Monthly Archives: December 2024

A Decade and a Year in Review

Detail from stationery used in a letter by a 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer to his parents (1862, public domain).

When I launched the website for 47th Pennsylvania Volunteers: One Civil War Regiment’s Story in 2014, my goal was simple — to create an online space that could function as a basic “placeholder” for the research that I had been conducting, for years, about the life of my great-grandfather, Timothy M. Snyder, who had served with the 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry during the American Civil War.

I was simply trying to understand why Tim Snyder had continued to serve with his regiment for such a long period of time (from mid-August 1861 through early January 1866), despite having completed his initial, three-year term of enlistment and despite his having been wounded twice in battle.

Along the way, I began uncovering details about another man — Henry D. Wharton. It seemed, from letters that Henry had written to my great-grandfather’s hometown newspaper, that he had not only served beside Tim Snyder on battlefields far from home, but that he might actually have been Tim’s neighbor or friend — or possibly even his cousin.

So, I began searching Civil War-era newspaper collections for more of Henry Wharton’s letters in the hope of finding more information about my great-grandfather, but what I found was so much more — accounts of battles so poetic, so lyrical, that I felt that Henry might have become a friend of mine, had we lived in the same town, during the same decades.

I needed to know what happened to Henry. Did he survive? Did he make it home? What was his life like before the war? How did he become such a gifted writer? As I learned more about him, I realized that, yes, he did survive, and, yes, he did marry — but he never had children. (“So there’s no one left to tell his story.”)

It was that single thought that inspired me to research and write a biography about Henry Wharton, and it was that biography that prompted me, in turn, to create 47th Pennsylvania Volunteers: One Civil War Regiment’s Story.

I could not have imagined back then that my research would attract the attention of descendants of other men who had also served with the 47th Pennsylvania, nor that my research findings would be of help to other academic and public historians and educators in K-12 school systems, colleges and universities, historical societies, public libraries, and museums across the United States.

Nor could I have anticipated the extraordinary generosity of the volunteers who have trekked over hill and dale through cemeteries, in all kinds of weather, to photograph the graves of 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantrymen, or have ventured to far-flung flea markets and archives of small-town historical societies (or into the dusty, spider-friendly attics of grandparents — “Eek!”) in search of military records, photos and other memorabilia to help me create accurate biographies of their 47th Pennsylvania ancestors.

And I certainly could not have conceived of any future in which my audience would become a global one, with readers of my posts about the regiment’s activities and biographies of individual soldiers transformed into avid fans of the 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantrymen who helped to preserve a nation’s Union and end the brutal practice of chattel slavery, wherever they encountered it, whenever they had the power to do so.

But each of those scenarios did come to pass, fueled largely by word of mouth. As my research findings grew, transforming a “placeholder website” into an educational outreach initiative, WordPress and other technology tools documented the history of “The 47th Pennsylvania Volunteers’ Project,” enabling me to provide this helpful snapshot of success for you.

Key Project Statistics (as of 2 p.m. on December 31, 2024):

  • First Content Posted to Website: May 25, 2014
  • Total Website Page Views to Date: 892,101
  • Total Number of Website Visitors to Date: 745,686
  • Total Number of 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Gravesites Documented via the Project’s Virtual Cemetery to Date: 1,448
  • Total Number of Individual Officers, Enlisted Men and Regimental Support Personnel Profiled to Date: 302

I am profoundly grateful to my great-grandfather. He bequeathed the gift of all gifts to each of his descendants and to history lovers everywhere — breadcrumbs scattered, with and without thought, along the path of his life’s journey, never dreaming that his “factcrumbs” would be found, analyzed, layered and baked into satisfying, lifelong “brainfood” for present-day and future students of history.

I am also grateful to Henry Wharton for his presence of mind to faithfully chronicle the activities of the 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry in ways that made readers want to learn more about so many of the regiment’s individual members and their families.

