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ROME,
MEMO;




M E MBO RI A L
OF
WILLIAM KIRKLAND BACON,
LATE
A D DJ U T A N T
OF THE
TWENTY-SIXTH REGIMENT OF NEW YORK STATE
VOLUNTEERS.
1BY  XI S ]F3ATH:IEi.'UTTICA_, N'. -Y.
ROBERTS, PRINTER, 60 GENESEE STREET.
1863.








How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest;
When spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There HONOR comes a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay,
And FREEDOM shall awhile repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there.
COLLINS.








ADJUTANT BACON.
I PROPOSE to erect a simple memorial, inscribing
thereon the name of my departed son. It is a debt
due to his memory, which some one should discharge, and who better than the father that knew
and loved him. If I needed a warrant for this, I
might plead even high authority. I remember
more than forty years ago, to have read with great
admiration, and with much youthful sensibility,
the memoir prepared by the poet Beattie, of a son
of brilliant promise cut off in the morning of life,
and passages of that moving tribute now, at the
distance of nearly half a century, still linger in my
memory; and every admirer of Burke will readily
recall that heart-broken wail over an only son,
dearly loved and early lost, which will live as long
as the unequaled orations that have made his
name immortal. I do not of course venture to
compare my case with these signal and affecting
instances, but I use them by way of illustration,
or better still, perhaps, of apology for my attempt.
Much, under these circumstances, must of course
A*




6          ADJUTANT BACON.
be pardoned-and will be by the feeling and the
charitable-to the paternal heart sorely wounded,
and parental hopes shattered and crushed, but I
still think with President Stearns, who has given
to us an admirable portraiture of a son of the finest
promise and most devoted heroism, the Adjutant
of a Massachusetts regiment, who gave his life for
his country at Newbern, that " if proper allowance
is made for parental partiality and tenderness,
perhaps, in the case of one so early called away,
no person could give a better impression of his
real life and motives than his father."
I approach the task with no desire or expectation of making a sensation, or bequeathing a name
to posterity. Fame is nothing to him now who
sleeps quietly with kindred dust on Forest Hill,
and less than nothing to me, who have buried so
many hopes and aspirations in his early grave.
For friendly eyes, and gentle and loving, as well
as manly hearts, not lost to tenderness, while
they kindle with admiration, this brief record is
intended.
WILLIAM KIRKLAND BACON, the only son of
WILLIAM JOHNSON and ELIZA KIRKLAND BACON,
was born at Utica, N. Y., on the fifteenth day of
February, 1842.  He fell, mortally wounded, at




ADJUTANT BACON.                7
the battle of Fredericksburgh, on the thirteenth
day of December, 1862, and expired on the morning of the sixteenth of December, having just
attained the age of twenty years and ten months.
His christian name was designed in part to
perpetuate a family patronymic borne by the
remotest ancestor of the family in England, of
whom we have any certain knowledge, William
Bacon, of Stretton, in Rutlandshire.  His son,
Hon. Nathaniel Bacon, a Councilman in the old
Colony of Plymouth, the founder of the family
on this side of the Atlantic, emigrated to this
country, and settled in Barnstable, Mass., about
the year 1640, a little less than twenty years after
the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth. The
whole name commemorated one very dear to us,
his uncle WILLIA/M KIRKLAND, one of the best
and truest and kindest-hearted of men, who died
many years ago, greatly lamented by his family,
his friends, and, indeed, by all who knew him.
Of ancestral distinction, if such should happen
to exist, it is not worth while for any one in this
country, and under our institutions, to speak. Of
the progenitors of my son, whether near or remote,
I have nothing more to say than that they were
plain and independent and honest men, who
served their generation faithfully, as I believe,




8          ADJUTANT BACON.
both in private and in public life, and were all
loyal and true to the government they upheld
and the country they loved. This may be emphatically said of two, at least, in the line of ascent, his
great-grandfather, JOHN BACON, of Stockbridge,
Mass., and his venerable grandfather, EZEKIEL
BACON, who at the advanced age of nearly eightyseven, still survives to honor the memory of a
loyal granason. Both of them wore the unsullied
ermine of the Judge, and both were called into
the service of the country, and took part in the
State and National councils in stirring and critical
times.  The former witnessed the rebellion of
Shays in 1786, and actually took the field on the
side of the Government, and assisted in the
capture and dispersion of a band of rebels in the
County of Berkshire, and the restoration of the
supremacy of law and order in the good old
Commonwealth.  The latter was in Congress in
1812, and onwards, and subsequently in the
Treasury Department, and was among the most
earnest and active supporters of the Government
during that period that tried the patriotism and
the spirit of our public men.
Upon the side both of his father and mother,
the latter a daughter of the late Gen. JOSEPH
KIRKLAND, " Carum et venerablie nomen," WILLIAM




ADJUTANT BACON.                9
was a descendant of the Pilgrims, and Puritan
blood, better than the fabled "ichor"' of the
heathen deities, ran in his veins.  And of this
blood, thank God, he was not, as he had no reason
to be, ashamed. It is the fashion just now, among
scheming and time-serving politicians, and emptyheaded bigots, who ignore history and live upon
tradition, to depreciate and decry the Pilgrim
fathers, and impugn the sincerity of their descendants. We can afford to smile at this, remembering
how secure the past is, and how certain the future
will be to vindicate the memory of the descendants
of men of whom the old world " was not worthy."
When we recall the fact that the tory Ilume
was constrained to confess that to the Puritans,
England owed all the freedom of her Constitution,
and repeat, with an exulting sense of its truthfulness, the glowing eulogy of Macaulay, we may be
consoled, nay, grow proud and jubilant, that our
life-blood tracks its parent lake to such a source.
If there are any in this community who are
ashamed to own their origin, and with unfilial
hand smite the dear mother that bore, or nourished
them, let them go out from us, for doubtless "they
are not of us," nor of any companionship such as
true and honorable men alone will covet.
I shall spend no time upon the infancy or boy



10         ADJUTANT BACON.
hood of my son. There was nothing remarkable
about him in those early days, and but slight
foundation for the erection of those airy castles
that parents not unfrequently build, baseless and
unsubstantial as most of them are. This should
perhaps be said, that anterior to, and especially
succeeding his birth, the state of his mother's
health, owing to nervous prostration, was such that
it might almost be said, in Byron's words, that he
was
"Born in grief, and nurtured in convulsion,"
although eminently a "child of love." I allude
to this, however, only to add that this fact drove
his mother, with a constraining, agonizing grasp,
to take fast hold on the Divine covenant, and with
almost ceaseless prayers and tears to give her
child away to God from the moment of his birth;
a dedication renewed and reiterated with pangs
of maternal tenderness and the exercise of strong
Christian faith, from that hour to the day of his
death.
I pause only at this period of his life to say,
that he passed through the usual course of
instruction in the schools for the young, and in
our excellent Common Schools and Free Academy, making no special mark, but taking a fair




ADJUTANT BACON.               11
rank both as to scholarship and deportment. In
his early days he was under the charge, for a year
or more, of one young lady, a dear and valued
friend of his mother, who took special interest in
him, and impressed her own sweet nature upon
his more mercurial and impulsive temperament,
to a degree that I think left its footprints to some
extent on all his future life. The year preparatory
to his entering College, he spent in the family and
under the judicious instruction of the Rev. JONATHAN EDWARDS WOODBRIDGE, of Auburndale,
Mass. It was a happy and profitable year to him,
and he secured a very kind and faithful friend in
his excellent teacher. Of the esteem in which lihe
was held by him, I have good evidence in a letter
recently received from Mr. WV., in which he says,
"I do not think I ever had a pupil in my school
that I loved as I did WILLIE, my own son
excepted.  I hoped he was to pass through the
war safely, and that I was to have the satisfaction
of seeing, and rejoicing with him, after it was all
over. He was to me almost as a son. It gives
me a melancholy pleasure to learn that he
developed so manly and gallant a charactermelancholy, because these and other noble qualities with which he was endowed, are lost so soon
to the world."




12         ADJUTANT BACON.
He entered Hamilton College in the fall of
1859, and remained there till the month of April,
1861, when his substantial life may be said to
have commenced; and the record of all that is
essential may be embraced within the short
ensuing period of twenty months.  His general
scholarship was not at all above the ordinary
level, but he took a good position and perhaps
attained some little distinction as a classical
student, some memorials of which have been
preserved by one who was his instructor mainly
in this department of his studies, Prof. EDWARD
NORTH, a man who was high in his regard, and of
whom he always spoke in those endearing terms
that a warm personal friendship inspires.  One
instance of his scholarly taste and attainments
was brought to notice after his death, by an
article in the paper, which was readily traced to
Professor North; and upon a suggestion to him,
that notice has been slightly elaborated, and a
communication made to me, which I have taken
the liberty to annex in a note in the Appendix.*
He was quietly pursuing his allotted tasks,
when the guns of Sumpter startled the country
like the shock of an earthquake. His parents and
* See note A.




ADJUTANT BACON.                 13
friends, in common with all the loyal at the
North, keenly felt the blow the honor and integrity of the country -had received.  The son' of
their affections had not, with heedless ears and
vacant mind, heard the instructions that from his
earliest years had taught him love of liberty,
loyalty to rightful authority, and fidelity to conscience. He heard the trumpet call of our honest
and fearless Chief Magistrate, and his spirit with a
bound leaped upon the ramparts where the great
cause was to be defended, and the great wrong and
dishonor redressed. He at once came home, and
presented his earnest plea to be allowed to go forth
and enroll himself in any capacity among the defenders of his country and her glorious flag. With
some struggles, in which nature and duty held stern
contest, the consent of his father was first gained,
coupled however with the indispensable condition
that not without a mother's assent and blessing
should he go forth. It was filially and reverently
sought, and by both parent and child the question
was, upon the bended knee and in earnest supplication, committed to God. An hour of communion
with Him resulted in the strongest conviction that
duty required the sacrifice of all private and
personal considerations to the call of the country,
and the victim, if such he was to be, was laid
B




14         ADJUTANT BACON.
upon the altar, never more to be regretted-never
to be recalled.
He enrolled himself as a private in Company A,
of the now famous Fourteenth Regiment of New
York Volunteers, being the first company of the
first regiment that Oneida County sent forth to
the defense of the Government in the hour of its
peril. With his company he went to Washington,
arriving there on or about the seventeenth of
June, 1861, and immediately went into camp.
About this time he was invited by Col. Christian,
of the Twenty-Sixth Regiment New York Volunteers, to take a position as his Military Clerk;
and in order to effect his transfer, I went to
Washington in July, and completed the arrangement by which he became a private in that
regiment, the noble Twenty-Sixth, which amid
many discouragements and under some adverse
circumstances, has seen as much hard service,
endured as many privations uncomplainingly,
stood as bravely and lost perhaps as heavily in
battle as any regiment this State has sent into the
field. It has rarely, if ever, been mentioned in
ci-ie  hIKpsIhz iM, Ynh -reeiv6 Aut on a seanit measnre of commendation from any other quarter; but
when its thinned and more than decimated ranks
shall come back to their homes, (alas! that so many




ADJUTANT BACON.               15
homes shall welcome no more the loved ones they
sent forth,) their true merit will be appreciated,
and the hard-earned laurels they have won will
not be denied to them.
I spent four or five days with him in Washington, and in visiting the camps and forts in the
region around. Among other scenes of interest
we witnessed a dress parade of two Rhode Island
regiments, then under the command of Colonel
Burnside, since the distinguished Commander-inChief of the Army of the Potomac; and were at
the time much impressed with his unpretending,
yet manly and soldier-like bearing.  We were
present at their evening service, and heard the
voices of nearly two thousand men, as with uncovered heads, beneath the blue canopy, they united
in sacred song, when the stars seemed to look
lovingly down upon them;'And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the Anthem of the Free."
I left him cheerful, contented and happy, in the
hope of soon seeing active service. He did not
realize his expectation then, although the battle of
Bull Run was fought within three days after I left
him. His regiment had not been sent forward with
the army to that fatal field; but immediately on




16         ADJUTANT BACON.
the retreat of our forces, it was ordered to advance
to the rescue and support of our shattered columns,
arrest the tide of retreat, and if need be drive back
the invaders. Among the troops that formed a
part of the army of McDowell on that occasion,
was the Seventy-First Regiment, from the City of
New York, in which his two cousins, Edward and
Charles Kirkland had gone forward as privates.
The latter had been his playmate and companion
from infancy, and between them there existed a
friendship akin to that of David and Jonathan; a
love indeed it might with almost as much truth
be said, "passing the love of women." Before
the Twenty-Sixth advanced into Virginia, the
dismal tidings of defeat came pouring into our
camps, with of course a thousand exaggerations;
and, among the rest, that the New York SeventyFirst had been all cut up and destroyed. On the
eve of marching over, WILLIE addressed a brief
letter to his mother, announcing the service upon
which they were going, giving a hurried account
of the rout and retreat, and the terrible slaughter,
as reported, of our troops. " The Seventy-First,"
he says, "is horribly cut up. Poor, dear Charlie,
I fear, has gone to his long, long home, and Ned,
too, as well. Perhaps it may be my lot to follow
them soon. We shall probably be on the advance




