- Ellen Antoniewicz: Today we are pleased to introduce
Michael J. Larson and Dr. John David Smith
as part of the Wisconsin Historical Museum's
History Sandwiched In lecture series.
The opinions expressed today are those of the presenters,
and are not necessarily those
of the Wisconsin Historical Society
or the museum's employees.
Michael J. Larson is a history teacher
in the School District of the Menomonie Area.
Dr. John David Smith is the Charles H. Stone
Distinguished Professor of American History
at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte.
A Brooklyn, New York native, he studied southern and
Civil War history with Charles P. Roland
at the University of Kentucky,
and has taught at several universities,
including North Carolina State University
and Ludwig Maximillian's Universität München.
- Michael: Good.
- Thank you.
Here today to discuss how their book, Dear Delia ,
published by the University of Wisconsin Press
came into being and why this edition is an important
contribution to Civil War and Wisconsin history,
please join me in welcoming Michael J. Larson
and Dr. John David Smith.
[audience applauding]
- Good afternoon.
I am Mike Larson, and I am a history teacher
in The School District of the Menomonie Area
in Menomonie, Wisconsin.
Dr. John David Smith and I wish to thank
History Sandwiched In for this excellent opportunity
to speak about Dear Delia: The Civil War Letters
of Captain Henry F. Young, Seventh Wisconsin Infantry .
I received my undergraduate and master's degrees
from The University of Wisconsin Eau-Claire,
and I have been teaching history for 32 years.
As was stated, Dr. Smith is the Charles H. Stone
Distinguished Professor of American History
at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte.
This project originated in the mid-1980s
when I was an undergraduate
at the University of Wisconsin Eau-Claire.
History majors were expected to complete a research project
on a topic of his or her choice
to meet the requirements for graduation.
My topic for this project,
Company A, Seventh Wisconsin Infantry,
introduced me to the letters of Captain Henry Falls Young.
After about a two decade hiatus, I transcribed each letter
and submitted the documentary edition
for possible publication
to the University of Wisconsin Press.
Although the press welcomed my submission,
it recommended that I bring onboard a co-editor, Dr. Smith.
My first thought was, "I hope I don't make a fool of myself
"before such a distinguished professor of history."
I still feel that way, sir.
While I did not know it at the time,
this was a life-altering recommendation.
Dr. Smith, who I admire much,
was a fantastic fit for the project.
He brought to the table a wealth of experience,
and more importantly,
expertise that made this project possible.
Throughout this process and beyond,
I have gained a very, very dear friend.
Henry Falls Young was born on September 23, 1824
in the western Pennsylvania town of Newcastle.
Unfortunately, there is sparse information
on his early life.
Showing an early penchant for patriotism,
he enlisted to fight during the Mexican-American War.
However, before being deployed, the war ended.
Sometime in 1850, we're not quite sure when,
Young made his way to Wisconsin,
where for a while he worked on riverboats.
This work, undoubtedly, put him to contact
with his future father-in-law, Jared Warner.
Warner operated a sawmill in northern Grant County,
and in 1852, Young took the job at the sawmill
at $13 per month.
At some point, likely early in his employment,
his attention turned to Warner's daughter, Delia.
They exchanged vows not long after on March 1, 1853,
beginning a marriage that would span nearly 50 years.
In the late 1850s, Young, along with Warner,
purchased a grist mill, then under construction
near Cassville, Wisconsin.
The outbreak of hostilities in 1861
brought the 36-year-old Young into the service.
Young, perhaps because he helped to train local men
from nearby Cassville, was elected as an officer
in the Lancaster Union Guards, soon to become
Company F, Seventh Wisconsin Infantry.
After training at Camp Randall in Madison,
the regiment was sent to Washington, D.C.,
where eventually they were joined
by the Second and Sixth Wisconsin 19th Indiana.
Later, in 1862, the 24th Michigan joined the regiment,
completing what becomes the famed Iron Brigade.
While in Washington, the regiment spent their time
on fatigue duty, foraging,
and guarding the nation's capital.
In early 1862, Young was on detached service
in McDowell's Construction Corp,
ultimately helping to repair and build railroad bridges
in and around Virginia and near the nation's capital.
