Joseph Henry, the secretary of the Smithsonian Institution who didn’t want to see Meade become “food for powder.” (Library of Congress.)

George Meade spent much of his time just before the war doing scientific work, including a survey of Lake Superior. “Many were the regrets expressed at this time by those with whom he had come in contact in the course of those labors, at the loss to science of one who had evinced for it such high qualifications,” wrote his son in the first volume of Meade’s Life and Letters. “So strong was this feeling on the part of Professor [Joseph] Henry, the distinguished secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, that he endeavored to dissuade General Meade from seeking active service. They had been thrown much together during the last few years while General Meade was conducting the lake survey, and Professor Henry had come to regard him as one possessed of so great aptitude for that class of work that he was unwilling to lose him from the ranks of science, to which he was himself so enthusiastically devoted. Professor Henry even went so far as to call upon Mrs. Meade, on the occasion of a visit of his to Philadelphia, for the express purpose of beseeching her to lend her aid to prevent a step which would result in so great a loss to science. From his point of view he regarded it as sheer waste for one possessed of the scientific qualifications of General Meade to relinquish his brilliant future in the field of science, and, as he expressed it, become mere food for powder.” The opening of Meade’s letter from March 13, 1863, shows that he still retained his interest in science. If the professor is John C. Cresson, Meade must have gotten to know him better after the war when both men served as commissioners for Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park.

I am glad you went to Professor Cresson’s experiments on the polarization of light, which must have been very interesting, even though unintelligible!

Captain Magaw and ladies left us to-day. Though we were utterly unprepared for such visitors, we managed to make them quite comfortable, and they left delighted. Yesterday I put the ladies in an ambulance and mounted Magaw on Baldy, and we went over and took a look at Fredericksburg, and afterwards called on Hooker. The General was, however, absent at a grand wedding which took place yesterday in camp, followed last night by a ball, and I understand another ball is given to-night by General Sickles. Not being honored with an invitation to these festivities, I did not go.

Meade’s letter taken from The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Major-General United States Army, Vol. 1, (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1913), p. 357. Available via Google Books.

One great disappointment about writing a book is that I sometimes come across material I would have liked to include, but only after it’s too late. Such is the case with this passage from Confederate General John B. Gordon’s Reminiscences of the Civil War. I had read Gordon’s book when I was working on Pennsylvania Civil War Trails (I was especially interested in his account of the burning of the Wrightsville Bridge) but I didn’t recall this passage until I came across it while working on another project.

I understand that historians have sometimes questioned Gordon’s veracity (especially regarding his story about meeting the Union’s Francis Barlow at Gettysburg and after the war) but I still think this is an interesting passage, coming as it does from one of Meade’s former adversaries.

Confederate General John B. Gordon (National Archives).

To the Union commander, General George Gordon Meade, history will accord the honor of having handled his army at Gettysburg with unquestioned ability. The record and the results of the battle entitle him to a high place among Union leaders. To him and to his able subordinates and heroic men is due the credit of having successfully met and repelled the Army of Northern Virginia in the meridian of its hope and confidence and power. This much seems secure to him, whether his failure vigorously to follow General Lee and force him to another battle is justified or condemned by the military critics of the future. General Meade’s army halted, it is true, after having achieved a victory. The victory, however, was not of so decisive a character as to demoralize Lee’s forces. The great Bonaparte said that bad as might be the condition of a victorious army after battle, it was invariably true that the condition of the defeated army was still worse. If, however, any successful commander was ever justified in disregarding this truism of Bonaparte’s, General Meade was that commander; for a considerable portion of Lee’s army, probably one third of it, was still in excellent fighting trim, and nearly every man in it would have responded with alacrity to Lee’s call to form a defensive line and deliver battle.

It was my pleasure to know General Meade well after the war, when he was the Department Commander or Military Governor of Georgia. An incident at a banquet in the city of Atlanta illustrates his high personal and soldierly characteristics. The first toast of the evening was to General Meade as the honored guest. When this toast had been drunk, my health was proposed. Thereupon, objection was made upon the ground that it was “too soon after the war to be drinking the health of a man who had been fighting for four years in the Rebel army.” It is scarcely necessary to say that this remark came from one who did no fighting in either army. He belonged to that curious class of soldiers who were as valiant in peace as they were docile in war; whose defiance of danger became dazzling after the danger was past. General Meade belonged to the other class of soldiers, who fought as long as fighting was in order, and was ready for peace when there was no longer any foe in the field. This chivalric chieftain of the Union forces at Gettysburg was far more indignant at the speech of the bomb-proof warrior than I was myself. The moment the objection to drinking my health was suggested, General Meade sprang to his feet, and with a compliment to myself which I shall not be expected to repeat, and a rebuke to the objector, he held high his glass and said, with significant emphasis: “I propose to drink, and drink now, to my former foe, but now my friend, General Gordon, of Georgia.”

