  the  army  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Sutherland  Station. 

The  next  day  we  had  a  fatiguing  march  to  Peters- 
burg, south  of  the  Amelia  Court  Honse,  where  we 
arrived  at  sundown  and  spent  the  night  until  about 
eleven  o'clock  throwing  up  intrenchments  across  the 
Burks ville  road.  Meade's  whole  army  joined  us 
toward  evening  on  the  5th.  Gen.  Lee's  army,  leaving 
the  Amelia  Court  House,  moved  that  night  around 
on  our  left,  striking  out  for  Farmville,  in  order  to 
recross  the  Appomattox  and,  if  possible,  escape  his 
pursuers.  He  crossed  the  Appomattox  on  bridges  at 
Farmville,  marching  all  night,  and  leaving  us  well  in 
the  rear.  But  Sheridan,  with  his  usual  swiftness, 
headed  him  off  and  detained  him  by  harassing  his 
front,  at  one  time  capturing  nearly  the  whole  of 
Swell's  corps — Ewell  himself  and  six  other  generals 
being  among  the  prisoners,  of  whom  0,000  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Sheridan's  troopers. 

On  the  morning  of   April  8,    our  Corps,  tlu^  Fifth, 


MEMOIKS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  341 

Gen.  Griffin  commanding,  and  Gen.  Ord  command- 
ing the  Twenty-fifth  Corps,  with  one  division  of  the 
Twenty-fourth,  made  a  forced  march  all  day  and 
night  until  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when 
we  connected  with  Sheridan's  cavalry,  who  were  right 
in  front  of  Lee's  whole  army  across  the  railroad, 
liolding  three  train-loads  of  provisions  —  captured 
that  night  by  Sheridan's  cavalry  —  on  their  way  to 
Lee's  army.  We  bivouacked  on  the  road  and  rested 
for  about  two  hours,  when  the  bugle  sounded  the 
advance  at  dawn  of  day. 

A  line  of  battle  was  immediately  formed.  Gen. 
Ord  on  the  left,  and  Gen.  Griffin's  corps  on  the 
right.  The  line  of  troops  advanced  to  where  Sher- 
idan's troopers  were  engaged  with  Lee's  advance, 
endeavoring  to  cut  their  way  through  Sheridan's 
cavalry.  As  soon  as  our  heavy  lines  of  infantry 
came  supporting  Sheridan's  cavalry,  his  troopers 
moved  to  the  right  and  left  flanks  of  the  infantry 
line.  The  advancing  rebel  line  of  soldiers,  seeing 
the  heavy  force  of  infantry  before  them,  fell  back 
gradually,  while  our  troops  steadily  advanced  after 
them. 

As  I  was  riding  behind  the  line,  I  noticed  a  wounded 
rebel  soldier  stretched  on  the  ground.  I  alighted  from 
my  horse  and  went  over  to  him  to  aid  him  spiritually 
if  he  wished,  and  if  not,  at  least  to  render  him  all 
the  temporal  aid  I  could  in  consequence  of  his  great 
suffering.  He  was  in  terrible  pain,  having  been 
shot  in   the  abdomen  by  his  own  officer.     He  told 


342  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

me  that  when  the  cavalry  moved  from  their  front, 
and  a  heavy  line  of  infantry  came  before  them,  seeing 
that  it  was  useless  to  contend  further,  he  fell  back. 
His  officer  at  once  ordered  him  to  ''About  face"; 
and,  refusing  to  do  so,  the  officer  drew  his  revolver 
and  shot  him,  leaving  him  there  on  the  enemy's 
field. 

Examining  his  wound,  I  found  it  was  fatal,  and 
from  his  agony  and  suffering  I  concluded  that  the 
poor  fellow  had  not  long  to  live;  I  told  him  so  and 
entreated  him  now  to  fight  the  last  battle  for  Heaven. 
I  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  been  baptized,  he  replied 
in  the  negative.  I  told  him  that  baptism  was  neces- 
sary in  order  to  go  to  heaven,  and  he  seemed  willing 
to  be  baptized  after  the  instructions  I  gave  him. 
Then,  laying  hold  of  a  canteen  of  water,  I  baptized 
him  ''In  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the '  Son, 
and  of  the  Holy  Ghost.   Amen." 

After  receiving  baptism  he  uttered  some  very  fer- 
vent ejaculatory  prayers,  saying:  "Oh,  my  God 
forever  have  mercy  on  me!"  The  poor  fellow  was 
writhing  in  great  pain  and  agony;  I  remained  with 
him  as  long  as  I  could  and  was  sorry  to  leave  him 
before  he  had  breathed  his  last.  But  by  this  time 
our  troops  were  out  of  sight  and,  not  knowing  where 
I  should  find  them,  I  left  the  poor,  dying  soldier  and 
followed  up  the  command.  After  riding  about  a 
mile  I  overtook  the  troops  and,  seeing  one  of  Sheri- 
dan's staff  officers  riding  along  the  line,  giving  orders 
to  the  troops  to  "Halt!"  and  "Ground  arms!"  which 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  343 

orders  were  obeyed,  I  asked  an  officer  what  it  all 
meant.  He  said  that  Gen.  Gordon  had  come  into 
our  lines  with  a  flag  of  truce,  asking  a  little  time  to 
make  the  surrender. 

The  troops  laid  down  along  the  line  and  rested. 
Then  they  began  cooking  their  rations ;  that  is,  any  of 
them  that  had  rations  to  cook;  for,  after  making 
forced  marches  since  the  battle  of  Five  Forks,  and 
fighting  at  intervals,  their  haversacks  were  light. 
About  two  o'clock  it  was  formally  announced  to  the 
troops  that  Lee's  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  had 
surrendered.  Their  haversacks  were  then  replen- 
ished by  the  commissary  department,  and,  after 
getting  a  good  meal,  the  soldiers  went  under  their 
little  dog  tents  to  rest  in  peace,  having  no  more  fear 
of  being  attacked  by  Lee.  The  troops  remained  on 
the  field  that  day  and  night;  the  next  day  also  was 
spent  there,  many  of  the  Union  officers  going  over 
and  mingling  with  the  rebels,  trading  horses,  and 
the  rebel  officers  coming  into  our  camps,  spending 
the  day,  talking  over  the  different  battles,  our  offi- 
cers treating  them  to  cigars  and  commissary  whisky, 
and  the  best  they  had  themselves.  It  was  interest- 
ing to  hear  the  brave  combatants  discussing  matters 
in  a  friendly  spirit  about  in  the  same  manner  as 
politicians  discuss  their  political  issues. 

In  a  few  days  the  bulk  of  our  army  moved  on 
their  way  to  Kichmond.  The  Fifth  Army  Corps 
remained  to  receive  the  formal  surrender  of  the 
Confederate  arms.     Maj.-Gen.  Bartlett,  commanding 


344  MEMOIES   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

the  first  division  of  our  corps,  was  ordered  to  per- 
form the  honorable  task,  which  was  done  a  few  days 
after  Lee's  surrender.  The  Confederate  army  moved 
from  their  camp  in  the  usual  routine  of  march,  major 
generals  and  their  staff  officers  at  the  head  of  their 
corps,  division  generals  at  the  head  of  their  divis- 
ions, brigade  generals  at  the  head  of  their  com- 
mands, and  colonels  at  the  head  of  their  regiments. 

The  Union  soldiers  formed  in  line  along  the  side 
of  the  road  with  fixed  bayonets,  Gen.  Bartlett  and 
staff  at  the  end  of  the  line.  As  each  corps  came  up 
Gen.  Bartlett,  in  a  modest  tone  of  voice,  ordered  them 
to  "Halt,  and  about  face,"  ''Plant  your  colors," 
"Stack  arms  and  equipm^ents."  This  being  done, 
the  rebel  veterans  mingled  with  our  veterans,  who 
generously  shared  with  them  a  part  of  their  own 
rations.  It  was  interesting  to  see  them  sitting  in 
squads  together,  and  to  hear  them  talking  over  their 
former  battles.  I  overheard  a  rebel  soldier,  saying, 
in  a  loud,  emphatic  voice:  "It  was  that  Irish  devil, 
Sheridan,  that  did  the  work  for  you  fellows.  He 
was  the  only  general  you  had  who  struck  terror  into 
us;  but  for  him,  this  war  would  not  be  over  yet:  but 
now  we  are  glad  it  is  over,  for  we  have  had  enough 
of  it." 

The  next  day  the  country  about  the  little  village 
of  Appomattox  was  pretty  well  cleared,  all  the  rebel 
veterans  returning  to  their  homes  as  best  they  could, 
picking  up  all  the  old  horses  and  mules  they  could 
find.  Our  officers  and  soldiers  did  not  prevent  them, 
knowing  that  the  poor  fellows  needed  them  to  help 


MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  345 

put  in  a  crop,  now  that  it  was  the  spring  of  the  year 
and  such  work  was  in  progress. 

We  remained  at  Appomattox  until  about  April  18, 
when  all  our  troops  made  a  very  slow  march  toward 
Richmond,  sometimes  staying  for  several  days  in 
camp./yNear  Farmville,  about  fifteen  miles  from 
Appomattox,  we  camped  a  few  days.  On  April  25, 
the  adjutant-general  of  the  division  handed  me  a 
letter  sent  to  the  headquarters,  requesting  me  to  go 
to  the  Third  division.  I  will  transcribe  the  letter, 
which  fully  explains  itself: 

"Headquarters,  Third  Division,  Fifth  Army  Corps, 

"April  25, 1865. 
"  Father  Egan,  Chaplain  at  Headquarters, 

"First  Division, Fifth  Army  Corps. 
"Reverend  AND  Dear  Sir:— We  have  a  prisoner  under  sen- 
tence of  death  for  desertion;  the  time  appointed  for  his  execu- 
tion is  Friday.  He  desires  the  attention  of  a  clergyman  of  your 
denomination,  and  I  know  of  no  other  more  acceptable  than 
yourself,  nor  would  I  desire  any  if  there  were .  He  wishes 
much  that  you  would  come  and  see  him,  if  possible,  to-morrow. 
In  case  you  can  not  come,  may  I  hear  from  you,  that  I  may  look 
elsewhere?    I  have  the  honor  to  remain, 

"Yours  most  respectfully, 

"Alfred  C.    Roe, 

"Chaplain  and  A.  A.  D.  C." 

This  letter,  on  the  back  of  its  fly-leaf,  had  the  fol- 
lowing indorsement: 

"  Headquarters,  Third  Division,  Fifth  Army  Corps, 

"April  25,  1865. 
"  Respectfully  Forwarded. 
"Approved.  S.  H.  Crawford, 

"  Brevet  Major-Goneral,  Commanding." 


346  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

^  "  Headquarters,  Fifth  Army  Corps, 

"April  25,  1865. 
"Respectfully  referred  to  Brig.-Gen.  Chamberlain  with  the 
request  that  he  send  Father  Egan  to  attend  the  prisoner,  at 
Third  Division  Headquarters,  now  under  sentence  of  death . 
"  By  command  of 

"  Brevet  Maj.-Gen.  Griffin. 
"F.  F.  Locn,  Col.  Adjt.-Gen." 

Next  day  I  rode  over  to  Gen.  Crawford's  head- 
quarters, about  seven  miles  distant,  and  reported  to 
the  general.  He  sent  an  orderly  with  me  to  the 
place  where  the  prisoner  was  confined,  giving  ordors 
for  me  to  have  free  access  to  the  prisoner,  and  inviting 
me  to  return  at  night  to  his  headquarters,  where  he 
would  have  a  tent  prepared  for  me.  Having  arrived 
at  the  guard-house,  I  introduced  myself  to  the 
prisoner  who  was  in  a  very  sullen  mood;  for  no 
person  can  realize  the  feelings  of  a  man  condemned 
to  die  but  the  poor,  condemned  man  himself.  After 
talking  to  him  for  a  good  while,  I  told  him  I  would 
see  him  next  day  again ;  that  I  would  make  an  effort 
to  have  the  execution  suspended,  but  advised  him,  at 
the  same  time,  to  prepare  for  the  worst. 