ADJUTANT BACON.               17
this time, as our regiment is to take the post of
honor and of danger on the right  I do not
expect that I shall be spared. It seems to me as
if I could not bear to live any longer, except for
your sake, if dear Charlie is really killed. You
know how great our love was for each other, and
can not be surprised that I should feel as I do."
He closes the letter thus: "ITo-day I go on. I
hope that if I fall I may be forgiven all my sins,
past and present, and be taken home to God.
Strange as it may seem, I do not dread death
much. When I think of it, I can not give myself
up to gloomy forebodings. I only pray and hope.
You, too, will pray for me, dear mother. With a
heart brimful of love for you and every body, I
remain your loving son."
The advance was only made as far as Fairfax,
and as no enemy appeared to encounter, the
regiments ordered forward saw no service, and
soon returned to their former positions. It turned
out also, to his great joy, that both his cousins
were unharmed, Charlie having, through illness,
been by his commanding officer compelled to
leave the ranks before the regiment reached the
field, and Edward having borne himself gallantly
through the fight, coming off unscathed.
All remember the weary weeks and months of
B*




18        ADJUTANT BACON.
inaction that followed, while the army was reorganizing under the admirable drill and discipline
of McClellan, which the country long hoped and
expected would be followed by some sudden and
signal success. But no movement took place, and
the succeeding winter and spring was spent by
the Twenty-Sixth mainly in constructing and
garrisoning forts Lyon and Ellsworth, in the
neighborhood of Alexandria; a life the tedium of
which was relieved by very little of incident or
adventure of any kind. In the month of August,
1861, an agitation arose in the regiment in regard
to the term of their enlistment; and it seemed
likely to breed a serious disturbance, unless
promptly checked.  The Colonel called about
him his officers, and stated that he desired none
to remain except such as were prepared to serve
the full two years. Upon this, fourteen officers
tendered their resignations, which were at once
accepted, and their successors, from among those
who were "in for the war," selected, and their
names sent to the Governor of New York. With
the promptness and courtesy that always distinguished Governor Morgan, the new commissions
were immediately issued, and delivered to my son,
who returned with them to the camp without revisiting his home. Among the new appointments,




ADJUTANT BACON.               19
WILLIE was named for Adjutant of the regiment,
a position he modestly, yet promptly accepted,
and was at once commissioned, and continued in
that post until his death, discharging its duties, as
I have occasion to know, with great fidelity, and
in a manner to gain the entire respect of his
superior officers, and the love and confidence of
the men.
As soon as our son left home, a correspondence
at once commenced between his family and friends
and himself; sustained mainly on our side by his
mother and sister.  The number of letters that
passed between us on both sides amount to some
three hundred, and they form a most striking and
touching record of our mutual joys, trials, hopes
and anxieties during that short but eventful
period. The recent perusal of this correspondence, has re-opened many sealed fountains, and
awakened that "mighty hunger of the heart," not
to be satisfied by any thing this side of Heaven.
I do not intend to dwell on this at any length, but
I propose to extract some passages from his letters
at various dates, but without particular order, and
chiefly to illustrate two points having reference
to the principle and the spirit with which he
entered on and persevered in the service of his
country, and the glimpses they afford of his




20         ADJUTANT BACON.
interior life and religious impressions, so far as he
manifested them. They were written for no eyes
but ours, with no possible thought of publicity,
upon which he put a stern interdict, and are now
re-produced only for the gratification of his
friends, who would like to think of him as he
was, a true patriot though a beardless boy, with
a soul of honor, a personal purity unsullied, and
a conscience, as I humbly but confidently believe,
"void of offense towards God and towards man."
In May, 1861, he wrote as follows: "I have no
doubt God is on our side. We are contending
against principles the most subversive of every
law, human and divine. We are contending for
the most sacred privileges granted to man-for
the maintenance of liberty, civilization and humanity. In such a contest God will give the
victory to the cause in which our fathers fought,
and who were, by his favor, successful. I feel as
if nothing was too much to give in behalf of so
glorious a cause; and if it is decreed that I shall
fall, be assured, dear mother, that my life will be
a willing sacrifice. I only hope and pray that I
may be prepared to die." In the month of June
he gave to his sister, very fully, his views of
camp life, and the causes which tended to demoralization in the army.  The life of the soldier,




ADJUTANT  BACON.                21
when inactive, he says, "is lazy and shiftless in
the extreme, and its effect demoralizing to the last
degree, unless one's principles are firmly grounded
and adhered to. The idea I had was that we
should march right on to bear the brunt of
battle, and at the expiration of about a year
return home covered with glory and honor, or die
a patriot's death.  The probability however is
that little fighting will be done, and we shall lie
around this city to protect it." He concludes by
saying, "Do not fear for me. My patriotism is as
strong as ever. Although I am in the midst of
temptations, rest assured, dear sister, that my
honor and integrity shall be preserved intact. I
shall combat with all my strength the attacks of
those who would tempt me to mingle in any kind
of vice, iniquity or wrong-doing." And this resolution he carried with him to the end, and by the
grace of God it was his shield and buckler, which
warded off "all the fiery darts of the wicked."
During the summer the regiment was without
any adequate religious aid or instruction; and it
was not until the month of October, 1861, that
their excellent Chaplain, the Rev. Dr. D. W.
BRISTOL, received his appointment, and went on
to the regiment. I need hardly say that his influence, so far as it was allowed to operate, was most




22         ADJUTANT BACON.
happy and beneficent.  Between him  and the
Adjutant there forthwith sprung up a warm personal attachment; the plans and efforts of the
Chaplain found in him a ready coadjutor, and
confidence in each other and mutual regard continued to the end of WILLIE's life. Writing to
his mother, in July, 1861, he laments the desecration of the Sabbath, contrasting it with the quiet
and peaceful scenes he had enjoyed at home, and
adding, "I have hardly been alone enough to
read my Bible, and when I do read, it seems as if
every body swore and cursed more than ever, and
took peculiar pains to disturb me. Nevertheless
I manage to read as often as possible, and find
great relief in its sacred pages."  Again he says,
in a letter a week later, "Another Sunday has
come and gone, and how unlike the pleasant
Sabbaths at home. There is no good Mr. Knox
to preach to us. All the religious exercises of the
day consisted in reading the articles of war, and a
benediction by the Chaplain. I often think of
the contrast between the Sabbaths here, and those,quiet, lovely Sabbaths at Auburndale, where every
thing and every body seemed to observe the holy
day. You would hardly hear a discordant sound
there, but here all is otherwise."
In this same month of July his venerable




ADJUTANT  BACON.                23
grandmother departed this life. He was of course
unable to be present at the funeral obsequies, and
was advised by letter of the circumstances of her
departure.  He had always been a favorite grandchild, and he sincerely mourned her loss.  In
response to our letters, he wrote as follows: "I
was very much grieved to hear of dear grandma's
death.  *   *   *   *  I never can forget her
dear face. I seem to see it even now, and can not
filly realize I shall never see her again.  She was
very dear to me. When I read your letter and
knew that she was gone forever from the world, I
could not keep back the tears.  It seemed
childish, but was much less than her memory
deserved.  *   *   *    *   Her death led me
into a train of serious reflection. It caused me to
think of the unblemished name which has always
been sustained by both sides of my family, and I
have determined never to be recreant in maintaining, as far as I am concerned, the spotless integrity
of my ancestors, which has been so well preserved
for many generations. Won't you, dear mother,
just to oblige me, plant some little flower on her
grave, a forget-me-not, or something of that kind?
Perhaps I may be the next to be laid by her side. No
one can fathom the mysteries of the Divine dispensations. I hope I may be prepared for whatever




24         ADJUTANT BACON.
fate awaits me. You, I know, will pray for me,
and I try to do so for myself. Though I fear I am
far from being a Christian, I hope I shall be found
worthy of Heaven when I die." How strangely
prophetical does that italicized sentence sound,
read in the light of the fact that his form was the
next to be laid in the ground where his grandmother sleeps. Did "coming events" in this, as
in the closing hours of his life, "cast their
shadows before?"
In August he wrote me a letter describing a
night adventure in which he, with his warmlyattached friend Captain Arrowsmith, performed a
humble, but as they supposed a very useful service,
and closing thus: " When one sees how much the
country needs his services at this crisis, can he,
with any degree of self-satisfaction, consent to
return home, however much he would love to see
once more those whom- he has left behind? For
my own part, sooner than leave the service of my
country, to which I am indebted for the blessings
of unbounded freedom, I would consent to die the
worst of deaths.  Our country is now passing
through a terribly trying ordeal, but I hope she
will come out purified by the test. God is on our
side, and by his help we will crush out the
hydra-headed monster of disunion, and I hope




ADJUTANT BACON.               25
settle once and for all the agitating question of
slavery. "
In the fall he had the pleasure of welcoming
his kind friend the. Chaplain, and on the fifth of
November he tells his mother, "IDr. Bristol is
here, and has preached to us.  He has already
become very popular in the regiment, and I am
sure will be just the man for us. Last Sunday
he held a temperance meeting in the afternoon,
and a prayer meeting in the evening, besides the
regular morning service, and very interesting
meetings they were; doubly so to me, as they
reminded me of home, and all the social and religous advantages I enjoyed there. I have no doubt
he will be a great blessing to the regiment." The
expressions in this letter are a sample of many
others of similar import which occur throughout
his correspondence, and denote the estimation in
which he held the Chaplain and his services.
I could multiply extracts of this character, but
these will suffice. I close with a pleasant allusion
to his home, which he visited but once during his
long absence, until brought back after his wound
at Manassas, but which was often in his thoughts
in his weary marches and more weary watchings:
"I think of you all," he says, in March, 1862,
"every day, and long for the time when I may
C




26         ADJUTANT  BACON.
return to my dear family. It may be a long time
before I do, but I can not help a sort of homesickness occasionally.' There's no place like
home."' And alluding to some little remembrance his mother had sent him, he adds: "How
kind and thoughtful you are, dear mother. You
must not make so many sacrifices for my sake,
for it will not take long to make the debt of
gratitude I owe you infinitely greater than I can
ever hope to pay."
In the month of July, 1862, the active service
the regiment had been so impatiently waiting for,
commenced. I do not propose to follow the long
and harassing march of the regiment down to the
Rappahannock, back again to Manassas, then to
Front Royal, then again to Warrenton, and then
the retreat under Pope, until they reached again
the old and fatal field of Manassas, in the vicinity
of which the second discomfiture took place, on
the thirtieth of August. In this battle my son
received his first wound. His account of this has
been read by a few of his friends, but is of sufficient interest, perhaps, to bear repetition in part.
BAPTIST CHURCH HOSPITAL,
Alexandria, September 3, 1862.
*    *    *   *  "We came up in beautiful style
by the flank, amidst a shower of shot and shell, and




ADJUTANT BACON.                     27
were ordered to a hill on the left of the left center, to
support the 5th Maine Battery, which was being placed
in position.  The gunners had just unlimbered and
loaded when the regiment in front broke, and came
running towards the battery. Before the battery had
time to fire on the rebels, they were within five rods of
it. The gunners delivered one fire right in the face of
the enemy, then turned with the horses and caissons,
and ran straight into our ranks, while the broken regiments rushed upon us at the same time. The right of
the regiment, where my place is, had not yet broken,
but turning to the left, I saw our colors, the old stars
and stripes, retiring before the enemy.  Immediately
after the left and center broke, however, the right, too,
turned and fled. You can imagine my feelings at this
moment. Mortification, shame, indignation, were all
commingled. I turned my horse's head, and called to
the men not to run, and by word and gesture, as well as
action, endeavored to stop them. The officers succeeded
at last in rallying the colors and about two hundred
men, and for a while we made a desperate stand,
although flanked on the left, and subjected to a most
severe and deadly fire, completely enfilading us. Finally
the men were forced to retire, mostly in disorder, but
some in squads still firing on the enemy. Capt. Palmer
with five men was making a last gallant stand, near the
left of the 94th New York, and I was standing by
cheering the men on as well as I knew how, when suddenly, amidst the peculiar whistle of the Minie balls, I
heard a quick "thug," and felt a very sharp pain in my
left leg, just above the ankle. Looking down, I saw thatI was wounded, how severely I could not tell. I tried to
step on my left foot, but found the pain severe enough to




28          ADJUTANT BACON.
prevent my bearing my full weight on that leg. Seeing
that the regiment was now wholly disorganized, and my
presence could be of no further avail, I walked backward
from the field with my sword still drawn and my face to
the enemy, until I was entirely out of range, when I
turned about and moved slowly away. The pain in my
leg was gradually increasing, and falling in with the
caissons of the 5th Maine Battery, I rode upon one of
them for some distance. The road was so rough that I
could not endure this long, and therefore I got off and
inquired for a surgeon.  All the surgeons were busy,
however, and all the ambulances full. Just then I fell
in with a corporal of our regiment, who gave me his
assistance, and leaning on his arm I walked five miles,
until I got an opportunity to ride in a transportation
wagon. In this were two wounded men, and crawling
over them, I laid down on the hay in the back of the
wagon, and got a good rest for the night.  In the
morning I sent word to the Colonel, asking to be taken
to our ambulances. The Colonel came, put me on his
horse and carried me to our wagon train, but neither
surgeons nor ambulances were to be found. I forgot to
tell you that my horse was wounded in the neck, and
became unmanageable while I was endeavoring to rally
the regiment, and I dismounted, and let him run loose
supposing him to be mortally wounded; fortunately it
proved otherwise, for on my arrival at the wagon train
I found him there. He had been caught by one of the
boys while wandering around near the battle field.
The Colonel had concluded that I was killed. On my
horse I rode down to Alexandria, after trying in vain to
obtain attention at Centerville, and here I am. I was
able to hobble around quite well the other day, but




