Editor's Note: Though NOT drawn from
"The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Major General United States
Army" published in 1913, the General assures us that these materials are,
like him, completely authentic. General Meade will be pleased to respond to
any questions or comments sent him at MajGenlMeade
@ windstream.net.
The Turtle and the Hair
To Mrs. George G. Meade:
Headquarters, Army of the Potomac
October 9, 1864
We have at last heard of the fate of poor
young Parker, who was on my staff. An officer recently returned from Richmond
was captured by guerrillas near Bristol Station, a few days after Parker's
disappearance. They cautioned him not to attempt to escape, for if he did they
would be obliged to serve him as they had done General Meade's aide a few days
before, who in spite of their cautions tried to get away, and they were forced
to shoot him.
Mr. McGrath, a Commissioner from Pennsylvania
was here when the news arrived. It reminded him to tell us of a horrible
massacre in September in Missouri in which some two dozen of our defenseless
soldiers, out of uniform and on leave, were shot down in a calculated murder
by irregulars lead by one Anderson, known there as Bloody Bill.
As if that were not enough, a superior force
of 150 cavalry under a Major Johnson sent to punish the marauders was itself
ambushed by the outnumbered guerillas with the loss of two thirds of the
command. The major himself was shot in the back by a mere youth, a dirty
little coward. Forgive me for indelicacy in relating that most of our dead
were beaten over the head before being shot. One man had his nose cut off
while another was mutilated in such a manner as I may not properly describe.
Seventeen men had been scalped, a trophy that these monstrous rebels regard as
gifts to their horses.
By-the-by, talking of presents, I have never
suitably acknowledged Mr. Tier's handsome present of a box of tea. I wish you
would tell him it is most excellent, just the kind I like, and that all the
members of my mess are equally delighted with the flavor and hold him in most
honorable and grateful remembrance.
Flighting Joe
To John Sergeant
Meade:
Camp near Falmouth, VA
May 19, 1863
I am sorry to tell
you I am at open war with Hooker. He yesterday came to see me and said that
Reynolds and myself had determined him to withdraw from Chancellorsville. He
acknowledges that I favored an advance but claims it was only because I
thought it impracticable to withdraw the army. Since he knew it was perfectly
practicable to withdraw, he counted my urging our advance as an endorsement of
retreat.
This is all of a
piece for the man who began his campaign announcing he would have no mercy on
Lee and who told Mr. Lincoln that there was no “if” in regard to getting to
Richmond. Yet once we were fairly on our way to achieve both of his boasts, he
pulled our triumphant divisions back to that fatal tavern and had the blind
gall to tell Couch that now he had got Lee just where he wanted him.
Apparently he intended to lure our enemy into a drinking contest at the bar.
I would have you
keep from your mother what I am about to relate. Hooker’s men frequented an
unsavory area of our capital so often in their pursuit of fallen women that
the place received the name Hooker’s Division. Hooker maintained his own
headquarters as what amounted to a brothel for the savage amusement of himself
and his particular cronies, Sickles and Butterfield. Hooker it has been
said is a quarrelsome drunkard without respect for his superiors.
Before the battle
he announced that he would play with the enemy, these devils he called them,
before springing into action. Couch swears that he used his breath to inflate
those balloons that he caused to be elevated above the army to observe their
positions. Couch also says that Hooker forswore liquor after he got across the
Rappahannock which perhaps is what caused the shaking of his nerve.
Heretofore, Hooker has always been steadfastly brave one must say.
I asked my orderly
Private Kowell what was the opinion of the men. His baffling reply was that
having become supine, Hooker got from Lee exactly what Hooker always got when
in that position. This common soldier is an ignoramus on the war and I may
have to replace him. He should have known that Hooker never was before in the
vicinity of Chancellorsville.
The battle was a
miserable failure, in which Hooker disappointed me greatly. His plan was
admirably designed but he delayed and failed to take advantage of enemy
errors. He then assumed the defensive, doing nothing for two days. One cannot
comprehend such a reaction from a commanding general on a field of triumph
when one determined push would have settled this war in our favor. Now you see
that he attempts to place upon me the blame for his failure to advance.
The entente
cordiale is destroyed between us. Still, I should be sorry to see him removed,
unless a decidedly better man is substituted.
Exshellsior
To Mrs. George G. Meade:
Camp Pierpont, VA.