He rejoined the regiment just after
the second battle of Bull Run,
and participated in the battles of Antietam,
Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville,
Gettysburg, Bristoe,
Mine Run, the Wilderness, the Assault on Petersburg,
the Crater, and finally, Weldon Railroad.
Captain Young, on hearing of the death
of his daughter Laura,
sought his release from the service
after faithfully serving his country for three years.
Young returned to the Badger State in late December of 1864
and resumed his superintendence of the grist mill.
In 1878, perhaps tiring of the mill,
or a desire for Delia to be closer to her family,
they moved to Jared's farm,
which was located just north of Patch Grove in Grant County.
A debilitating stroke in 1894 left Captain Young an invalid,
and by 1900, in an effort to make him more comfortable,
they relocated to the village of Bloomington.
On February 5, 1902, at the age of 77,
Captain Young heard the tattoo beat one more time.
Delia lived for another 22 years, dying in 1924.
His surviving children, May and Harry,
lived until 1941 and 1944, respectively.
Of Young's children, only Harry married,
and his only child died just before
the turn of the 20th century,
unfortunately ending the direct line to Henry Falls Young.
- November 1861, Second Lieutenant Young wrote,
"I would rather spend the last drop of blood I have
"and let my wife and children
"have the free government of the United States to live in
"than to have our government broken up."
In letters to his Delia and Jared Warner,
Young often mentioned duty, family, and patriotism.
These were among his core values.
He was more than willing to sacrifice his life if necessary
to suppress the Confederate rebellion 900 miles away.
Young's letters make clear why and how he fought
to keep the Union intact.
They emphasize his emerging sense
of community pride and duty, loyalty, nationalism,
and intense patriotism.
Serving in the military also signified a citizen's right
and a citizen's responsibility.
Beyond these qualities,
the correspondence documents the volunteer soldier's life,
his connections with home and comrades,
the meanings of courage and the brutal realities of war,
what Walt Whitman termed "the black infernal background
"of countless minor scenes of the Secession war."
Young's insights, often poignant and powerful,
enable readers to witness the Civil War as he did.
Few topics avoided Young's careful eye.
Bluntly honest with his opinions and his emotions,
he left little doubt as to where he stood
on the questions of the day.
His correspondence: candid, contemplative,
thorough, and occasionally humorous,
provides a clear window into everyday events
as well into war, society, and politics.
Young's letters revealed a perspective of an officer
from America's western heartland.
The ideas and thoughts of Midwesterners,
also then known as Westerners,
provide a regional perspective,
underrepresented in most Civil War-era
documentary editions, editing projects, and collections
that focus on the northern states.
No doubt, Midwestern recruits shared many characteristics
with soldiers who came
from the northeastern and border states.
Their regiments, even more so
than the companies in which they served,
were what one historian has termed
"extensions of the community that sent them to war."
As such, they were closely watched and worried over.
Soldiers like Young believed that they represented
their communities, their interests, and their values.
These soldiers were always conscious
of their connections and obligations to home,
especially in their moral conduct and physical courage.
To a certain degree then, the Civil War soldier
was away from home without being truly away.
Westerners tended to come from local communities
comprised of a mixed population
of Northerners and Southerners,
in a way that people from the states up north
and from the Deep South could not claim.
For them, the Midwesterners,
the Civil War and their military service,
in suppressing the slaveholders' rebellion,
took on a special meaning,
becoming, according to two historians,
the central event in Midwestern history.
But also a nationalizing experience,
as these men became part of a nation in action,
and as these men came to know men
from other regions and other diverse backgrounds.
Young's correspondence covers many topics
during the first three years of the Civil War,
including innumerable details of his business affairs
on the home front and wartime inflation.
From newspapers, and he read newspapers avidly,
he retained a firm grasp of what was going on
back here in Wisconsin,
as well as a firm grasp of national politics.
In his letters, he often remarked on reports
of graft and corruption,
and offered pointed, very pointed opinions
regarding the controversial 1864 presidential election
between President Abraham Lincoln
and General George B. McClellan, the Democratic candidate.
