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WILLIAM JAMES POTTER IN CIVIL WAR WASHINGTON William James Potter was ordained to the ministry by the members of the First Congregational Church & Society in New Bedford, Massachusetts, on the third day after Christmas in the year 1859. In the same ceremony the congregation installed him to serve as its pastor. It was his first church. From that December 28 celebration, he served no other until his retirement thirty three years later on December 28, 1892. Born of an old and strict Quaker family on a Dartmouth farm, less than five miles from the grand Norman Gothic edifice of the New Bedford Unitarians, the spiritual journey which carried him from the customs and convictions of his origins to the progressive views of the Unitarians and beyond was immense. Who could have imagined that a shy farm boy urged by his father to stay home and carry on the family farm would assert his yearning for an education, get to Harvard College and graduate second in his class, study philosophy and tour in Europe, and for his first and only ministry be called to one of the most sophisticated and affluent congregations in America? What inner compulsions, which intellectual and spiritual mentors, inspired the quest which led Mr. Potter to become one of the most radical and progressive religious thinkers of his age? His odyssey is one of a brilliant, curious, and courageous spiritual adventurer who faced the hard questions boldly, thought them through deeply, and dared to share his reflections and responses honestly. In the process he had an immediate and profound influence on liberal religious thought, and made a deep impact on the communal life of his chosen city. In the middle of January, 1861, Potter traveled to Washington, D.C. to preach to its Unitarian congregation. He had visited there during the previous October and had addressed a small gathering of Unitarians on Saturday the 18th. . While there had been a Unitarian presence in the capital for many years, theological tension was made worse by the

conflict over slavery. A

liberal group was attempting to organize a new congregation, and they expected that his views would provide the kind of support that they needed He also preached to the main congregation the next day. Apparently he made a strong impression. It is possible that New Bedford’s Congressman Thomas Dawes Eliot had suggested both invitations, in October and again in January, as he was a member of the congregation, and his father had been a founder. On July 21, Potter preached again in Washington, repeating his January 21 sermon, The Soul’s Rest. It was the day of the first battle of Bull Run, and he joined the throngs going more than

2 twenty miles out of the city to observe what they could of the action. They thought it would be a picnic. Wrong! The rout of the Union forces was shocking. Late in the summer, President Lincoln had issued a proclamation calling for a national day of fasting. The war was not going well for the Union. More defeats had followed the Bull Run disaster. The president hoped that a shared religious experience would encourage greater unity and commitment within the loyal states. Potter responded on the holiday itself with a sermon (later published in one of the local papers), The National Sin & The National Punishment. In 1863 President Abraham Lincoln, with the support of the Congress, introduced the first draft program in American history in order to produce more troops for the faltering Union army. Men were chosen through a lottery, but those who wished to avoid service could either pay a $300 commutation fee or pay a substitute to be a replacement. Since many had doubts about the moral rightness of the war, and Union losses in battle had been enormous, the draft was highly controversial. Men of means believed it to be perfectly honorable to buy their way out of service, and they were subject to little public criticism. When Potter was called he had to decide if he would accept. While his own means were modest, the congregation could easily and gladly have found the money to pay the fee or buy a substitute and keep him in New Bedford. Three days after receiving his notice to report for a physical examination as a prelude to induction, he preached the sermon which almost instantly elevated him into a national figure. The Voice of the Draft was the title of his sermon for July 26, 1863. While the notice had arrived only on Thursday, it was not totally unexpected. Indeed, ever since the draft had been initiated he had been reflecting on how he would respond if called. Ever since the beginning of the war he had been preaching on patriotic themes, “with greater frequency than some of you, perhaps, have thought expedient, and not what all of you would have best liked to hear, yet always, both as to time and matter, according to my own solemn convictions of duty.” He thanked them for giving him the freedom to speak and their willingness to listen. His message had been a consistent one of support for the war and urging the strongest possible commitment to the support of the nation. His own commitment was rooted in religion: “the patriotic sentiment founded on a sense of justice and a reverent regard for human rights.” It is a cause to support the principles of truth, liberty and humanity, and to achieve a lasting peace. Now the call had come. In fact, he might not actually have to go. There was the possibility that he might not be physically able, but he hoped that he would be. Those who try to prove some

