Damian Shiels's Blog, page 8

Ireland’s Forgotten Great War? Re-evaluating the American Civil War’s Place in Irish History

Back in 2019 I published a feature in History Ireland magazine exploring the importance of the American Civil War in the context of Irish history, and the reasons behind a need to improve on the relative neglect it has suffered in Irish historical circles. The article has now been made freely available to read on the History Ireland website; those interested can access it here.

Andersonville Irish Spotlight: Grave 12083. Stephen Small, A “Misused” Child Laborer

To the police of Albany, New York, the Small brothers were well-known troublemakers. The two boys, Henry and Stephen, were born in Albany to Irish immigrant parents in the 1840s. Their mother Hannah died when they were little, leaving them in the care of their father Hugh, who kept a grocery business, selling liquor and cigars and occasionally hosting dances. Hugh was himself no stranger to law enforcement; local newspapers reported he had been arrested for assault and battery as well as trespassing. His sons could neither read nor write and rarely attended school. Henry, the eldest, occasionally found work in Albany, while Stephen spent some time roaming the nearby countryside, finding work with local farmers in exchange for meals and a place to stay. (1)

[image error]Albany, New York, c. 1853 (Wikimedia Commons)

Hugh Small had Henry committed to the New York House of Refuge in June 1861 after he accused the boy of stealing his pistol. Stephen Small followed his big brother a month later, after the Albany Court of Special Sessions found him guilty of petty larceny for robbing fifty cents from a store’s money drawer. Henry and Stephen were respectively fourteen and thirteen years old at the time of their commitments. The House of Refuge in which they were imprisoned was a state-run reformatory located on Randall’s Island in New York City. Juvenile inmates were housed there in solitary, windowless cells and wore drab gray uniforms stitched and mended by the youths themselves. In addition to providing a classroom education to its inmates, the House also included a shoemaking workshop and other manufacturing facilities that employed boys to outside contractors for low wages. Investigations in the late 1860s into the early 1870s revealed that these contractors frequently abused the boys in their care, beating them, whipping them, and stomping on their bare toes for infractions such as speaking during work hours, or making poor quality merchandise. (2)

[image error]New York House of Refuge, c. 1853 (New York Public Library)

The House staff knew of the Small boys’ “bad reputation” in Albany, but they were surprised to find that both fared well within their institution. Perhaps the brothers likewise knew of the House’s bad reputation and feared what would happen if they stepped out of line, or maybe they were eager to make the best of a lousy situation and saw an opportunity to receive an education and learn new trades. To be sure, poverty, abuse, and neglect were common root causes of juvenile crime in the 19th century as much as they are today. Henry was incarcerated at the House for about two years, and was finally discharged in June 1863 to the care of his uncle in Albany. At about the same time, the House indentured Stephen to a farmer named Isaac Price in Riverhead, New York, a small town on Long Island. The House of Refuge regularly employed indenturement contracts for the conditional release of its inmates. The institution had an Indenturing Committee which reviewed each case and sought to find suitable places for many boys and girls, often in rural communities. They justified this policy as a means of removing troubled children from previous sources of temptation in the cities while instilling them with better work ethics and teaching them new vocations in the process. The arrangements usually also included barring children’s parents from knowing their whereabouts. The system was deeply flawed, and indenturements often ended with unhappy children running away or being sent back to the House by frustrated masters. (3)

The following April, the staff of the House of Refuge received an anonymous letter indicating that Stephen Small was being abused by his master Isaac Price. The House wrote to the local police, who in turn paid a visit to Price to investigate the matter further. They were too late; by the time they arrived at Price’s farm, the teenage laborer was long gone. Price, it seemed, had coerced Stephen into enlisting in the Army and claimed the boy’s bounty money for himself. Stephen Small was enrolled as a private in the 51st New York Infantry, a veteran regiment of the Army of the Potomac’s Ninth Corps, on 31st March 1864. The regiment’s descriptive lists indicate he stood 5’3 ¼ inches tall and had hazel eyes, black hair, and a dark complexion. Stephen gave his occupation as shoemaker, a trade he likely picked up while employed in the shoemaking shop at the House of Refuge. Although his age was recorded as nineteen, in reality he was just sixteen years old. (4)

[image error]Stephen Small’s muster roll abstract (New York State Archives)