Young agreed with Lincoln that in this war,
it was "not best to swap horses while crossing the river."
Dear Delia further contains gossip
and information about other enlistees
from Young's rural Wisconsin community
who served in his unit, which was Company F.
Above all, Young's communications
highlight his unflagging patriotism,
his fierce determination,
to preserve the Union at all costs.
Significantly, Young's letters also illumined
how the men in Company F retained their community ties.
In his opinion, their conduct in the field
reflected its community values back home.
In his correspondence,
Young described how his compatriots trusted each other,
having longstanding shared ideals and experiences,
especially pertaining to such mid-19th century values
as bravery, courage, personal and family honor,
other traits, idealism, manliness, and pride.
Like many of his time and place,
Young sought to be a stalwart man.
Young often expressed his antipathy
towards men he judged to be dishonorable and unmanly,
cowards, war profiteers, slackers, and traitors.
He frequently aimed barbs at northern newspaper editors,
whom he judged had criticized unfairly
at a safe distance from the conflagration of the war,
both the army's leadership and its rank and file,
men like Captain Young.
Young's devotion to family and place,
his wife Delia, and his young children back home,
runs through his letters,
capturing the heartfelt concerns
of a young husband and father
separated from his loved ones by war.
Repeatedly, Young expressed his loneliness
and his desire to return home, and he offered his advice
for his wife in raising their children.
Having done so, he nonetheless repeatedly underscored
his commitment to his role as an officer
and his determination to stay the course in the army
until the Union forces proved victorious
in restoring the nation ripped asunder by the Rebels.
In his letters, Young also frequently addressed his concern
for providing for his family
and honoring his financial obligations to Jared
and other business associates back home.
Readers will find Young as conscientious
in meeting his familial and financial obligations
as he was in serving in the Union army,
even after experiencing three years of war weariness
and keen personal sacrifice,
and in all, Young showed that wartime service made him,
made him like many soldiers,
more aware of the obligations to be a man,
steady, strong, principled, and caring.
Having to explain the war to his dear Delia
and others back home, and to himself,
also forced Young to ponder his place in a larger world,
in a bigger world than the one
he had left back home in Wisconsin.
Like soldiers in other wars across time and space,
Young held thoughts of home, family, and friends most dear.
In his letters to his wife,
he addressed the most minute details of life,
instructing Delia which crops to plant,
how to manage their finances in his absence,
how to raise their children,
and how she could claim his back pay and pension
should he die in combat.
And typical of war letters,
Young complained about the paucity of details
about life back home.
He complained about his rations.
He yearned for those Wisconsin vegetables.
[audience chuckling]
He was concerned about the infrequent visits
from the regimental paymaster.
He complained about his family's finances
and their property back home, and predictably,
he complained about the weather,
especially the Virginia mud and damp ground
that worsened Young's chronic rheumatism.
Ever mindful of his financial obligations,
Young fretted constantly and obsessively
over the sawmill he operated with his father-in-law,
over honoring the debts he owed to merchants
back home in Grant County,
and over conducting business
and the vagaries of sending money home on a regular basis.
He also possessed a dry-as-dust sense of humor
as was unafraid of poking fun of himself
or reprimanding others, including his father-in-law,
if the situation warranted it.
In mid-1864, for example,
Young wrote Jared about having not changed his clothes,
including his undergarments, in 35 days.
"Talk about being lousy and dirty, oh ye Gods," he quipped.
Later that month,
writing from the Petersburg, Virginia trenches,
Young informed his father-in-law,
"I feel fine this morning, for it be known
"that I got a clean shirt and drawers
"on yesterday the 2nd,
"the first change I've had since May 3,
"and I not only shed by my duty clothing,
"but I sent off a good crop of lice along with them."
Young predicted, however, that by the following day,
"I will have a new and more hungry set,
"for the whole country is covered with them."
Upon learning that Delia had enjoyed
a pleasant Fourth of July in Wisconsin,
Henry joked that for him, in his life in the trenches,
the holiday was anything but festive.
"It was dull," he said, "as a Quaker meeting."
Writing to Delia during an unusually cold
October in Virginia, Henry complained
that he had to share his scant bedding with his bedfellow,
Captain George S. Hoyt of Company K.