3 physical disability and then exult in their good fortune are to be disdained. Recognizing that he might be rejected, he felt personally compelled, nevertheless, to move to some active service to express his commitment. He knew that he did not have the temperament, talent, or experience to be a good soldier, but very few of those called do. And many might be better able to do something useful to the cause at home. The draft is an expression of the will of the people, and it is the people’s law. Among those hearing Potter’s inspiring sermon that morning was John H. Clifford, a former governor of Massachusetts. It had been delivered at a moment when there was widespread opposition to the draft from many of those who might be most committed and able choosing to avoid service. As a leader in the national Republican Party, Governor Clifford was a close associate of the Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton. Recognizing the sermon’s value for raising morale and encouraging a positive response to the draft, he requested a copy from Mr. Potter and immediately sent it to Secretary Stanton in Washington, who responded to Governor Clifford on August 9: “I have written by mail to you concerning Mr. Potter & would be glad to have a personal interview with him next week if convenient for him to come to Washington. E. M. Stanton.” The letter which followed was more expansive: My dear Sir, I am infinitely obliged to you for the Sermon delivered by Mr. Potter. Such outpouring of a noble spirit cannot fail to do good. I have directed its publication in the Army and Navy Gazette as the best exposition of the Enrolling Law that has appeared. I think he is right in the belief that the time has come for him to have a nearer view of the great movement of which the war is a development. For this reason I wish to see him. It cannot be otherwise than that he is drafted for no ordinary service—a service that needs not, nor can be excused by a surgeon’s certificate. Please tell him that I wish to see him, and give him my thanks for what he has already done. For your continued kindness and regard I am deeply thankful. Mrs. Stanton joins me in good wishes for yourself & Mrs. Clifford. Yours truly, Edwin M. Stanton The importance Stanton gave to the sermon is indicated by the fact that it was published in the Army and Navy Official Gazette on August 11, only two days later. When the Secretary’s communications arrived in New Bedford, Potter was on vacation at Nahant, a summer colony on a rocky peninsula adjacent to the city of Lynn, Massachusetts. After

4 receiving them on his return, he replied to both the Secretary and the Governor. He had refused the invitation to go Washington to meet with Stanton. In a letter to Clifford he explained his reasons. After expressing thanks for the interest, he said: I have not judged it best, however, to go to Washington, at least at the present time. I can but be pleased to have met with Sec’y Stanton’s approval in what I have done, though his words seem to me quite extravagant… But I have nothing to ask for in Washington, & wish to avoid even the appearance of office seeking. It has seemed to me, at least, more in accordance with the spirit of my discourse, as it is more consonant with my feeling now, to await the result, as my fellow conscripts in general must, of the Surgeon’s examination. If accepted, I shall then be ‘under orders’ & ready to take such position as the proper authorities may think me fit for, & assign me to. Sec’y Stanton I suppose then may detail me to any service he judges me qualified for. If not accepted, I shall be free to volunteer for such service as may offer & for which physical unworthiness is not a disqualification. And so the matter rests at the present. He explained to Clifford that he had written to Secretary Stanton thanking him for his kindness and expressing the reasons for declining the invitation. On the same day, August 15, he sent a letter of resignation to the congregation. Whether or not he passed the physical examination, he had committed himself to some form of active service in support of the Union cause. Stanton responded on the 20th: “Whether you pass the Board of Examination or not, I am very anxious to confer with you on matters relating to the service, in respect to which you may be able to render me important assistance. I will therefore beg of you as a favor, after you have been examined, to let me know the result, and at what time it will be convenient for you to visit Washington.” This eagerness for Potter’s assistance suggests that he had learned more about him than could be discerned from the content of the sermon alone. The close relationship between Stanton and Clifford suggests that the latter must have communicated to the Secretary information about Potter’s intelligence, character, and ability. The immediate question was whether he would be physically strong enough to be accepted. He admitted that he was very sensitive on this point. “I shall feel mortified if rejected.” There seems to have been a history of tuberculosis in his family as well as hers, and he had always been concerned about his health.