ADJUTANT BACON.                    29
yesterday, in consequence of using my leg too much, I
was completely laid up, and forced to keep my bed. I
am in the pleasantest hospital in town, close to the
house of the postmaster, Mr. Massey, and am treated
with the greatest kindness by his wife and daughters,
with whom I became acquainted just before leaving
Fort Lyon.  Other good Union ladies have been to
visit me and bring me delicacies, for which I am
very grateful-though I don't feel the want of them so
much now, after all. A "hard tack" and a cup of tea
or coffee are all-sufficient for me, after becoming accustomed to long marches day after day, with nothing to
eat."
This letter contained the first intelligence we
had received of him since the battle, and I
forthwith left for Washington, found him at the
Hospital in Alexandria, cheerful and hopeful of
an early recovery and return to the service,
brought him to his home by easy stages, where
he spent forty days among the happiest of his or
of our life, received unnumbered kindnesses and
compliments from friends, neighbors and companions, old and young, in regard to all which he was
modest and reticent; and under the judicious
counsel of Dr. Coventry, the assiduous and untiring attention of his dear friend Dr. Douglass, and
the tender nursing of mother and sisters, he
rapidly recovered. At the end of his furlough
he tore himself away, not unwillingly, though not




30         ADJUTANT BACON.
without some lingering looks at the home he left
for the last time, tc rejoin his regiment, on the
twenty-second of last October.  On reaching
Washington he was examined by the Hospital
Surgeon, and advised strongly against proceeding
to his regiment for at least twenty days, his
wound not then having closed; but such was his
anxiety to be with his brethren and companions
in the field, that he left the next morning for Harper's Ferry, and rejoined the regiment at Berlin,
walking on that day six miles to overtake it.
It was a common remark among his friends,
and was indeed noticeable in all his deportment,
during this brief visit to his home, that in both
physical and mental development, a great change
had come over him.  He had passed from the
light-hearted and impulsive boy to the maturity
of early manhood. His views of life and of his
own position were greatly chastened as well as
matured. The youthful enthusiasm that doubtless
had to some extent inspired and influenced his
original purpose, had given place to severe and
stern reality; and his second return to the post of
duty and of honor, was with a very sober and
thoughtful view of the true condition of the
country, and of his own responsibilities and probable exposure and peril. A suggestion casually




ADJUTAiN T BACON.             31
made to him that he might honorably resign, was
met with so emphatic and prompt a rejection, that
it was never repeated, and the call again to the
field of active duty seemed to him then more
imperative than ever.  In this light he looked
steadily at the issue, and prepared himself with
earnest resolution to encounter whatever the future
had in store for him.  The death of his cousin,
Lieut. EDWARD THORNTON KIRKLAND, of Wisconsin, which occurred at the battle of Perryville,
in September, greatly affected him. Edward was
a gentle, but gallant boy, the only son of his
mother, of nearly the same age with WILLIE, and
between them there existed a warm friendship,
and kindred impulses actuated both. He saw,
perchance, in his, the shadow of his own impending fate. WILLIE had seven beloved cousins in
the grand army of the Union, all thoroughly loyal
and true to the government, some of whom have
made a mark not to be forgotten by their friends
or their countrymen, but Edward was the first to
seal his devotion with his blood, so soon to be
followed by him, the second martyr offered upon
the holy shrine of freedom and humanity.
In a letter to his cousin, Julia Holley, written
on the twenty-first of October, the day before he
left home for the army, in allusion to this event,




32         ADJUTANT  BACON.
WILLIE says: "Have you heard of the death of
our noble cousin, Neddy Kirkland, Aunt Abby's
son?  He died as a cousin of ours should die,
bravely fighting among the foremost of his comrades. I grieve for, and yet I glory in his death.
God grant that I may never prove recreant."
His friends learned but little from his own lips
respecting the part he had acted in the camp, on
the march, or upon the battle field; and it was
from others, and mostly from the privates in the
ranks, that the incidents alluded to by President
Fisher, in his funeral discourse, were gathered;
and it was pleasant and gratifying to us to receive
these unsought and voluntary testimonials.  By
the kindness of my friend George St. George, of
Yorkville, who had maintained a correspondence
with several soldiers of the gallant Twenty-Sixth,
I was furnished with some letters addressed to
him, from one of which, written ii October, by
John Williams, and relating especially to the
battle of the thirtieth of August, I venture to
make a brief extract: " We were going in by the
left flank, and as soon as we came to a front, and
before we had time to look around us, the first
thing we saw was one of the regiments on top of
the hill coming to about face, and tearing down
the hill a little faster than the regulation allows




ADJUTANT BACON.               33
for a double quick, running right into our left
wing and breaking it, and a battery ran right
through our right wing and broke that also; and
by this time the rebels made their appearance on
the top of the hill and opened on us. * * *
Our color bearer was shot in the arm, and down
came the flag, and just as I was going to pick it
up, Paul McCluskey was ahead of me, and had
the honor of taking it from the field. * * *
All the men say that our Adjutant is the bravest
man in the army. He fought like a lion at Bull
Run, and all are very sorry that he was wounded,
and I know that his good natured smile will be
missed while he is gone.  I hope he will be in
the regiment when I get back again."
I resume the narrative. After overtaking the
regiment, they marched, as is well known, after
the army of Lee, down through Virginia and to
the Rappahannock, which now again, and for the
third time, they revisited. In all the campaigns
in which they had been engaged, they had marched
more than one thousand miles. Sickness, death,
resignations, and desertion to some extent, had
thinned its once full ranks, until at the end of this
last journey the regiment numbered but little
more than three hundred effective men.  But
what remained was "true as the steel of their




34         ADJUTANT BACON.
tried blades;" and in the closing conflict, the
record of their losses told the story of their
bravery and endurance.  The communications
from my son were now infrequent, only five
letters from him having reached us before the
fatal battle of the thirteenth of December at Fredericksburgh. From TWarrenton he wrote us on the
tenth of November, that having received his horse
from Washington soon after leaving Berlin, he
had been able to get on very satisfactorily. "My
wound," he says, "is only open as much as could
be covered by a five cent piece, and the leg is in
excellent condition.  The next time I write I
expect to be able to inform you that nothing is
left of my wound save' a pretty scar.'"
Then followed two hasty notes, advising us that
his regiment was in the left grand division, under
Franklin, in Reynolds' corps and Gibbons' division, and that a forward movement was daily and
CC0Cz2 korjy  p r, FceCd.   Le if F~zed us also &2a~
some wretch had cut open his satchel, and stolen
all his under clothing, leaving him almost literally
nothing but the garments he stood in. Immediate
preparations were made to supply his wants, and
a package, carefully made up by diligent and
loving hands, was entrusted to one who confidently
expected within three days to deliver it. Enclosed




ADJUTANT BACON.               35
within this package were the last loving words
and faithful counsels of his mother.  But the
messenger lingered or was detained by the way,
and only reached the banks of the Rappahannock
on the afternoon of the thirteenth, after the dear
boy for whom it was intended had received the
fatal shot that rendered him thenceforth uncon —
scious of a mother's tenderness, and only to be
aided by her ceaseless prayers.
A hurried letter dispatched from his father by
mail, came to his hands on the eve of the battle,
and these were the last words he ever heard
from home. His last letter to us was dated on the
sixth of December.  In it he alluded to some
occurrences in the regiment which gave him some
uneasiness, but he took occasion to add, "I don't
say this because I am in the least disappointed on
my own account. Promotion I never asked, or
courted, or wished. I am satisfied to be where I
am fitted to be, and where I can perform my duty
honorably." It was strictly true that he had not
asked promotion; on the contrary, when it was
proposed to, and urged upon him, by our mutual
friend, IHon. RoscOE CONKLING, from whom he
had received unnumbered kindnesses, and who
estimated him, as he thought, altogether beyond
his deserts, although the offer was most grate



36         ADJUTANT BACON.
fully appreciated, it was firmly and persistently
declined.
The last message he sent was one of earnest
love to all at home, and the expression of a joyful
expectation that in the ensuing month of May he
would come back to us, having served out his
time fully and honorably.  The letter of his
ftather closed with this sentence, the last that ever
met his eyes from those he loved: "I sympathize
with you, my dear son, in all your discomforts
and distresses, and wish you were better situated.
But you must do all that duty seems to require,
and leave the results with God, to whom we daily
commend you."
I approach the close of my simple story. On
the twelfth of December, as is well known, the
left grand division of the Army of the Potomac,
under Franklin, crossed the Rappahannock, the
Twenty-Sixth Regiment being in Gibbons' division, to which had been assigned the post of honor
in the fierce assault which it had been determined
the next day should witness, upon the entrenched
position of the rebel army.  That night the:
soldiers slept upon their arms, and orders had
been passed to be ready for action at the earliest
dawn. To the officers it was for the most part a
night of sleeplessness and anxiety, and specula



ADJUTANT BACON.               37
tions as to the probable result of the operations of
the ensuing day, were freely indulged. Among
others, my son expressed his conviction that a
terrible conflict was before them, to be attended
by great loss of life, and that among the victims
he would in all probability be numbered. In the
gray twilight of the morning the regiment was
roused from its uneasy repose, and by seven
o'clock was all in order of battle, and ready for
the advance. It took up its line of march towards
the enemy, when a severe cannonade was opened
upon them, and the whole division was ordered to
cast itself upon the ground, while the balls and
shells of the rebel batteries, flew over them.
For many hours they thus remained in the wet
and muddy bed which was their only resting
place, and then in a lull of the storm, orders were
given them to rise, advance and charge. All
QUrfqull and with alacrity took their places, and
at this point occurred, as I understand, the
repetition by my son to the commanding officer,
Lieutenant Colonel Jennings, of his premonition
of the fate impending over them, and the remark
alluded to by Dr. Fisher in his funeral discourse.
The rest is soon told. It was about the hour of
three o'clock in the afternoon that the messenger
of death reached him.  In the confusion and
I)




38         ADJUTANT  BACON.
excitement always attendant upon a battle field,
it is difficult to attain much precision in details or
results. According to one account, the Adjutant
was at the extreme right, on foot, as were all the
field officers, with his drawn sword cheering on
the men.  Another statement in the letter of a
private of the Twenty-Sixth, says " he was in the
thickest of the battle, and was seen to step in
front of our line with a rifle, and shoot at the
rebels, when he was struck; "-and another letter,
written by John Sheean, a private in the Fiftieth
New York, speaks as follows: "WILLIE BACON,
the Adjutant, had one of his legs taken off, while
gallantly leading on his regiment, loading and
firing his rifle as fast as any man in the crowd.
He cheered on his men all the time until he fell."
The writer adds: "The men say some of their
wounded were left on the field, but they say that
if it had cost every man in the regiment to take
WILLIE Off, they would not have left him."  The
truth probably is, that either in the excitement of
the moment, the "certaminis gaudia" which the
true soldier feels, or for the purpose of encouragement to the men, he seized a rifle from the hand of
one that had fallen, and commenced its discharge
at the enemy. And this is rather confirmed by
the fact that in the pocket of his coat were found,




ADJU-TANT BACON.              39
after his death, a handful of percussion caps and
an undischarged rifle cartridge.
A Minie ball struck the front of the left leg, (the
one that had previously been wounded,) in the
upper third, passing entirely through the limb,
and shattering the bone in its course. Uttering
an exclamation, he fell at once to the ground.
Orders definite and imperative had been given by
the superior officers, that whoever fell during the
fight, not a man must leave the ranks to render
aid, or bear the wounded from the field, but all
were to press on regardless of the wounded, the
dying, or the dead. The then commanding officer
of the regiment, (now Major Wetmore, of Yorkville, a man as humane as he is valiant,) saw
WILLIE fall and two men spring to his assistance.
He remembered the order, and strict discipline
obliged him to enforce it, but he loved the Adjutant, and yielding to a natural impulse, lie turned
away from the scene, and affected not to see what
if seen would have required from him official
interposition to prevent. God bless him for his
kind consideration and thoughtful obliviousness.
WILLIE was borne at once to the rear by Henry
Clark - and Thomas Welch, both privates in Company F, and soon placed in an ambulance with
Captain Palmer, who was wounded nearly at the




40         ADJUTANT BACON.
same time, and rapidly driven to and taken across
the Rappahannock to the hospital previously
prepared for the reception of the wounded.  A
message was sent that his case required instant
attention, which at a glance his friend Dr. Walter
B. Coventry also discovered, and forthwith the
regimental, brigade and division surgeons were
called to consult and decide upon the treatment
he required. What occurred at this point, and
subsequently, is better told in the words of Dr.
ABRAHAM L. COX, the eminent surgeon attached
to the brigade, than I could possibly relate it.
My kind friend, the Rev. S. Hanson Coxe, the
esteemed rector of Trinity Church, in Utica,
addressed a letter to his uncle, soliciting from him
a brief description of the circumstances attending
the amputation. He complied in the most prompt
and generous manner; and his communication is
so satisfactory, and so replete with interest, that I
print it in full in the Appendix.*
From the time the amputation was performed,
on the evening of Saturday, the thirteenth of
December, the sufferer lingered, mostly in a state
of unconsciousness, and probably with very little
pain, until about five o'clock on the morning of
the sixteenth, when he quietly breathed his last.
* See note B.