It was so chilly, Young explained,
"that I devilish near froze last night,
"and every time I waked up cold,
"my mind would wander off to Wisconsin,
"where I had a good bed,
"and a bedfellow that didn't go out on picket."
Did you get that?
Young's letters to Delia [chuckling] and her father
reveal a man unafraid of sharing his innermost thoughts,
often sharply and directly,
on the men and measures of the day,
including insightful and often harsh assessments
of famous Union and Confederate leaders.
Also, Henry, like many of his peers throughout the North,
stated clearly that they were fighting
to suppress the Southern Rebellion,
and to keep the Union intact,
not to free the South's four million slaves.
On December 23, 1861, for instance,
he explained to Jared adamantly,
"We are fighting forward to crush out rebellion,
"not for the abolition of slavery."
Henry added, "Every man of common sense
"knows that as the army advance,
"the slaves of every Rebel will be set free,
"and what is the use of their forever harping
"on the question in Congress?
"It does us more harm
"than 50,000 men in the Rebels' army could possibly do.
"The fact is, I wish those agitators of slavery
"were placed in the ranks to fight.
"I think that would cure their radical ideas."
Young, like many Yankee volunteers,
thus was slow to consider the Rebels' rebellion
as a war of black liberation.
In early November, 1862, weeks after Lincoln
issued his preliminary Emancipation Proclamation,
Young informed Delia that he had no intention
of commanding black troops,
because he considered them, these are his words,
"the infernalist set of cowards in the world.
"We can't trust them as ambulance drivers
"or ammunition drivers, or in fact,
"anywhere that there is danger,
"and I would not fight with them for the same reason.
"It is not on account of their color," he said,
"but on account of their cowardice.
"There are exceptions," Young said, "but they are rare.
"The great majority of them,"
meaning African Americans in the army
or in service roles in the army,
"would prefer to be slaves
"rather than fight for their liberty."
Still, at times Henry seemed to favor emancipation.
On September 26, 1862, four days after Lincoln
issued his preliminary Emancipation edict,
Henry, then stationed near Sharpsburg, Maryland,
asked his father-in-law,
"What do you think of Old Abe's proclamation?
"It take well with the army here.
"Now the Rebs will have to die dog or eat the hatchet."
That's a good line.
Die dog or eat the hatchet.
While Young remained uncertain how Confederates
would respond to Lincoln's Emancipation decree,
he considered it just what was wanted.
Young insisted that if the Rebels
don't lay down their arms,
"We will have to annihilate them,
"niggers, cotton and all," his words.
Cognizant that emancipation
would lead temporarily to hard times for white Southerners,
he informed Delia that Lincoln's proclamation
nevertheless was a positive step,
one that, according to Young,
would forever settle the everlasting slavery question.
In early March, 1863, Young asked Delia
a rhetorical question, and like many men,
then answered it himself.
"What do I think of the negar?
"Now I say arm and equip them,
"giving them the same pay and all the rights and privileges
"of white soldiers with the same rewards for merit,
"and if there is any fight in them,
"let us have the benefit of it."
He added, "Let the loyal people of every section,
"of every color, of every political party,
"raise in their might, bury their party's strife
"and come to the support of the administration,
"and we will end this monstrous rebellion
"this coming summer."
- Unlike many soldiers during the war,
Young remained surprisingly healthy,
other than his chronic rheumatism,
with several exceptions.
In September of 1863, his condition was bad enough
that he sought the help of the regimental surgeon.
While he went to great lengths to ensure a speedy recovery,
he was doubtful that the remedy
and the prevailing medical doctrine of the day
would help cure him.
On September 21, 1863, he stated to Delia that,
"In this there is one thing certain.
"I won't take the medicines the surgeons have here
"and then lay out on the damp ground.
"I applied for medicines some days ago,
"and they gave me 20 grains of blue mass."
For Young, the key to getting healthy was eating right,
staying dry, and especially in this case,
not taking the blue mass that was prescribed
by the physician of the regiment.
He did well to avoid the blue mass,
which was a concoction that contained mercury,
among other debilitating drugs,
to help cure an all too common camp malady, diarrhea.
