The necrology of the Twenty-seventh, during the whole term of service, includes seventy-five officers and men, and embraces much that was noblest in the regiment. Of this number thirty-three fell amid the strife and turmoil of battle; eighteen, after a more or less lingering period of patient agony, finally succumbed to their wounds; and twenty-four others slowly yielded to the inroads of disease, and died among the more quiet scenes of the hospital. Were it possible, we would gladly dwell upon each individual name, and gather up those qualities by which each is remembered among his comrades. But after all that might be said, the simple record of the central fact in their history, that these men fell in defence of the most righteous cause ever submitted to the decision of the sword, is far more impressive than any commemorative words. And yet there are some whose marked character and prominent connection with the regiment as a whole, or with single companies, seem to demand more than a passing notice. Chief among these, the mind and heart of each member of the regiment will at once recur to the name of
LIEUT.-COL. HENRY C. MERWIN,
who fell in the battle of Gettysburg, July second, 1863. If this noble spirit must leave its mortal tenement amid the wild tumult of war, how appropriate that it should be when the black cloud of disaster, which had so long hovered over the cause of our country, was just rolling away, and already revealed its silver lining of victory!
Colonel Merwin was a native of Brookfield, Connecticut, where he was born September seventeenth, 1839. He spent the greater part of his life in New-Haven, and at the beginning of the war was in business with his father and brother. He early manifested a fondness for military life, to which the subsequent events of his history proved him well adapted. When the first gun of the war sounded from the rebel batteries at Charleston, it awoke in his breast a determined and prompt response. At that time he was a member of the New-Haven Grays, and immediately volunteered with that corps for three months’ service in the Second Regiment, holding the position of sergeant. It will be remembered that that was one of the very few regiments which returned with credit from the field of Bull Run. After this brief campaign he remained at home for a season, constrained by considerations of filial duty, by which a noble nature like his is ever governed until yet higher obligations demand attention. The armies of the Union were being rapidly filled up, and at length the Government stopped recruiting, while the nation beheld with confidence the vast and apparently irresistible preparations, which betokened an easy victory. Under these circumstances it was not strange that so many, like Colonel Merwin, held back by peculiar home duties, refrained from throwing themselves into the struggle. But these anticipations resulted in disappointment, and all this array of resources proved a disastrous failure. The call of the country was now heard in louder and more imperative tones than ever before, and appealed to a far wider circle in the community. Henry C. Merwin responded with a calm, but earnest alacrity, as is ever true of those whose guide is duty. His deserved and unsought popularity soon gathered to his banner a full quota of men, which was designated as Company A of the Twenty-seventh. Subsequently, at the organization of the regiment, he was chosen Lieutenant-Colonel by the votes of his fellow-officers. From this point his history is identified with that of the regiment. From the moment of departure for the field to the time of his death in that terrible combat of July second, at Gettysburg, he had never been relieved from duty, except as the casualties of war separated him from his command. He shared the fortunes of the regiment during the terrible and fruitless battle of Fredericksburg, and met with undaunted courage the sudden shock of disaster in the thickets of Chancellorsville. He visited Richmond as a prisoner of war, and on being exchanged at once returned to the regiment, to the command of which he was now called. Along the weary march to Gettysburg he inspired the men with his own indomitable spirit, and on that fated wheat-field, where the missiles of the enemy, as it were, mowed down the waving grain, he fell, mortally wounded, breathing out those words of noble self-forgetfulness, “My poor regiment is suffering fearfully.”