Returning  to  headquarters  I  took  my  supper  and 
went  to  bed,  thinking  a  good  deal,  after  lying  down, 
as  to  what  plea  or  what  means  I  should  use  to  get  the 
poor  prisoner  pardoned.  In  the  morning  Gen.  Craw- 
ford sent  for  me  to  have  breakfast  with  him  in  his 
tent.  During  breakfast  I  commenced  my  plea  for 
the  poor  prisoner,  adducing  arguments  well  digested 
and  thought   over  during  the  night.       Finally  the 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  347 

general  said  to  me:  "I  will  give  you  a  letter  to  Gen. 
Meade,  whose  headquarters  are  at  Burksville,  seven- 
teen miles  from  here.  I  will  give  you  my  carriage,  and 
order  an  escort  of  cavalry  to  guard  you  on  the  way,  so 
that  no  bush-whackers  may  molest  you." 

I  thanked  him  very  kindly  and  said  I  would  act 
upon  his  suggestion.  After  breakfast  the  carriage 
was  made  ready  with  seventeen  troopers,  -and  Gen. 
Crawford,  handing  me  the  letter,  we  started  on  our 
journey.  On  the  way  I  was  thinking  and  arranging 
arguments  in  my  mind,  and  the  plea  I  would  make 
when  I  should  meet  the  general.  After  arriving  at 
Gen.  Meade's  headquarters  and  asking  for  the  adju- 
tant-general, an  orderly  went  to  his  quarters,  telling 
him  I  wanted  to  see  him  on  important  business.  The 
adjutant-general  came  down  to  where  I  was ;  I  told  him 
my  business  and  handed  him  Gen.  Crawford's  letter 
to  Gen.  Meade;  the  general,  after  reading  Gen.  Craw- 
ford's letter,  sent  an  orderly  to  call  me  to  his  quarters. 

The  general  was  sitting  on  a  camp-stool  in  his  tent 
and  invited  me  to  sit  down  on  another ;  I  told  him 
my  mission  of  mercy  and  made  as  strong  pleas  and 
remonstrances  as  I  could,  the  principal  point  of 
my  argument  representing  the  prisoner  as  a  reckless 
half-fool,  ^it^/i  compos  mentis.  The  general  remarked 
that  that  fellow  was  no  fool,  for  he  broke  away  from 
the  guard  three  times.  "  Well,  general,"  I  said,  "  do 
you  think  that  a  man  of  common  sense  would  defy 
the  guards,  knowing  that  loaded  muskets  were  in  their 
hands,  that  it  was  their  duty  to  use  them  in  shooting 


348  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

him,  and  that  if  they  did  not  do  so,  severe  punishment 
would  follow  on  themselves?  " 

Before  the  general  had  time  to  make  any  more 
objections  I  appealed  to  his  humanity,  knowing  before- 
hand his  character  as  a  humane  and  conscientious 
man,  and  followed  up  my  line  of  argument  as  I  had 
previously  arranged  it  in  my  mind  during  the  journey. 
When  I  finished,  the  general  said:  "  Well,  Father 
Egan,  I  will  suspend  his  execution  for  to-morrow,  but 
you  will  have  to  get  the  doctors  to  substantiate  your 
claim  that  the  prisoner  is  non  compos  rnentisJ''  I 
thanked  the  general  for  his  merciful  act,  and,  after  a 
little  more  conversation  on  other  subjects,  I  arose, 
bidding  him  good-bye,  he  shaking  hands  with  me 
in  a  friendly  manner,  and  went  where  the  cavalrymen 
were  employed  in  cooking  their  dinner  and  feeding 
their  horses,  telling  them  the  success  of  my  mission, 
which  pleased  them  very  much,  and  that  we  must 
start  as  soon  as  we  could;  which  we  did  in  a  short 
time  and  arrived  at  Gen.  Crawford's  headquarters 
during  the  night. 

Next  morning  at  dawn  of  day  I  went  to  see  the 
prisoner,  saying  to  him :  "You  will  not  be  shot  to-day." 
"Isdatso,Fader?"  he  said  to  me  very  coolly.  After  a 
little  he  filled  with  emotion  and  began  to  shed  tears, 
the  poor  fellow  realizing  that  his  life  was  spared. 
"Vel,"  he  said,  "Fader,  I  tank  you  so  very  much; 
you  have  saved  mine  life.  Before  you  go  away  I  vant 
to  go  to  confession,  and  I  vill  bo  a  good  boy  from 
dis  out."  After  hearing  his  confession  I  bade  him 
good-bye,  shaking  hands  with  him. 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHArLAIN    LIFE.  849 

I  then  rode  over  to  headquarters,  and  after  break- 
fast went  to  my  own  command,  seven  miles  distant. 
From  that  day  forth  the  army  was  on  the  march  to 
Eichmond,  from  thence  to  Washington,  and  finally 
reaching  Alexandria,  camped  in  that  neighborhood. 

Being  near  my  home  in  Washington,  at  St.  Domi- 
nic's Church,  South  Washington,  it  was  easy  to  get  a 
leave  of  absence  to  return  home  until  I  should  be 
mustered  out  of  service.  On  July  15,  following,  I  was 
mustered  out,  receiving  an  honorable  discharge,  with 
an  order  for  $300  extra,  according  to  a  law  pre- 
viously enacted  by  Congress,  to  the  effect  that  all 
officers  remaining  in  the  army  until  the  war  was  over 
would  receive — in  addition  to  their  pay — the  sum  of 
1300. 


CHAPTEE  XL VIII. 


THE  IRISH  BRIGADE  IN  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION. 


BY  MAJ.-GEN.   MUL.HOLL.AND. 


THE  story  of  the  Irish  race  is  the  history  of  a 
people  fearless  in  danger  and  peerless  in  battle. 
In  every  age  in  which  they  have  appeared,  in  every 
land  where  they  have  fought,  under  every  flag  they 
have  defended,  they  have  added  to  their  glory  and 
increased  their  renown. 

"Magnificent  Tipperary!"  exclaimed  Sir  Charles 
Napier  when,  at  Meecanee,  after  four  hours'  hard 
fighting,  he  saw  800  Irishmen  driving  before  them 
20,000  Belooches  —  the  bravest  soldiers  of  India. 

"  Curse  the  laws  that  deprive  me  of  such  subjects! " 
cried  George  II.,  when  he  heard  of  the  whipping 
that  the  Irish  Brigade,  in  the  service  of  France,  had 
given  his  troops  at  Fontenoy. 

"Men,"  says  Washington,  " distinguished  for  their 

firm  adherence  to  the  glorious  cause  in  which  we  are 

embarked." 

(350) 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  351 

"I  thank  the  Irish  Brigade  for  their  superb 
conduct  in  the  field,"  says  Gen.  McClellan  on  the 
Peninsula. 

Ah,  yes,  in  every  age,  in  every  clime,  it  has  been 
the  same  thing.  In  India,  in  Africa,  in  China,  and 
on  all  the  fields  of  Europe,  they  have  left  their 
footprints  and  the  records  of  their  valor.  The  sham- 
rock and  the  fleur-de-lis  have  blended  together  on 
many  of  the  bloodiest  and  most  glorious  fields  of 
France.  ^  Along  the  banks  of  the  Guadalquivir  the 
<3ry  of  *'Fag-a-Bealac!"  is  echoed  even  to  this  day, 
and  Spain  still  remembers  Ireland's  sons  and  Irish 
intrepidity. 

Italy  recalls  Cremons  and  the  regiments  of  Dillon 
and  Burke,  sweeping  before  them  the  Cuirassiers  of 
Prince  Eugene.  Before  their  wild  hurrah,  the  strong- 
est defenses  of  Flanders  trembled  and  fell,  and 
Luxembourg  entered  Namur  when  the  Irish  charged 
the  works.  On  every  field  of  the  old  lands,  and  in 
every  battle  in  which  our  own  country  has  taken 
part,  the  sons  of  Erin  have  been  present,  gathering 
fresh  laurels  and  reflecting  new  lustre  on  their  race." 

Light-Horse  Harry  Lee,  writing  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vania troops  of  the  Revolution,  says:  "They  were 
known  as  the  line  of  Pennsylvania,  whereas  they 
should  have  been  called  the  line  of  Ireland.  Bold 
and  daring,  they  would  always  prefer  an  appeal  to  the 
bayonet  to  a  tiresom^e  march.  The  general  (Wayne) 
and  his  soldiers  were  singularly  fitted  for  close  and 
stubborn    action.       Cornwallis,     therefore,    did   not 


852  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

miscalculate  when  he  presumed  that  the  presence  of 
Wayne  and  his  Irishmen  would  increase  the  chance 
of  bringing  his  antagonist,  Lafayette,  to  action." 

Not  only  Wayne  and  his  brigade  were  Irish,  but 
nearly  all  the  general  officers  of  the  Revolution  from 
Pennsylvania  were  Celts.  Gens.  William  Irvine, 
Stephen  Moylan,  William  Butler,  Edward  Hand, 
William  Thompson,  John  Shee,  Walter  Stewart,  and 
Washington's  surgeon-general,  John  Cochran,  every 
one  of  them  hailed  from  the  ever-faithful  Isle. 

Indeed,  we  can  speak  with  conscious  pride  of  the 
Irish  soldier  in  the  United  States.  Barry,  the  first 
commodore  of  our  infant  navy,  was  Irish.  The  first 
and  last  commanders  of  our  army,  Anthony  Wayne 
and  Philip  Sheridan  —  Sheridan,  the  beloved  of 
Grant,  "the  whirlwind  with  spurs"  (as  Hancock 
aptly  named  him) — were  of  full  Irish  blood.  In 
every  battle  of  the  Revolution  Moylan  and  his  Irish 
Dragoons  were  ever  near  to  Washington.  On  every 
field  of  those  dark  hours  Irish  blood  flowed  in  copi- 
ous streams.  As  it  was  at  the  birth  of  our  nation, 
so  it  has  continued  to  our  own  time. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  struggle  of  1861,  the  first 
name  that  became  conspicuous  as  that  of  a  soldier — 
grand,  heroic,  superbly  brave — was  Irish  Col.  Mulli- 
gan, the  defender  of  Lexington;  and  the  very  last 
officer  killed  in  that  unhappy  war  was  an  Irishman, 
noble,  gallant,  and  pure.  Gen.  Tom.  Smythe,  of  Dela- 
ware, who  fell  near  Appomattox  but  a  few  hours 
before  Lee's  surrender.    On  every  bloody  field  of  that 


MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  353 

awful  struggle,  the  Irisli  soldier  was  in  the  very 
front. 

Who  of  us  does  not  remember  the  day  after  Bull 
Run,  when  the  whole  nation  was  saddened,  depressed, 
almost  terrified,  by  the  appalling  disaster  that  had 
befallen  our  cause  ? 

When,  at  Blenheim,  the  legions  of  France  went 
down  before  the  victorious  Marlborough,  the  nation 
found  solace  in  the  splendid  valor  of  Lord  Clare  and 
his  Irishmen,  and  rejoiced  because  of  his  wresting 
two  standards  from  the  triumphant  foe.  So,  also, 
after  Bull  Run,  our  people  could  recall  with  pride 
the  heroism  of  the  Sixty -ninth  New  York  Volunteers, 
that  noble  regiment  which,  after  a  long  day's  fight 
and  heavy  loss,  arnid/all  the  confusion  of  total  defeat 
and  ignominious  rolit,'  linder  the  command  of  the 
brave  and  modest  Corcoran,  quietly  formed  square 
against  cavalry,  and  with  the  green  flag  flying, 
marched  oft'  the  field  in  perfect  order.  Here,  on 
the  first  great  battlefield  of  the  War  of  Secession, 
amid  carnage  and  disaster,  the  brigade  of  which  I 
propose  to  write  was  born.  Around  this  green  fl^ag 
5,000  Celtic  soldieis  afterward  gathered,  and  it  is 
the  history  of  their  deeds  that  I  now  attempt  to  tell. 
The  story  of  their  feats  of  arms  would  not  be,  of 
itself,  a  true  reflex  of  the  Irish  Brigade.  The  Celt 
prefers  to  mix  a  little  fun  with  his  fighting,  and  so  I 
will  interlard  a  few  anecdotes  of  the  men  in  this 
narrative,  and  perhaps  shall  pause  to  tell  of  their 
chivalry. 

23 


354  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN     LIFE. 