Throughout the war, even after the devastating defeats
at Second Bull Run and Fredericksburg,
Young presented a positive attitude and bravado
that was not necessarily shared by his camp mates.
Writing to Delia three weeks after Chancellorsville,
Young shared his view that,
"We are all in good spirits.
"We soldiers are not like you citizens.
"We never get too excited or elated,
"except when we are charging the enemy.
"So you see, we are not affected
"with every blast of hot and cold as you are."
However, this ebullient attitude was severely tested
when he learned from Delia
that the North was down on the war,
and he wondered why "there's so much despondency
"and hostility shown against the war in the North.
"It has a bad and depressing effect on the soldiers."
But he urged her and others, "Hold on and be patient.
"We will yet get the right man in the right place,
"and then we will whip them back into the Union."
Throughout the war, Captain Young was not afraid
to share his absolute contempt with officers who,
in his opinion, were unfit for command.
One early target was the first
colonel of the Seventh Wisconsin, Joseph Van Dor.
One trait that frustrated Young,
and no doubt his fellow officers and men,
was that Colonel Van Dor can't command Americans.
"He can't explain anything so that we can understand it.
"And since we've been drilling Hardy's tactics,
"he is worse.
"He gets the movements and commands mixed up
"so all hell can't tell what he's driving at.
"Then he gets mad as thunder and raves
"and bellows like a mad bull,
"and abuses all the officers
"for not anticipating his damned Dutch command."
When word reached the men that Van Dor was leaving,
Young could scarcely hide his delight.
He was one among many men who were ready to celebrate.
He went on to describe how on the night we succeeded
in driving old Colonel Van Dor away from the regiment,
"We had a high old time, and many of the officers,
"perhaps myself amongst the rest,
"drank more than we ought to,
"but none of us got so drunk as to not know our duties."
During the Second Battle of Bull Run,
Young was on detached service
with McDowell's Construction Corp.
However, even on detached service,
he witnessed firsthand the mismanagement
of Second Bull Run.
The outcome left Young with a bitter taste
over the federal leadership during the battle,
and yet, he had nothing but praise for the men who fought.
According to Young, "I've seen many brave fellows
"bite the dust the last three weeks.
"Our men, with few exceptions, fought well,
"but Pope was outgeneraled at every turn,
"and Jackson's men fight like devils."
Six days later, he went on to say,
"There's no use disguising the truth.
"We were completely outgeneraled at every turn,
"and General Pope and McDowell are completely played out."
His disdain toward senior officers reached a low point
during the Battle of Fredericksburg.
Writing just four days after this carnage,
Young's vehemence reached a crescendo when he wrote,
"I won't try to describe to you
"the perfect contempt I feel for the man or men
"that run us into such a place as we have just got out of.
"Got out of, did I say?
"Yes, but there were thousands of brave fellows
"that did not get out, and were sacrificed and butchered.
"This is perhaps treason, but I cannot help it,
"for it is the truth."
The First Commander of Company F, John B. Callis,
a lawyer from Lancaster, Wisconsin,
was not necessarily well-liked,
at least according to some of the officers
and men in the company.
Young offered his opinion of Callis when he stated that,
"Callis is not popular with the regiment.
"He was not popular at home
"and never will be anywhere else."
However, Young recognized who was in charge,
and while he may not have liked Callis,
he understood the importance of the relationship
in the company, and he went on to say,
"He and I always get along first rate.
"I do the work, he puts on the style, and it suits us both."
[audience chuckling]
When Callis departed the company in January of 1863
for a promotion to Major
in the Field and Staff of the Seventh Wisconsin,
command of Company F went to Henry Falls Young.
Similar to many in the early days of the war,
Young backed the leadership of George McClellan.
As the war progressed, Young, as he repeatedly pointed out,
was for the man who would lead the Union to victory,
whomever that might be.
When McClellan ran in the Democratic ticket
for president in 1864, Young summed up his feelings
about McClellan in a short parable.
"Little Mac, poor fellow, puts me in the mind
"of a lady's little dog.
"She used to take him in her lap and pat him.