Without disparagement to any, it may truly be said that no officer in the regiment attracted to himself such universal and unvarying respect, confidence, and affection among the men of his command. Nor was this strange in view of the remarkable and harmonious combination of noble qualities in his character. No pride of position ever marred the beautiful consistency of his life, and yet there was a natural dignity which forbade undue familiarity. He felt deeply the responsibility of his relation to the regiment, and this o’ermastering principle swallowed up every consideration of self-interest. Duty was evidently the supreme motive of his life, and intent upon the performance of his own, he expected and required equal faithfulness on the part of others. He was quick of discernment, and rapid in execution, but no harshness ever dimmed the transparent kindness of his demeanor. His genial countenance and words of sympathy and encouragement often cheered the loneliness of the hospital. He thoroughly appreciated the hardships and trials peculiar to the private soldier, and at all times endeavored to sustain and inspirit his weary energies. All these more amiable qualities were supplemented by a manly independence and decision, which made him always jealous for the rights of his men. On that trying march to Gettysburg, no arrogance and severity of superior officers ever deterred him from a gentlemanly, but bold and firm, maintenance of the rights and interests of the regiment. He at once secured the respect, and soon the high regard of Colonel Brooke, commanding the brigade, who felt most keenly the loss of Colonel Merwin, and, on hearing that he was wounded, gave orders that every thing possible should be done for his welfare.
But none can do justice to such a character. In his death the Twenty-seventh laid its costliest sacrifice upon the altar of our country.
“He had kept
The brightness of his soul, and thus men o’er him wept.”
ADDISON C. TAYLOR,
Captain of Company C.
This gallant officer fell severely wounded in the engagement at Fredericksburg, December thirteenth, 1862, and died at his home in New-Haven, March thirteenth, 1863. He was born October twenty-eighth, 1841, in Wellington, Lorraine county, Ohio. His parents were natives of Connecticut, which State became his home when he was about twelve years of age. For several years he was a pupil in the Collegiate and Commercial Institute of New-Haven, and subsequently a teacher, and also the military instructor in that school. The outbreak of the rebellion in 1861 found him performing the duties of this position. Though feeling that his relations and duties to others did not permit him at that time to enter the active military service of the country, yet he took an earnest and enthusiastic part in the stirring scenes of that period. Troops were to be raised and prepared for the field with the utmost dispatch. How vividly memory recalls the experiences of those days, then so strange in our national history, when men were gathering from all quarters for the nation’s defence, and our streets resounded with the drum and fife, and the public square was alive with squads and companies moving to and fro in the mazes of military evolutions! Captain Taylor’s zeal and military knowledge found an ample sphere for exercise at this important crisis, and truly most efficient service did he render. It should be particularly mentioned, that he drilled the company of Captain, now Brevet Major-General, Joseph R. Hawley, then of the First Connecticut Regiment of three months’ volunteers. Brevet Brigadier-General Edward W. Whittaker, the adventurous cavalry leader, was also at that time a member of this company. So successfully did Captain Taylor fulfil these duties that Captain Hawley offered him the most flattering inducements if he would consent to accompany the regiment; but the time had not arrived when he was to give even life itself for his country. It came when the battle summer of 1862 convinced the nation that this was no ordinary struggle, and brought each man face to face with the question of his own individual duty. At this juncture the call was issued for volunteers for nine months’ service; and Captain Taylor, with his accustomed ardor, immediately entered upon the work of recruiting the “Monitors” for the Twenty-seventh Regiment, and soon assembled about him a very superior body of men, to whom his military knowledge and experience were of very great advantage. His was the color company, and at its head he moved on that day of fearful carnage, the memorable thirteenth of December, 1862, when he received the wound which resulted in death, after three months of patient suffering.
Did space allow, we might appropriately introduce at this point the singularly unanimous testimony of those who knew him best, to the self-reliance which he manifested from his earliest years; to the thorough, unostentatious sincerity, purity, and conscientiousness of his life; to the high sense of duty which impelled him to the field, and animated him in every act; and, more than all this, to the Christian principles which formed the basis of his symmetrical character.
“The light of his young life went down,
As sinks behind the hill
The glory of a setting star—
Clear, suddenly, and still.
The blessing of his quiet life
Was in his every look.
We read his face as one that reads
A true and holy book.”
JEDEDIAH CHAPMAN, Jr.,
Captain of Company H.
Death singled out another shining mark when Captain Chapman fell in the fore-front of battle, on the same afternoon that beheld the close of Colonel Merwin’s life. Two congenial spirits in nobility and worth together passed to the land of immortality on that day of death’s high carnival.