At  Fair  Oaks  the  brigade  adjourned  an  improvised 
horse-race  to  make  a  very  splendid  charge  on  the 
Confederate  lines,  and  the  hurrahs  with  which  they 
rushed  over  the  enemy's  works  were  but  the  contin- 
uation of  the  cheers  that  had  welcomed  Major  Cava- 
naugh  as  he  jumped  the  last  hurdle  on  the  winning 

horse. 

"Here's  to  the  Thirty -seventh  (Irish)  New  York, 
the  tirror  of  the  inimy,  and  the  admiration  of  the 
faymale  sex!"  was  the  toast  given  by  an  Irish 
sergeant  at  a  farewell  banquet.  Truly,  I  can  recall 
many  touching  incidents  of  knightly  courtesy  that 
made   the   brigade  the  "admiration  of    the  faymale 

sex." 

In  passing  over  one  of  the  long  corduroy  bridges 
that  crossed  the  swamps  of  the  Chickahominy,  a 
company  of  100  men  met,  in  the  center,  two  Sisters 
of  Charity.  As  only  two  persons  could  pass  on  the 
narrow  footway,  the  ladies  were  about  to  turn  back; 
but  the  commander  of  the  company,  saluting,  quietly 
stepped  off  the  roadway  into  the  knee-deep  mud  and 
slime,  and  was  promptly  followed  by  everyone  of 
his  men,  who,  silent  and  respectful,  struggled  to 
regain  a  foothold  in  the  treacherous  swamp,  while 
the  blushing  religieuses  passed  over  dry-shod. 

Again,  I  recall  a  noble  soul  who  fell  by  my  side  in 
the  evening,  away  out  by  the  Stone  Wall,  at  Fred- 
ericksburg. He  was  in  the  act  of  firing  when  a  ball 
went  whistling  through  his  lungs.  The  musket  fell 
from  his  powerless  hands,  and  while  the  film  of  death 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  355 

gathered  in  his  brave  eyes,  I  heard  him  gently 
murmur:  "Ah!  what  will  become  of  Mollie  and  the 
children  now?"  With  that  he  passed  away.  Not  a 
thought  of  himself,  his  wound,  or  his  approaching 
death,  only  of  wife  and  the  little  ones.  Did  ever 
warrior  of  old  face  the  grim  Reaper  more  fearlessly  ? 

One  dark  night,  when  we  were  marching  away  from 
Falmouth,  the  brigade  was  groping  along  a  by-path, 
the  men  growling  about  the  roughness  of  the  walking, 
now  and  then  tripping  over  a  log,  and  plunging 
headlong  into  the  darkness.  A  man  remarked  to  his 
comrade,  who  was  grumbling  and  falling  more  fre- 
quently than  the  others:  "Whist,  Jimmy,  yez'll  be 
on  the  main  road  in  a  minute."  "Bedad,  Barney," 
replied  the  unfortunate  one,  "  Oi'll  nivir  get  onto  a 
mainer  road  than  this!  " 

And  this  brings  me  back  to  the  main  subject  of  this 
paper.  It  was  the  intention  of  those  who  organized 
the  Irish  Brigade  to  place  Gen.  James  Shields  in 
command;  but  the  Government  designed  a  larger  field 
of  usefulness  for  that  old  veteran.  Col.  Michael 
Corcoran,  who  led  so  well  the  Sixty-ninth  at  Bull 
Run,  still  languished  in  a  Southern  prison,  and  so  it 
came  about  that  Thomas  Francis  Meagher  assumed 
command.  This  son  of  Waterford  had  pleaded  Ire- 
land's cause  with  silver  tongue  when  his  face  w^as  as 
yet  innocent  of  the  beard  of  manhood;  and  by  reason 
of  his  great  love  of  liberty  had  drawn  down  upon 
himself,  even  at  that  early  age,  the  very  humane 
sentence:     "  To  be  hanged,  drawn,  quartered,  and  his 


356  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

remains  placed  at  the  disposal  of  Her  Most  Gracious 
^  Majesty,  Victoria  K."  The  last  portion  of  the  sentence 
doubtless  saved  the  boy,  for  the  fresh  young  queen 
was  sorely  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do  with  the 
"hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered"  remains,  and  so 
escaped  the  unpleasant  duty  of  handling  the  mass  of 
blood  and  bones  by  transporting  the  young  patriot  — 
all  alive — to  Van  Dieman's  land.  Had  the  learned 
judge  but  added  cremation  to  the  other  very  dreadful 
things  that  he  proposed  for  the  youth,  Victoria 
would  have  been  spared  the  role  of  undertaker,  and 
the  future  commander  of  the  Irish  Brigade  would 
Y^  have  gone  up  in  smoke.  However,  cremation  was  not 
thought  of  forty  years  ago,  and  Meagher  lived  to 
escape  from  penal  servitude,  become  an  American 
citizen,  and  be  commissioned  a  brigadier-general  of 
volunteers.  His  command  at  first  consisted  of  the 
Sixty-third,  Sixty-ninth,  and  Eighty-eighth  regiments 
of  New  York  Volunteers,  to  which  was  afterward 
added  the  Twenty-eighth  and  Twenty -ninth  regi- 
ments of  Massachusetts,  and  the  One  Hundred  and 
Sixteenth  regiment  of  Pennsylvania  Volunteers. 

So,  on  a  balmy  Indian  summer  day  of  1861,  the 
green  flags,  with  the  Harp  and  Sunburst,  and  the 
motto,  "No  Retreat!"  were  presented  to  the  three 
first  regiments  in  the  words  of  John  Savage's  song 
of   the  Sixty-ninth,  to 

"Plant  that  Flag 
On  Fort  and  Crag, 
With  the  people's  voice  of  thunder. . ." 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  357 

And  the  brigade  marched  down  Broadway  through 
a  dense  mass  of  humanity,  the  bands  playing  the  airs 
of  Ireland;  and  amid  cheers,  sobs,  prayers,  bene- 
dictions, and  wild  enthusiasm,  sailed  away  from  the 
Battery,  and  was  launched  on  its  honorable  career. 

Many  a  funny  story  is  told  of  those  early  days  of 
the  organization  before  drill  and  discipline  had  a 
chance  to  make  them  the  perfect  soldiers  they  after- 
ward became.  Here  is  a  raw  sergeant  endeavoring 
to  keep  the  boys  in  order  with:  "I  say,  kape  your 
heels  together,  Tim  Mullaney,  in  the  rare  rank,  and 
don't  be  a-shtanding  wid  wan  fut  in  Bull  Eun  and 
the  other  in  the  Sixth  ward!"  Or  another  who,  on 
the  arrival  in  Washington,  wished  the  platoon  to 
execute  a  movement,  which  he  afterward  learned  was 
a  "  Eight  wheel,"  gave  the  model  and  clear  directions: 
"Now,  byes,  wid  ye're  face  to  the  Capitol  and  ye're 
backs  to  the  daypo,  shwing  to  the  right  loike  a  gate  !" 

Six  months  after  leaving  home,  we  find  the  brigade 
on  the  Peninsula,  thoroughly  equipped  and  ready  for 
the  fray^  They  had  passed  through  the  early  portion 
of  the  campaign,  having  been  present  at  Yorktown 
and  Williamsburg,  and  were  now  breaking  the  monot- 
ony of  camp  life  by  a  genuine  Irish  horse-race,  with 
its  accompanying  side  shows. 


358  MEMOIKS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

CHICKAHOMINY  STEEPLE-CHASES. 

Judges: — Gens.  Richardson  and  French. 

Stewards:  —  Lieut.- Col.  Fowler,  Capts.  McMahon  and 
Hogan,  Dr.  Smith,  and  Lieut.  Haverty. 

Clerk  of  the  Course: — Quartermaster  O'Sullivan. 
FIRST  race. 

A  Steeple-Chase. — Open  to  all  horses  the  property  of  and 
ridden  by  officers  of  the  Irish  Brigade.  Best  of  three  heats 
over  the  course. 

Prizes :  —  A  magnificent  tiger  skin,  presented  by  Gen. 
Meagher — the  spoil  of  his  own  gun  in  South  America.  Second 
horse  to  save  his  stakes. 

Thirteen  entries  came  to  the  scratch  at  the  judge's 
stand,  and  no  thirteen  jockies  so  remarkably  gotten 
up  or  so  wonderfully  attired  had  ever  appeared  on 
a  track.  Color  was  necessary  to  lend  the  proper 
brilliancy  to  the  sport,  and  every  farm-house  was 
ransacked  for  bits  of  scarlet,  blue,  or  green.  Table- 
cloths and  the  bright  frocks  of  the  ladies  soon 
became  jackets  and  caps.  Window  curtains  or  red 
blankets  were  quickly  metamorphosed  into  small- 
clothes; and  stunning  indeed  was  the  general  effect. 
Then,  after  much  cheering,  laughing,  betting,  false 
starts,  beautiful  jumps,  serious  tumbles,  amusing 
spills,  dislocated  shoulders,  and  all  the  adjuncts  of  a 
well-conducted  race.  Major  Cavanaugh,  on  Katy 
Darling,  came  to  the  winning  post  in  splendid  style, 
and  carried  off  the  tiger  skin.  Then  followed  mule 
races  for  the  drummer  boys ;  foot-ball,  sack  races,  and 
fun  for  everybody.  But  the  screaming  farce,  "  The 
Limerick  Boy,"  which  was  announced  for  the  after- 
noon,  was  indefinitely  postponed,   for   the   evening 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  359 

breeze  brought  from  Seven  Pines,  where  Casey's 
division  was  suffering  sore  defeat,  the  roar  of  the 
distant  battle.  A  night  march  placed  the  brigade 
within  musket  shot  of  the  victorious  enemy. 

The  dawn  of  June  1  was  ushered  in  by  an  effort  to 
push  our  troops  still  further  on  and  occupy  Pamunky 
&  Eichmond  railroad,  but  the  reinforcements  that 
had  come  upon  the  ground  during  the  night  had 
blocked  the  game.  Howard  and  French  went  at  them 
before  it  was  well  daylight  and  gave  them  a  taste  of 
what  was  to  follow;  -and  here  it  was  that  the  former 
lost  his  arm  under  peculiar  circumstances.  A  ball 
had  passed  through  the  fleshy  part  of  it,  wounding 
him  quite  severely.  He  refused  to  leave  the  field, 
and  while  his  brother  was  binding  up  the  limb,  he, 
too,  was  badly  hit.  Then  a  second  ball  struck  the 
general  on  the  arm,  this  time  smashing  the  bone  to 
pieces  and  rendering  amputation  necessary. 

The  moment  that  the  Irish  Brigade  charged  at 
Fair  Oaks  was  one  full  of  anxiety,  and  extremely 
critical.  The  enemy  had  massed  a  large  force  in 
front  of  Richardson's  division  for  a  final  attempt  to 
capture  the  railroad.  Howard  and  French  had  given 
them  a  check  that  they  had  not  anticipated,  and 
Meagher  was  ordered  in  to  give  the  coujp  de  grace. 
Sumner  ordered  the  brigade  forward.  Baring  his 
old  gray  head  and  choking  with  emotion,  he  said  to 
them:  "  Boys,  I  stake  my  position  on  you.  If  you 
run  away  to-day,  I  will  tear  these  ( pointing  to  his 
shoulder  straps)  off  and  run  with  you." 


360  MEMOIKS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Meagher,  knowing  that  the  fight  was  for  possession 
of  the    railroad,    thought    the    best    thing    possible 
was  to  possess  it,  and  promptly  issued  orders  to  that 
effect.     Nugent  quickly  advanced  under  a  hot  fire, 
and  deployed  his  regiment,  the  Sixty-ninth,  right  on 
the   track,    planting   his   colors    between    the    rails. 
Capt.  McMahon,  of  Meagher's  staff,  coolly  rode  over 
the  plain   which  separated  the  left  of  the  line  from 
the  railroad  track,  and  selected  the  position  for  the 
Eighty-eighth,  where  it    could  take   the    enemy  in 
flank.    That  regiment,  under  a  destructive  fire,  swept 
across  the  open  fields,  never  firitig  a  shot  until  the 
colors  were  planted  on  the  railroad  track;  then,  in  a 
broad  sheet  of  lightening,  they  threw  their  fire  into 
the  woods  that  gave  shelter  to  the  Confederates.     An 
instant,  and  the  reply  came  quick  and  sharp.     From 
out   the    blackberry    bushes    and   small    pines    that 
tinctured  the  noble  forest  came  a  scorching  whirlwind, 
tearing,  rending,  and  destroying.     The  chivalry   of 
Erin  had  met  the  chivalry  of  the  South,    and    the 
exchange  of    courtesies    was  earnest    and   vigorous. 
The  Harp  and  Sunburst  had  come  to  stay.     An  Irish 
"hurrah,"  a  glorious  charge,  and  the   woods   were 
cleared!     Fair  Oaks   became  a  victory;  and  within 
half   an  hour  from  the  moment  the  Irish  Brigade 
opened  fire,  the  enemy  were  everywhere  in  retreat. 