"Oh, you're a nice little dog, a pretty little dog,
"but you'll never be a big dog."
Any lingering doubt about who the soldiers would vote for
in the 1864 presidential election
was quickly resolved when it became apparent
to the men in Company F that the Confederate soldiers
cheered the nomination of McClellan,
and paved the way for Young to write,
"I heard a soldier that was out on the line
"swear that he yet believed Mac to be a true and loyal man,
"and that he intended to vote for him.
"'But,' said he, 'I'll be damned if I vote for any man
the Rebs will fight for.'"
However, as Young pointed out before the election,
if President Lincoln did not enforce the draft,
Father Abraham is politically dead with the soldiers,
a point that he made clear to his father-in-law
when he stated, "McClellan has many warm friends
"in the army."
Nevertheless, he went on to predict,
"This war will end with the election of Old Abe,
"and furthermore, McClellan's chances are slim."
Any romantic illusions of warfare vanished
when Young witnessed the first casualties
at the Battle of Cedar Mountain.
At the time of the letter that he wrote on August 15, 1862,
he was still on detached service
with McDowell's Construction Corp.
The shock of death on the battlefield
was evident when he stated that,
"You can never know the horrors of the battlefield.
"The excitement of battle wears off when it is over,
"and when it comes to going out
"and burying the dead by the hundreds
"after they've lain in the sun for four days."
Writing to his father-in-law after Fredericksburg,
Young expressed the view that,
"If they thought to scare us or make us run, they missed it,
"for we formed our lines of battle in the ditches
"where we could lie down,
"in no comfortable position, I admit,
"but when a man has to choose between laying in a ditch
"half-full of water or getting his head blown off,
"he will generally lay contented in the mud.
According to one historian,
soldiers over the course of the war
went through a transformation,
a hardening to the death and violence.
This hardening was clearly evident later
when Young wrote, "I got off with a mere scratch
"on the sole of my right foot."
He was writing after the Battle of Gettysburg.
"But there was one shell that came so close to me
"that it took off the heads of the two men in front of me,
"scattering their brains all over my clothes."
This hardening to death and violence surfaced again
in a July 26, 1863 letter to Delia.
Young described the rush of adrenaline that overtook him,
and no doubt many other fellow soldiers,
near this moment of truth.
A feeling he admits was difficult to explain,
much less express to her.
"It was an awful spectacle.
"Oh the devil, I will quit.
"I can't convey any idea of it,
"nor the feelings it produced.
"Why Delia, at that time, I would have thrown myself
"into the thickest of the fight with a pleasure,
"a sort of fierce, calm, demonic pleasure, I admit.
"But it was the awful stake we were fighting for
"that made me feel so.
"For let me tell you, that four hours' fight
"decided the fate of our great Republic."
He was referring to Gettysburg again.
Similar to all soldiers and all wars,
there was this nagging question of death.
Throughout his correspondence,
it was evident that Delia had serious doubts
that he would return alive.
Worse yet, what she would do in his absence.
His straightforward response might have left her
scratching her head with his seemingly callous attitude.
Shortly after Second Bull Run, he stated,
"You ask what you should do if I should be killed.
"It is a hard question, but I have seen so many men
"killed and die the last few weeks
"that I will give you the best advice I can.
"If I should be killed or die in battle
"or while in the service,
"you as the wife of a first lieutenant,
"will draw from the government $17 per month for five years,
"which is $204 per year."
A few weeks later after Antietam, he advised Delia
that it did not help to worry about his fate.
He assured her to take things cool.
"Don't fret yourself to death, for it will do no good,
"for we are all creatures of circumstance
"for which we have no control,
"and your fretting about my getting killed
"won't help the matter."
Captain Young was a dutiful husband, father,
business partner, and company commander.
Few words better capture the sentiments
some of the men felt for their captain
than his former charge, Loren G. Parsons.
Parsons fervently wished to rekindle
in the period after the war
those nostalgic moments that were now fading with time.
Parsons, without any hint of embarrassment,
told his former commander his true sentiments
when he closed the letter,
"With much love for my honored Captain,
"I remain as ever, yours to command."
Thank you.
[audience applauding]