ADJUTANT BACON.               41
He was, as Dr. Cox states, very uncomplaining,
and made few exactions of those who kindly
attended to his wants and watched over him.
His faithful friend, the Chaplain, was frequently
at his side, but from his great prostration and the
wandering of his mind, was unable to hold any
connected conversation with him, and could only
commit him, as he repeatedly did, in silent but
fervent prayer to his God and Saviour, the only
and the great Physician who in that hour had
power to help, and grace to support and to save
in the moment of his extreme necessity.
The watchers who faithfully and tenderly cared
for, and ministered to him, were Morris A. Brown,
George Primmer, Edgar W. Seymour and William
Cleminger, of the Drum Corps of the TwentySixth Regiment.  I record their names that I
may associate them with the name that will ever
live in my memory, and that my descendants
may never forget them. From a letter of the last
named to his father, written after WVILLIE'S death,
I am permitted to make the following extract:
"We have lost another good friend to the Drum
Corps, and a good and brave officer of the
regiment, Adjutant BACON, son of Judge Bacon,
of Utica.                         When the
boys were bringing him off the field, he said
D*




42         ADJUTANT BACON.
he had fought his last battle; and so it proved.
After his leg was taken off, he was light-headed
most of the time, and died yesterday morning.
I sat up with him, with another of the Corps.
*    *    *    *    *  He knew every body
by name that came to see him, but in other
respects seemed unconscious, and talked in Latin
and in Greek. Two or three times he looked at
me, and said,'Iwish Iwas home!' *  *  *  *
We shall miss him very much, he was so kind
and social, and was not too proud to come into
our tents, and talk and joke with a private
soldier. "
These are sad, but gratifying and consoling
words. Poor boy; I grieved sorely that I could
not reach his dying bed, but a father's helping
hand, or a mother's tenderest care could have
availed nothing then, and it is pleasant to remember, and deeply grateful am I to record the fact,
that kind hearts and gentle hands did all for him
that lay within the compass of human power.
His mind, in its wanderings, recalled the scenes
and the companions of his College life, and rested
last on his dear home so far away, so hopelessly
distant from him, where hearts were then palpitating in the first great agony of their recently
awakened fears.




ADJUTANT BACON.                      43
In his classical reminiscences at such an hour,
perhaps the Cheronean Epitaph, on which he had
exercised his poetic skill, came floating dimly
over the broken waves of memory, and I can
easily fancy him recalling and murmuring, with a
slight change, the Horatian plaint:
"Linquenda tellus, et domus, et placens
Soror; neque harum, quas colis, arborum,
Te preter invisas cupressos,
Ulla brevem dominum sequetur." *
And thus with tender thoughts of his earthly
home, where anxious hearts were longing to
receive him, and others still, I trust, of that other
and better home, where sainted spirits were waiting to welcome him, his soul went gently forth,
not "into the great darkness," but may we not
devoutly hope, into the clear and blessed sunlight
of his God, that God that keepeth covenant and
remembereth mercy unto a thousand generations.
* The version of Sir PHILIP FRAANCIS, with some little latitude
of interpretation, conveys substantially the sense of the original.
With a slight modification, to make the adaptation more specific,
-it is subjoined:'My loving sister must be left,
And I of country, home bereft,
Must to the shades descend;
The cypress only, mournful tree,
Of all my much-loved groves shall me
Their short-lived lord attend."




44         ADJUTANT BACON.
Of all this, we in that far-off home could then
know nothing. We had heard indeed, in the
early hours of the Sabbath morning, that a
great battle had been fought on the preceding
day, attended, as was said, by some measure of
success to the Union arms, but no details were
given, and we went calmly to the house of the
Lord, and committed, as was our wont, all our
anxieties to Him. When Monday, the fifteenth,
had passed, and no special intelligence of the
Twenty-Sixth was received, save a statement of
the wounding of the Lieutenant Colonel, and the
loss of many men, we became re-assured, and not
until nearly the hour of ten at night, as we sat
quietly conversing together, did the first telegraphic dispatch, from a thoughtful friend at
Washington, give us a premonition of what, in
the early hours of the ensuing morning, was more
than confirmed, by another dispatch, announcing
the wound, the amputation, and the peril of the
sufferer.
I draw a vail over all that then followed; nor
need I linger on the third and the most sad and
trying journey I immediately made to VWashington, accompanied by my friend, and the faithful,
devoted friend of my son, Dr. Douglass, to reach,
if possible, his side, and minister to him, if it




ADJUTANT BACON.                45
might be, in his dying moments. The effort was
vain and fruitless. He was beyond all mortal aid
even before-we left home, although it was not
until I reached Alexandria that the whole truth
broke suddenly and fearfully upon me. I have
no heart to recall those scenes, save as they are
recorded in the letter which on the evening of the
day in which I passed through them, I addressed
to his mother. I give the details to my friends,
as I did to her, by now publishing most of the
letter which otherwise few of them would ever
see. There are many expressions in it that under
ordinary circumstances would not be exposed to
the public eye, and that even my friends must
kindly  and charitably interpret.   They were
wrung from me by great anguish of heart, struggling with a feeling of high satisfaction that "my
boy had done his duty," and died where he
preferred to be found, and where I would have
chosen to have him, in the van of battle waged
for the defense of civilization, humanity and
freedom.
WASHINGTON, Dec. 17, 1862, 8 P. M.
*  *  *  *  What sad, sad words the telegraph
will convey to you to-morrow. It is indeed "all over,
-dear WILLIE has gone home."  I wrote you as
encouragingly as possible this. morning, and sent you a




46           ADJUTANT BACON.
brief dispatch, announcing that our arrangements were
all made to go down to the army to-morrow. I shall
now try to write as calmly and collectedly as possible of
the scenes of this day, and all I now know of the fate of
him we so loved.
As we could not leave the city to-day on our projected
trip, it occurred to me that I had better take this time
to run down to Alexandria, see the Masseys, and tell
them of my melancholy errand. I desired also to revisit
the spots hallowed to me by the memories of last September, and I feared, if I should find WILLIE gone, I
could not trust my poor coward heart so soon to renew
these recollections. At three o'clock I went down the
river.  With eyes swimming in tears, (and yet they
were not sad tears,) I looked out on each point we had
so often passed together, and his image was there by
my side all the while.  I walked up the main street,
stopped a moment before the door of the shop where I
got his crutches made-he will never need them moreand turned into the well-remembered street where is still
the hospital. There stood the very bench on which the
dear boy sat last September, when with a glad cry we
rushed into each other's arms.  Oh how freshly the
scene came up before me. I passed into the hospital,
saw first of all the nurse that was so kind to him, and
she wept to hear of his sad wound, and my fears, and
expressed a warm hope that he might if possible be
brought there again for her to tend and care for. I
went up stairs. I stood beside the verycot on which
he lay, and from which I took him home, to spend with
us those forty happy days we shall remember while
memory of any thing remains to us.
I then rang at the door of Mr. Massey, and found one
daughter alone at home, to whom I made known my




ADJUTANT BACON.                   47
errand, Mr. and Mrs. Massey having gone to Washington. Not expecting to be able to see them, I was
about leaving, when Miss M. suddenly saw her father
passing the house alone up street. She threw up the
window, and pointing to me as I stood before it, beckoned him over. He came across, and I took his hand,
saying I had come on a melancholy journey, but hoped
still to see my son once more. "His body is here,"
said he. Oh, how sharp a pang went through my soul,
but I commanded myself till Mrs. Massey came. *  *
*  *  What a Providence it was that guided my feet
there, and has brought me all the way through. You
will not weary of these details, and it soothes and
assuages the aching sense about my heart, to dwell on
them.
And now let me tell you how all this came about.
Mr. and Mrs. Massey had returned from Washington in
the four o'clock boat. As they landed on the wharf, a
tug boat was there, discharging some freight preparatory
to going up to Washington, and they heard a soldier
use the words, "Adjutant BACON's body."  Immediately
he stopped to inquire, and found young Millstead with
our dear boy's remains, which he had taken charge of
and brought all the way, designing to go to Washington, hunt me up, believing that I should be here, and if
not, to have the body embalmed and sent home. Mr.
M. at once took charge of them, and when passing the
house was on his way to the embalmer's. The dear
remains had actually passed by the house while I was
sitting there! I desired at once to see them, but Mr.
M. dissuaded me, saying they would be perfect in the
morning, and it was necessary to commence the process
at once; and to-morrow early I shall see his much-loved
face.  Tiow shall I contain myself?  Oh, how good is




48           ADJUTANT BACON.
God;-what mercy is mingled in this bitter cup. The
body had actually been buried in Millstead's absence,
but on his return from Aquia Creek, whither he went to
send me the message we got on Tuesday morning, he at
once had it exhumed, placed in a box, and brought it
here for embalming.*
Mr. M. says he is natural, his face was not marred
nor distorted. I hope, I believe, I shall bring him to
his home: we shall all see his dear dead face here-may
we not hope we shall see it radiant in glory? We shall
lay him in the ground our feet will often visit, and when
our pilgrimage is done, kind hands will lay us down
beside him, " the clods of the valley will be sweet to us,"
yea sweeter far because we shall slumber beside his
-precious dust.
I have much to tell you of his fearless bearing in that
dreadful, purposeless, and worse than needless battleof the mortal wound, as it truly was before the amputation, which took place but a few hours after he received
the fatal stroke-how well he bore it, but how hopeless
it was from the very first, and how he began to sink,
and gently, as I understand, and at last unconsciously
passed away at three or four o'clock on Tuesday morning, the hour we were keeping our sad vigils at home,
and vainly striving to hope against hope. He had a
presentiment before entering the field that it was to
be his last battle, and freely expressed it to his young
friend, and to others. I doubt not he had the military
judgment to see that to hurl infantry against a fortified
position overlooking the whole field, with stone walls
and earth embankments, bristling with artillery and
manned by one hundred thousand men, was to devote
* See note C.




ADJUTANT BACON.                   49
myriads to inevitable destruction. Hie expressed the
belief that it would be fatal to him, but in view of it
gave himself to the shock of battle without a thought
of faltering or failing in his whole duty.  "No braver
man," says young Millstead, "ever was, or will be in
that regiment."  It was horribly depleted, not more
than sixty men now answering the roll call. Of the
officers, WILLIE lost his life, Lieutenant Colonel Jennings, and Captains Palmer and Shirley, Lieutenants
Halstead and our friend Smith, and many more are
wounded, but none it is thought seriously.
And so the costly sacrifice the country called for from
us is made, but alas I what a price to pay! Not to be
mourned over, if a great and happy result had been
achieved, but doubly distressing when to private bereavement is to be added national disaster, and the crushing
out for the time of the hopes of better fortune we had
begun to entertain. But I must not, and I will not,
complain. Our lot is not a solitary one. Fathers' and
mothers' hearts are rent and bleeding all through the
land, and we must be content, for the great cause and
the mighty stake the country is playing for, to " stand
in our lot," and see, if need be, our household gods shivered around us.
There are many other things you and I will wish to
know, but we can not now. What were the exercises of
his mind, and what messages he left, and what hopes
and desires he expressed.  Of these young Millstead
knows nothing, for he was with him only at short intervals, but he tells me Dr. Bristol, his good Chaplain,
whom he truly respected and loved, was with him, he
thinks, nearly all the time, and if so, he must, if reason
and consciousness remained, have had conversations
more or less with him, and I am sure you will soon have
E




50           AD;AJUTANT  BACON.
a letter from Dr. B. with some details. I can not persuade myself we shall be deprived of this satisfaction.
God has been so good to us in so many of the circumstances of dear WILLIfE life and death, that I feel it not
presumption to hope that here also we shall be remembered. I deeply regret that I can not see Dr. B., but
situated as the army is, he probably can not leave, and
at present I can not go to him. If I could have got to
our child, and spoken loving and encouraging words to
him, and held his dear hand in mine, and received his
last breath: but it was not so to be.  I trust he
breathed his soul out sweetly to a dearer friend, who
loved him infinitely more than I, deep and intense as
was and is the love I bore, and still bear to him.
I must bring this to an end, much as it comforts
while it saddens me, to talk thus with you of our dear
and only son. Like the valiant and true-hearted, " he
never tasted death but once," and manly souls and
gentler natures will honor and cherish his memory.
The tender and considerate thoughtfulness of
Mr. Massey, to whom  and to whose family I am
under countless obligations, had anticipated all
my wishes in respect to the remains; and carefully embalmed, and arrayed for the sepulchre in
martial habiliments, his hardships all over, and
his warfare ended, with a countenance serene and
peaceful, but deeply earnest, "like a warrior taking
his rest," he was brought to his home, and on the
twenty-fourth of December his funeral obsequies




ADJUTANT BACON                51
took place in the First Presbyterian Church.
That large edifice was crowded to overflowing
with a most attentive and sympathizing audience1
and the exercises, participated in by President
Fisher, of Hamilton College, under whose kind
and paternal eye my son had passed the two
years of his student life, and by Rev. Dr. Fowler,
and Rev. Charles E. Knox, were of the deepest
interest and impressiveness.  The funeral discourse, by President Fisher, I slightly abbreviate;
retaining in full those eloquent, inspiring and
feeling utterances that will fall, I am persuaded,
on many hearts besides those to which they were
mainly addressed, with an elevating, a consoling
and a healing power. The text was taken from
John 13: 7.  "WHAT I DO, THOU KNOWEST
NOT NOW, BUT THOU SHALT KNOW HEREAFTER."
In the introduction, allusion was made to the
grounds and sources of our ignorance of the Divine
purposes, arising as it does in part from the limitation of our faculties, and in part from the peculiar
constitution of God's kingdom, the way in which
he is bringing his sons to glory, and after inculcating the necessity of exercising implicit trust in
the power and wisdom and goodness that would