Dr.  Ellis  says  of  this  battle:  "There  was  the 
Irish  Brigade  in  all  the  glory  of  a  fair,  free  fight. 
Other  men  go  into  fights  sternly  or  indifferently,  but 
the  only  man  who,  after  all,  really  loves  it,  is  the  green 


MEMOIKS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  361 

immortal  Irishman.  So  there  the  brave  lads,  with 
Meagher  at  their  head,  laughed,  fought,  and  joked  as 
though  it  were  the  finest  fun  in  the  world.  " 

Hoadly  says :  "  Meagher's  Brigade,  advancing  with 
their  well-known  war-shout,  closed  with  ferocity  on 
the  foe  and  mowed  them  down  by  companies." 

Fair  Oaks  fought  and  won,  McClellan  and  Sumner 
joined  in  showering  thanks  and  congratulations  on 
the  command;  and  that  old  Spaniard  from  old  Spain, 
Marshall  Prim,  visited  the  camp,  his  brightened  eye 
showing  the  soldier's  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  brave 
men,  as  he  said  to  them:  "Spain  has  reason  to 
appreciate  Irish  valor.  We  have  been  friends  from 
ancient  times,  and  have  fought  side  by  side  on  many 
a  bloody  field." 

One  of  the  amusing  incidents  of  the  day  was  the 
taking  prisoner  of  a  big,  six-foot  Texan,  by  a  very 
small  drummer  boy,  George  Funk,  of  the  Eighty- 
eighth.  The  fourteen-year  old  vagabond,  thinking 
that  he  could  make  more  noise  with  a  musket  than  a 
drum,  threw  away  the  latter,  and  went  out  skirmishing 
on  his  own  account.  Seeing  a  "Eeb.  "  blazing  away 
from  behind  a  tree,  he  waited  until  he  had  discharged 
his  piece,  then  quickly  covering  him  with  his  musket 
he  commanded  him  to  "ground  arms,"  and  marched 
him  into  camp.  Meeting  Gen.  Sumner,  he  called 
out:  "  General,  I  have  brought  you  a  present  ! "  It 
was  rather  amusing,  too,  the  next  day  when  Gen. 
Meagher  went  into  the  field  hospital  to  console  his 
orderly  (who  had  been  shot  in  both   hips),  to  hear 


362   .  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

the  boy  greet  him  with,  "Good  morning,  general, 
has  Dolly  got  her  oats  yet?"  —  alluding  to  the  Gen- 
eral's favorite  mare. 

During  the  charge  at  Fair  Oaks,  the  bayonet 
and  clubbed  musket  were  used  quite  freely.  So 
ferocious  was  the  hand-to-hand  struggle,  that  some 
of  the  pieces  were  smashed  and  twisted  so  they  were 
of  no  further  use.  Gen.  Sumner  was  disposed  to 
find  fault  with  the  men  for  having  left  their  guns 
behind  them.  Sergeant  Granger  promptly  invited 
him  to  walk  out  to  the  front  and  look  at  the  stack  of 
broken  muskets.  Said  he:  "  Thim  rebels  wint  at  our 
byes  wid  bowie  knives,  and  the  min  wint  for  thim  the 
way  they  knew  best." 


GAINES'S  MILL. 

No  battlefield  of  the  war  approaches  so  near  our 
idea  of  a  storm-swept  battlefield  as  that  of  Gaines's 
Mill.  As  the  sun  went  down  that  hot  summer  even- 
ing, it  sank  upon  a  scene  of  wild  grandeur  that  the 
tempest  and  destruction  of  war  alone  can  present. 
On  the  north  bank  of  the  Chickahominy,  30,- 
000  of  our  men  had  held  in  check,  for  five  long 
hours,  the  60,000  Confederates  who  had  been 
hurled  against  our  lines ;  but  now,  when  the  day  drew 
to  a  close,  the  line  that  they  had  held  so  long  and  well 
was  rent  and  broken.  On  our  right  Sykes  was  fall- 
ing back  before  the  divisions  of  Hill  and  Ewell. 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  363 

On  our  left,  Longstreet,  led  by  Hood's  Texans,  had 
crushed,  and  almost  annihilated  Morell's  division. 
Our  cavalry,  under  Gen.  Philip  St.  George  Cook, 
had  made  a  gallant  but  hopeless  charge,  and  were 
falling  back,  a  confused  mass  of  men  and  horses, 
breaking  through  our  batteries,  and  carrying  with 
them  to  the  rear,  the  gunners  and  their  frantically 
plunging  animals.  Our  whole  force,  artillery,  cavalry 
and  infantry  —  defeated,  routed,  demoralized,  and  in 
atter  confusion  —  was  hurrying  across  the  plain  to- 
ward the  bridges  that  spanned  the  stream.  The 
successful  enemy,  elated  with  victory,  were  pouring 
out  of  the  dark  woods;  and  with  deafening  cheers, 
they  swept  in  long  lines  over  the  ground  they  had 
won,  regardless  of  the  prostrate  forms  of  the  dead 
and  wounded,  delivering  their  fire  in  rapid  volleys, 
and  rushing  upon  our  flying  men. 

As  the  twilight  deepened,  the  total  destruction  of 
the  whole  force  seemecf,  for  a  time,  almost  certain. 
The  enemy,  knowing  the  great  advantage  they  had 
gained,  pressed  with  still  greater  energy  upon  our 
beaten  troops ;  but  at  a  moment  when  all  seemed  lost, 
a  welcome  cheer  burst  upon  the  ear,  at  first  faint  and 
distant,  but  soon  gathering  strength  and  volume,  and 
then  increasing  into  a  roar  that  deafened  the  sound  of 
the  artillery.  Ke-enforcements  had  come,  few  in 
number  to  be  sure,  but  with  brave  hearts  and 
undiminished  courage.  It  was  the  brigades  of  French 
and  Meagher  that  Sumner  had  sent  to  the  rescue. 


364  MEMOIES   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

Quickly  passing  over  the  bridge  and  forming  line 
of  battle,  Meagher  led  his  brigade  to  the  front.  In 
order  to  gain  the  crest  whence  our  line  had  been 
driven,  it  was  necessary  to  push  their  way  through  the 
mass  of  struggling  fugitives;  then  with  wild  hurrahs 
they  closed  with  the  advancing  foe,  greeting 
them  with  cheers,  and  showers  of  leaden  hail. 
The  Confederates,  astounded,  believing  that  we 
had  been  heavily  re-enforced,  paused,  halted,  and 
recoiled,  while  the  Irish  Brigade  stood,  panting  and 
elated,  ready  to  meet  the  next  onslaught;  and  as  the 
darkness  crept  over  the  field  the  men  gave  one*  long, 
loud  cheer  to  which  even  the  wounded  and  dying  of 
the  brigade  lent  their  voices,  and  the  battle  was  over. 

That  very  gallant  soldier,  the  Comte  de  Paris, 
happened  to  witness  this  action,  and  in  a  letter  writ- 
ten to  me  a  few  months  since,  he  vividly  recalls  the 
scene : 

"Villa  St.  Jean,  Cannes,  Alpes  Maritimes, 
"MarchS,  188G. 

"  My  Dear  General:— I  hasten  to  thank  you  for  your  letter 
of  the  23d  ultimo,  and  it  is  with  the  greatest  pleasure  that  I 
send,  through  you,  a  greeting  of  sympathy  to  all  my  old 
comrades  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  with  whom  I  fought  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago,  on  the  banks  of  the  Chickahominy . 

"  I  have  been,  during  the  years  of  exile,  the  guest  of  the 
British  people,  and  I  made  it  a  rule  never  to  meddle  in 
the  political  questions  which  might  divide  the  inhabitants  of 
the  British  Islands ;  but  I  never  forget  the  cordial  sympathy 
which,  as  a  Frenchman  and  a  Catholic,  I  met  whenever  I 
landed  on  the  soil  of  Erin . 

"  It  was  therefore  with  pleasure  that  I  met  the  Green  Flag 
with  the  Golden  Harp,  waving  at    the  head  of   Meagher's 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  365 

brigade,  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Strange  to  say,  the 
first  time  I  met  the  brigade  under  arms  was  on  the  occasion  of 
Gen .  Prim's  visit  to  our  camp .  I  was  in  attendance  upon  the 
Spanish  general,  and  introduced  to  him  Gen.  Meagher.  I 
always  remembered  this  little  fact  as  illustrating  the  curious 
way  in  which  Providence  seems,  at  certain  times,  to  put  strange 
people  together.  A  month  later  we  were  sorely  pressed,  our 
losses  were  large.  We  were  collected,  all  mixed  together,  on  a 
small  eminence  which  commanded  Alexandria  Bridge.  The 
sun,  like  a  piece  of  red  hot  iron,  was,  too  slowly  for  us,  sinking 
behind  a  dark  curtain  of  smoke,  when  suddenly  we  heard  a 
hearty  cheer.  It  was  Richardson,  who,  at  the  head  of  Meagher 
and  French's  brigades,  had  come  to  our  rescue  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Chickahominy.  The  Irish  Brigade  (I  find  it  noted 
in  my  diary)  came  in  shirt  sleeves,  yelling  at  the  top  of  their 
voices.  The  assailants  were  tired,  and  when  they  saw  the 
strong  line  of  Meagher's  brigade,  they  delivered  a  strong  volley 
and  stopped.  The  day  was  saved,  as  far  as  could  be,  by  those 
two  brigades. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  facts  that  I  remember  most  distinctly 
after  the  lapse  of  years.    Believe  me,  my  dear  general, 
"  Yours  truly, 

*'  Philip,  Comte  de  Paris." 


SAVAGE  STATION. 

At  Savage  Station,  where  the  Vieux  Sabeur  Sumner 
stood  at  bay  on  Sunday  evening,  June  29,  and  threw 
back  from  our  lines,  in  bloody  repulse,  every  assault 
of  Magruder's  men,  the  Irish  Brigade  did  noble 
work.  But  let  others  tell  the  story.  Dr.  Ellis,  who 
witnessed  the  last  charge  of  our  troops,  says:  "The 
rebels  came  determinedly  across  the  fields,  firing  as 
they  advanced,  until  Sumner  ordered  our  troops  up  at 
double-quick.    About  four  thousand  of  them  went  up 


366  MEMOIRH    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

at  once,  with  a  roar  that  might  have  drowned  the 
musketry.  The  rebels  kept  their  position  for  a 
moment,  and  then  fell  back  to  the  rear  of  their 
batteries.  Meagher's  brigade,  however,  succeeded  in 
charging  right  up  to  the  guns  of  a  Virginia  battery, 
two  guns  of  which  they  hauled  otf,  spiked,  and 
chopped  the  carriage  to  pieces." 

And  here  is  a  letter  from  Gen.  W.  W.  Burns,  on 
the  same  subject. 

"  Office  Depot,  Commissary  Subsistence, 
"  160  W.  Foryette  St.,  Baltimore,  Md.,  Aug.  1,  1883. 

"Col.  James  QuiNLAN:--It  gives  me  pleasure  to  write  your 
gallant  service  at  Savage's  Station,  since  you  were  distinguished 
beyond  your  fellow  officers  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  on  that  occa- 
sion. Having  been  sent  back  to  check  the  enemy,  with  two  of  my 
regiments,  under  the  misapprehension  that  Gen.  Heintzleman 
still  occupied  the  works  at  Seven  Pines,  I  found  on  arrival,  that 
Gen.  Heintzleman  had  withdrawn  from  the  works  and  crossed 
White  Oak  Swamps,  and  the  whole  Confederate  force,  on  the 
right  bank  of  the  Chickahominy,  was  confronting  my  position. 