November 24, 1861
To-day has been raw and disagreeable; this
afternoon we had a slight spit of snow. The men are good material, and with
good officers might readily be moulded into soldiers; but the officers, as a
rule, are ignorant, inefficient and worthless. We have been weeding out some
of the worst.
Our troubles in McCall’s division are however
but slight when compared to those of the so-called Excelsior regiments under
Hooker at Liverpool Point. The principle difficulty is the number of lawsuits
filed against their own general D. E. Sickles by disgruntled officers and men
who allege that he lied in order to engage their loyalty and services. Writs
of habeas corpus are flying “ever higher” than anything that the enemy has yet
launched.
Sickles is a person with whom one would hope
never to have intercourse. He murdered the son of Francis Scott Key outside
the White House and then prevailed upon Stanton, the same that is now our
attorney general, to plead mitigation on grounds of temporary insanity.
There appears nothing temporary about it as
he was and remains a New York democrat. May God never allow such a creature to
enter the White House as president, nor yet as vice president for fear of the
next assassination.
Heintzelman has circulated privately a most
amusing anecdote regarding Sickles which I ask you to hold in strict
confidence. It appears that in order to impress his young wife Sickles
reported that he had been slightly struck by a shell fragment. She repaired
immediately to Washington city and eventually found him quite unhurt and in
his usual place at the oyster bar at Willards where shell fragments are a
common hazard. Unfortunately for him this came to the notice of Hooker who
could distinctly recall ordering Sickles to guard the left flank some distance
away from any hostelry. You may be certain Sickles will better obey orders in
the future and maintain his proper place should he survive both mollusks and
lawyers.
I had a visit to-day from Mr. Henry, of the
Topographical Bureau, who says he saw the review on Wednesday and thought our
division looked and marched the best of all. I have always been excessively
fond of Mr. Henry.
Arson Around
To John Sergeant Meade:
St. Albans, VT
June 7, 1866
It is most vexing to have been ordered away from organizing the burial of the
Old General at West Point on the 1st merely to deal once again with Fenians.
Of course, in my absence it was Grant that became the inappropriate focus of
attention at Scott’s interment, contrary to my plan.
Yesterday I was forced to address the
bedraggled sons of Erin to persuade them to abandon their persistent attempts
to die in Canada at the hands of British provincial forces. Since my small
force had earlier confiscated all their weapons and supplies, they voted to
disperse. Sherman who of all men should know says that the collective term for
Fenians is “a futility of Irish”
At dinner I was regaled by former Governor J.
G. Smith, a native of St. Albans with the story of the rebel bank robbers at
this place in October of 1864. He was not at home when the marauders set about
their cowardly business but his noble wife stood ready with an empty horse
pistol to defend the mansion. Fortunately the rascals did not make good on
their threats to burn the town, setting fire to only one small shed as they
absconded.
Sergeant Kowell had come to attend to my
horse and with duties done I unwisely permitted him to stand near the table
while I and Governor Smith ate a fine meal and conversed. Afterward, Kowell
presumed upon his prior years of service under me to offer the unsolicited
opinion that, “Which engagement of the recent war was the furthest north?”
would make a capital question for one of his quizzical games.
Not wishing to further engage in conversation
with a common soldier, I am still puzzling out what may be the answer.
Cedar Crook
To Mrs. George G. Meade:
Headquarters, Army of the Potomac
October 22, 1864
Since I wrote to you we have received the
news of Sheridan’s last victory – this time over Longstreet, and with an army
that had been surprised and driven in disorder for four miles. Unless modified
by any later intelligence, this will place Sheridan in a position that will be
difficult for any other general to approach.
Comly reports Sheridan so anxious to return
to Petersburg that he quite neglected to consider the possibility of a rebel
attack. He fell fast asleep in Winchester, leaving his friend George Crook in
charge near Cedar Creek. Having been given the left flank to safeguard, Crook
failed to remedy what he rightly saw as Sheridan’s faulty dispositions.
After some desultory throwing up of
entrenchments facing the wrong way, Crook and his men gave it up as a bad
piece of work and went to sleep themselves. The enemy thereupon greeted Crook
with an early alarum call and pounced upon the slumbering camp much as they
had done at Shiloh and with similar result. Crook’s men leaped first to their
guns and then thought better of it and headed north and west with great
dispatch.