52         ADJUTANT BACON.
be ultimately vindicated, as those purposes should
be unfolded and evolved; and making an application of the subject to the occasion, he proceeded
thus:
Here, to-day, in the presence of death, where
the form of one familiar to you all from childhood,
of one reared in all the refined intelligence of a
Christian household, the only son, around whom
clustered the fondest hopes, the deepest affections,
destined, as we fondly anticipated, to bear down
the name of his honored sire and grandsire into
the future, lies before you, cold and mute, we hear
a voice, saying to these stricken hearts, " What I
do ye know not now, ye shall know hereafter."  I
hardly dare trust myself to speak of him as my
feelings dictate. Yet it is most fit that those who
have fallen for us, whose lives are the costly sacrifice which patriotism offers on the altar of our
country, should receive from us the tribute of that
affectionate and honored remembrance their heroic
devotion demands. We will enshrine them in our
grateful memories; we will teach the coming generation to honor their deeds and emulate their
lofty patriotism; we will garner their names as
they represent the costly jewels we gave to maintain our freedom from the deadly assault of the
oppressor.
5When, twenty months ago, the conspirators
against the free civilization and humanity represented in our National Government, turned their




ADJUTANT BACON.                53
stolen cannon against the feeble, starving garrison
in Fort Sumnpter, and the sound of those cannon
thrilled throughll the heart and awakened the slumbering patriotism  of millions, Adjutant BACON
was in yonder halls, successfully preparing for the
work of life. He was but a boy, slight in form,
impulsive in spirit, with a high sense of honor,
always truthful, generous in disposition, fond of
the excitements of youth, thinking only that long
years must intervene before he could take his
place and assume the responsibilities of a man
among men.  The roar of that fearful assault
developed at once another —a manly, a heroic
nature.  The insult to humanity, the terrible
danger that menaced the Government and the
institutions of his country, fired his hereditary
patriotism, kindled his youthful enthusiasm, absorbed his thoughts, quickened into life the purpose to devote himself to his country. The boy
is a boy no longer. At a bound he sprang into
the purposes, the responsibilities, the steadiness
and the maturity of the man.
One thing alone held in check his patriotic
purpose. There were those to whom he owed his
being; who had watched over him with parental
care; in whose heart of hearts he was shrined as
an only son; to whom he had been a dutiful and
loving child; would they consent to the costly
sacrifice, would they peril all their hopes for him,
as yet a stranger to the love of Jesus? He knew,
in part, their true patriotism; he knew more fully




54         ADJUTANT BACON.
the love that rested in sunlight on himself. Could
that love surrender to his country the child of so
many hopes? With devout prayer for guidance
to Him who never had failed them in the hour of
need, the sacrifice is made. They had given him
to God in childhood; they were educating him to
be a blessing to his race and country; and now
that the interests of humanity, the dearest interests
of their country were in peril, they committed him
afresh to God and gave him to his country. Sublime patriotism!  Sublime Christian devotion!
that, with all the perilous paths he was to tread
before them, could calmly, confidently leave him
with his God, and lay him on the altar of his
country! The decision is made: and among the
first enrolled in the first company of the first
regiment that went fiom this city, to illustrate our
patriotism in resistance to treason, stands the name
of WILLIAM KIRKLAND BACON.  He is at first
only a private; but in a few weeks he attained a
position which his talents and attainments qualified
him to fill-the Adjutancy of the Twenty-Sixth
Regiment. By patient study, his quick intelligence soon made him master of his positionwasting no time in frivolous pleasures, dQvoting
himself with manly earnestness to his work, treading the temptations to vice, which have despoiled
so many of our officers of their crown, beneath his
feet, he soon gained an enviable and honorable
prominence in his regiment. How he grew in the
respect and affection of both officers and privates;




ADJUTANT BACON.               55
how his manly and pure character developed
itself day by day; how he proved himself one to
be depended upon, alike in the camp and in the
field, ye who were his fellow soldiers can testify,
as his associates in office have often testified. It
was my great pleasure to visit him in camp at
Fort Lyon, some nine months ago, and I know
that this testimony is true.  Subsequent events
deepened this respect, and installed him in the
hearts of his regiment as a brave-a heroic, as
well as a wise and faithful soldier. Through all
the marches and countermarches of that long summer campaign, how nobly did he bear himself!
Prompt in action, fearless in presence of danger,
asking no man to go where he was unwilling to
lead, enduring hardships under which ripe manhood sank, the same calm, earnest soul, in the
shock of battle and the quiet of the camp. What
a striking scene was that, when in the second great
conflict on the bloody soil of Manassas, the regiment had been disordered by the flight of another
regiment rushing through them, bearing away the
superior officers, this boy-soldier dismounted from
his wounded and unmanageable horse, took the
command, and waving his sword, exhorted the
men, "for the sake of God and their country, not
to disgrace themselves," and then led them on
to battle! Who would not follow where such a
young hero led? Who could be a coward where
that youthful voice exhorted to duty? And who
of all that regiment, now alas! so broken, that




5i6       AADJUTANT BACON.
would not have carried him in their arms and
hearts to victory?
Wounded in that terrible conflict, the young
hero returns for a few days to recruit beneath the
parental roof.  How precious, how comforting
were those golden days to those now bowed and
stricken hearts, they only know! Changed he
was-greatly changed from the boy who left them
eighteen months before.  The current of his
affections seemed to run deeper and fuller; his
impulsive nature was steadier and stronger; he
spoke but little, and then with great modesty, of
what he had done; but the whole tone of his
character inspired in their hearts the hope that his
affections were setting themselves on One who is
alone able to save.  The hours, the days flew
swiftly by. Before his wound was fully healed,
the impulse of duty bade him depart. His brave
compatriots were in the field, why should he
linger here?  The romance of war had lost its
attractions; he knew too well its stern, often sad
and fearful character; he knew that he was going
to danger, perhaps to death. He did not hesitate.
The sense of duty, the impulse of patriotism, the
voice of his country urged him on.  When his
honored father, as he took leave of him for the
last time, said, " Good-by! trust in the Lord and
do your whole duty," with characteristic modesty
he replied, "Depend upon it, father, I will try."
These were the parting words. We hasten to the
end.  Immediately joining his regiment, he at




ADJUTANT BACON.               57
once resumed his position and marched to Fredericksburg. The dispositions are all made for the
fearful conflict. On the morning of that eventful
day, he expressed to his Lieutenant Colonel his
conviction that he would fall. The Colonel rallied
him a little, and told him he was homesick. He
answered, " Colonel, no man on earth has a dearer
home than I have, but if' a wish could place me
there now, I would not go. My place is here, and
here I remain." Strange and mysterious is the
fact that God so often permits the shadow of death
to be thrown upon us, that we may prepare ourselves for his coming! In this calm, heroic spirit,
leaning as we have reason to believe on an arm
unseen by the eye of sense, he moved forward
with his regiment. The Twenty-Sixth stood like
a wall of iron amidst the storm of death hurtling
its fiery missiles through its ranks. The scene for
him  is over.  The messenger sought him  and
found him. He lingers for three days and then
his young spirit ascended to his God.  Dear
WILLIE, thou art gone-gone from us forever.
We shall counsel and instruct thee no more, for
another teacher infinitely wise and good is now
leading thee up the heights of knowledge, and in
a moment thou hast learnt more than men on
earth can ever know.
To us Christians, the deepest interest gathers
about the future of the immortal spirit. Patriotism
is not religion, although Christianity produces the
loftiest and purest patriotism. Must we then close




58         ADJUTANT BACON.
this short record of this young life here, and leave
him with his God? I can not thus, in justice to
him, refuse to express the convictions that have
formed themselves in my mind. I would indeed
that his faithful Chaplain, that true man of God,
whom he loved as a father, were here in my place;
gladly would I be the listener to his eloquent
words, rather than address to you my own imperfect utterances. I believe that God is a covenant
keeping God, that he hears and answers prayer,
and that often, by ways to us strange and mysterious, he leads the child of prayer into the fold.
Not in vain for so many years was this dear youth
borne in the arms of prayer and nourished by
Christian counsel. " What I do thou knowest not
now, but thou shalt know hereafter." Strange it
is to us that the discipline of the camp and the
battle-field, should be the path along which God
would lead him to himself
Yet it is in this way his sovereignty has answered prayer.  The vices which overmastered
others, wakened to life in him those principles
which parental love had planted there. He went
to the word of God for counsel; he tried not only
to do his duty to his country but to his God; with
prayer for divine protection he prepared himself
for battle. Confiding in One almighty to save, he
gave himself a sacrifice on that last fatal field. I
can not state to you the many indications that
have wrought in those who loved him most tenderly and knew him most fully, the conviction




ADJUTANT BACON.                59
that their dear child is passed into the heavens.
Yes! my dear friends, that God who gave you
courage to offer this great sacrifice, has given you
likewise the sustaining conviction, that through
this stern discipline your beloved has passed into
that better life.  Not in vain has been your
agony! Not in vain have been your humble
pleadings at the throne of grace.  Beyond the
stars, in that bright world where separations are
unknown, you will meet again. There you will
recognize with joy unspeakable all the way ill
which your Redeemer has led you, and parents,
sisters, brother, stand and praise before the throne.
I turn from you, who to-day shalre the deep
sympathies of this assembly in your affliction, to
others here present.
Soldiers of the Twenty-Sixth and Fourteenth,
you have come to see a beloved comrade borne to
his last earthly home. His last battle has been
fought: no drum beat will ever again rouse him
from his slumbers; no shrill bugle call him to the
field. He has gone where war is unknown; where
the peace of God fills the heart, and henceforth he
lives to die no more. You have borne a noble part
in this great struggle; when others hesitated, you
rushed to the field. For us you have fought; for
us you have braved danger and endured hardship.
A grateful country will not forget you. WVhen
peace shall again lift her milk-white standard over
the proud dome of our Capitol, and the flag you
have defended shall again wave in triumph over a




60         ADJUTANT BACON.
united and free country, then will it be your pride
and glory, the proud inheritance of your children,
that you gave yourselves to that country in her
hour of need.
But, soldiers, there is one battle greater than
this you are to fight, one wreath of victory of infinitely greater value you are to win and wear.
There is a a fight of faith within your own hearts,
to be fought; there is a crown of righteousness,
unfading and eternal, to be won. God help you
in this great conflict; Jesus, the Captain of Salvation, make you victors over yourselves, and lead
you on to glory. Then will all the glory of these
earthly conflicts grow dim before the grandeur
and the brightness of your last and greatest
victory.
And here to-day are young men, and men in
their early prime, hardy, vigorous, able to do and
suffer for God and your country.  You weep
to-day with these bereaved ones over their earlylost.  But why is that body lifeless and mute?
Why is it that youth, just passing out of boyhood,
must wage this fearful warfare, while the mature
and the strong are busy about their usual avocations?  Our country is'Dleecing at every pore;
the cries of distressed patriotism pierce every ear
and enter every heart.  Is there one here that
does not love his country? Let him shed no tear
over that coffin; let him not look on that pale,
pleading countenance.  But if to-day, you feel
that the blood which courses through your veins;




ADJUTANT BACON.                 61
the breath that heaves your lungs; the intelligence that lights up your eyes; the limbs strong
for labor, all-all belong to the country that has
nourished you on her bosom and shed upon you
the influences that have made you what you are,
and exalted you among the nations; then, while
first of all, as Christ's minister, I exhort you to
prepare to meet your God in peace, I would not,
I can not forbear to remind you, that it is for you,
as your next highest and most imperative duty,
to stand by that country, to give her your prayers,
and as she calls, fear not to give yourselves a
living sacrifice for her salvation.  That coffin,
those mute lips, appeal to all your manhood, to
all your patriotism, to follow  where this our
young hero so nobly led.
Fellow-citizens, this is no idle pageant, this no
ordinary death, these no common funeral solemnities. The lessons of this hour reach far into the
future, and will mould the destinies of unborn
generations.  When we are gathered to the house
appointed for all living, this sacrifice, and those
kindred to it, which now shroud so many families
in sackcloth, will bear precious fruit. The millions
who are yet to people this vast continent, who are
here to rejoice in the freedom of the Gospel, who
are to spread that Gospel in all its light and
freedom  throughll the world, will thrill at the
mention of their names, will bless God for the
spirit that nerved them for the sacrifice, and that
baptism of blood through which he secured for
F




62         ADJUTANT BAC O1N.
them so priceless an inheritance. Let us anticipate
that day; let us prove ourselves worthy of such
memories; let us consecrate ourselves, body and
soul, to him who suffered for us, and lifting high
the standard of a pure Christianity, count no sacrifice too great, no achievement too difficult, that is
to exalt our fallen humanity and prepare the
pathway for the Prince of Peace. Then at length,
when the shadow of the last hour shall fall upon
us, looking forward to the great resurrection, we
may exclaim: "I have fought a good fight, I
have finished my course, I have kept the faith;
henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of
righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge,
will give nme in that day."
At the close of the service, youthful and loyal
hands-for no others were worthy to bear the
precious remains —took up the bier of the young
soldier, and thus was he borne to the pleasant
Cemetery, where he will rest with his fathers until
the morning that a trump above the clangor of
battle or the shouts of contending armies, shall
call the sleeping dead to judgment.
Manifold and exceedingly consoling were the
public and private testimonials we ireceived of the
estimation in which our son was held, and they
all have a place among our household treasures.
Those from his young college companions, and




ADJUTANT BACON.               63
from the privates of' the Twenty-Sixth, were most
touching and gratifying; testifying, as they all
did, to his genial kindness of heart and the manly
intrepidity of his nature. I need not reproduce
them here; but among the private communications
made to his parents, there are a few to which a
more specific though brief allusion may properly
be made. In a letter written to us from the camp,
after his death, by the Chaplain, Dr. Bristol, he
says: "WILLIE was a noble boy. I loved him
almost as I would a son. He was brave and generous. He was manly above his years-a HEROwhat more can I say of the brave, the lamented
dead; only that I hope the prayers of the homealtar were answered upon his soul. He had his
serious hours, and always talked with me freely
and candidly on the great subject of religion."
Capt. George Arrowsmith, (now  Lieutenant
Colonel of the 157th New York Volunteers,) with
whom he had an association of great intimacy,
says: "It is difficult for me to realize that the
warmest friendship I have formed since I have
been in the army is thus severed. Yet that which
had been a source of pleasure is now the source of
pride, and sorrow for him we have lost has some
mitigation in our admiration for the departed
hero."