As I close out both 2024 and the first decade of operations for “the 47th Pennsylvania Volunteers’ Project,” I thank you, dear reader, for joining me on this journey and ask to you to stay engaged with the content on this website, its related social media accounts and our companion website, Freedmen of the 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, because there are more than a thousand soldiers’ stories that are still waiting to be uncovered and told.

May your New Year be filled with laughter, love and light!

 

Poetry of the American Civil War: “An Evening in Camp” (December 28, 1861)

“Our Heaven Born Banner” (William Bauly, circa 1861, U.S. Library of Congress, public domain).

It is evening on the camp ground, and the fading sunlight gleams,
Over hill tops, into valleys and adown the winding streams;

Weary drill at last is ended, and the soldiers gather in
To the music of the fifers and the sweet-toned violin.

Noble sons of patriot fathers, loving freedom most of all,
Dreading more the tyrant’s sceptre than the rifle’s deadly ball;

Each within his homely quarters, on his hard unpillowed bed,
Takes the uninviting supper, by no loving mother spread.

Not for them the winter fire where the family group is found,
Pleasant converse, peals of laughter, merry jestings circling round;

Where the mother piles her knitting, and the sisters read or sew,
And the father paints in language, “miracles of long ago.”

Not for them! yet through their changes, Memory keeps her taper bright,
Lighting up the streams of day-time, and the visions of the night;

Hearts that know no selfish terror, through their tender pulses send,
Throbs of strong magnetic feeling, to the parent or the friend.

One is writing to his mother, and his thoughtful eye grows dim,
With the memory of her kindness, and her loving care for him;

Patient of his youthful follies, quick to lead and slow to blame,
Rising with his rising honor, sinking if he sink to shame.

Well she knows her pillowed slumbers are not as they were of old;
Well he knows the grief and terror that her pen hath never told;

And he sees the dark brown tresses, growing whiter day by day,
Since her country’s tocsin sounded, and she gave her all away.

And another reads the message that a Father’s hand hath sent,
Strong in courage, wise in council, glowing with a high intent;

“All his prayers go forth to bless him–he has been his pride and joy,
And the hopes of past and present crowd around his darling boy.”

With a quivering lip he folds it, but his keen and steady eye,
Speaks the strong, unshaken courage, that shall conquer or shall die;

Gentle words a wife has written, there the husband reads to-night,
And his manly tears are hidden in the fading winter light.

Then he folds his daughter’s billet in a warm and close embrace,
Her’s, who holds the prisoned sunbeams of eight summers in her face;

Ah! he cares not for the blunders, through each blurred and crooked line,
All the glances of her blue eyes and her bady graces shine.

Needs must tremble they who called him from such pleasures to the strife,
He will keep his vow of vengeance at the peril of his life;

Where the sunbeams linger longest, heeding not the frosty air,
With his pale young forehead shaded, sits another reading there.

One who loved him like the poets, shared this in the days gone by,
And each line looks kindly at him through that sister’s speaking eye.

“Sits she in the dear old Study, reading what I read to-night,
Tracing out the rhythmic numbers, in the flashing crimson light;

Or, perchance, the lamps are lighted, and she pens the gentle line
That gives olden warmth and comfort to this stranger life of mine.”

There a young man holds a locket, gazing on a face so dear,
That the past becomes the present, and the far away the near;

Over streams, and hills and vallies, he is standing by her side,
And her dark brown eyes are liquid with the gush of love and pride.

Sweeter than the sounds of summer is the language that she speaks;
Fairer than June’s fairest blossoms, are the roses on her cheeks,

And he feels to-day more worthy plighted heart and hand,
Than when peace and smiling plenty blessed his sorrowing Fatherland.

Breaking on the evening’s bustle calls the drum to muster roll,
And the soldier’s sterner duties shade the fancies of his soul.

Turning to their straw and blankets, quiet slumbers close them round;
Nothing but the sentry’s pacing breaks the silence of the ground,

And the stars look kindly on them from the blue etherial sea,
Leading on the Hosts of Freemen through the gates of victory.

MELROSE

 

Source:

“Select Poetry [from the West Chester (Pa) Times].” Sunbury, Pennsylvania: The Sunbury American, 28 December 1861.