Stephen Small was not long in the 51st before the regiment was thrown into the “meat grinder” of the 1864 Overland Campaign, suffering heavy casualties in the battles of the Wilderness and Spotsylvania. On 18th May, in the midst of the latter engagement, Private Small was recorded as a deserter on his unit’s muster rolls. He was captured by Confederate troops ten days later and sent to Camp Sumter, the notorious prisoner of war camp at Andersonville, Georgia. After six months of captivity, Stephen Small died in November 1864. His cause of death was listed as scorbutus, also known as scurvy, almost certainly the result of malnutrition due to the starvation conditions of the prison. The House’s records note that after hearing of his son’s death, Stephen’s father Hugh repeatedly wrote the institution for more information. They do not indicate how they replied, what became of the boy’s bounty, or whether Isaac Price ever faced any repercussions for sending a minor off to war for his own financial gain. (5)

[image error]Prisoners being buried at Andersonville (National Archives)

While the House of Refuge’s case history file provides some glimpse into Stephen Small’s brief but eventful life, it does not catalog his dreams and aspirations, nor indicate if he had any at all. It doesn’t say whether he loved, or was loved, if he doodled on his writing slate in class, or had a favorite song that played in his head through lonesome nights in his dark cell. It can’t tell us how long a dirt road in rural New York felt to a young immigrants’ son as he trod through unknown countryside pursuing visions of a warm meal and a cozy barn to sleep in just around the bend somewhere. And it fails to mention whether a stolen half dollar bought Stephen bread or tobacco or a new pair of shoes. It does, however, trace the bare bones of how that fistful of coins led Stephen down a different road, one that ended with starvation at a place called Andersonville. 

[image error]The grave of Stephen Small at Andersonville National Cemetery (Find A Grave)

References

(1) New York House of Refuge case histories; Albany Morning Times.

(2) Case histories; House of Refuge Annual Reports; 1871 Report of the NY State Commission on Prison Labor;

(3) Case histories;

(4) Case histories; New York Muster Roll Abstracts.

(5) Case histories; New York Muster Roll Abstracts.

Andersonville Irish Spotlight: Grave 12083. Stephen Small, A ���Misused��� Child Laborer

To the police of Albany, New York, the Small brothers were well-known troublemakers. The two boys, Henry and Stephen, were born in Albany to Irish immigrant parents in the 1840s. Their mother Hannah died when they were little, leaving them in the care of their father Hugh, who kept a grocery business, selling liquor and cigars and occasionally hosting dances. Hugh was himself no stranger to law enforcement; local newspapers reported he had been arrested for assault and battery as well as trespassing. His sons could neither read nor write and rarely attended school. Henry, the eldest, occasionally found work in Albany, while Stephen spent some time roaming the nearby countryside, finding work with local farmers in exchange for meals and a place to stay. (1)

[image error]Albany, New York, c. 1853 (Wikimedia Commons)

Hugh Small had Henry committed to the New York House of Refuge in June 1861 after he accused the boy of stealing his pistol. Stephen Small followed his big brother a month later, after the Albany Court of Special Sessions found him guilty of petty larceny for robbing fifty cents from a store���s money drawer. Henry and Stephen were respectively fourteen and thirteen years old at the time of their commitments. The House of Refuge in which they were imprisoned was a state-run reformatory located on Randall���s Island in New York City. Juvenile inmates were housed there in solitary, windowless cells and wore drab gray uniforms stitched and mended by the youths themselves. In addition to providing a classroom education to its inmates, the House also included a shoemaking workshop and other manufacturing facilities that employed boys to outside contractors for low wages. Investigations in the late 1860s into the early 1870s revealed that these contractors frequently abused the boys in their care, beating them, whipping them, and stomping on their bare toes for infractions such as speaking during work hours, or making poor quality merchandise. (2)

[image error]New York House of Refuge, c. 1853 (New York Public Library)