5 His service began when he entered the War Department office of Secretary Stanton on Tuesday, September 24, 1863. Stanton received Potter very cordially and quickly explained that he had not already appointed him a chaplain because an appropriate assignment would not available until the next month. He was unsure about what to do with Potter in the meantime. “I told him that I had not come for the sake of hurrying the appointment, but I wanted to be doing something, & perhaps there was some work in connection with the hospitals which I might volunteer to do.” The Secretary then directed him to visit and inspect all the hospitals in and near Washington and Alexandria and provided him with all the necessary authorizing papers. The task was expected to take about ten days. He had an assignment, but immediately felt doubts about his capacity to fulfill it. The problem was the old one of his shyness and reticence, and his response was again an assertion of the obligations of duty: “I cannot meet the men as they want & ought to be met: that is, I cannot do it naturally & with ease. I may force myself to it, & shall try to do so.” After being given his assignment by Secretary Stanton, he rapidly set to work. Within a few days he had visited two hospitals. Both had excellent staffs and the patients seemed contented and happy. One of the chaplains at the Campbell Hospital felt that it was important for a chaplain to visit the prison camps in the Department of Washington. He met Stanton again, who asked him for reports. When he then inquired as to whether he should report to the Provost Marshall in New Bedford on October 1 when his furlough from formal induction expired, the Secretary informed him that he was directly under the orders of the War Department. He then repeated his invitation to visit him in his home next door to Rugby House where Potter was residing. But he confessed to his fiance Lizzie that he didn’t feel at home with such dignitaries. Neither did he feel easy with the soldiers because, in spite of his status as a conscript, his military life was a relatively easy one. While the patients in the hospitals were being well cared for, they suffered from a lack of reading material. Mr. Ware had written from Cambridge offering some Unitarian army tracts to circulate. More were needed, and he decided to write to Congressman Eliot to ask for help in raising funds. He planned to begin the process by contributing the $500 farewell gift from the church in New Bedford. Since he was not yet receiving any military pay, he was paying his Washington expenses from his own savings.

6 He soon realized that inspecting hospitals was not enough to keep him busy, and he received a positive response to his proposal to the Secretary that he also visit soldier’s prisons. Visiting the camps was another possibility, but Stanton indicated that his goal was to appoint him chaplain at the Seminary Hospital in Georgetown. This was a facility exclusively for officers; “ . . . there I should have an audience for which the class of sermons he expects me to write would be more appropriate.” His previous sermons related to the war had been printed, but he felt that they were already outdated. The days passed and he still did not receive any official orders from the very busy Secretary. At Rugby House, he at first lived a solitary existence. After weeks of dining alone, however, his social circle began to expand, mostly with other Unitarians. Among them were two surgeons who knew of him through the Christian Enquirer, a Rev. and Mrs. Richardson, and Rev. John Pierpont, one of the Boston leaders of the Abolitionist cause. He attended the Unitarian church and heard Dr. Henry Whitney Bellows preach; “a brilliant, but not very deep discourse. The church is to be opened regularly, and until Mr. Channing (Rev. William Henry Channing) returns late next month, Mr. Richardson is in charge. He has asked me to preach, and if I agree, you can pick some out and send them to me.” Established by President John Quincy Adams and others (including William Greenleaf Eliot Sr., the Congressman’s father), the Washington church had never attracted other important government leaders. Indeed, some of them who were visible Unitarians when they were in their home communities, had nothing to do with it. While the church was often full, the majority of the worshippers were visitors to the city, not residents. But as they were in contact with others, the people of the city began to understand Unitarian rejection of creeds and the commitment to freedom and justice. Many of the visitors were hearing the message of Unitarianism for the first time He reported that he had been invited to preach on the following Sunday and perhaps for two or three more if Mr. Channing hadn’t returned. He asked Lizzie to send by express, The Persistence, The Eternal Messiahship, The Lord’s Sovereignty, and perhaps The Parting of the Ways. He acknowledged that he was already talking to her as if she were a minister’s wife. On Sunday, the 18th, he told her of taking tea with the two elderly Johnson sisters. “They are zealous Unitarians, philanthropists & god-mothers to all the Unitarian ministers who come here.” That morning he had preached on the text, Whosoever shall seek to save his life . . . It was well