64         ADJUTANT  BACON.
Dr. Abraham L. Cox, in a letter subsequent to
the one which will be found in the Appendix,
reiterates, in the warmest manner, his own estimate
of the chivalrous bearing and manly fortitude of
my son, and gives a beautiful and affecting illustration of the soldierly pride he felt at the moment
of his own utter prostration, in the fact that his
regiment had so nobly breasted the shock of
battle. He kindly adds: "The first whisper of
ill-feeling or of censure against Adjutant BACON
is -yet to be made. Universally admired, he had
no enemies. In the field I have heard from the
General his satisfaction with his military promptitude and accuracy. Gen. Tower's praise is what
every military man who knows him regards as the
highest plaudit."
The allusion here is to Brig. Gen. Z. B. Tower,
who was in command of the brigade at Manassas,
and there received a grievous wound, from which
he has not yet recovered. The manner in which
he led the brigade on that occasion excited the
warmest admiration of my son, and although he
never made any personal application for such a
post, I remember his often expressing a strong
wish that he could be in some way attached to his
military staff.  It is a great gratification to his
fiiends to learn, as they now do from a letter




ADJUTANT BACON.               65
addressed to me by Gen. Tower, that had circumstances permitted it, such a position would have
been tendered him. I know very well how easy
it is to say kind things of the dead, and how
strong the inducement to soothe the sensibilities
and minister perhaps to the undue pride of a
father's heart.  I shall frankly expose myself to
this impeachment, since I can not resist the temptation to make a somewhat copious extract from
this communication of Gen. Tower: "My short
acquaintance," he says, "with Adjutant BACON
prepossessed me greatly in his favor. I could not
but notice his manly and soldierly bearing, and
his promptitude and efficiency in performing his
duties. I should have offered him a position on
my personal and military staff, had I returned to
the brigade after the battle of August thirtieth.
It is a pleasing duty to inform you on reliable
authority, that in this battle your son was distinguished for gallant services at the head of his
regiment, until his wound forced him from the
field.  At Fredericksburgh he was conspicuous
for manly bravery and cool determination, an
example to his soldiers, till he fell mortally
wounded on that never to be forgotten battle-field
It is a noble grief to drop the tear of sorrow on
his grave. His brilliant military career seems to
3r*




66         ADJUTANT BACON.
be all that parental pride could hope for, save that
it was too quickly ended. But it will live in the
memory of his friends and acquaintances, and all
those who may learn his history."
Laus est, a laudato viro, laudari.
Rev. Charles E. Knox, who was pastor for two
years of the Church where his family and himself
were worshipers and attendants, wrote us a most
tender, cheering and consoling letter, from which
I make the following extract: "What nobler end
could there have been to his life, what higher
purpose could he have accomplished, even in a
life prolonged to twice or thrice its length?
Could we have made a better life-plan, if we had
been permitted to try, than God has now revealed
that He had made for him; one which would have
been more honorable to him, more noble in its
support of the highest and best principles, and
more helpful to the Kingdom of our Saviour.
How blessed it is to be permitted to think that
God was preparing him by the stern discipline of
war for his everlasting peace; and what a privilege was his life, to stand battling to the death for
the right, at the point where all the great principles of justice, truth, freedom and religion
converge. "




ADJUTANT BACON.               67
His religious character, so far as it had outward
manifestation, must be judged of in part by the
glimpses afforded by his correspondence, and was
more fully developed to us by communications
more private and confidential still; so that the
friends that knew him best, have the most hope
and comfort in his death.  We knew from his
own lips that before he went into the battle of
Manassas, he devoutly commended himself to
God, and we can not doubt that in the last and
closing scene, with its solemn premonitions before
him, he in like manner, and with a deeper consciousness of its necessity, put soul and body into
the keeping of his Saviour.  I add one little
circumstance here, which will, I think, greatly
interest his friends.  Among the mementos he
took with him, and which accompanied him in all
his wanderings, and were returned to us after his
death, were a number of books, and among them
a pocket Bible, the gift of a young friend, accompanied by her photograph, and a miniature edition
of the Book of Psalms. I had also, when he first
left home, given him my photograph on a card,
upon the back of which I had written the sentiment popularly ascribed to Cromwell: " Put your
trust in the Lord, and keep your powder dry."
On opening these two books after they reached




68         ADJUTANT BACON.
us, we found the first photograph inserted in the
Bible at the nineteenth and twentieth Psalms, and
the other in the same place precisely in the Book
of Psalms. It is possible this may have been a
casual and undesigned location, but the coincidence is certainly remarkable, and I am persuaded
it was not without a thought and purpose. Is it
unreasonable to suppose that in the twelfth,
thirteenth and fourteenth verses of the nineteenth
Psalm, and in the seventh verse of the twentieth
Psalm, he found something apposite to his own
condition and wants, and a tower of strength upon
which he felt both desire and encouragement to
lean?
I can not refrain from adding one tribute to his
memory, which coming from the quarter it did,
and accompanied by a most appropriate gift of a
cross of immortelles for the soldier's breast, deeply
affected us.  It will be found in the appended
note.*
My task is done.  The work has insensibly
grown upon my hands, and has been protracted
beyond my original design. It has been executed
in much infirmity, and with many distractions of
mind, amid swelling tides of grief, mitigated and
* See note D.




ADJUTANT BACON.                69
assuaged indeed by help Divinely given, alternating with proud and consoling recollections of him
who was "my joy and my crown," and a strong
hope that his example might stimulate others in
like manner to devote themselves to the good and
great cause, the cause that by the blessing of God
shall ultimately prevail, shall finally triumph. It
is this spirit of consecration that can alone save
our dear country in this the crucial hour of its
destiny. I count no sacrifice too great or costly
to secure this noble end; and in this faith and
hope of final success I firmly abide. I shall never
surrender it, until I am prepared to abandon my
trust in truth, in righteousness and in freedom,
and above all, in God, the author and defender of
them all. I shall utter no reproach, but I profoundly pity those who have no sympathy with
this mighty effort to roll back the flood of crime
and barbarism that threaten to engulf us, and
have no personal stake in the great issue; and on
the other hanld, I lhave nothing but words of
earnest encouragement and hearty cheer to those
who stand by the country and " rally on the flag"
of the free.
WVhat follows is the contribution of another
hand; of one that knew WILLIE as well, and
loved him as devotedly as any of the circle by




70         ADJUTANT BACON.
which he was surrounded. I will not appropriate
this to myself, nor can I suppress it, containing as
it does the impression, perhaps exaggerated as to
some it may seem, but to others truthful and just,
of a young but glorious life.
Here we close this brief record, knowing that it
is not the history of one alone, but of hundreds of
young lives as blameless and precious as the one
we commemorate, and who, with all their wealth
of courage and patriotism, of hope and promise,
have been laid upon the altar of their country,
seemingly as yet an unaccepted sacrifice.
We would not recall the past. The qualities
which so much endeared him to us, were the very
ones which led him to danger and to death. Cold
calculation, selfish indolence, hesitation, cowardice, would have saved him, but we would not buy
even that dear life back again, on terms like
these; and his unstained memory is a thousand
times more precious to us than his actual presence
could be, if shorn of those treasures of mind and
heart which made him the pride and joy of our
household. Yet the crushing out of so many fond
hopes, the desolation of a once happy home, are




ADJUTANT BACON.                71
wounds which time can not heal; and loving
hearts will still sometimes involuntarily turn from
the past to dwell upon the possible future, and all
that he might have been had it been the will of
Heaven to spare him to us yet a little longer. Slain
upon the threshold of a noble manhood, he will
never return to fulfill the fair promises of his youth.
With a character only partially developed, but
growing daily in strength and beauty, life for him
was full of bright anticipations of usefulness and
happiness. His genial, generous and affectionate
nature, drew around him kind and warm friends,
wherever he went, and among all classes. True
hearted and sincere, he rarely lost a regard once
won. The moral strength which he had acquired
in his successful struggle with the temptations of
college and camp life, at an age when the powers
of resistance are weakest, gave us confidence to
believe that having borne unflinchingly those
severe tests, under which so many fail, he would
maintain his integrity to the end. The pride of
his Puritan blood, unlike that which springs from
a less worthy source, showed itself in no haughty
assumption  or boastful arrogance, but simply
wrought in him a manly independence, subdued
with a graceful modesty, a high sense of honor, a
scorn of every form of meanness, a firm fidelity to




72          ADJUTANT BACON.
duty, an intelligent patriotism, an unshaken resolution to maintain to the last a cause which he
had once conscientiously espoused — qualities
which assured to him, if not a brilliant, yet what
is better, all honorable career. He was by nature
exceedingly generous, illustrations of which his
friends will readily recall, without a trace of a
calculating or money-making spirit, and his plans
of benevolence were always formed on the most
liberal scale, yet he had already developed a
capacity for business, of which in his earlier years
he gave no intimation.  His neatly kept accounts,
his carefully arranged  letters and  papers, his
promptness in the performance of every duty, his
punctuality in the payment of debts, all testify to
the fact that he possessed the plain, practical
virtues of justice and honesty, as well as that
impulsive generosity which would lead him to
share his last dollar with a friend in distress.
The qualities which gave hinm so fair a reputation
in the army, admirably fitted him  to serve his
country in the character of a good and peaceable
citizen; but his duties as a citizen he was never
destined to fulfill, and even his military career was
too brief to permit more than a partial development of that ability he was thought to possess.
He was a true soldier. HIonor and loyalty reigned




ADJUTANT BACON.                 73
in his heart and guided his life.  Of his courage
it is unnecessary to speak: to souls like his, capable of a high purpose and a deep enthusiasm, the
presence of danger is always an inspiration. His
standard of drill and discipline was very high, yet
his genial manner, his kind smile and pleasant
words, his unselfish interest in the comfort and
welfare of the men, made him  one of the most
popular officers in the regiment.  With a talent
for command, he united a deep sense of the duty
of subordination.  He seemed too much absorbed
in his own duties to find time for very profound
speculation on the merits of different commanders,
-to criticise one officer, or cultivate a blind devotion for another.  I-e fought wholly for his
country, never for an individual.  No degree of
distrust of one general, or of confidence in
another, could affect his resolution to fight as
long and as well as he knew how, no matter who
gave the orders.
Though  he bore up steadily and manfully
under hardship and disaster, his proud and sensitive spirit felt keenly at times the mortification
of defeat. Yet he was not discouraged. Reverses,
instead of disheartening him, seemed only to
kindle an intenser indignation, and develop a
more determined spirit of opposition to the eneG




74          ADJUTANT BACON.
mies of his country.  "The next time," said he,
"we will fight as every man must fight if we ever
expect to succeed in this war. The Twenty-Sixth
shall stand until every man is shot down, rather
than retreat an inch.  Whatever may happen to
the rest of the army, our regiment shall not be
beaten again."  Faithfully did the noble TwentySixth fulfill the prophecy at Fredericksburgh.
It matters little now, yet as we look back upon
the history of the last eighteen months, there is
something inexpressibly sad and touching in the
thought that lie, in common with the rest of our
brave but unfortunate army, was called upon to
endure so much of the hardship, toil and trial of a
soldier's life, with so few of its compensations.
To one tenderly cherished, as he was, with all his
reasonable wants gratified, and his desires almost
anticipated, those trials and hardships, in the main
so cheerfully borne, will not be counted among
the least of the sacrifices he was called upon to
make.  Hunger, cold, heat, fatigue, long, weary
marches, ending in disappointment or disaster;
the humiliation of defeat, and at last, wounds,
suffering and death, were all his portion, yet lie
never knew the reward of the brave and faithful
soldier; and even in his (lying hour he was
denlied the joy of victory, or the proud thought




ADJUTANT  BACON.                75
that by his sacrifice hle had aided to "win the
battle for the free.'
Yet in the bitterness of our sorrow let us not
forget to acknowledge, with humble and grateful
hearts, the great goodness and mercy of God.
Let us thank Him that He gave to one whom we
dearly loved, so noble a work to do on earth, and
that Ile enabled hinm to do it so faithfully and so
well; that if die he must at this time, he was
permitted to die upon the battle-field, not in an
unholy warfare or an unjust cause, not coldly
turning awav from  the call of his country, or
secretly sympathizing with her foes, but in the
way of his duty and in the defense of the right;that he has left behind him so stainless a name,
and so sweet and precious a memory; that having
fulfilled his earthly mission, and yielded up his
young life upon the sacred shrine of freedom and
humanity, lie has gone to join the noble army of
martyrs who surround the throne witll songs of
victory, there to share in the triumphs of his Lord
and Saviour, and to dwell in the light of His
glory forever.