The House staff knew of the Small boys��� ���bad reputation��� in Albany, but they were surprised to find that both fared well within their institution. Perhaps the brothers likewise knew of the House���s bad reputation and feared what would happen if they stepped out of line, or maybe they were eager to make the best of a lousy situation and saw an opportunity to receive an education and learn new trades. To be sure, poverty, abuse, and neglect were common root causes of juvenile crime in the 19th century as much as they are today. Henry was incarcerated at the House for about two years, and was finally discharged in June 1863 to the care of his uncle in Albany. At about the same time, the House indentured Stephen to a farmer named Isaac Price in Riverhead, New York, a small town on Long Island. The House of Refuge regularly employed indenturement contracts for the conditional release of its inmates. The institution had an Indenturing Committee which reviewed each case and sought to find suitable places for many boys and girls, often in rural communities. They justified this policy as a means of removing troubled children from previous sources of temptation in the cities while instilling them with better work ethics and teaching them new vocations in the process. The arrangements usually also included barring children���s parents from knowing their whereabouts. The system was deeply flawed, and indenturements often ended with unhappy children running away or being sent back to the House by frustrated masters. (3)

The following April, the staff of the House of Refuge received an anonymous letter indicating that Stephen Small was being abused by his master Isaac Price. The House wrote to the local police, who in turn paid a visit to Price to investigate the matter further. They were too late; by the time they arrived at Price���s farm, the teenage laborer was long gone. Price, it seemed, had coerced Stephen into enlisting in the Army and claimed the boy���s bounty money for himself. Stephen Small was enrolled as a private in the 51st New York Infantry, a veteran regiment of the Army of the Potomac���s Ninth Corps, on 31st March 1864. The regiment���s descriptive lists indicate he stood 5���3 �� inches tall and had hazel eyes, black hair, and a dark complexion. Stephen gave his occupation as shoemaker, a trade he likely picked up while employed in the shoemaking shop at the House of Refuge. Although his age was recorded as nineteen, in reality he was just sixteen years old. (4)

[image error]Stephen Small’s muster roll abstract (New York State Archives)

Stephen Small was not long in the 51st before the regiment was thrown into the ���meat grinder��� of the 1864 Overland Campaign, suffering heavy casualties in the battles of the Wilderness and Spotsylvania. On 18th May, in the midst of the latter engagement, Private Small was recorded as a deserter on his unit���s muster rolls. He was captured by Confederate troops ten days later and sent to Camp Sumter, the notorious prisoner of war camp at Andersonville, Georgia. After six months of captivity, Stephen Small died in November 1864. His cause of death was listed as scorbutus, also known as scurvy, almost certainly the result of malnutrition due to the starvation conditions of the prison. The House���s records note that after hearing of his son���s death, Stephen���s father Hugh repeatedly wrote the institution for more information. They do not indicate how they replied, what became of the boy���s bounty, or whether Isaac Price ever faced any repercussions for sending a minor off to war for his own financial gain. (5)

[image error]Prisoners being buried at Andersonville (National Archives)

While the House of Refuge���s case history file provides some glimpse into Stephen Small���s brief but eventful life, it does not catalog his dreams and aspirations, nor indicate if he had any at all. It doesn���t say whether he loved, or was loved, if he doodled on his writing slate in class, or had a favorite song that played in his head through lonesome nights in his dark cell. It can���t tell us how long a dirt road in rural New York felt to a young immigrants��� son as he trod through unknown countryside pursuing visions of a warm meal and a cozy barn to sleep in just around the bend somewhere. And it fails to mention whether a stolen half dollar bought Stephen bread or tobacco or a new pair of shoes. It does, however, trace the bare bones of how that fistful of coins led Stephen down a different road, one that ended with starvation at a place called Andersonville.��

[image error]The grave of Stephen Small at Andersonville National Cemetery (Find A Grave)

References

(1) New York House of Refuge case histories; Albany Morning Times.

(2) Case histories; House of Refuge Annual Reports; 1871 Report of the NY State Commission on Prison Labor;

(3) Case histories;

(4) Case histories; New York Muster Roll Abstracts.

(5) Case histories; New York Muster Roll Abstracts.

Podcast: Andersonville Prisoners & Leadville Miners

I recently had an opportunity to return to the Irish Stew Podcast for a really interesting discussion with show hosts Martin and John. This episode was a four-way conversation that looked not only at our work on the Andersonville Irish Project, but also that of Professor Jim Walsh on the 19th century Irish miners of Leadville, Colorado. There was a lot of crossover in what we are finding out in our respective projects, and I thought it made for a really interesting discussion. If you would like to listen back to it, you can find the podcast episode by clicking here or at the link below. I hope you enjoy it!