Jedediah Chapman, Jr., was born in New-Haven, November twenty-first, 1839. Like Colonel Merwin, he was a member of the New-Haven Grays at the opening of the war, and accompanied them to the field as a private in the three months’ service. When the Twenty-seventh was being recruited under the call for nine months’ troops, he took hold of the work with vigor, and was in great part instrumental in raising Company H, of which he was chosen First Lieutenant. During more than one third of the campaign he had command of the company, and to his exertions and military experience its efficiency was largely due. Amid the terrors of that disastrous day at Fredericksburg, no one acquitted himself with greater bravery and coolness than Lieutenant Chapman. In consequence of protracted sickness during the spring of 1863, he did not participate in the battle of Chancellorsville, and thus escaped the fate of the regiment. But it was a great disappointment to him not to be with his men, and share with them the vicissitudes of the campaign. By reason of the disaster to the Twenty-seventh in that battle, only two companies of the regiment remained in the field, with a few remnants of those which were captured. These scattering portions were formed into one company, and Lieutenant Chapman was placed in command. His peculiar qualifications of discipline and character contributed much to their unity and effectiveness during the succeeding campaign of Gettysburg; and at their head he fell on the second of July, 1863. His commission as Captain of Company H, dated May thirteenth, 1863, had been already issued and forwarded; but he did not live to know of this well-deserved honor.
Much that has already been said of Colonel Merwin might, with equal propriety, be applied to Captain Chapman. He was an officer well known, and highly esteemed, not only in his own company, but throughout the regiment. He possessed in a peculiar degree all the elements which constitute an efficient, and yet popular, commander. In all his relations, he manifested a genial frankness of manner, a conscientiousness of purpose, and keen sense of justice, which at once gained universal confidence and regard. He was one of the most unassuming of men, and yet in that soul burned a depth of devotion to duty, and a power of noble action, which seemed to require the stern, trying scenes of war to bring them forth in their original strength and glory. So long as the campaign of the Twenty-seventh lives in the memory of those who participated in it, so long will the members of Company H cherish the name and reputation of their beloved commander, Jedediah Chapman.
Let us now turn to the long catalogue of enlisted men, whose names appear in the necrology of the regiment. History can never do justice to the grandeur and far-reaching importance of the cause to which they gave the testimony of their lives, nor can it do justice to the nobility and value of the sacrifice. It is not necessary to repeat in this place the names of these worthy men; but we will call to mind a few representatives of their number. There was Orderly-Sergeant Richard H. Fowler, of Company A, who died of wounds received at Fredericksburg. He was a native of Guilford, and one of a family whose record for active patriotism and sublimity of sacrifice has few, if any, parallels during the whole war. Corporal William A. Goodwin and Private Augustus B. Fairchild likewise fell at Fredericksburg. To the efficiency and worth of them all, the officers of the company bear willing testimony. Companies C, D, E, and F, also suffered severely in the loss of faithful and tried soldiers. The battle of Fredericksburg struck from the roll of Company H some of its most valued members. Among these were Orderly-Sergeant Thomas E. Barrett, and Corporals George H. Mimmac and Frank E. Ailing. Sergeant Barrett was a man of very superior character and education. Previous to his enlistment he had been a much-esteemed teacher at the Eaton Public School in New-Haven. The pleasant duties and associations of this position, and all its prospects of usefulness, he yielded up to enter the service of the country. Few made greater sacrifices, or made them more cheerfully, than he, in obedience to a purely unselfish sense of duty. He sought and expected no office, and only at the earnest solicitation of his comrades consented to accept the post of First Sergeant, and certainly no company ever had a more faithful and conscientious officer. He was a noble Christian soldier; a man whom society could ill afford to lose. But he has left behind him an example which should be carefully cherished and regarded. The sacrifice of such a man is of no ordinary value, and gives unusual significance to the struggle through which the nation has passed. Corporals Mimmac and Ailing possessed very similar elements of character. The latter was a member of Yale College at the time he enlisted, and left the congenial pursuits of a student’s life to respond to what he regarded the call of duty. Such were some of the men the ranks of the Twenty-seventh contributed to that roll of honored names, whose heroism and self-sacrifice will grow brighter and brighter, as the progress of years reveals, in all their meaning and influence, the events of the war for Liberty and Union.