"  I  notified  Gen.  Sumner  at  once  of  the  new  conditions,  and 
demanded  re-enforcements.  Among  others,  Gen.  Meagher  was 
ordered  to  my  support.  The  Eighty-eighth  New  York,  with  a 
few  others,  was  all  of  the  brigade  that  reached  the  field  in  time. 

"  I  asked  :    '  What  troops  are  these? ' 

"  The  answer  was  :    '  Eighty-eighth  New  York  ! ' 

"  '  Who  is  in  command?  ' 


Major  Quinli 


m 


"  I  directed  Major  Quinlan  to  form  his  men  facing  toward 
Richmond,  down  the  WilUamsburg  road,  where  a  battery  had 
been  established,  and  was  sweeping  my  line  from  the  road  as 
fast  as  formed  across  it.  When  Major  Quinlan  had  formed  his 
troops,  I  directed  him  to  march  toward  the  battery  ;  first  in 
quick  time,  then  double  quick,  and  when  he  reached  my  line  of 
battle,  the  order  :   '  Charge  ! '  was  given  ;  when,   with  a  cheer, 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  367 

the  gallant  Irishmen  rushed  upon  the  battery,   and  it  was 
driven  from  the  road,  to  molest  me  no  more. 

"Wm.  W.  Burns, 
"Late  Brig.-Gen.  Vols.,  Lieut. -Col.  U.  S.  Army." 


WHITE    OAK   SWAMP. 

At  White  Oak  Swamp  Bridge  where  Franklin, 
with  the  division  of  Smith  and  Eichardson,  held  the 
ford  so  well,  defeating  every  effort  of  Jackson  to 
force  the  crossing,  the  brigade  supporting  the  line 
of  batteries  and  exposed  daring  the  long,  hot  after- 
noon of  June  30,  suffered  quite  severely.  Calm  and 
anflinching,  it  held  the  ground  where  the  enemy's 
shells  and  round  shot  fell  in  showers.  At  five  o'clock 
in  the  evening  it  was  sent  on  the  double-quick  to 
Glendale,  near  the  New  Market  road,  where  Long- 
street  and  A.  P.  Hill  were  pushing  our  troops. 

As  the  brigade  went  in  on  a  run,  Gen.  Sumner 
gave  the  men  a  cordial  greeting.  "Boys,"  said  he, 
"you  go  in  to  save  another  day!"  The  Lincoln 
Cavalry  and  the  whole  line  of  battle  gave  them  a 
lusty  cheer  as  they  swept  past  and  rushed  into  the 
fight  which  only  closed  with  the  darkness.  And  here 
let  me  quote  a  letter  of  Gen.  Wm.  B.  Franklin: 

"  Hartford,  Conn.,  April  14, 1886. 
"  My  Dear  General: — I  saw  the  Irish  Brigade  in  two  fights 
— that  of  Savage  Station,  and  that  of  the  next  day  at  White 
Oak  Swamp  Bridge.  At  Savage  Station,  I  saw  the  brigade  led 
into  the  fight  by  Gen.  Sumner,  and  no  men  went  in  more 
gallantly,  or  in  better  order.    On  the  next  day  the  brigade  was 


368  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

in  position  on  the  left  of  the  White  Oak  Swamp  Bridge,  close 
to  the  stream.  It  was  subjected  to  a  very  severe  artillery  fire 
during  nearly  the  whole  day,  under  which  it  never  flinched.  Its 
behavior  was  admirable,  and  in  spite  of  its  nearness  to  the 
enemy,  the  brigade  headquarters  were  ornamented,  during  its 
exposure,  with  the  United  States  flag  and  the  Green  flag, 
waving  together  as  calmly  as  if  all  hands  were  miles  away  from 
the  fight ;  and  the  officers  and  men  were  as  calm  as  the  flags. 
I  always  thought  its  behavior  that  day  was  in  the  highest 
degree  suggestive  of  Irish  pluck  and  endurance. 
"  Very  truly  yours, 

"Wm.  B.  Franklin." 


MALVERN  HILL. 

The  Peninsula  campaign  was  not  to  close  without 
more  glory,  more  blood,  more  death  for  the  brigade. 
On  Malvern  Hill,  the  superb  fight  it  made  added  to 
its  glory  whilst  depleting  its  ranks.  The  day  had 
almost  gone,  and  for  hours  the  roar  of  artillery  had 
been  deafening.  All  the  infantry  attacks  on  Porter's 
and  Couche's  lines  had  been  thrown  back  in  a  bloody 
repulse;  but  the  enemy  was  massing  troops  in  Porter's 
front,  and  the  brigade  was  called  for.  The  men, 
thinking  that  they  would  not  be  wanted,  were  mak- 
ing coffee  and  getting  ready  for  a  good  night's  rest. 
"  Ah,"  said  Capt.  Joseph  O'Donohue,  "some  of  us 
who  have  prepared  our  supper  will  never  come  back 
to  eat  it."     He  was  one  of  the  first  to  fall. 

Quickly  forming  line,  the  four  regiments  moved 
to  the  front.     "  I    wish    there  were   20,000  men    in 


MEMOIES    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  369 

your  brigade,"  said  McClellan  to  Meagher.  "I  envy 
you  the  command  of  that  brigade,"  said  Fitz  John 
Porter,  as  the  men  swept  over  the  hill  under  a  crush- 
ing fire,  and  threw  themselves  on  the  foe.  "Here 
comes  that  damned  green  flag  again!"  called  out  a 
Confederate  officer,  as  under  a  fierce  fire,  the  Sixty- 
ninth  and  Eighty-eighth  moved  on,  delivering  volley 
upon  volley,  and  strewing  the  hill  with  dead  and 
dying. 

With  wild  cheers  and  enthusiasm  they  rushed 
forward,  and  as  the  darkness  gathered,  reached  the 
hill  on  which  the  enemy  stood.  A  fierce  strug- 
gle ensued.  No  time  to  load  now.  Bayonets  were 
brought  into  play,  muskets  were  reversed,  and  men 
were  brained  and  clubbed  to  death.  The  foe  made 
a  gallant  stand,  but  were  gradually  forced  back,  firing 
a  parting  volley  as  they  retired;  and  the  battle  of 
Malvern  Hill  ended  with  the  rapidly  darkening  woods 
echoing  the  hurrahs  of  Meagher's  men. 

With  what  ardor  Gen.  Fitz  John  Porter  speaks  of 
this  eventful  day:  "On  one  occasion,"  writes  the 
general,  "  I  sent  an  urgent  request  for  two  brigades, 
and  the  immediate  result  was  the  sending  of  Meagher 
by  Sumner.  This  was  the  second  time  that  he  had 
sent  me  Meagher's  gallant  Irish  Brigade  and  each 
time  it  rendered  valuable  service.  Advancing,  ac- 
companied by  my  staff,  I  soon  found  that  our  force 
had  successfully  driven  back  their  assailants.  About 
fifty  yards  in  front  of  us,  a  large  force  of  the  enemy 
suddenly  arose  and  opened  with  fearful  volleys  upon 

24 


370  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

our  advancing  line.  I  turned  to  the  brigade,  which 
thus  far  had  kept  pace  with  my  horse  and  found  it 
standing  '  like  a  stone  vmlU'  and  returning  a  fire 
more  destructive  than  it  received,  and  from  w^hich  the 
enemy  fled.  The  brigade  was  planted.  My  presence 
was  no  longer  needed." 

Lieut.  John  H.  Donovan,  of  the  Sixty-ninth,  was 
left  on  the  field,  shot  through  the  eye,  supposed  to 
be  mortally  wounded.  Next  morning  the  Confeder- 
ate General  Magruder,  en  passant,  remarked:  "I 
presume  you  will  not  risk  the  other  eye."  "  I  beg 
to  differ  with  you,"  replied  Donovan,  "  I  have  still 
one  eye  left  which  I  am  willing  to  risk  for  the 
Union."  "And  if  you  lose  that  also?"  "Then," 
said  the  lieutenant,  "  I  shall  go  it  blind!  " 

During  the  second  day's  fight,  two  or  three  women, 
wives  of  soldiers,  accompanied  the  Brigade,  and  one 
of  them,  Mary  Gordan,  wife  of  a  soldier  of  Company 
H.,  Eighty-eighth  New  York,  especially  distinguished 
herself  in  caring  for  the  wounded,  tearing  into 
strips  her  very  underclothing  to  bind  up  the  wounds. 
With  a  rugged  nature,  but  a  kind,  and  noble  heart, 
she  remained  with  the  men  on  parts  of  the  field  where 
surgeons  seldom  ventured,  and  by  her  prompt  action 
she  often  saved  the  life-blood  that  was  fast  ebbing 
away ;  and  was  the  means  of  saving  many  a  life.  Gen. 
Sumner  saw  her  thus  occupied  at  Savage  Station,  anil 
when  our  troops  reached  Harrison's  Landing,  he  had 
her  made  brigade  sutler,  and  gave  her  permission  to 
pass  free  to  Washington  and  back,  in  all  government 
boats. 


MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  371 

ANTIETAM. 

Wednesday,  the  morning  of  September  17 — the 
men  of  the  Irish  Brigade  call  it  the  "glorious  17th" 
— broke  clear  and  bright,  and  Hooker  promptly 
reopened  the  fight  which  he  had  left  unfinished  the 
night  before.  This  renewed  attack  was  witnessed 
and  enjoyed  by  the  brigade,  which  had  been  lying  on 
the  east  bank  of  the  creek  supporting  the  batteries. 

Capt.  Jack  Gosson,  neat  and  natty  as  usual,  came 
up  to  Meagher — who  had  been  sleeping  on  the 
ground  without  even  a  tent-fly  to  cover  him  —  and 
remarked  that  the  general  was  "all  over  dirt,"  and 
at  the  same  time  producing  a  whisk-broom,  he  sug- 
gested a  brush.  "Yaas,"  drawled  the  general,  "  a 
good  ideah;  we  shall  all  have  a  brush  before  long." 
Ten  minutes  afterward  he  slowly  rode  off,  followed 
by  the  brigade. 

Before  fording  the  creuk,  Meagher  ordered  the 
men  to  take  off  their  shoes  and  stockings,  and,  after 
crossing,  waited  until  the  last  man  had  put  them  on 
again;  then  dry-shod,  with  the  Sixty-ninth  in  the  lead, 
they  made  a  rush  for  the  line  of  battle  to  the  left  of 
the  Roulette  House.  As  they  went  on  the  double- 
quick  over  the  corn  stalks,  crash  came  a  volley  on 
the  right  of  the  line,  and  the  Twenty-ninth  got  a 
dose.  Then  the  Sixty-third  caught  it;  the  Eighty- 
eighth  coming  up  in  time  to  get  its  share  of  the  first 
course  of  the  heavy  repast  that  was  to  ensue.  This 
was  followed  By  a  brief  rest  in  the  deep  furrows  of 


372  MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

the  field  with  the  sharp-shooters  busy  picking  off 
great  numbers  of  our  men.  Chas.  M.  Grainger  and 
W.  L.  D.  O'Grady,  of  the  Eighty-eighth  New  York, 
both  old  British  soldiers,  volunteered  to  push  out 
and  pick  off  the  riflemen  of  the  enemy,  which  they 
did  most  effectually;  while  other  volunteers  tore 
down  the  fence  that  was  within  200  yards  of  the 
enemy's  line. 

The  command  was  given:  "Attention!  Forward! 
Guide!  Center!  March!"  Then  began  the  advance 
over  the  heavy  ground  toward  the  sunken  road,  the 
men  dropping  in  rapid  succession.  But  on,  on, 
until  within  fifty  yards  of  the  road,  which  was  now 
a  cloud  of  smoke  and  flashing  fire.  The  brigade 
replied  in  turn  with  buck  and  ball,  and  poured  a 
withering  fire  into  the  three  Confederate  brigades  of 
Colquitt,  Ripley,  and  McRae;  and  then  a  bitter 
stand-up  fight,  face  to  face,  until  the  last  cartridge 
was  fired.  The  color-bearers  of  all  the  regiments 
were  shot  down  in  rapid  succession.  The  Sixty- 
third,  holding  the  crown  of  the  hill,  suffered  most  in 
this  respect — losing  fifteen.  When  Capt.  Cluney,  of 
Company  F.,  raised  the  flag  from  the  ground  his  leg 
was  soon  smashed  by  a  ball,  and  he  fell.  The  gallant 
fellow  raised  himself  on  his  remaining  limb,  and 
upholding  the  colors  waved  them  aloft  until  another 
ball  pierced  his  head,  and  he  fell  never  to  rise  again. 