S3E3: Jim Walsh & Damian Shiels – Unearthing Diaspora History

How much of our history would remain buried if not for a few intrepid explorers of the past? In this episode we explore little known Irish diaspora stories buried in cemeteries over 1,300 miles apart in Colorado and Georgia. Drawing on his research of an abandoned cemetery high in the Rocky Mountains, historian Prof.

Andersonville Irish: The First 450 Infographic

As the Andersonville Irish Project progresses, we are producing infographics to provide some of the headline details in an easy to digest form. The first of these looked at the initial 350 men identified in the National Cemetery. Having passed the 450 identified milestone, the latest Infographic incorporates what we have learned so far. You can explore the infographic in detail by clicking on the image below to enlarge it. As always, thanks to the Irish Consulate General of Atlanta, Andersonville National Historic Site and Professor Nicholas Allen of the Willson Center for Humanities and Arts for their ongoing support of the project, and to those who have contributed to the database to date.

[image error] Andersonville Irish First 450 Infographic (Click to Enlarge)

Video: Discovering the Andersonville Irish

Back in June I gave an online presentation for the Consulate General of Ireland in Atlanta on the topic of the Andersonville Irish Project. The Consulate have provided invaluable support and assistance to the project thus far as we continue to progress with our database and in sharing our discoveries. The talk has now been made available for viewing via the Consulate’s YouTube page, which you can check out here, or directly below. I hope you enjoy it!

Fictional Figures in Irish American Civil War Songs: Paddy O���Toole and Mister McFinnigan

In the first in an exciting new series exploring fictional figures in Irish American Civil War Songs, Catherine explores the characters of Paddy O’Toole and Mister McFinnigan:

Back in June, I was lucky enough to be on a panel about ���Race, Ethnicity and Memory in the Popular Music of the Civil War��� as part of the 2021 Society of Civil War Historians conference. As well as discussing the overwhelming power and importance of wartime music, commentary and questions on the panel papers turned to the way culture created, shaped and reinforced immigrant identities.

We are very familiar with real-life examples of Irish-born and descended soldiers and their families on this website, but there were other contemporary fictional Irish Americans who appeared in the public sphere during the 1860s. They have stories of their own that are worth telling. One of the primary outlets of the diaspora���s views in the middle of the war was through the words of Miles O���Reilly, the fictional soldier of the 47th Regiment, New York Volunteers. He was a creation of the County Meath native, writer and military aide Charles Graham Halpine. Depicted as a seasoned solider, Halpine used O���Reilly to detail the views of ordinary Union Army soldiers, often (though not exclusively) with an Irish background.

[image error]The fictional Private Miles O���Reilly composing on of his (Halpine���s) wartime opinion pieces (Image provided by Catherine V. Bateson)

Through the fictional persona of O���Reilly, Halpine ���publicized the communal meanings of Irish American service��� from 1863 onwards, when stories about his wartime adventures circulated the New York Herald and in two subsequent wartime publications ��� Life and Adventures of Private Miles O���Reilly (1864) and Baked Meats at the Funeral (1866). (1) So convincing were these fictional Irish American tales that many across the northern home-front ���viewed Halpine���s writings as genuine expressions of soldier opinion���. (2) In particular, Halpine used O���Reilly to present pro-Lincoln administration wartime policy arguments in favour of emancipation and African American soldier service, and criticized those protesting the Union draft in the wake of the New York City Draft Riots in July 1863.

While Halpine���s creation received the most publicity at the time ��� and the most attention since in accounts of Irish American wartime views (even though Halpine wrote far more non-fictional pieces that reflected his own opinions rather that that of his fictional creation) ��� this more famed Irish American Civil War writer was not the only one using fiction to make salient points. Sparked by one of the comments relating to my conference paper back in June about the way standard stereotypes of Irishmen in 1860s America have a habit of coming to the fore in the popular imagination, this post marks the start of a series of blogs looking at the appearance and use of fictional figures in Irish American Civil War songs. The series will look at how they were presented, what their lyrical message was, and what we can learn about the Irish American wartime experience through contemporary fictional lenses. The use of personas and fictional characters to articulate viewpoints is something common in traditional Irish song culture ��� just think of how many lamenting immigrants and sweethearts there are in folk ballads. This trope was a familiar and effective one, and presents another viewpoint to aid our understanding of the wider impact the Civil War had on the Irish American diaspora.