APPENDIX.
NOTE A.
BY PROFESSOR EDWARD NORTH, OF HAMILTON COLLEGE.
As a student in Hamilton College, Adjutant BACON
showed a fine appreciation of the beautiful in art and
letters, with a skill beyond his years in the rhythmical
use of words. What he could do with his ready pen,
was known only to a few. In his early death, his more
intimate friends mourn the untimely loss of a promising
poet, as well as an accurate and elegant scholar. His
reading of Homer and Horace was not done perfunctorily, but with an evident perception and relish of that
which gives them pre-eminence as classical authors.
In the fall of 1860, he read the Oration of Demosthenes, De Corona. Near the close of this master-piece
of eloquence, Demosthenes recites the inscription from a
costly monument erected by the Athenians in honor of
their countrymen who fell at Cheronea.  It was proposed to the Sophomores, as a voluntary exercise, to
translate this inscription into English verse.
While others undertook the task in iambics, Adjutant
BACON rendered the epitaph into graceful dactyls, thus
closely imitating the original Greek, and showing that
he was competent to manage the most difficult rhythm
in our language. Of course, a literal translation could
not be made, under the conditions proposed.  If the
sentiment and spirit of the Greek were put into appropriate verse, the effort would be praiseworthy.




APPEND IX.                        77
Leland's translation of this epitaph, that runs through
twenty iambic lines, is considered an elaborate failure.
Thomas Campbell's version, in ten compact and vigorous
ilnes, was contributed, by special request, to Lord
Brougham's edition of the De Corona.
For the convenience of any who may wish to compare
the two, we copy, first, the original Greek, and then
Adjutant BACON's rendering:'EHIIPPAMMA.
Ot6e 7nrdpag;2vreta  0e7-4'pafg elg d&ptv tOeo70
"'07ra, cai divrTLrdkav iV3ptv adrealu3caaav.
Mapvatevot 6' per7lj icat deilta'ro g oir> &cu6aa av.
vXavdg, 0dX2''Aidrqv iotvbv OV  0V-ro i3pdrfiv,
O{9vstcev'ERrivov, co(g Ijt';vyov a-vivt OW-VreC
A0ovU;oarv'1  7-rvyrpav aut/g e Xolrtv v;3pntv.
Pala &) 7raTpi  year t6ClC7rotg i-(~v 7rZalrTa Ica[L6vTrWv
Y64taar', tilVt 0vi7-oZg itc   idAtg  KPiS IpCftg.
MRd6,cv'   ap-re7v i'orai  01)v ca  7racivra ca-,opOoizv'Ev 3totr, fto7pav 6' o0V't L vyelv;rTOpev.
TRANSLATION.
These are the heroes who fought for their father-land's Weal,
Taking up arms to resist the invader's proud steel.
Bravely they fought, and their souls to grinm Pluto they gave,
Cheerfully offering up life, their loved country to save.
Scorning to humble their souls to slavery's force,
Death brought them less to lament than slavery's curse.
Father-land lovingly takes to its sacred breast
Forms that in bloodiest strife found their honored rest.
Never to fail in life's work, falls to none under Heaven:
Jove is the giver of all, and to these death was given.
This College exercise may serve as an illustration of
Adjutant BACON'S scholarship and intellectual character.
Yet we would not have recalled it here, did not the
G*




78            ADJUTAN T BACON.
Cheronean Epitaph, as rendered by him, read to-day
like a prophetic adumbration of his own sadly-glorious
end.  Little did the light-hearted student of 1860
dream, as he toyed with the fascinating perplexities of
Attic poetry, that lie was preparing a fit epitaph for
thousands of brave Union heroes, doomed to be slain in
the battles of 1862, himself being one of the number.
Another well-known trait in the character of Adjutant BACON, his unaffected and endearing modesty, is
revealed in the record of this voluntary task, which
closes with an excerpt from Horace:' Si quid tamen olim
Scripseris, in M[eti descendat judicis auras
Et patris, et nostras, nonnmque prematur in annum.
-Membranis intus positis.'
Spirit of WILLIE, forgive the feeling that submits to
the charity of friends what you intended only for the
eyes of your teacher!
NOTE B.
HEAD-QUXARTERs 2D BCIGAW)E 21) DivisioN 1ST AIuTi CiORPS,1
LEFT GRAND DIVISION OF THE ARMY OrF TIlE POTOMAC,
Dec. 28th, 1862, (near Fredericksburgh, Virginia.)
3MY DEAR HANso N,-Yours of the 23d inst., just received, demands of me what my heart prompted me
almost to do unasked,-to say a few words in regard to
the excellent and brave boy of Judge Bacon.  He was
an officer in the Twenty-Sixth iRegiment, N. Y. Vols.,
one of the regiments of my brigade.  I was well acquainted with him, and have great satisfaction in being
able to express my entire conviction of the worth of




APPENDIX.                       79
character and gentlemanly bearing which always made
him a marked man in an army which I may truly say
abounds in excellent characters. Always efficient in the
performance of duty, he possessed a winning, graceful
and universally popular manner towards every one. Pure
in morals, and unassuming in manners, he enjoyed an
enviable prestige in the army.  I saw him in the retreat
from the battle of Manassas, wounded, on horseback,
but cheerful and modest as usual, and was particular to
stop and converse with him, as he had been reported to
me to have been fatally wounded.
At the hospital near Fredericksburgh, I was one of
the three principal operators, and felt especially for him
the solicitude of a friend as well as the anxiety always
experienced b)y us on the arrival of a bad case.  His
was eminently such.  It consisted of a wound of the
thigh, in the upper third, with great injury of the bone,
which was terribly splintered.  Now- in. the experience
of military surgery for the last two centuries, this sort of
wound has been fatal in every instance where amputation
is not performed. The celebrated Guthrie, in his account
of the Surgepy of the V  eninsular war, states the proportion of deaths after primary amputations, (that is, operations performed soon,) at 33 per cent., while that of
cases deferred for a day or two, at double that amount.
It became a question with us at once what was to be
done, and I called my two colleagues to consult with me
in his case, as well as Doctor Charles J. Nordquist, the
able surgeon, now of the 1st corps of this division, before I woald decide on an operation, and determine
whether he had not received such a shock from the injury,
as to forbid any operation whatever.  He was excessively'p)a~ttiteh,hJhu'~eslrch ampultatlon.'  e atm'lin'isteret to
him the proper restoratives, and after a while had the




80           ADJUTANT BACON.
satisfaction to observe from  them  the most flattering
effects, such as improvement in his pulse, countenance and
spirits.  When the reaction justified it, we lost no time.
The opinion expressed however at the time by Nordquist,
was that it was a bad case, and one where life would
not probably be saved.  I was myself very much disposed
to the same opinion.  The operation was however his
only chance of life, and there was perfect unanimity with
the surgeons as to the course of procedure.  He was
placed under the influence of chloroform  which acted
most favorably.  Ile was entirely insensible to pain, the
stump waas dressed and pronounced.a perfect operation, as
it was a very rapid one.  He seemed better, and recovered very much after the amputation, and was nursed
by Major Sellers, himself wounded, and by Dr. Walter
1B. Coventry, an admirable surgeon, who was in general
charge of the hospital.  He was placed in a fine room,
on. as good a bed as his father's house could fuTnish, and
watched and nursed incessantly.  After every operation
I performed, I made it a rule to visit him and attend to
his case, and I can assure you this duty was performed
by me as a friend, rather than as a mere surgeon.  He
did not suffer much, complained little if at all, smiled
whenever I visited him, but did not react with the vigor
I desired.  Along side of him, in the same room, was a
Captain, who complahied more, seemed as much prostrated, but reacted better.  I at first thought their cases
equally  critical, and the result in the two cases only
proves the difference in the constitutions of individuals.
Adjutant BACON preserved after his wound and the
operation, the same equal mind which characterized him
in health, and his fortitude then was equal to his bravery
in action.
It may be remarked that he went into the action with




APPENDIX.                        81
a presentiment of his being fatally wounded. I received
this from one of his fellow officers. How far this feeling
may have exerted a depressing tendency I cannot say,
but believe that in his case the cause of the fatal result
was the first terrible shock to his system.
There are no particular expressions of his that I can
recall, as he was more remarkable for his modesty, patience and fortitude, than for a disposition to express
to others what he thought or felt.
On the whole, you may assure his friends that his
death was glorious in every respect, whether we regard
his patriotism towards his country, or his private virtues
and the elevation of character manifested in his never
uttering a complaint during his confinement, so far as I
can testify, and never losing the dignity, serenity and
manliness which belonged to him in health.
Col. Peter Lyle, now in command of the brigade,
speaks in high terms of Adjutant BAcoN, and so does
every officer in his regiment, and all sincerely lament his
loss and sympathize with his bereaved relatives.
Joining in these sentiments myself very cordially, I
beg you to present to his father and family the assurance
of my own sympathy, and my deep sense of their loss, in
which I feel myself in some degree an humble sharer.
Your affectionate uncle,
ABM. L. COX
REV. SAMUEL  HANSON COXE.




82           ADJUTANT BACON.
NOTE C.
I was quite surprised, and somewhat tried when this
fact first came to my knowledge.  I had from an early
day, in anticipation of the fatal event, made it my earnest
request and emphatic direction, that in case of his death,
the body of my son should not be committed to the soil
of any rebel State, but carefully embalmed and sent
honme to rest with his fathers.  But a letter subsequently
received from the Chaplain contained a full and most
satisfactory explanation of the whole matter. It appears
that on the morning of his death, there was a strong
expectation that the batteries of the rebels would be
opened and shell the north bank of the river.  Orders
were therefore at once given to remove the wounded from
the hospitals and bury the dead. The Chaplain proposed to carry the body to the rear on his horse, but
Dr. Nordquist strongly advised the burial of the remains for the purposes of preservation, and so marking
the grave that they could be easily recovered. " Under
these circumstances," says Dr. Bristol, "I reluctantly
consented to lay him down in his lonely bed. Those
who loved him, silently and sadly hollowed out his narrow resting place, and John Geers, George Primmer,
William O'Brien and George Bradley, of the TwentySixth, carried hini gently out and laid him down to rest.
I rudely lettered his name on a board to mark his grave,
and thus we left him."  It was a kind and thoughtful
act, and to it I am indebted for the better preservation
of the remains and their safe and speedy recovery.




AP P       E ND I X.              83
NOTE D.
THE YOUTHFUL MARTYR.
The following exquisite lines, the production of a gifted
lady of this city, were sent by the author to the parents
of the late Adjutant BACON. At their earnest solicitation, the writer has consented to their publication, that
other hearts thus sorely visited, may in like manner be
consoled:
Oh, falter not to yield him now
Brave hearts, that gave your only son;
But still before the Father bow
And say in truth, " Thy will be done."
Like faithful Abraham of old,
Ye offered him in sacrifice,
Which God will in remembrance hold,
And recompense beyond the skies.
For bath not Christ, the Lamb, been slain
That they who through obedience grieve,
May at his own right hand again
Their precious ones in joy receive?
Thus may your tears submissive flow
For him whose warfare now is o'er,
Who never more a wound shall know,
Safe landed on the eternal shore.
The early martyred to the truth,
To him the martyr's crown is given,
Unbroken peace, immortal youth,
And palms of victory in Heaven.




E R R A T U' I M.
In the note at the bottom of page 43, instead of "Sir'" before
the name of Philip Francis, read "Dr."




ADDEN DA.
The following account of the presentation of the
foregoing " MEMORIAL" to the classmates of Adjutant BACON, communicated to the Utica Morning
Herald by Prof. Edward North, is published here
at the urgent request of the class, communicated to
the author, and is intended for distribution almost
exclusively among these his College friends and
companions.
PROCEEDINGS OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
HAMILTON COLLEGE, June 12, 1863.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE UTICA MORNING HERALD:
The monotony of College life was relieved this
afternoon by a touching tribute to the memory of
Adjutant BACON, that will not soon be effaced
from the memory of those who were present. The
final examination of the class of 1863, of which
Adjutant BACON was a worthy member, is now in
progress. At the opening of the afternoon session,
Judge Bacon came before the class, and with a
brief address presented each of the classmates of
his son with a copy of the " Memorial of Adjutant
Ht




86         ADJUTANT  BACON.
BACON," which has just appeared from the press of
E. IH. Roberts. The presentation was gracefully
and feelingly accepted by the Valedictorian of the
class, Mr. CHARLES VAN NORDEN, of New York.
The address of Judge Bacon was as follows:
I have long cherished the desire, my young
friends, the classmates and companions of my
departed son, to meet you in this quiet and unostentatious way. I have wished to look into your
faces, and spend a few moments in reviving for a
short space at least, our mutual remembrances of
one who has so recently passed away from the
troubled and tumultuous scenes of earth to the
quiet of the grave, and as I am humbly permitted
to hope, to the peace and rest of Heaven.
With many, if not with the most of you, he
started four years ago upon one stage of life's
journey, the goal of which you are just about to
reach. The prizes and the honors, and what is
better, the solid attainments for which you have
worthily striven, are already, or are soon to be
yours. He has fallen by the way, not because he
was unfit for the race, or a laggard in the arena,
but because it pleased God to call him to another
service, and give him early the crown of martyrdom in a just and righteous cause.
Your regard, your sympathies, and your prayers
I trust went with him, as I know his affections
strongly were with you, and one of the happy




AD DENDA.                87
thoughts that gilded his homeward prospect, when
as he hoped he should return from a service honorably and faithfully fulfilled, was that although
he might not partake of your honors, he would at
least stand by your side on the day of your graduation, and proudly and joyfully say, "These were
my classmates."
It may be known to you that I have employed
some leisure hours of the past winter, in collecting
a few materials and preparing a simple record of
his short, but not altogether uneventful life. It
has been a sad, and yet I may say upon the whole
a pleasing duty, performed indeed in much weakness, and which will I hope receive, what it needs,
the charitable judgment of my friends, and the
friends of my son.
A copy of this Memorial I desire to, and now
propose to place in the hands of each one of his
classmates. You will receive it as the gift of one
who is united to you not only by the tie of a common brotherhood, but by associations that touch
the deepest fountains of feeling within my heart.
It is a very brief record, for life with him was
compressed and compacted substantially into a
few months, but unless I am entirely deceived,
even this short life has in it lessons of principle,
devotion and sacrifice that young hearts may
admire and emulate; and older heads not unprofitably ponder.  It contains the substance of all I
have been able to gather, or my own personal
knowledge and reflection have supplied me with,