When  the  last  cartridge  was  fired,  the  brigade  was 
ordered  to  give  place  to  Caldwell's,  and  the  lines 
were  passed  by,  the  regiments  breaking  to  the  rear  in 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  873 

companies,  those  of  Caldwell  to  the  front,  as  steady 
as  when  on  drill.  Filling  their  cartridge  boxes,  the 
men  of  the  brigade  were  quickly  back  in  the  fight, 
and,  passing  Caldwell's  line,  they  poured  a  volley  into 
the  Confederates.  Then  came  a  wild  cheer,  rising 
in  a  volume  of  sound  that  for  a  moment  drowned  the 
roar  of  artillery;  a  charge,  a  fierce  struggle,  and  the 
sunken  road  is  cleared! 

"The  Irish  Brigade,"  says  McClellan,  "  sustained 
their  well-earned  reputation,  suffering  terribly  in 
officers  and  men,  and  strewing  the  ground  with  their 
enemies,  as  they  drove  them  back." 

Six  hundred  dead  Confederates  in  the  sunken 
road  attested  the  desperation  of  the  fighting  at  this 
point.  Eleven  officers  killed,  and  fourteen  wounded, 
was  the  record  in  the  three  New  York  regiments  of 
the  brigade  for  the  two  hours  at  Antietam. 

During  the  fight  Meagher  was  badly  crushed,  and 
Lieut.  James  Macky  of  his  staff  was  killed  at  his 
side.  The  day  after  the  battle,  the  officers  of  the 
brigade  called  upon  Gen.  Richardson,  who  had  been 
mortally  wounded.  In  his  dying  agony,  he  said  to 
them:  "I  placed  your  brigade  on  the  ground  you 
occupied  because  it  was  necessary  to  hold  it,  and  I 
knew  that  you  would  hold  it  against  all  odds,  and 
once  you  were  there,  I  had  no  further  anxiety  in 
regard  to  the  position." 

When  Lieut.  Lynch,  of  the  Sixty-third  New  York, 
fell  mortally  wounded,  he  quietly  handed  his  sword, 
watch  and  ring  to  a  comrade,  to  be  sent  to  his  family, 


374  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

facing  death  with  a  self-possession  and  courage  that 
marked  the  true  soldier. 

Here  again,  note  the  gallantry  of  John  Hartigan,  a 
boy  of  sixteen,  of  the  same  regiment,  who,  advancing 
in  front  of  the  line,  defiantly  waved  the  colors  in  the 
face  of  the  enemy.  Of  such  men  as  these  was  the 
brigade  composed,  and  it  was  with  good  reason,  when 
Sumner  next  met  it,  that  he  hailed  it  as  "Bravest  of 
the  brave!" 


FREDEKICKSBUEG. 

It  was  a  cold,  clear  day  when  the  brigade  filed 
over  the  bluffs  to  cross  the  river  and  enter  the  town. 
The  crash  of  200  guns  filled  the  valley  of  the  Rappa- 
hannock with  sound  and  smoke;  while  the  color- 
bearers  shook  to  the  breeze  the  remnants  of  the  torn 
and  shattered  standards  — 

"  That  old  green  flag,  that  Irish  flag; 
It  is  but  now  a  tattered  rag; 
But  India's  store  of  precious  ore, 
Hath  not  a  gem  worth  that  old  flag." 

The  Fourteenth  Brooklyn  gave  the  brigade  a 
cheer,  and  the  band  of  Hawkin's  Zouaves  struck  up 
"Garry  Owen"  as  it  passed.  Not  so  pleasant  was 
the  reception  by  the  professional  embalmers  who, 
alive  to  business,  thrust  their  cards  into  the  hands  of 
the  men  as  they  went  along.  The  cards  were  sug- 
gestive of  an  early  trip  home,  nicely  boxed  up  and 
'  delivered  to  loving  friends  by  quick  express,  sweet  as 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  375 

a  nut  and  in  perfect  preservation,  etc.,  etc.  The 
boys,  however,  did  not  seem  altogether  pleased  with 
the  cold-blooded  allusion  to  their  latter  end,  and  one 
of  them  called  out  to  a  particularly  zealous  under- 
taker :  "  D'ye  moind  thim  blankets  ?  Well,  only  that 
we  were  in  a  bit  of  a  hurry  we'd  be  after  givin'  yez 
the  natest  koind  av  a  jig  in  the  air.  " 

To  charge  an  enemy  or  enter  a  battle  when  one 
knows  that  there  is  no  chance  of  success,  requires 
courage  of  a  higher  order  than  when  the  soldier  is 
sustained  by  the  enthusiasm  born  of  hope.  It  is 
recorded  that  a  commander  once  gave  to  his  subordi- 
nate the  order  to "  go  there  and  die."  The  reply 
was  ''Yes,  my  General."  When  our  troops,  debouch- 
ing from  the  town,  deployed  upon  the  plain  in  front 
of  Mary's  Heights,  every  man  in  the  ranks  knew  that 
it  was  not  to  fight  they  were  ordered;  it  was  to  die. 

During  the  morning  of  December  13,  the  Irish 
Brigade  stood  in  line  on  the  main  street  of  the  city 
amidst  bursting  shells  and  falling  walls,  listening  to 
the  roar  of  the  battle,  and  calmly  awaiting  their  own 
turn.  Meagher  plucked  a  sprig  of  green  box- wood 
from  a  garden  near  by,  and  placed  it  in  his  cap.  A 
happy  thought!  Bunches  of  the  fragrant  shrub 
were  quickly  gathered  and  passed  along  the  line 
ranks,  and  soon  every  man  had  the  green  sprig  in 
his  Irish  cap.  Then  Meagher,  passing  along  the  line, 
addressed  each  regiment  in  the  most  eloquent  words 
we  ever  heard  him  utter. 
'     Shortly  after  noon  the  command  moved  out  to  the 


376  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

fields  in  the  rear  of  the  city,  filed  across  the  canal  — 
on  what  was  left  of  the  bridge — and  formed  line  of 
battle  behind  a  rise  in  the  ground. 

The  noon-day  sun  glittered  and  shone  bright  on 
the  frozen  ground  over  which  solid  shot,  in  great 
numbers,  ricochetted  and  went  plunging  through  the 
ranks. 

A  few  moments  to  get  breath,  then  "Forward!" 
at  ''Right  shoulder,"  "Shift  arms!"  in  perfect 
order;  and  in  silence  the  line  passed  to  the  front. 
No  cheers  or  wild  hurrahs  as  of  old,  as  the  men 
moved  toward  the  foe  —  they  did  not  go  to  fight; 
they  went  to  die. 

Forward,  over  the  crest  which  had  sheltered  them 
a  moment  before,  now  swept  by  a  blizzard  of  fire. 
On,  over  the  awful  plain  that  had  no  spot  free 
from  the  fire,  no  place  of  shelter  —  every  man 
knowing  the  desperation  of  the  undertaking,  but  no 
one  faltering  or  looking  back.  Onward,  still  onward, 
with  batteries  on  every  side  pouring  a  rain  of  shot 
and  shell  upon  the  devoted  band. 

On,  past  the  line  of  French's  troops  !  On,  past  the 
brick  house  !  —  the  line  withering,  diminishing,  melt- 
ing away,  but  still  pressing  forward;  and  the  torn 
flags  often  falling,  only  to  be  quickly  raised  again. 

On,  on,  past  the  farthest  points  reached  by  any 
other  troops;  still  forward,  until  within  thirty  feet  of 
the  Confederate  works.  Up  to  the  muzzles  of  Wal- 
ton's guns  the  line  still  presses,  but  not  all  those  who 
marched  from  the  town    a  short  half  hour  before, 


MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  377 

Fifty  per  cent,  of  the  number  was  already  strewn, 
dead  and  bleeding,  on  the  frozen  ground  over  which 
the  brigade  had  passed.  In  their  front,  lines  of 
battle  and  batteries  rose  in  tiers.  On  each  flank, 
more  batteries  and  more  lines  of  battle.  No  hope. 
No  chance  to  make  even  a  fair  show  of  fighting  — 
the  men  were  only  there  to  die.  There  was  nothing 
left  for  the  brigade  but  to  fall  back,  after  pouring  a 
few  volleys  into  the  foe,  and  the  Irish  Brigade,  for  the 
first  time  in  its  history,  recoiled.  Falling  back,  the 
dead  of  the  brigade  were  left  within  thirty  paces  of 
the  Confederate  line. 

The  bodies  of  Major  Wm.  Horgan  and  Adjutant 
John  E.  Young,  of  the  Eighty-eighth  New  York,  lay 
nearest  to  the  stone  wall  and,  by  actual  measurement, 
within  twenty-five  paces  of  the  gans  of  the  Wash- 
ington artillery.  There  are  some  who  would  dispute 
the  fact  of  the  Irish  Brigade  advancing  farthest  on 
that  awful  day.  It  is  absurd  to  do  so.  The  proofs 
are  too  strong  to  question.  The  men  of  this  brigade 
advanced  and  fell  nearest  to  the  enemy ;  and  many  of 
them  are  there  to  this  day.  With  a  spade  you  can 
find  them. 

Lieut.  Wm.  E.  Owens,  of  the  Washington  artillery 
(Confederate),  asserts  that:  "In  front  of  Mary's 
Heights,  upon  the  plain  over  which  the  Federal 
column  passed,  they  counted  1,498  bodies.  A  soldier 
of  Meagher's  Irish  Brigade  was  the  nearest  body  to 
the  stone  wall,  and,  by  actual  measurement,  it  lay 
within  twenty-five  paces  of  the  wall." 


378  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

"  Meagher's  Irish  Brigade  (from  "  Camps  of 
the  Confederate  States")  attacked  Mary's  Heights 
with  a  gallantry  which  was  the  admiration  of  all  who 
beheld  it;  but  they  were  literally  annihilated  by  the 
Washington  artillery  and  the  Confederates  lining 
the  sunken  road,  who  themselves  hardly  suffered  any 
loss." 

Col.  Heros  Von  Borcke,  chief  of  staff  to  Gen.  J.  E. 
B.  Stewart,  tells  us  that  "more  than  twelve  hundred 
bodies  were  found  on  the  small  plain  between  Mary's 
Heights  and  Fredericksburg.  The  greater  part  of 
these  belonged  to  Meagher's  brave  Irish  Brigade 
which  was  nearly  annihilated  during  the  several 
attacks." 

The  correspondent  of  the  London  Times  witnessed 
the  charge.  In  admiration  he  offers  this  splendid 
tribute:  "  Never  at  Fontenoy,  Albuera,  or  at  Water- 
loo was  more  undaunted  courage  displayed  by  the 
sons  of  Erin  than  during  the  frantic  dashes  which 
they  directed  against  the  almost  impregnable  posi- 
tion of  their  foe.  After  witnessing  the  gallantry  and 
devotion  exhibited  by  these  troops,. and  viewing  the 
hillside,  for  acres,  strewn  with  their  corpses  thick  as 
autumn  leaves,  the  spectator  can  remember  nothing 
but  their  desperate  courage.  That  any  mortal  man 
could  have  carried  the  position  before  which  they 
were  wantonly  sacrificed,  defended  as  it  was,  seems 
to  me,  for  a  moment,  idle  to  believe.  But  the  bodies 
which  lie  in  dense  masses  within  forty  yards  of  the 
muzzles  of  Col.  Walton's  guns,  are  the  best  evidence 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 


379 


as  to  what  manner  of  men  they  were  who  pressed  on 
to  death  with  the  dauntlessness  of  a  race  which  has 
gained  glory  on  a  thousand  battlefields,  and  never 
more  richly  deserved  it  than  at  the  foot  of  Mary's 
Heights,  on    December  13,  1863." 