To start the series off, I���m going to focus on one of my favourite wartime ballads, and favourite fictional figures ��� Paddy O���Toole and Mister McFinnigan ��� the stars of O���Toole & McFinnigan On The War, written first in 1861. Described as being ���Two Irishmen out of employ���, they start the song sitting about, ���smoking and taking it lazily��� ��� the earmarks of the beginnings to a musical hall sketch about Irish immigrants. O���Toole ��� who goes by both stereotypical names of Paddy and Pat ��� is portrayed as a lively ���broth of a boy���, who is the first conversational voice heard in the song. Turning to McFinnigan, O���Toole says:

I think of enlistin������

Because, do you see what o���clock it is?

There���s nothing adoin��� at all. (3)

Initially this presents the idea of war service as reliving boredom and a form of some employment that will keep the young men occupied. The lack of employment for Irish migrants is a common theme in mid-nineteenth century Irish American history; indeed the 1864 ballad A Lamentation on the American War: Awful Battle at Vicksburg also observed that ���employment has declined��� for Irish migrant men in the United States. (4) However, O���Toole goes further to remind his companion that any ���drinking at Mrs O���Docharty���s��� to bide the time could also not be done ���until after the war���, when ���business times will begin again���. And if that was not convincing enough a reason to go fight, he stressed the point that ���fighting���s the duty of all���. In other words, as a resident in the United States, it was his duty to enlist and fight for the Union cause and reunite the nation, a common utterance in the Civil War shared by soldiers of all nationalities. This spurs McFinnigan into the conversation to tell O���Toole: ���you���re right���.

[image error]One version of O���Toole & McFinnigan On The War, printed with the differentiation between the two men sing-speaking shown (New York: H. De Maran, 1861)

Several versions of this ballad circulated throughout the war, with different copies printed in at least three of the major publishers of Irish American wartime ballads between 1861 and 1863 ��� New York���s H. De Marsan and Charles Magnus (who also published in Washington, D.C.), and Boston���s Horace Partridge. Each printing had slightly different verse structures and phrasing, but the song ��� set to the tune of Barnaby Finegan by an anonymous lyricist ��� appears to be written as a conversation for most of its verses. O���Toole drives the conversation, with McFinnigan only appearing at the end of five of its six verses mainly to tell O���Toole that he is right in his thoughts, that he ���agree[s] with you there��� on certain points, and to finally say that he ���will go with them��� and enlist with O���Toole at the ballad���s conclusion. (5)

For the rest of the song, Paddy O���Toole goes into detailed justification about why the war was being fought and why serving with the Union was the only way for fellow Irish American young men. In shorter song sheet versions of the ballad, O���Toole talks about rebel secessionists who are busy ���practisin��� murder and robbery���, and not acting like gentlemen with their warring separation. There���s a hint ��� and possibly a hope if read in the light of Irish nationalist sympathies ��� that if Britain would send ���her troops to Canada��� and ���mix in the war��� south of the border, then ���Ould Ireland would have such a chance������, presumably at freedom the listener/reader is meant to assume (unlike Fenian American Civil War songs this example does not go into explicit views about Ireland���s independence ��� the ��������� is left for the imagination). Finally, in the last two verses, there is praise for ���bould Corcoran leading us right into the camp��� of southern secessionists, a reference to the ever-present Colonel and later General Michael Corcoran who appeared in numerous wartime songs with reverence and praise from Irish soldiers. 1861 versions of the song sang of his leadership of the ���bould 69th������Tis Corcoran will lead ���em, d���ye mind��� before First Bull Run, while 1863 versions suggested a preference for his leadership of the Irish Brigade (whereas their actual commander General Thomas Francis Meagher is absent in the lyrics).

Moreover, the final verses stress pinning ���the Stars and the Stripes here, at home��� in America and ���to Canada walls��� ��� another hint at long-held views in some areas of diplomacy that Canada would unit with her brethren and become one North American country. The message is one of strong American Unionism:

Hurroo for the Union! my boys,

And divil take all who would bother it!

Secession was a stain on the nation and the Irish would fight to see it extinguished. Far from being lazy, unemployed Irishmen, O���Toole and McFinnigan appear as well-informed, well-intentioned, passionate enlistees to the war effort. In a longer 1862 version of the song, O���Toole also stresses the fact that fighting ���will bring wages once more��� to their pockets, but also infers that helping the ���Union to win again��� was an even greater price to gain.

