Every party needs cake! (Kyle Weaver photo.)

A large and enthusiastic crowd arrived for the book signing. (Kyle Weaver photo.)

We had a successful launch of Searching for George Gordon Meade: The Forgotten Victor of Gettysburg. It took place at the National Civil War Museum in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, on February 16, 2013. Author Tom Huntington (that’s me) signed copies of the book in the museum atrium from 10 a.m. until noon, for a large and enthusiastic crowd. Before the signing, Huntington (me again) did a talk for museum members on the Cast of Characters that appear in the book. Switching into the first person, I want to say what a great time I had at the event and I’d like to express my thanks to Wayne Motts and the museum staff for making it possible. Thanks also to Jim Schmick of Civil War and More in Mechanicsburg for ably handling the retail end. And to my wife, Beth Ann, for all her  support and for providing a great cake (above). And, of course, thanks to everyone who showed up, including family and friends.

Last week I recorded a program with Brian Lockman for the Pennsylvania Cable Network (PCN)’s PA Books show. It should air sometime in March. Watch this blog and the Searching for George Gordon Meade Facebook page for details as they become available.

The National Civil War Museum had plenty of books on display in the bookstore. (Kyle Weaver photo.)

After weeks of fruitlessly waiting for Hooker to give him permission to go home to Philadelphia on leave, Meade finally received the okay from Joseph Hooker to head north. That was good news for Meade but bad news for historians, as it means there is a gap in his correspondence until he returns to the army later in the month. I assume the General Morrell to whom Meade refers is Maj. Gen. George Morell, a New Yorker who commanded the 1^st Division of the 5^th Corps until he was replaced by Daniel Butterfield. Morell had been close to Maj. Gen. Fitz John Porter, one of George McClellan’s most loyal subordinates and the man Maj. Gen. John Porter had court martialed after Second Bull Run. This did not help Morell’s career.

I thought this afternoon I would not have to write to you, for I got a note from Hooker, saying he could spare me for seven days and telling me to apply. I immediately did so, sending in the same application which he had twice refused. At the same time I wrote to him, that I did not desire to go, if there was the slightest reason to believe I should be wanted. It will be too much happiness to get home for a few days and be with you and the dear children.

Maj. Gen. George Morell.

I have had an application from young [William] Jay, of New York, to come upon my staff, as an extra aide. He was appointed an additional aide-de-camp at the time the law authorized such appointments, and has been serving with General Morrell. That officer having been deprived of his command, Captain Jay has applied to me. I told him, if the War Department would assign him, I should be glad to have him.

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. 354-355. Available via Google Books.

Major General George Stoneman and his staff, photographed in Falmouth, Virginia, sometime in February 1863. (Library of Congress)

In this letter from February 13, 1863, General Meade expresses distaste for some fellow generals who would later pose major problems for him: the two Dans, Sickles and Butterfield. In his landmark book, Gettysburg: A Study in Command, Edward Coddington wrote, “There is something strange, if not uncanny, about the way Meade got into difficulty with those two cronies of Hooker, Generals Butterfield and Sickles.” Sickles was a political general with strong ties to New York City’s powerful Tammany Democratic machine. He had also gained a measure of renown when, as a New York congressman, he killed his wife’s lover in Washington, D.C.’s Lafayette Square, within sight of the White House. At this point he commanded the Army of the Potomac’s III Corps. Butterfield had commanded the V Corps until Meade rightly pointed out that he, Meade, had seniority.

The new cavalry head was George Stoneman. His tenure in that position did not last long following a lackluster effort before Chancellorsville. He later served as governor of California. The George whom Meade mentions is his son, who was serving in the cavalry. Pope is John Pope, who commanded the Army of Virginia during the disastrous Second Bull Run (Second Manassas to the South).

I have not seen General Hooker for several days, indeed his course towards me is so inexplicable in refusing me leave of absence, and not vouchsafing any reason for it, that I feel indisposed to see him. Besides, I do not like his entourage. Such gentlemen as Dan Sickles and Dan Butterfield are not the persons I should select as my intimates, however worthy and superior they may be. I rode over to George’s camp to-day and paid him a short visit. The regiment, since the breaking up of the grand divisions, has been placed under Stoneman, who has command of all the cavalry. This will give them a much better chance of seeing service than when attached to Headquarters, which is a lazy, loafing sort of duty. Have you read General Pope’s famous report? I see he says I did my duty in all fidelity to the Government, for which, of course, I am truly grateful.

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 354. Available via Google Books.