Speaking of Shiloh, this new debacle afforded
Sheridan the bizarre opportunity to play both Grant and Buell upon one and the
same occasion. Having first abandoned his army near to destruction, he rushed
into the panicked mob and acted as his own rescuer. No doubt he thanked
himself profusely and modestly replied that he should “think nothing of it…
all in a day’s work”. The man positively talks to himself.
We are now anxiously waiting to hear of his
having followed up his success and taken Gordonsville. However, Lyman says
that Sheridan will be too occupied in providing Harper’s with fulsome
depictions of his heroics with overmuch rearing of horses and waving of
swords. You may confidently expect that art and poetry will not stint their
praise of him and his preposterous nag. They will doubtless gloss the details
of his nap.
You may be sure that Crook, who earlier
devised the victories at Winchester and Fishers Hill only to learn afterward
that the tactics were actually Sheridan’s, will be given full credit for the
disaster. I can only sympathize with him, knowing that his loss is my own. I
had rather it were Crook that saved Sheridan’s skin and perhaps not being
quite in time to do so.
Really this whole affair is almost as
disappointing as Yellow Tavern.
Dancing with the Stars (and Stripes)
To Mrs. George G. Meade:
Headquarters, Army of the Potomac
December 20, 1864
I have had a hard day to-day. This morning
Messrs. Chandler and Harding, of the Senate, and Messrs. Loan and Julian, of
the House, all members of the Committee on the Conduct of the War, made their
appearance to investigate the Mine affair.
I fear their purpose is to exonerate Burnside
for the failure of the attack. From the Rapidan down to this place all success
has belonged to Grant and none to myself whereas now, despite his support and
approval of my dispositions at Petersburg, the responsibility for failure will
not be laid at his door.
Burnside had planned to lead the attack with
his pet dance-master Ferrero and his colored division. (I do not know how he
retained that division when Butler was so busily engaged in gaining all such
for himself). I feared that these poor colored soldiers would, in the event of
difficulty, be shot down as mercilessly as Gen’l Forrest murdered those at
Pillow.
With no wish to bring down the censure of the
Committee upon myself, I ordered Burnside to use white troops to absorb the
first risk of attack and retain the terpsichorean Ferrero as support. In the
event, Burnside tossed a coin and thereby allowed Ledlie, a graduate of John
Barleycorn University as is our illustrious commander, to “lead” the attack.
Ledlie (whom I have this week removed) and the ballroom brigadier Ferrero took
refuge in a bottle and allowed their men to be serially slaughtered.
Thus am I now to be calumniated by Sen.
Chandler as “Nathan Bedford Meade”. Who will remember that it was Burnside,
Ledlie and the eminently unsaltatory Ferrero who created in excess of 5,000
casualties with Grant’s full consent? I may never recover from the grief I
feel for those boys.
Mrs. Lyman has sent me a Christmas present of
a box of nice cigars.
Mac 'n Cheese
To Mrs. George G. Meade:
Headquarters, Army of the Potomac
November 17, 1864
Well, the election is over, and nobody hurt.
In the army it passed off very quietly; Mr. Lincoln received two votes to
McClellan's one. This result was fully anticipated by me - indeed, McClellan's
vote was larger than I expected. However, had the result been reversed one can
well believe that McClellan would have considered his numbers insufficient to
advance upon Washington.
Indeed, while I remain favorably disposed
toward Mr. Lincoln and his resistance to the ultras, I found myself unable to
vote for either candidate. McClellan was responsible for my elevation at the
beginning and deserved abstention at the very least. Even democrats, nearly
all of the general officers, including Grant, did not cast a ballot.
McClellan would not have made a sufficiently
clear thinking and resolute president. I am reminded of our situation on the
Peninsula when McClellan transferred his base east often enough to reach salt
water, becoming almost an honorary Liberian as Mr. Lincoln once remarked to
me. McClellan thereupon awaited positive orders to withdraw before issuing
thunderous suggestions that he should instead advance as he had always
intended.
Further you may recall my writing from
Sharpsburg that McClellan told me he did not intend to cross the Potomac to
attack Lee unless the waters rose sufficiently to prevent Lee from attacking
him. I ventured that if Lee could not cross in the one direction, then we
certainly could not cross in the other. McClellan was amazed.
Of course, his failure then to immediately
pursue Lee went far towards taking away from him the prestige of his
victories. He always erred on the side of prudence and caution. I give thanks
to that Great Providence that there are no generals of that ilk now with the
army.