[image error]One version of O���Toole & McFinnigan On The War, printed with the differentiation between the two men sing-speaking shown (New York: H. De Maran, 1861)

Given the conversational nature of this song, it���s very likely O���Toole & McFinnigan On the War started life as a comic stage show sketch song, something supported by one copy of a Charles Magnus print which has a stereotypical image of an Irish journeying migrant on the stage above the song. But that is not how the ballad���s figures actually appear. Certainly, the song is sung/spoken with a thick Irish brogue, and there is mocking impression behind the idea of lazy, unemployed, alcoholic young men sitting around instead of fighting for their new adopted country with their fellow American countrymen. On the other hand, they DO end up enlisting, through reasoned arguments and spurred on by repeated references to anti-secession and pro-Union rhetoric. If anything, this song pushes back against stereotypes to show a commitment that the real soldiers discussed on this website also demonstrated from the start, and throughout, the American Civil War.

References

(1) Christian G. Samito, Becoming American Under Fire: Irish Americans, African Americans, and the Politics of Citizenship During the Civil War Era (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2009), 112.

(2) Christian McWhirter, Battle Hymns: The Power and Popularity of Music in the Civil War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2012), 92.

(3) Unknown lyricist, O���Toole & McFinnigan On The War (Boston: Horace Partridge, 1863) ��� all following quotes from the song come from this particular publication.

(4) Unknown lyricist, A Lamentation on the American War: Awful Battle at Vicksburg (Dublin, 1864).

(5) Recently I discovered another version of the song inside The Camp-Fire Songster; A Collection of Popular, Patriotic, National, Pathetic, and Jolly Songs, Suited for the Camp or March, Containing a Number of Songs Never Before Printed (New York: Dick & Fitzgerald, 1862), pp. 53-56. This version is ten verses long ��� with verses not reproduced in previous or subsequent songsheet additions. 

Photography Focus: Ragged Union Troops at Manassas Junction

[image error]“Manassas Junction, Va. Soldiers beside damaged rolling stock of the Orange & Alexandria Railroad.” Timothy O���Sullivan, August 1862. (Library of Congress, LC-DIG-cwpb-00260)

This stereo photograph of three unidentified Federal soldiers and a young African American is, in my opinion, one of the more poignant images of the Civil War. There is so much to ponder here, both in terms of historical detail and symbolic heft. Timothy O’Sullivan, the Irishman credited with having photographed this scene and so many other iconic Civil War images, was discussed in more detail by Damian in a previous blog article on this site. O’Sullivan captured this particular moment in late August 1862, near Manassas Junction, Virginia. This is a place that bore great significance for the soldiers passing through it, as the focal point of Union forces’ disastrous defeat there over a year prior. But, as is clear in this image, it held more immediate signs of devastation. Between August 26th and 27th, 1862, hungry and ragged Confederate troops under Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson seized the critical railroad junction and Union supply depot here, took everything they could devour or haul away, and set fire to the rest. The ruined rolling stock is this image bears witness to the success of Jackson’s operation.

It is unclear who these people are or to what unit the soldiers belonged. All four of them look like mere boys pausing in the eye of a great storm. It is likely that the three infantrymen here belonged to George B. McClellan’s Army of the Potomac, fresh from the heavy campaigning of the Peninsula Campaign, and immediately prior to the Second Battle of Bull Run. Their exhaustion and dire need of supplies is evident. The marches of this campaign were arduous, and the Virginia heat unrelenting. “We threw all off and we have nothing but what was on our backs,” Irish immigrant Patrick Deveney of the 69th Pennsylvania wrote to his wife following the Peninsula. Robert G. Carter, who arrived as a recruit to the veteran 22nd Massachusetts in September 1862, left a vivid account of the state of his regiment and many of its fellow 5th Corps units as he then found them:

At the Battle of Gaines Mills they had ���piled their knapsacks,��� had been nearly surrounded by ‘Stonewall��� Jackson; had fought an unequal contest with great gallantry; had ‘skipped out��� and lost everything, and were now without even shelter tents, blankets, overcoats, etc.; many were barefooted, and their clothes were ragged and torn. Some wore straw hats of every shape and color, others a black or white slouch, while many sported a vizorless cap of that unique pattern so well remembered by all old soldiers, almost impossible to describe, which had increased the brown on their faces to a rich mahogany. ���Some of these poor chaps have had nothing to cover their poor bodies these cold September nights but a thin blouse and tattered breeches; their shirts gone, and their shoes and stockings; they lost everything at Gaines Mills. (1)