I’ve added a few more people who play roles in Searching for George Gordon Meade: The Forgotten Victor of Gettysburg to the “Cast of Characters” page. They are all characters, in one way or another. These are the new additions:

David Bell Birney. As one of Meade’s aides described him, Birney “was a pale, Puritanical figure, with a demeanor of unmovable coldness; only he would smile politely when you spoke to him. He was spare in person, with a thin face, light-blue eye, and sandy hair.” He had been born in the South, but a hatred of slavery motivated his father to pack up the family and move north. Birney took up the law and was practicing in Philadelphia when war broke out. Meade and Birney had an encounter at Fredericksburg, when Meade requested reinforcements and Birney refused to send them, supposedly because he felt he had to wait until he received orders from corps commander John Reynolds first. This infuriated Meade. According to a bystander, when Meade rode over to confront Birney he used language strong enough to “almost make the stones creep.” He gained an enemy for life. Later in the war Birney cast his lot with Sickles and Butterfield to get either Hooker or Sickles in command of the army. When he realized he had backed the wrong horse Birney went to Meade, hat in hand, to make amends. He told Meade he had never entertained unfriendly feelings toward him and hoped to serve under him again. Meade listened with an icy silence, saying only that he had never heard that Birney had unfriendly feelings toward him. (“I am again on very pleasant terms with Gen. Meade,” Birney wrote to a friend. “He assured me of his high regard, and desire for me to remain.”) When Birney died in October 1864, Meade told his wife that he had never liked the man personally but admired his abilities on the field. “General Birney is undoubtedly a loss to the army,” Meade wrote. “He was a very good soldier, and very energetic in the performance of his duties. During the last campaign he had quite distinguished himself.”

Theodore Lyman. Lyman was a Boston patrician and Harvard graduate who traveled among the best families and married well. He had first met Meade in Florida in 1856, when he was studying starfish and Meade was overseeing lighthouse construction. While in Europe during the war, a conflict that had already killed many in his circle, Lyman wrote to the general and asked about a staff position. He reached Meade’s side on September 3, 1863, and remained with him until Lee surrendered. Tall, bearded, and balding, Lyman was trained as a scientist and brought a scientist’s skill at observation to the journal and letters he wrote while with the Army of the Potomac. Although Lyman certainly viewed the war through the lens of a staff officer, he spent his share of time on or near the front lines, dodging shells and bullets and seeing the dead and wounded. His accounts offer incisive and often humorous portraits of the personalities he encountered and the petty grievances and unpredictable human interactions that sometimes gummed up the army’s works. His portrayals can be sympathetic or cutting. Of Judson Kilpatrick, Lyman noted, “His colorless eye, big nose, and narrow forehead, with an indescribable air between a vulgarian & a crack-brain, combine to render him almost laughable. He is pushing & managing in the extreme, but I don’t believe he is worth a fig as a general.” Of George Armstrong Custer, at one time the Union’s youngest general and still years away from the disaster at the Little Bighorn, Lyman wrote:  “This officer is one of the funniest looking beings you ever saw, and looks like a circus rider gone mad!” Lyman wrote. “He wears a huzzar jacket and tight trousers, of faded black velvet trimmed with tarnished gold lace. His head is decked with a little, gray felt hat; high boots and gilt spurs complete the costume, which is enhanced by the General’s coiffure, consisting in short, dry, flaxen ringlets! His aspect, though highly amusing, is also pleasing, as he has a very merry blue eye, and a devil-may-care style.” Lyman described John Buford as “a compactly built man of middle height, with a tawny moustache and a little, triangular gray eye, whose expression is determined, not to say sinister. His ancient corduroys are tucked into a pair of ordinary cowhide boots, and his blue blouse is ornamented with holes; from one pocket thereof peeps a huge pipe, while the other is fat with a tobacco pouch. Notwithstanding this get-up he is a very soldierly looking man. He is of a good-natured disposition, but not to be trifled with.” Although generally positive about Meade, Lyman was not blind to the general’s faults, especially that ungovernable temper. He called him “the great peppery.”

Francis C. Barlow. Like Lyman, Barlow was a Harvard man. He had practiced law before the war and looked more like a newsboy than a general, but Barlow had been wounded at Antietam and left for dead at Gettysburg. He carried an especially large sword—so that when he hit stragglers with it, he would hurt them, he told Lyman. Lyman called him “an eccentric officer.” At Cold Harbor one night Lyman found Barlow in a good mood. He had placed some stragglers—his bêtes noires—I n a field during the shelling, and two of them had been killed. After leaving Cold Harbor in the successful attempt to sweep around Lee to Petersburg, Barlow began marching his men so fast—with his provost guard spurring stragglers along at bayonet point—that Meade sent Lyman forward to tell him to slow down. Lyman found Barlow sitting, coatless, high up in the branches of a cherry tree. “By Jove!” came his voice from above Lyman’s head. “I knew I wouldn’t be here long before Meade’s staff would be up. How do you do, Theodore? Won’t you come up and take a few cherries?”

I was down at the Gettysburg battlefield the other day and I took this picture of the Meade statue beneath a dramatic morning sky. That’s all.

Searching for George Gordon Meade: The Forgotten Victor of Gettysburg is now available. Don’t be the last on your block to get a copy! Order it now!

Pennlive.com did a nice story about me and the book, which you can find here.