As  the  brigade    neared  the   Confederate  line   the 
men  of  Cobb's   brigade,    the  larger    part  of   which 
were  Irishmen  also,  saw  the  green  in  the  caps  of  our 
men,  and,  recognizing  the  brigade,  called  out:     "Oh 
God!  what  a  pity  we  have  to  fire  on  Meagher's  men!" 
During   Sunday— the  day  after   the  battle  — no 
assistance  could  be  given  to  the  wounded,  who  lay 
in  great  numbers  out  on  the  plain;  but  after  dark 
on  Sunday  evening  many  of   the  men  made  heroic 
attempts  to  bring  them  in,  although  the  enemy  was 
vigilant  and  fired  at  every  object  seen  moving  against 
the  sky.     Sergt.  Sheridan,  of  Company  G,  Eighty- 
eighth   New   York,  lay  far  out  on  the  field  with  a 
fractured  leg,  and  four  of  his  comrades  determined 
to  go  to  his  relief.    Working  themselves  out  on  their 
stomachs,  they  succeeded  in  reaching  him,  but  found 
him  very  low.     As  he  had  a  compound  fracture  of 
the  leg,  it  seemed  impossible  to  move  him,  his  agony 
was  so  great.   The  men  dared  not  stand  up,  and  were 
at  their  wit's  ends  to  know  what  to  do,  when  Sergt. 
Slattery  came  to  the  rescue.    Said  he:  "Begob,  boys, 
did  yez  ever  see  rats  trying  to  get  away  wid  a  goose 
egg  ?     One  rat  lies  down,  the  others  roll  the  egg  on 
top  av  him ;  he  holds  it  in  place  wid  his  four  paws, 
and  then  they  pull  him  off  by  the  tail.     Now  I'll  lay 


380  MEMOIRS    OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

down  on  my  back,  you  lift  Sheridan  on  top  of  me, 
and  I'll  do  my  best  to  keep  his  leg  even."  The 
suggestion  was  adopted.  The  men  would  push  them- 
selves on  a  couple  of  feet,  then  pull  Slattery,  with 
his  precious  load,  up  to  them,  and  so  on  until,  before 
daylight,  they  reached  the  city,  and  had  Sheridan 
attended  to  and  his  leg  amputated;  but  too  late  to 
save  the  poor  fellow.  He  died  from  exhaustion.  The 
clothes  were  literally  ground  off  Sergt.  Slattery 's 
back,  and  his  cuticle  was  so  sore  that  he  was  unable 
to  do  duty  for  a  week  afterward. 


CHANCELLORSYILLE. 

There  is  a  charm  and  a  dreamy  balminess  in  the 
Virginia  spring  atmosphere.  On  one  of  these,  the 
sweetest  of  mornings  imaginable,  the  army  withdrew 
from  the  camp  at  Falmouth,  and  moved  for  the  fords 
that  cross  the  Rappahannock,  to  strike  the  enemy 
once  again. 

The  paths  of  the  columns  lay  through  virgin, 
blossoming  forests,  and  the  perfumed  air  of  the 
woods  seemed  laden  with  hope  and  promise.  Many 
of  the  wounded  of  Fredericksburg  had  returned  to 
the  ranks.  The  men  had,  in  a  measure,  forgotten 
that  mournful  field.  The  morale  of  the  army  was 
excellent;  and  the  change  of  commanders  had  a  salu- 
tary effect  upon  all.  A  new  life  had  taken  possession 
of   the    Army  of    the    Potomac,    that    army    which, 


MEMOIES   OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  381 

though  often  defeated,  was  never  dismayed,  destroyed, 
or  conquered. 

On  the  first  and  second  day  of  the  battle,  the 
brigade  held  the  extreme  right  of  our  army,  at 
Scott's  Mills,  and  did  excellent  service  in  checking 
the  disaster  of  the  Eleventh  corps.  On  the  morning 
of  Sund-y,  May  3,  the  brigade  was  marched  to  the 
Chancellorsville  House  to  support  the  Fifth  Maine 
battery. 

During  a  moment's  halt,  as  the  column  moved  up 
the  road,  with  the  shells  exploding  and  falling  around 
them,  a  sergeant,  looking  back,  waved  his  hand  to  the 
air  and  earth,  and,  in  the  most  ludicrous  manner, 
exclaimed:     "Good  boi,  wurreld!" 

As  the  brigade  went  into  position  with  the  left 
resting  near  the  Chancellorsville  House,  Lepine's 
battery  (5th  Maine)  dashed  up  the  road,  unlimbered, 
took  position  in  the  orchard,  and  opened  fire.  An 
appalling  scene  of  destruction  immediately  followed. 
The  Confederate  batteries  were  almost  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  Lepine's,  and  opened  with  a  concentrated  fire 
of  more  than  twenty  guns  to  his  six.  Never,  during 
the  war,  was  a  battery  knocked  to  pieces  so  rapidly 
as  the  Fifth  Maine  on  this  occasion.  The  enemy's 
shells  burst  among  the  men  in  rapid  succession.  The 
ground  seemed  as  though  torn  up  by  an  earthquake; 
and  in  a  few  moments  every  horse  was  killed,  and 
the  men  went  down  in  squads.  The  caissons  were 
blown  up, one  after  another,  until  all  had  disappeared; 
and,  in  one  instance,  several  of  the  men  were  blown 


382  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

up  with  the  ammunition,  and  their  torn  limbs,  pieces 
of  debris,  and  apple-blossoms  came  down  in  a  shower 
together. 

Lepine  fell,  mortally  wounded,  and  was  carried  to 
the  rear  dying.  In  the  midst  of  the  storm,  flames 
were  seen  issuing  from  the  Chancellorsville  House. 
It  was  filled  with  wounded,  and  a  platoon  from  the 
Second  Delaware  volunteered  to  save  them!    Eushinir 

o 

into  the  burning  building,  they  dragged  and  carried 
all  out,  and  laid  them  on  the  ground.  Capt.  John 
P.  Wilson,  of  Hancock's  statf,  and  Col.  Joseph 
Dickenson,  of  Hooker's  staff,  assisted  in  the  work, 
and,  when  the  wounded  were  safe,  gallantly  offered 
their  arms  to  three  ladies  who  were  in  the  mansion, 
to  conduct  them  to  a  place  of  safety.  One  of  them 
refused  to  come  into  our  lines,  and  ran  toward  the 
Confederate  position;  but  she  fell,  struck  by  a  bullet, 
as  she  crossed  the  field.  The  other  two,  however, 
got  away  safely. 

The  scene  at  this  time  was  one  of  wild  desolation. 
The  large  house  in  flames,  the  orchard  and  plains 
swept  by  the  fire  of  the  Confederate  batteries,  and 
ail  of  Lepine 's  men,  except  two,  had  been  shot  or 
driven  away.  Corporal  Lebroke  and  a  private  stood 
alone  among  the  abandoned  guns,  endeavoring  to  fire 
an  occasional  shot.  Suddenly,  the  enemy's  fire  ceased, 
and  a  line  of  their  infantry  was  seen  advancing  to 
seize  the  abandoned  guns.  Once  more  the  Irish 
Brigade  goes  to  the  rescue.  The  One  Hundred  and 
Sixteenth  Pennsylvania  Volunteers  happened  to  be 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPI.AIN   LIFE.  383 

on  the  left  of  the  brigade  and  nearest  to  the  battery. 
Rushing  into  the  orchard,  they  faced  the  advancing 
lines  and  held  them  back,  while  100  men  of  the 
regiment  dragged  the  pieces  off  the  field.  Then  the 
whole  force  fell  back,  and  Chancellorsville  fell  into 
the  enemy's  haads. 

During  the  fight  one  of  Lepine's  guns,  a  brass 
Napoleon,  was  struck  fair  in  the  muzzle,  and  the 
brass  was  turned  and  twisted  as  though  it  were  paste- 
board. As  the  men  gathered  around  one  of  the 
pieces,  tugging  at  the  wheels  and  trying  to  pull  it 
away,  a  shell  burst  right  over  the  gun,  knocking 
them  in  all  directions,  killing  a  couple  and  wounding 
several.  The  boys  who  were  not  injured  promptly 
jumped  to  their  feet  and  went  at  it  again,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  saving  the  guns. 

As  the  saved  battery  was  passing  the  Third  corps, 
Gen.  Sickles  gave  the  men  a  cheer  which  was  echoed 
along  the  entire  line. 

One  of  the  saddest  incidents  of  the  fight  was  the 
peculiar  death  of  Major  Lynch,  a  noble  gentleman  of 
the  Sixty -third  New  York.  A  bursting  shell  drove 
his  own  sword  through  his  body,  killing  him  instantly.- 

This  was  the  last  battle  in  which  Gen.  Meagher 
commanded  the  Irish  Brigade.  He  resigned  shortly 
after  the  fight,  was  re-commissioned  again  and  trans- 
ferred to  the  West;  but  the  fighting  qualities  of  the 
organization  remained,  even  when  the  general  had 
gone ;  it  never  missed  a  battle,  and  was  present  until 
the  end. 


384  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.    ^     ' 

Gen.  Meagher's  departure  was  greatly  regretted. 
A  most  brilliant  leader  he  was,  who  seemed  at  his 
best  in  the  midst  of  a  combat.  He  had  great  faith 
in  "buck  and  ball  and  the  bayonet,"  and  frequently 
urged  on  the  men  the  use  of  the  latter  weapon. 
"  Take  everything  with  the  bayonet,  "  was  the  stand- 
ing command  when  about  to  close  with  the  foe ;  and 
that  well-known  and  oft-repeated  order  was  the 
occasion  of  a  most  amusing  incident.  One  evening 
the  brigade  commissary  had  received  new  supplies; 
and  among  other  things,  some  barrels  of  molasses 
beside  which  a  young  Irishman  was  placed  on  guard 
to  prevent  the  men  from  getting  at  it  until  the 
proper  time.  Seeing  no  one  around  as  he  walked  up 
and  down,  he  thought  he  would  enjoy  the  sweets  of 
life,  and  succeeded  in  picking  a  hole  in  one  of  the 
barrels  with  his  bayonet.  Then  dipping  the  weapon 
into  the  molasses,  he  would  draw  it  out  and  transfer 
it  to  his  mouth.  Meagher  happened  to  catch  the  boy 
in  the  act,  and  reproached  him  in  rather  strong 
terms  for  stealing  the  molasses  over  which  he  was 
placed  to  guard.  The  young  man  was  astounded  and 
overcome  with  terror  for  a  moment  at  seeing  the 
general,  but  quickly  recovering  himself,  he  quietly 
pushed  the  blade  into  the  syrup,  pulled  it  out  drip- 
ping with  the  sweet  liquid,  took  a  big  lick  of  it  and 
reminded  the  General:  "Sure,  don't  ye  be  always 
telling  us  to  take  everything  wid  the  bayonet?" 


■   A/^^  MEMOIBS    OF    CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  385 

GETTYSBURG. 

At  Gettysburg  the  brigade  was  led  by  a  new  com- 
mander, the  aimable,  noble  Patrick  Kelly,  colonel 
Eighty-eighth  New  York,  who,  like  Elias  of  old,  was 
destined  to  ascend  to  heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire. 

The  brilliant  Meagher  was  gone,  but  his  mantle 
had  fallen  on  one  who  was  well  we-rt^  to  wear  it.  ''^"^^wv^ 

Before  advancing  upon  the  enemy,  on  the  after-  ^^ 
noon  of  July  2,  a  religious  ceremony  was  performed 
that,  in  the  sublime  magnificence  and  grandeur  of  its 
surroundings,  was  never  equalled  on  this  continent. 
As  the  men  stood  ready  to  move,  their  chaplain. 
Father  William  Corby,  proposed  to  give  them  general 
absolution  before  going  into  the  fight.  Standing 
in  front  of  the  brigade,  which  was  drawn  up  in  a 
column  of  regiments,  he  made  a  fervent  and  passion- 
ate appeal  to  the  men  to  remember  in  the  hour  of 
battle  the  great  Captain  of  all,  Jesus  Christ,  and  to 
have  contrition  for  their  sins,  that  they  might  be 
prepared  to  die  for  the  cause  for  which  they  fought. 