[image error]A detail of the Library of Congress image

This soldier has set himself down on a rail, clutching his English-made Enfield rifle musket in his left hand. In many ways, he’s the picture book image of a generic Federal infantryman. In addition to a basic forage cap, he wears what looks to be a standard dark blue fatigue blouse, sky blue issue trousers tucked into his socks, and well-worn leather Army brogans. The reflectiveness of the outer layer of the blanket roll on his shoulder is indicative of a gum blanket, a prized possession among Civil War soldiers. These blankets were lined with India rubber or gutta percha to provide waterproofing and could be useful as blankets, ground cloths, or rain ponchos. In this case, used as the outer layer of his blanket roll, it could help keep dry any items rolled or stuffed within, in lieu of a knapsack. While this soldier���s eyes are concealed under the visor of his heavily worn cap, his tanned, frowning face looks to be that of a teen. One can only speculate what was running through his mind. He could be reflecting on the frustrations of the day or wondering when and where his next meal will come. Considering the many battles he might have already suffered through, to be back here of all places, at Manassas Junction, practically square one, and to find it in ruins at that, and with it all the food and other supplies it contained–this must have been devastating to the morale of many Federal soldiers. To compound things, he and his comrades also know full well that another battle soon awaits them, and they may very well understand that many more must follow for those that survive. Or, exhausted as he must surely be, the boy might simply be letting his mind wander wherever it may as he gets a simple moment of rest. (2)

[image error]Fatigue Blouse (Smithsonian Institute)

An original Federal fatigue blouse, or sack coat, of dark blue wool flannel, similar to what the first soldier is wearing, in the collection of the Smithsonian Institution. This particular example was manufactured by John T. Martin in New York City. Martin’s company was contracted by the Army to produce over one million such coats. Many military garments were produced by Irish immigrant workers, including the family members of Federal soldiers, who labored for low wages in grueling sweatshop conditions to supplement their families’ incomes while their husbands, sons, and fathers were at war. (3)

[image error]A detail of the Library of Congress image

The second soldier has donned a light-colored civilian slouch hat, a tad small for his head, but sufficient to provide his forehead some sliver of shade from the summer sun. The collar of his frock coat is turned up to shield his neck from the same. He wears what appears to be an infantryman’s frock coat and carries his blanket roll secured by straps over his shoulder. But perhaps what stands out most about this soldier is that he is barefoot. Rough 19th century roadways notoriously tore up the soles of Army brogans, and soldiers of both sides frequently had to go without until they could draw a new pair. J.W. Gaskill, who served in the 104th Ohio Infantry, recorded burning through seven pairs of shoes over the course of a single year. Imagining that level of wear and tear on the scale of an army of tens of thousands gives a picture of the logistical challenge posed by footwear alone at this stage of the war. The abandonment of Federal supplies during the Peninsula Campaign, coupled with more recent incidents, like the destruction of the depot at Manassas Junction shown here, contributed to many Federal soldiers being left in a state of destitution similar to what Deveney and Carter described. Captain William O’Grady of the 88th New York Infantry, likewise recounted that many members of the famed Irish Brigade were shoeless during their famous charge at Antietam. While many Civil War soldiers spent their childhoods callusing their bare feet while running around farm fields, city streets, or even the rocky shores of Ireland, little could have prepared them for long, unshod marches along macadamized Southern roads. (4)

[image error]A detail of the Library of Congress image

The third soldier is clad in a forage cap and dark blue pants. Though the War Department changed the standard color for Army trousers from dark to light blue in late 1861, many dark blue pairs remained in circulation through 1862 and even on to the end of the war. He carries neither a blanket nor a knapsack, and may simply have lacked both at this point. He and the other standing soldier have both turned their heads away from the camera. Their focus seems to be on a young Black man in meager civilian clothes who stands behind the wreckage with a pack slung over his shoulder. Like the soldiers, he, too, appears to be a traveller, but his story is even more of a mystery to us. (5)