7 received by the fair-sized congregation, but there were many vacant pews. “The congregation is small and weak. The war & Mr. Channing’s anti-slavery radicalism have driven off all the conservatives & almost all the wealthy members. But if they can only hold up through the crisis, they will be stronger for this sifting by & by.” He told her that he had enjoyed preaching that morning, almost as well as I did in my whole life.” Although he had preached that sermon often and had been out of the pulpit for many months, “the spirit in some unaccountable way seemed to come to me.” He preached again on the 25th, and felt so strongly drawn to “this faithful remnant, that were they without a minister, I should feel almost like throwing my lot in with them, should they desire my services.” On the eighth, Stanton informed him that he had been appointed chaplain at the Amory Hospital, the one nearest to the Potomac, which received the sickest and most severely wounded patients, but there was nothing in writing. A few days later the actual commission arrived after having been sent to New Bedford and forwarded. The good news that he had been waiting for came on the Tenth: “At last the end! That is, like the closing chapter of all novels, the true beginning. The end of the romantic plot; the beginning of life. Today I am appointed Chaplain at the Convalescent Camp; Tomorrow I expect to have the commission, with ‘A. Lincoln’ attached, in my hand.” He had visited the camp and met with several of the officers and their wives who seemed pleased by the idea of having another woman there. The quarters would be adequate. Thoughts about his hoped for imminent marriage had led him to begin speculating on his assignment. The news that he would become the chaplain at the convalescent camp just outside the city near Alexandria, Virginia was cause for gratitude. For its 5000 residents, he would try to make it “a New England village in winter,” with its Lyceum for lectures & debating, its clubs for reading and conversation, its social parties for entertainment, its newspaper, its private theatricals, and its Sunday service. Perhaps this would also be the place for the sermons that Stanton wanted him to give. He managed to meet the Secretary, who seemed receptive to the idea. A few days later he dined with him at his home. They discussed the possibilities of his service at the camp, and Stanton promised to reflect on it. In the meantime there was work to do. On the tenth he began to keep a day book in which he recorded all of his visits, kept notes of conversations, and noted deaths and their cause, along with names and addresses of the next-ofkin. During his visits he often fed those who were sick, wrote their letters, and conducted

8 funerals for those who died. Sometimes he also wrote to their families. The daybook has 91 pages of records written in pencil in note form. Forest Hall, a jail for Union prisoners, many accused of desertion, was the site of his first visit. There were far more men confined in its one large, filthy room than the 200 that the commander, Captain James, felt could be acceptably accommodated. The Captain reported that the Judge Advocate was coming to deal with the cases. He was convinced that many of the men wanted to return to their regiments. After sending these back the others should simply be dishonorably discharged and sent home with only enough money to get there—“nothing else and no redress.” But already Potter was beginning to experience doubts about the system of dealing with alleged deserters. Any person who turned over a man accused of desertion to a Deputy Provost Marshall would receive $10 whether the desertion was actually proved or not. Those who were arrested on the streets of Washington often had their knapsacks taken away and were delivered to the prison with only the clothing they were wearing. There was a suspicion of collusion to split the $10 bounty between the marshals and some of the men they arrested. From others there were a growing number of pleas for Potter’s support, and he was regularly at the War Department to plead the case of one or another of them. While his assignment from Stanton was to inspect facilities, he was clearly acting as a chaplain while awaiting a specific placement. A few days later he visited St. Aloysius’ Hospital, where he found a New Bedford neighbor, Lot Tripp, a soldier in the Massachusetts 39th Regiment. Mr. Stanton told him not to report to the Amory Hospital, and instead requested more visits to the military prisons as well as hospitals. There he found several whom he felt had been unjustly accused of desertion and began to work in their defense. For example, Charles Raymond, a Nantucket man in the Massachusetts 20th, had been sentenced to hard labor for desertion when in fact he had fallen out of his regiment because of sickness. He asked Lizzie to inform his New Bedford aunt, Mrs. Ishmael Tripp, about the situation. When he returned to Forest Hall on the October 23 the number of prisoners had been reduced to 250, but his recommendation that blankets be provided for all prisoners had still not been followed. The situation was not unusual. He advocated at the War Department on behalf of an alleged deserter who had become ill in the Distribution Camp where men were sent while awaiting assignment to a regiment. The illness was consumption; the cause was the lack of a blanket. He was now being sent home to die.