88         ADJUTANT BACON.
concerning his acts, and the motives and impulses
that prompted them.
You all remember the electric shock that
thrilled the land when traitorous hands leveled
their deadly missives at the feeble garrison of
Sumpter and the good old flag that proudly
floated above it. You knew the impulsive, and I
may say here I suppose without impeachment, the
intrepid character of my son. He felt that stain
like a wound, and with scarce a pause for reflection, sprang instinctively to the post of duty and
of danger. On the twelfth of April, 1861, rebel
guns stolen from the Government, opened upon
Fort Sumpter; on the fifteenth the President's
proclamation called for seventy-five thousand volunteers; on the nineteenth WILLIE preferred his
dutiful request to be one of the number; gained
full and free parental consent, and on the morning
of the twentieth was enrolled as a private in the
Fourteenth Regiment of N. Y. Volunteers. His
career from that time to the day when with bowed
heads but unmurmuring hearts, we laid him down
to his final earthly rest, is told, I hope without
exaggeration, in these few pages. You will read
them for his sake. You will see that in his
closing hours, half unconscious as they were, busy
memory recalled the scenes of his College life,
and mingled them with his dear home, and those
who tenderly cherished him there. If tears shall
glisten in your eyes at the perusal, they will not
stain your manly cheeks, for of him I may say




ADDENDA.                   89
without arrogance, and of each of you with little
liability to misconception,
"Multis ille bonis fiebilis occidit,
Nulli flebilior, quam tibi."
There is no need, perhaps no propriety, my
young friends, that I should speak to you of the personal and social qualities that marked his character.
Like all fathers, I can not claim exemption from
the blind side, which is inevitable from our position, and of course I am liable to misjudge his
motives and over-estimate his conduct.  To me
however he was ever eminently frank and truthful;
the sweetest and most unreserved confidence existed between us; I was one of the sharers of his
joys and sorrows, and if ever I had the privilege of
looking down into a human soul transparently
opened to my gaze, I persuade myself that I possessed it fully in respect to him. I think I can
not be mistaken in saying that his motives in the
chief and crowning act of his life were highly
patriotic and. eminently self-sacrificing.  Some
evidences of this you will find in the Memorial I
present to you; and as these sentiments were
uttered in the unreserve and privacy of a correspondence never destined for the public eye, they
will be accepted I think as truthful and sincere.
It may readily be conceived that as he was an
only son, I was not without my visions of what
the future might have in store for him.  I can
truly say, however, that I never indulged any
H*




90         ADJUTANT  BACON.
extravagant expectations of his future eminence,
for I never conceived him to be in any respect an
extraordinary character. The crucial test of the
Nation's agony suddenly brought to the surface
qualities which before in a measure slumbered, a
calm courage and a persistent devotion to the cause
he had espoused, that although I might have conceived of their existence, I had not expected to
see brought into such strong relief. A stern sense
of duty was I think the ruling passion that carried
him to the field and kept him there, while some
others, superior to him in rank, and charged with
far higher responsibilities, faltered and failed.
Some of my visions were associated with you
and the scenes of that coming day when you will
leave this your dear nursing mother to encounter
the " dust and sweat" of the world's great theatre,
where you too are to play your parts. In the
mind's eye I saw him pass off this mimic stage to
the broader field where men in the stern conflict
of life contend for victory. If his taste and inclination had led him, as I had supposed they
would, into the profession which his ancestors for
three generations had pursued, I had thought
that one oft my occupations in the evening of
life, now fast approaching, would be to guide
in some measure his studies, to take him by the
hand and lead him, as well as I knew how, to
the " apices juris," the higher and the nobler
walks of legal life, and shed upon his pathway, to
the extent of my ability, something of that which




ADDENDA.                  91
Lord Coke characterizes as " the gladsome light of
jurisprudence"  These visions are all ended-I
will not say in grief and disappointment-for God
had other purposes, and let me say far higher
ends for him to accomplish, than could have been
achieved by the most successful professional
career. Although he was cut down upon the very
threshold of manhood, with a character as yet
but very imperfectly developed, he had his
mission, which his Heavenly Father enabled him
to accomplish.
" That life is long that answers life's great end,"
says a high authority. By the grace of God he
attained that end, and I am content. In the order
of nature, and the usual allotments of Providence,
I should long have preceded him to the grave. I
shall not have the strong arm and the energetic
will that I fancied in the coming days I might
lean upon and confide in. I must look forhim
ntow beyond the stars, and if they who bear the
cross shall inherit the crown, I may hope to meet
him with the martyred host that have "come out
of great tribulation, and have washed their robes,
and made them white in the blood of the Iamb. "
I should do injustice to my own feelings, and a
wrong to his memory, if I should fail to testify to
the great goodness of our covenant God in the
blessed assurance he permits us to entertain, that
having honorably fulfilled his earthly mission, he
has gone to his reward among the pure and the




92         ADJUJANT BACON.
just in his Father's kingdom. Some of the evidences upon which this conviction is founded, will
appear in the Memorial I present to you, while
others have been conveyed to us in the narratives
of loving friends, and from those to whom he
unbosomed himself more freely in hours of sacred
confidence.  He was too truthful and sincere to
make any declaration that he did not feel, and so
distrustful of himself, and so anxious not to create
an impression beyond the simple facts, that words
from him on the subject of the higher relations of
his being, had double power from the very reticence that restrained a fuller and ampler utterance.
He died as he lived, full of love to all things
beautiful and pure, bowing to his destiny with
manly fortitude and resignation, with an unquenched patriotism that counted life as well lost
in the cause of his country, and in the peace of
his God and Saviour.
To many, may I not hope to all of you, my
young friends, and especially to those who so recently, through the golden leaved gates of hope and
faith, have, as you trust, entered into the kingdom
of the Master, this assurance will be welcomed
with high satisfaction. On the thirtieth of March
last, my kind friend Professor North, who has
done much to embalm the precious memory of
WILLIE, wrote me a letter which contained the
following sentence: "The death of three students
who had enlisted for the war, has had something
to do with the good work which God is doing in




ADDENDA.                 93
the College this Term." Of these students two
were your classmates, him whom I have attempted
to commemorate, and the other the bright, the
noble, the heroic TURNER. This statement was to
me most deeply interesting and affecting. There
had been hours-I confess it with humiliationduring the past long and dreary winter, while the
winds were howling their sad requiem over what
seemed at such moments his untimely grave, when
the cloud above my head was so dense and dark
that I could not see even the silver lining that
fringed it; but that simple fact drew aside the
dark curtain, and through the rift in the cloud I
saw the shining light and the throne all radiant
beyond it, and as in a mirror I seemed to behold
a new beauty in that life, and a wonderful significance in that death; and while I could ne'er
forget, I less deplored my loss. Mysterious are
the ways of Providence, more marvellous the
pathway of the Spirit which can thus employ the
red hand of war to guide the soul into God's
perfect peace.
I place in each of your hands this little unpretending book. I do it with the hope that it may
not only revive pleasant remembrances of your
yjuthul fried, hut that it may give you a higher
estimate of the mighty conflict in which we are
engaged. I do not urge you to follow him to the
field where his young life was crushed out, but I
do earnestly ask you to stand by the country and
the Government, and by tongue and pen, by open




94         ADJUTANT  BACON.
testimony and by secret supplication you commend
the great cause to the support of all honest and
loyal hearts, and the favor and blessing of
Almighty God. I shall follow you into life with
interest strong and abiding in your welfare and
success. May you each and all have grace to
serve your generation in whatever useful or honorable career you may be called to act, to do
something for your dear country in her hour of
need, and much, very much, for truth and righteousness, and the building up and extension of the
kingdom of Christ our Saviour; and when called
hence, having fulfilled your earthly mission,
"Pass through glory's morning gate,
And walk in Paradise."
Mr. VAN NORDEN'S response was in these
words:
DEAR SIR, —It seems to devolve on me to represent my classmates in expressing our sympathy
for you in your bereavement, and our high appreciation of your kindness in supplying us with
these tokens of our lamented classmate.  You
could not have presented to us a more acceptable
gift. These Memorials will point us to facts and
incidents concerning his earlier life and warlike
experiences, of which we knew little. But, Sir,
we needed no memorial. The image of WILLIE
BACON is as fresh and clearly defined in our
minds to-day, as when he left us for the army.




ADDENDA.                  95
His open countenance and manly traits are too
firmly fixed in our minds ever to be effaced by
time. We remember him as he was when he
entered College with us; we remember him as he
was when he left us to fight the battles of his
country; as the warrior-student we shall ever
remember him.
We beheld him, dear sir, from a stand-point
different from yours; but we feel that your
parental affection and pride were not misplaced.
Although he did not study hard during the short
period of his collegate career, he stood high
among his classmates.
He had a reserved power within him, which
only needed study and training, or the quickening
of some sudden emergency, to develop into mental
acquirements and abilities of the highest order.
He was no less distinguished for the nicety of his
sensibilities, and the warmth and depth of his
emotional nature, than for his intellectual gifts.
Perhaps his most striking trait was his fearlessness.
It adorned his countenanance, and beamed in his
bold, dauntless eye.  His ingenuousness was
marked by every one. He was the soul of honor.
No one can accuse him of ever having consciously
done a mean or ungenerous thing. His courage,
too, was noted by us all; and when in the hour of
his country's dire need he hastened to her defense,
we all felt that we had sent forth to the conflict a
daring soul, who would not quail at the prospect of
death itself. And we are assured now, that had
his life been spared, his courage, his splendid




96         ADJUTANT  BACON.
talents, his restless energy, his all-absorbing devotion and high toned sensibilities would have, as
they already had, insured him speedy promotion
among his fellow officers.
And when the news flashed over the wires that
WILLIE BACON had offered up his life on his
country's altar-a willing sacrifice to freedomthat he had died whilst bravely leading his men
into the thickest of the battle, our hearts were
stricken with sorrow; but our grief was tempered
with joy, for our own classmate had died the death
of a hero. We would offer our heartfelt sympathy
for your loss, but we at the same time congratulate
you on being the father of such a son. Especially
we rejoice with you, that in his dying hours he
gave his heart to his Saviour; and that now, his
battles fought, his victory won, he reigns in glory!
Your loss-our loss-has been his gain! Sir, you
have no cause for sorrow. Your son died a most
enviable death. A manly soul, possessed of rare
talents, full of generosity and ingenuousness, a
martyr to freedom, his death is more glorious
than the lives of many others. Henceforth he is
enshrined in the hearts of all who knew him as
one of our country's fallen heroes.
We thank you, sir, for these Memorials, these
souvenirs of your beloved son, these tokens of
your own good will. We accept them with gratitude. Be sure we shall preserve and esteem them
as treasures. And throughout our lives we shall
ever look back to WILLIE as one of the brightest
jewels in the chaplet of our Alma Mater.




ADDENDA.                       97
From the Cleveland (Ohio) Daily Herald of May 20, 1863.
A YOUNG SOLDIER'S GRAVE.
EDITORS OF THE HERALD,Will it be asking too much to request of you the
publication of the following lines? A brief story will
properly introduce them.  iMany hundred miles from
here, in a quiet rural cemetery in Central New York, a
young soldier sleeps, who gave all he had-his life-for
his country.  When the guns of' traitors aimed at the
starving garrison of Sumpter, startled the land, they
found him at his books in an Eastern College.  With
the prompt instinct of patriotism, he dropped the toga
of the scholar, and seized the sword of the volunteer.
Wounded once, he returned again to the field, and in
the first battle of Fredericksburgh fell a martyr to the
holy cause he had with all the ardor of his nature
espoused.  His story is but one of a thousand which
these sad and trying days are multiplying.
lie was an only son, the central object around which
the fondest affections and proudest hopes of his kindred
were gathered. Ile sleeps, not where the foot of "the
foe and the stranger will tread o'er his head," but where
the hand of love can garnish his sepulchre.
One who loved him dearly, a few days ago placed
Wuon his monument a bunch of pure, wite ftowers, and,
returning from her pious errand, expressed the feeling of
the moment in the following lines.  They may, perchance, strike a responsive chord in some other stricken
heart.                                           C.




98             ADJUTANT BACON.
TO A WREATH OF WHITE FLOWERS ON WILLIE'S GRAVE.
Lie there upon his grave, pale lovely flowers,
Mute emblems, all unconscious of your trust,
And yield your incense for a few short hours,
Then die. above a hero's sacred dust.
Pure are your leaves, no shadows cloud their snows,
No crimson flush, half hidden, hints of blame,
His stainless honor shames the fairest rose,
No blemish soils the whiteness of his fame.
Your pale lips lie apart, your dying breath
Flows out in delicate odors sweet and rare,
His memory breathes in blessing after death,
Its heavenly fragrance haunts this earthly air.
Lie there, all helpless as he lies to-day,
Frail trembling buds, nor heed the tears we shed,
Like him fear not to give your lives away,
One more sad tribute to the early dead.
Ilis fate and yours are one;-fair stately flower,
Cut down upon the land he could not save;
Ilis memory lends its sweetness for an hour,
Then dies a guiltless offering on her grave.
UTICA, N. Y., Mlay 12, 1863.