The men are prepared for a thanksgiving on
the 24th and I shall think of you in particular on that day as the staff and I
enjoy the excellent cheese which you caused Henry to send from New York.
Chattanooga Boo Boo
To Mrs. George G. Meade:
St. Louis, Mo.
March 15, 1866
… You may recall, when we were at West
Point, meeting Mrs. Thomas, who was at the hotel? He was then in Texas, and
she was expecting him home. She was a tall good-natured woman, and was quite
civil to us. Thomas is quite well thought of amongst the army, at least the
better elements of it such as Rosecrans and myself.
It is a matter of record that his performance
at Chickamauga, which he persists in mispronouncing as Chickamagwa, was
sufficient to have him christened "The Rock of…". The fact is that
Old Thom, as we prefer to call him, was about to be stampeded by Old Pete in
the same fashion as Old Rosie before him. He was providentially saved at the
final moment by the unlooked for arrival of young Steedman, while Thomas was
still casting aside his telescope and complaining of water in the eyes because
he feared they were rebels. How tragic that a person of far greater
achievement, and especially as it may be a person victorious in decisive
battle outside a small south-central Pennsylvania college town, might acquire
a lesser name such as "Old Snapping Turtle".
Why are you so astonished that the third
member of our board is not a regular guest at our luncheons? Sherman is a poor
stick even though, or perhaps because, Grant leaned upon him so often. He will
not speak of it of course, but Thomas is not so reticent. He has a low opinion
of Grant, which feeling was heartily reciprocated.
He pointed out to me in all confidence the
odd disparity between Grant’s sterling reputation for horsemanship (viz.
Longstreet’s Gorgian encomium while at West Point) and the man’s contrary
propensity to fall off his horse at every opportunity. At Shiloh Grant’s
horse "slipped" and hurt his leg. Shortly before Chattanooga, again
his horse "slipped" in New Orleans and Grant could only suppose that
it had rolled upon him for he remained prostrate in the street, insensible to
all that happened. Conclusions may be drawn but I shall refrain.
Apparently, entre nous, the entire reason
that Grant had such animus against Thomas is that on Orchard Knob when Grant
had drawn off some distance, no doubt to pray that Sherman would stop
dithering, Old Thom who had no important role to play, speculated aloud that
U.S. stood for "Utterly Soused". Unfortunately for Old Thom, Rawlins
was within earshot and you can imagine the consequence.
How are the children…….
Blazing Cheeks!!
To Mrs. George G. Meade:
Culpeper Court House, Va.
September 27, 1863
We are having lovely weather at present; our
camps are beautifully situated at the foot of the Blue Ridge, with the
mountains in view, with pure air and plenty of good water; the best country in
Virginia we have yet been in. Yester-eve at about dusk, I took a turn about
the camp accompanied by Lyman to ascertain the mood of the men as they amused
themselves variously around their fires.
In the gloom we were simply two fellow
soldiers a-wander and the men, having no idea of us, spoke freely. At one fire
I was attracted by recognition of the voice of Pvt. Kowell, whom you may
recall from my correspondence after the July battle. He was diverting the men
with a "quiz" about the present conflict. Being completely oblivious
of my presence, Pvt. Kowell asked several questions of the men which were
never intended for my reddening ears. Modesty forbids me from providing you
with the answers to such as "Who is the greatest general of the Union and
Hero of Gettysburg?" or "Who is chasing Bobby Lee to the death like
a bulldog?" and "Is anyone of more handsome appearance than General
M_____?" although you may perhaps hazard a guess at each.
Becoming embarrassed, Lyman and I began to
withdraw at some distance, whereupon Pvt. Kowell, in a most unnecessarily loud
voice, asked that which caused gales of laughter, convulsing his audience
beyond coherence, and yet which baffled us entirely; viz. "How were
General Phil Kearny and Jennie Wade shot in the same place?" Lyman and I
walked back to the tent in puzzlement. After all, the first was shot at
Chantilly in 1862 while posting his horse away from rebel lines into which he
had blundered, whereas the unfortunate lady was killed in her own Gettysburg
kitchen in 1863 while bending down to perform some simple culinary chore.
While their sense of current events and
history is obviously of the highest quality, I do sometimes think the men too
ignorant of the geography of their own country. We may perhaps, while waiting
patiently but eagerly for Lee to do something, get up some lectures for the
men upon the subject.
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