Every  man  fell  upon  his  knees,  the  flags  were 
dropped,  and  Father  Corby,  looking  up  to- heaven, 
called  down  the  blessing  of  the  Almighty  upon  the 
men.  Stretching  out  his  right  hand  (as  the  lips  of 
the  soldiers  moved  in  silent  prayer)  he  pronounced 
the  words  of  absolution : 

''Dominus  noster  Jesus  Christus  vos  dbsolvat^  et 
ego  auctoritate  ipsius,  vos  ahsolvo  ab  omni  vinculo 
excommunicationis  et  interdicti^  in  quantum  possum 
et  vos  indigetis,  deinde^  ego  absolvo  vos  a  peccatis  vest- 
ris  i7i  nomine  Patris,  et  Filii^  et  Spiritus  /Sanctis 
Amen/  " 


386  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

There  was  Bilence  and  peace  in  the  ranks;  but  to 
the  left,  Little  Kound  Top  was  wreathed  in  flame 
and  smoke.  The  troops  of  the  Third  Corps  were 
falling  back  from  the  peach  orchard  and  Devil's 
Den,  under  Longstreet's  crushing  blows. 

Out  by  the  valley  of  death  the  hills  and  dark 
woods  were  re-echoing  the  roar  and  crash  of  the 
batteries.  Amen!  Load!  Fix  bayonets!  And  on  the 
right  of  the  division  (Caldwell's)  the  brigade  swept 
toward  the  fire,  and,  entering  the  timber  to  the  left 
of  the  peach  orchard,  at  the  spot  now  called  the 
"  Loup,"  they  met  the  enemy.  The  lines  were  very 
close  before  seeing  each  other. 

The  deployment  and  advance  were  made  on  the 
double-quick,  and  as  the  lines  rushed  forward  through 
the  trees  and  bowlders  that  were  scattered  over  the 
ground,  the  Confederates  were  discovered. 

They,  too,  were  advancing;  and  when  within  thirty 
yards  of  each  other  the  lines  halted,  and  a  sheet  of 
flame  burst  out.  A  few  short  moments  of  serious 
work.  Face  to  face  the  men  stood  pouring  in  their 
deadly  volley  of  fire,  the  officers  emptying  their  revolv- 
ers in  the  melee,  then  snatching  up  the  muskets  of  the 
dead  and  fighting  in  the  ranks  with  the  men.  A  loud 
shout  of  "Forward!  Charge!" — a  dash  to  the  front, 
and  in  a  moment  the  men  of  both  armies  were  min- 
gled together.  The  firing  suddenly  ceased  and  an 
officer  called  out;  "The  Confederate  troops  will  lay 
down  their  arms  and  go  to  the  rear."  They  quickly 
did  so,  and  the  brigade  sent  as  many  prisoners  to  the 


MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  387 

rear  as  there  were  men  in  the  ranks.  The  position 
gained,  however,  was  not  tenable. 

The  right  regiment  of  the  brigade  (One  Hundred 
and  Sixteenth  Pennsylvania  Volunteers)  was  also  the 
right  of  the  division,  and  rested  close  to  the  peach 
orchard.  In  a  short  time  after  the  victory,  Caldwell 
withdrew  the  division,  the  brigade  passing  toward 
Little  Round  Top,  and  losing  heavily  in  the  wheat 
field,  where  it  received  *a  cross-fire  without  having  a 
chance  to  reply.  Many  of  the  men  who  fell  wounded 
at  that  point  were  killed  in  the  evening  during  the 
charges  and  counter-charges  that  passed  over  the 
whirlpool;  and  many  who  were  captured,  afterward 
died  in  Southern  prisons. 

^  On  the  afternoon  of  July  3,  and  the  third  day 
after  the  battle,  the  brigade  occupied  a  position  on 
the  main  line,  and  during  the  great  charge  of 
Pickett's  division  and  Hill's  corps,  was  in  front  of 
Wilcox  and  Perry's  brigade,  as  they  moved  forward 
on  Pickett's  right.  The  losses  on  this  afternoon 
were  light;  except  in  the  brigade  battery,  which  was 
almost  annihilated;  and  its  gallant  commander,  Capt. 
James  Rorty,  killed. 

Gettysburg  had  proved  that,  although  its  old  com- 
mander was  gone,  the  brigade  had  lost  none  of  its 
old-time  heroism. 


388  MEMOIRS    OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE. 

THE  WILDERNESS. 

The  brigade  went  into  action  to  the  left  of  the 
Brock  road,  in  the  dense  woods  near  the  gold  mines. 
On  that  bright  May  day,  ten  field  officers  were 
mounted  and  in  line  with  the  five  regiments.  Within 
six  weeks  every  saddle  was  empty.  Six  of  these 
officers.  Cols.  Kelly,  Byrnes,  and  Dale,  and  Majors 
Touhy,  Lawyer,  and  Ryder,  were  sleeping  in  soldiers' 
graves;  and  the  other  four  were  torn  and  lacerated 
in  the  hospitals. 

The  brigade  was  commanded  in  the  early  days  of 
the  Wilderness  campaign  by  the  beloved  Col.  Tom 
Smyth,  of  Delaware — making  a  glorious  fight  on 
May  5  and  6,  meeting  every  charge  of  Longst reefs 
veterans,  and  throwing  them  back  in  bloody  repulse. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  6th,  during  one  of  the 
many  fierce  onslaughts  of  the  enemy,  the  rails  and 
logs,  of  which  we  had  built  our  field  works,  caught 
fire  and  quickly  reached  to  the  timber.  Amidst 
clouds  of  smoke  and  crackling  flames  the  fight  went 
on,  the  musketry  rattled  and  roared,  and  many  a 
noble  soul  fell,  while  the  fire  still  leaping  and  sweep- 
ing through  the  trees,  burned  up  both  the  dead  and 
wounded  of  both  armies.  Among  others  who  were 
killed  at  this  time  were  Major  Ryder  and  Capt.  Jas. 
B.  Turner/A.  A.  G.  Turner  was  an  excellent  soldier, 
an  accomplished  gentleman,  and  a  graceful  writer. 
During  a  lull  in  the  firing,  I  remember  seeing  two 
men  carrying  a  dead  officer  to  the  rear.  I  raised  the 
handkerchief   from  the   face  and   looked  upon  the 


MEMOIRS   OF    CHAPLAIN    LIFE.  389 

calm  and  noble  features  of  my  good  friend  Kyder. 
But  every  day  now,  brought  death  to  the  brigade. 
The  tremendous  battles  that  drenched  the  Wilder- 
ness in  blood  became  an  every-day  affair.  Fight  all 
day,  move  a  few  miles  to  the  left,  and  charge  again 
next  morning,  seemed  to  be  the  standing  rule.  May 
the  5th  and  6th  on  the  Brock  road;  the  8th  at  Todd's 
Tavern;  the  10th  at  Po's  River;  the  12th  and  13th 
at  Spottsylvania ;  the  18th  near  the  same  place;  the 
23d  at  the  North  Anna;  the  29th  at  the  Pamunky 
River  ;i  the  30th  and  31st  at  Tolopotomy;''}the  2d  and 
3d  of  June  at  Cold  Harbor;  and  so  on  to  Petersburg. 
Col.  Smyth  commanded  the  brigade  until  May  20, 
when  he  was  assigned  to  a  brigade  m  the  second 
division  of  the  Second  Corps,  and  Col.  Byrnes 
assumed  command.  He  fell  dead  at  Cold  Harbor, 
and  Col.  Patrick  Kelly  succeeded  him;  and  here  at 
Cold  Harbor,  Capt.  Frank  Lieb  made  a  noble  charge 
with  the  One  Hundred  and  Sixteenth  Pennsylvania 
Volunteers,  capturing  works,  colors,  and  prisoners 
from  the  enemy. 

At  Spottsylvania,  where  the  superb  Hancock  made 
the  great  success  of  the  campaign,  the  flags  of  the 
brigade  were  among  the  first  to  pierce  the  lines  of 
the  enemy:  and  again  more  prisoners  were  sent  to 
the  rear  than  there  were  men  in  the  ranks. 

On  the  evening  of  June  16,  the  brigade  swept 
across  the  plain  in  front  of  Petersburg  and  pushed 
upon  the  Confederate  works;  and  here  Col.  Kelly, 
the  last  of  the  field  officers  who  had  started  with  it 


890  MEMOIRS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE. 

in  the  spring  campaign,  fell,  pierced  through  the 
head.  The  carnage  up  to  this  time  had  been  terrible. 
Not  only  were  the  field  officers  gone,  but  nearly  all 
the  line  officers  had  been  killed  or  wounded,  and 
more  than  one  thousand  of  the  men  had  fallen. 

And  now  the  long,  ten  months'  work  in  the 
trenches  in  front  of  Petersburg  began,  to  be  inter- 
rupted at  intervals  when  battles  wer5  to  be  fought  at 
other  points — twice  to  Deep  Bottom,  where,  on  the 
2d  of  August,  the  brigade,  with  a  rush  like  a 
cyclone,  sprang  on  the  Confederate  line  and  captured 
the  works  without  firing  a  shot. 

At  Reams'  Station,  August  25,  the  brigade  added 
another  laurel  to  its  crown  of  glory,  receiving  the 
thanks  and  congratulations  of  Gen.  Miles  and  others. 
In  this  fight  the  loss  was  heavy,  and  among 
the  dead  were  Capts.  Nowlen  and  Taggart,  One 
Hundred  and  Sixteenth  Pennsylvania  Volunteers, 
each  of  whom  was  shot  through  the  heart.  Nowlen 
was  in  command  of  the  regiment  when  struck,  and 
turned  quickly  to  look  up  and  down  for  his  own 
company.  Waving  his  hand  to  the  men  he  had  led 
so  well,  he  called  out,  "Good-bye,  boys,"  and  fell 
dead. 

Shortly  after  the  Eeams'  Station  fight,  the  Ons 
Hundred  and  Sixteenth  Pennsylvania  Volunteers 
was  transferred  to  the  Fourth  brigade,  and  the 
Seventh  New  York  heavy  artillery  assigned  to  the 
Irish  Brigade,  Col.  Nugent  assuming  command. 
.Then,  with  replenished   ranks,  the  brigade  fought  in 


MEMOIKS   OF   CHAPLAIN   LIFE.  391 

the  trenches  at  Petersburg  until  the  end  of  the  siege, 
every  day  gathering  fresh  honors  and  achieving  new 
triumphs. 

/  Then  on  to  Hatchers'  Kun — to  Five  Forks,  Amelia 
Court  House,  High  Bridge,  Farmville,  Sailor  Creek 
and  Appomattox,  where  the  brigade  closed  its  noble 
and  honorable  career,  only  when  the  last  shot  of  the 
war  was  fired,  and  the  last  enemy  of  the  Republic  had 
laid  down  his  arms 

Of  the  men  who,  at  different  times,  had  led  the 
command,  three  were  killed  in  battle — Smyth,  Kelly, 
and  Byrnes ;  and  Meagher — the  brilliant  citizen  and 
gallant  soldier — found  a  grave  in  the  turbulent 
waters  of  the  upper  Missouri. 

Few  of  those  brave  souls  who,  under  the  Green  Flag 
of  their  own  native  land,  fought  so  well  to  defend  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  of  the  land  of  their  adoption,  are 
now  with  us.  Those  who  lived  through  the  storm  of 
the  battles  are  rapidly  passing  to  the  other  side,  to 
join  the  heroes  who  fell  in  the  fight.  The  few  sur- 
vivors assembled  at  Gettysburg  a  year  or  two  ago,  there 
to  erect  and  dedicate  to  their  memory,  monuments  in 
granite  and  bronze,  and  stand  once  more  on  the  spot 
that  had  been  crimsoned  by  their  blood;  and  like 
Melchisedech,  on  Bilboa's  field,  to  pray  for  their  com- 
rades slain,  that  the  God  of  Moses  and  Joshua,  He 
who  loves  the  brave  and  good,  may  grant  sweet  rest 
to  the  souls  of  those  who  died  in  defense  of  their 
adopted  country 


CORBY,  William. 

Memoirs  of  chaplain  life. 


BQX 
W90 
.C6