Taken from Reminiscences of the Civil War by John Brown Gordon (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1904), pp. 158-59. Available via Google Books.

This letter from February 27, 1863, raises some interesting questions about Meade’s attitudes toward African-American soldiers. Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation, issued on New Year’s Day, had opened to door for black men to serve in the Union armies. They were not exactly welcomed with open arms in most quarters. Many white men refused to believe that black men would or could fight. As Theodore Lyman, who would begin serving as Meade’s aide later in 1863, noted during the Overland Campaign after he first saw black Union soldiers, “As I looked at them, my soul was troubled and I would gladly have seen them marched back to Washington. Can we not fight our own battles, without calling on these humble hewers of wood and drawers of water, to be bayonetted by the unsparing Southerners?” Lyman either was unaware of the irony in his words or refused to acknowledge that Lincoln had transformed the war into more than a crusade to restore the Union. It was now a war to end slavery as well. Like many in the army, Lyman had little faith in the black soldiers’ fighting abilities. “We do not dare trust them in the line of battle,” he wrote in a letter. “Ah, you may make speeches at home, but here, where it is life or death, we dare not risk it.” The 180,000 or so black soldiers who ended up joining the Union armies during the war—including the many who distinguished themselves in battle—would have disagreed.

General Andrew Porter. (Library of Congress photo.)

What does the encounter detailed below indicate about Meade’s views on black soldiers? I’d like to think he was stating his views honestly, even if he was doing it to needle an officer he apparently didn’t like. In the published version of this letter Meade’s editors (either his son or grandson) diplomatically omitted the name of the officer with whom Meade was talking, but the original letter shows it was Andrew Porter. A native of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, Porter had served as a staff officer for George McClellan and probably shared McClellan’s views on race. The former commander of the Army of the Potomac had been adamantly opposed to turning the Civil War into a war to end slavery.

Interestingly, Porter’s first cousin was Horace Porter, who served on Ulysses S. Grant’s staff and wrote a book called Campaigning with Grant that I found very useful for my Meade research.

The language  in this letter is typical of the era, although it may make us cringe today.

I wrote you a few lines yesterday from Major Woodruff’s office, advising you of my detention in Washington.

I met hundreds of people whom I knew, such as Generals Cadwalader, McCall, Hartsuff and others. I had seen Hudson (McClellan’s aide) in the morning, and he asked me to come at six and dine with the general. I declined the invitation on the ground of previous engagements, but said I would drop in after dinner. As it was past eight o’clock when I got back, I went in to the private parlor where McClellan was dining, and found a party of some dozen or more, all officers but one, a Mr. Cox, Democratic member of Congress from Ohio. Among the party were Andrew Porter, Sykes, Buchanan, General Van Allen and others. McClellan received me with much distinction and seated me alongside of himself, and asked very kindly after you and the children, etc. The subject of conversation at the table was general, and referred principally to military matters and pending acts of legislation. My friend [Porter], who doubtless had heard of my confirmation and was in consequence disgusted, said he heard I was to be given an Army Corps of Niggers. I laughingly replied I had not been informed of the honor awaiting me, but one thing I begged to assure , that if the niggers were going into the field and really could be brought heartily to fight, I was ready to command them, and should prefer such duty to others that might be assigned me. As this was a fair hit at Porter’s position, it silenced him, and I heard nothing further about commanding niggers. After spending an hour in pleasant chat, I withdrew, and meeting Cram, we spent the night till near twelve o’clock, talking and walking about among the crowd in the hotel. This morning I left at eight o’clock and reached here about one P. M., being half a day behind my time. On the wharf at Acquia Creek I met Reynolds, on his way out, having just received his leave, and having been, as I expected, awaiting my return to have his granted.

Meade’s letter taken from The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Major-General United States Army, Vol. 1, (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1913), pp. 355-56. Available via Google Books.