9 In the weeks that followed he also visited the Old Capitol prison, the Alexandria and Wolf Street hospitals, and the Distribution and Convalescent camps. While he recorded an abundance of statistics about cases and conditions, he expressed a special interest in the cases of alleged deserters. His November 11 visit to the Distribution Camp was in response to a request from Colonel Marche that he inquire into the cases of men who may have been falsely accused. He discovered that more than 100 of these men had probably never been in the army. Some had been sent back to regiments which discovered that there was no record of their ever having been enlisted. The process of making judgments was too slow; only about 27 cases were being processed a month. A message from Stanton came on November 6. Telling him that he’d like to multiply him into six, Stanton asked him to serve at the Convalescent Camp and to continue to act as the prison inspector. Because the camp was four miles out of the city, near Alexandria, it would be very difficult to do both. He reported to Lizzie that he would probably be sent to the camp and that Mr. Stanton would follow his suggestion for the creation of a board of inspectors for prisons and hospitals. The Secretary had asked him to draw up a set of instructions for the board. He had visited the camp and met with several of the officers and their wives who seemed pleased by the idea of having another woman there. The quarters would be adequate. . In the weeks that followed he also visited the Old Capitol prison, the Alexandria and Wolf Street hospitals, and the Distribution and Convalescent camps. While he recorded an abundance of statistics about cases and conditions, he expressed a special interest in the cases of alleged deserters. His November 11 visit to the Distribution Camp was in response to a request from Colonel Marche that he inquire into the cases of men who may have been falsely accused. He discovered that more than 100 of these men had probably never been in the army. Some had been sent back to regiments which discovered that there was no record of their ever having been enlisted. The process of making judgments was too slow; only about 27 cases were being proces awaiting assignment to a regiment. The illness was consumption; the cause was the lack of a blanket. He was now being sent home to die. A commission as a chaplain to the Convalescent Camp had finally arrived on the Tenth. “Today I am appointed Chaplain at the Convalescent Camp; tomorrow I expect to have the commission, with ‘A. Lincoln’ attached, in my hand.”

It was a very important assignment. With its 5000

residents, the camp was the largest facility of its sort near the nation’s capital. The needs were