[image error]A detail of the Library of Congress image

It is possible this figure is a camp follower, perhaps employed as a servant or cook with the Federal forces. Or he may be a refugee just passing through. Either way, there’s a strong chance he is a recently enslaved person who has shaken off the chains of bondage and finds some level of hope in the ragged young soldiers before him. While Black men were not yet permitted to enlist in the Union Army, the Emancipation Proclamation is but a few months away, paving the way for African American service. Did this boy eventually end up a soldier in the United State Colored Troops? It is fascinating to me that, while he is farther away than the photograph’s other subjects, he is nonetheless the only person with his face turned forward toward the camera. He confronts the camera the most directly, yet seems relatably curious about the scene before him. The photograph also gives him a sense of movement lacking in the other subjects. More than anyone, he conveys a sense of just ���passing through.��� He looks–and moves–physically forward as he may likewise move forward to a future in which he is reunited with long lost family members, a future nation devoid of slavery, a future in which a nation “conceived in liberty” can indeed be his nation too. But that is all conjecture. Like the four soldiers before him, his eyes, and his identity, are concealed to us.

Elusive to us as the names and fates of these four people are, Timothy O’Sullivan has given us access to an intimate moment here, and a rare opportunity to see Federal soldiers in the field in the midst of some of the hardest campaigning any troops would experience during the war. We do not see them here lined up in neat parade order with clean shoes and polished brass buttons, or with officers mounted on horseback nearby with sabers drawn to lead them to glory. We see them, instead, as they so often were, ragged and dirty and barefooted and exhausted. This is how the Civil War was mostly fought–by humans at the edge of existence, immigrants and refugees, farm boys and urban laborers, enwrapped in weathered sweatshop clothing, clinging to life, griping, weary, hopeful and pessimistic, marching one agonizing step at a time, doing battle one individually-loaded minie ball at a time. Boys like these–all four of them–would ultimately carry this war to victory for the Union and usher in a new hope for the formerly enslaved. We see them here amid twisted and scorched wreckage with a long, long road yet to travel.

References

(1) Patrick Deveney, letter to wife, 10 July 1862, via Spared & Shared (https://sparedandshared19.wordpress.com/2019/08/18/1862-patrick-deveney-to-wife/), Robert G. Carter, Four Brothers in Blue.

(2) Lawrence E. Babits, ���Rubber Poncho and Blankets from the Union Transport Maple Leaf,��� Liberty Rifles (https://www.libertyrifles.org/researc...)

(3) Patrick Brown, For Fatigue Purposes: The Army Sack Coat of 1857-1872.

(4) J.W. Gaskill, Footprints Through Dixie, Damian Shiels, ���Dependent Father,��� Irish in the American Civil War (https://irishamericancivilwar.com/201...).

(1=5) Paul A. Boccadoro, ���Photographic Compilation of Federal Enlisted Men Wearing Dark Blue Trousers in 1862 and Beyond,��� Liberty Rifles (https://www.libertyrifles.org/researc...).

Book Reviews: Voyage of Mercy & The Bonds of War

It has been a good few weeks for books dealing with Irish emigration and the service of British and Irish immigrants in the U.S. military. Catherine took to H-Environment to review Stephen Puleo’s Voyage of Mercy: The USS Jamestown, the Irish Famine, and the Remarkable Story of America’s First Humanitarian Mission, which tells the story of that U.S. Navy mission to provide succor to the starving Irish during the Great Famine. I had an opportunity to take a look at The Bonds of War: A Story of Immigrants and Esprit de Corps in Company C, 96th Illinois Volunteer Infantry by Diana Dretske for the Civil War Monitor. Diana’s book is a fantastic micro-history of a group of Scottish, English and Irish immigrants who went to war together. Both of these reviews are free to read online, you can find Catherine’s review on H-Environment here and my review on Civil War Monitor here. We hope you enjoy them!

Andersonville Irish Project Update

The last month has seen major additions to our Andersonville Irish database, and the project page has now been fully updated with the new information. A further 80 Irish Americans have been identified, bringing the total to the cusp of 430 men. You can explore all of them, and search by name, unit and place of origin on our online database. Our interactive map has also been updated, with dozens of new men now pinned to locations throughout the island of Ireland. There are now approaching 200 individuals marked on the Andersonville Irish Ireland Map. You can explore all this new data on the Andersonville Irish Project page here. If you have any additional information or additions/corrections to the list we would love to hear from you on the project email at andersonvilleirish@gmail.com!