10 manifold. Probably Potter’s vision of creating a community in the camp was persuasive. Surely Secretary Stanton understood that the minister’s Unitarian convictions were not shared by the vast majority of the inhabitants, but apparently he wanted one of the dozen chaplains to be a liberal. More important, it was his eloquent commitment to the Union cause, his organizational skills, and his integrity which were appealing. Stanton had urged Potter to come to Washington, had resisted allowing him to serve as a regular enlisted soldier, and, when he reported for duty, immediately assigned him to the important responsibility of inspecting hospitals and prisons. During the following several weeks while they resided next door to one another, they consulted frequently, and Potter was invited to come to the house whenever he chose and to be a frequent dinner guest. His observations and advice were given serious consideration, and only when a major position came open had he been given a permanent assignment. awaiting assignment to a regiment. The illness was consumption; the cause was the lack of a blanket. He was now being sent home to die. In the weeks that followed he also visited the Old Capitol prison, the Alexandria and Wolf Street hospitals, and the Distribution and Convalescent camps. While he recorded an abundance of statistics about cases and conditions, he expressed a special interest in the cases of alleged deserters. His November 11 visit to the Distribution Camp was in response to a request from Colonel Marche that he inquire into the cases of men who may have been falsely accused. He discovered that more than 100 of these men had probably never been in the army. Some had been sent back to regiments which discovered that there was no record of their ever having been enlisted. The process of making judgments was too slow; only about 27 cases were being processed a month. Thoughts about his hoped for imminent marriage had led him to begin speculating on his assignment. The news that he would become the chaplain at the convalescent camp just outside the city near Alexandria, Virginia was cause for gratitude. For its 5000 residents, he would try to make it “a New England village in winter,” with its Lyceum for lectures & debating, its clubs for reading and conversation, its social parties for entertainment, its newspaper, its private theatricals, and its Sunday service. Perhaps this would also be the place for the sermons that Stanton wanted him to give. He managed to meet the Secretary, who seemed receptive to the idea. A few days later he dined with him at his home. They discussed the possibilities of his service at the camp, and Stanton promised to reflect on it. In the meantime there was work to do.

11 On the tenth he began to keep a day book in which he recorded all of his visits, kept notes of conversations, and noted deaths and their cause, along with names and addresses of the next-ofkin. During his visits he often fed those who were sick, wrote their letters, and conducted funerals for those who died. Sometimes he also wrote to their families. The daybook has 91 pages of records written in pencil in note form. During the following several weeks while they resided next door to one another, they consulted frequently, and Potter was invited to come to the house whenever he chose and to be a frequent dinner guest. His observations and advice were given serious consideration, and only when a major position came open had he been given a permanent assignment. On November 22, before beginning at the Convalescent Camp, he went home to be married. Four days later, on Thanksgiving Day, he and Elizabeth were married by Mr. DeNormandie, minister of the Unitarian Society in Fairhaven. Apparently it took place in the home of Lizzie’s Aunt Jane and her husband, Alfred Kempton, and was attended only by members of their immediate families. After the wedding dinner, they left the same evening for Washington. On January 21, she reported to her mother: “It is the eighth week today since we got married. There is a dreadful dearth of affection. I just put out my hand to squeeze my Husband’s and he offered me a lemon to squeeze instead, because he couldn’t be interrupted.” She had gone into Washington, had dropped in on the Eliots, and had gone on to make several calls with their daughter, Ida. They were expected to make a return visit to the convalescent camp later in the week. The religious life of the camp was dominated by chaplains appointed by the orthodox Christian Commission. This commission had been created by the orthodox denominations as a response to the success of the Unitarian-inspired Sanitary Commission. There were eleven chaplains at the camp; Potter was the only liberal. He quickly took up his duties. Most of his work was in the hospitals. While he held services every Sunday Evening, Lizzie reported to her family that: “His true service is by these sick-beds and with the dying. It was hard for him to go at first. He felt that he had no special fitness for the work, but now . . . it grows naturally.” A few days later he informed her parents that they were at the camp. Their new home was a wooden “shantie” of two rooms, each 12 feet square, similar to those of the camp’s officers. She was tired, but “taking to housekeeping very naturally.” Since the Babcock family probably had a servant in their household, she may never before have been expected to perform domestic duties.

12 He preached his first sermon at the camp on December 31; the subject was Forgiveness of Sins. She hoped that it might comfort those whom “the Christian Commission may have scared and bewildered.” Following the service he conducted funerals for dead soldiers. “He is fitted for the work. There is a spirit in his face that a sick man trusts. And there are often cases of wrong and hardship which he gets power from the military authorities to redress.” “I don’t know what the poor fellows would have done here at Fredericksburg or Belle Plain without the Sanitary Commission. They have depended on us, not merely for comfort or delicacies, but in great measure for the bare necessities of life. The government supply even of the ordinary rations has been very short at all of these places.” He visited the hospitals and used his War Department connections to get furloughs for some of the soldiers. Otherwise, he said, “ . . . we might as well be at home.” “We are very happy, dear Sister,” she reported in the February letter to family and friends. “I have never before attained the peace of perfect content as now. May God help me to be as true and strong a woman as I might to be worthy of this strong heart on which I rest.” As the days passed, she began to suspect that she was pregnant. There had been various symptoms which seemed to indicate illness. She confided at the end of one of the letters which were usually shared with the family: “Dear Mother, I want to talk privately. How soon shall I know for certain? Do you really think it all means baby? When will he begin to let me know he is there? . . . Do you feel certain that you are about to be a grandmother? . . . Burn this sheet.” The orthodox chaplains held prayer services two or three times a day and actually persuaded many to ‘get’ religion. Since it seemed to bring happiness to those who had been converted, the Potters were glad for them, but Lizzie was unwilling to accept her husband’s judgment that because those orthodox chaplains shared the prejudices of most of the soldiers, they were better able to serve. “He has a direct and quiet way of working that I believe not common—and that tells. The soldiers feel it, and show it in their faces, who come to the house to get his assistance.” He soon discovered that there weren’t enough tasks of importance to keep him busy. On May 5, he wrote to Ruth that he would be leaving the convalescent camp (renamed the Rendezvous of Distribution) in order to become a volunteer agent for the United States Sanitary Commission.

13 The Commission had been established in 1861 through the initiative of Rev, Henry Whitney Bellows, Minister of the (Unitarian) First Congregational Society in New York City. Recognizing that the government was not prepared to provide medical and social services for the Unitarian soldiers he organized a national effort to create a corps of workers, men and women, who would accompany the armies and provide essential personal services to the troops. Some were nurses; others functioned as surrogate chaplains. They provided such essential items as blankets and toilet articles, reading material, and helped to maintain links with families. The Commission was the precursor of what became the American Red Cross. When Potter accepted the repeated invitations to join its service, he essentially continued the form of work that he had been doing at the Rendezvous of Distribution. but close to the battlefield. After returning with Lizzie to New Bedford in the middle of May and taking a brief furlough, he returned to Washington to take up his assignment with the Sanitary Commission. While at home he preached. His duty was to be with the troops in Virginia where the battle for Richmond was raging, but he was grateful to be for a moment to be at home with what had become his beloved congregation On May 22, he rejoined his unit at Fredericksburg, Virginia. His first letter back to Lizzie was written the next day. On the 28th he wrote from a field hospital responding to her depression at their separation and urging her not to spend her nights crying. He then described his new situation as a Captain in the 9th Corps Sanitary Squad. On the previous evening he had been about to go to sleep when a long train of ambulance wagons arrived from the front; food and drink were given at once. Since they couldn’t be moved until morning, we made them as comfortable as possible in the wagons. The agents then spent the next day providing all possible help. In response to her reports of continuing public criticism of the work of the Commission, he exclaimed: “I don’t know whether to laugh or to feel indignant at the reports you mention concerning the luxurious habits of living in which the Sanitary agents indulge. The charges are absurd. The critics should come and look for themselves. We eat out of wash basins, and today our meal consisted of canned chicken, potatoes, apple-sauce, pickles, bread and butter and coffee. The Sanitary Commission has its faults. It is not as perfectly organized as it should be, & the existence of other commissions, the Christian & some smaller ones, aiming at the same thing, creates some confusion & interference. Nevertheless, the main object is reached—the supplies do

14 get to the soldiers & an immense amount of suffering is alleviated or prevented, & valuable lives are saved. In response to the question of where all the money given to the Sanitary Commission goes to, could he see what is being done here just at the rear of this army, he could ask no longer.” Within a few days his unit moved aboard the steamer Kent up the Rappahannock River to White House, Virginia, twenty miles from Richmond. This was the base for Grant’s army. It was a scene of great activity. 15,000 men from General Butler’s army had been landed. The soldiers were very bitter because they believed that they had been sacrificed to serve Butler’s personal ambition to be the first to reach Richmond. But only if Grant could succeed would that objective be achieved. The Sanitary Commission agents were staying aboard the steamer and sleeping on the deck. On June 6, he described the disarray of the retreat of the Union forces. The wagon trail of the wounded was ten miles long, and the task of caring for them was overwhelming. He conducted a funeral service for a soldier from the 1st Maine Regiment, of which his friend George W. Bartlett was the chaplain. Only later did he learn that Bart had been killed instantaneously three days earlier.by a cannon ball during a cavalry charge He urged her to show his letter to her kinsman Joseph Delano and to encourage him to make up a short statement for one of the local papers, the Mercury. More help arrived in the next few days. They were optimistic about the military situation, but dismayed by the carnage. The mangled bodies were being brought in, and he was almost overwhelmed by the experience of the awful carnage. The news of Bart’s death was another blow. They had been the closest of friends and confidants from their days together at Harvard. In his sorrow he exclaimed, “Oh, God! How long is this war to desolate? How many more must we bring to the sacrifice? For ourselves we weep—with him it is well.” During the following weeks he moved aboard the steamer Elizabeth to Yorktown, Fort Monroe, and then to City Point, all in Virginia. Following the charge in mid-June at Petersburg, he wrote: “The negro troops are especially spoken of as showing the utmost bravery. I hear no sneers thrown at them as soldiers. They have vindicated their title to equal manhood with ourselves & henceforth will bear it.” In the weeks ahead the siege of Richmond continued without resolution and he began to believe that the war would continue on into the Fall. His letters to her continually express concern for her health—both physical and mental, and he was careful to minimize possible concerns about danger in his near battlefield position. Shortly

15 after his departure she discovered that she was expected to receive calls from the parish. Because they had married so suddenly, and departed so rapidly, the members had been given no opportunity to express their good wishes. She told Ruth that she had decided to receive all wellwishers at her Aunt Jane Kempton’s every day from 11—5 during the following week. Her letters express much loneliness for Will and anxiety about her pregnancy. But he felt that her letters weren’t fully expressing her feelings. On the 27th, he urged her to tell him everything and to hold nothing back. He assured her that he would come if he must, and two weeks later he announced that he would be free to leave his position in mid-August. In fact, he had no contractual obligation which would prevent him from leaving whenever he chose. Lizzie expressed concern about his future situation and wondered if he would be eligible in September for the new draft law. He admitted that he was and that the fates might be likely to take him again. But he was not anxious: “I cannot decide until the time comes what will be the duty of the hour. I sometimes think I would like to go through the South preaching a crusade against the rebellion, which is never to be ended until the North means war more than it now does & sacrifice of everything for the sake of the great interests involved in the war. . . . The war cannot end so long as so large a portion of the Northern people thinks it more important to stay at home for money-making than to risk their lives to save the country.” He seemed more concerned with his duty to the nation than that to his new family. He resigned from the Sanitary Commission in early August, and began his preparations to return to New Bedford. The Ninth Sanitary agents had experienced much illness and many deaths; “it was ill-fated in the field & ill-fated in our Sanitary band.” On the seventh he left by ship for Baltimore, but instead of going directly home, he made a detour to Washington, where he replaced all the clothes discarded at City Point with his striped linen pants and vest and his chaplain’s coat. There he reported to the head of the Commission, Mr. Knapp, who tried to persuade him to remain with the service. He met with Secretary Stanton and secured a 30-day furlough for a New Bedford soldier, Thomas Howland. Remaining for another day, he met and dined with Channing, the Unitarian minister. He reached New Bedford on August 15. Anna Aiken Potter was born on the sixteenth, probably prematurely, a few days less than nine months after her parents’ marriage. Lizzie soon began a journal which she kept until 1871:

16 “I propose to myself to gather together here, as well as I may, the little home history of our dear children. . . . Anna Aiken (Grandmother Potter’s maiden name) was born on Tuesday morning at quarter past nine. A rosy, pretty little baby—most wonderful and precious in my eyes. If she reads these pages some future years, it will interest her to know that her Father returned from service in Gen. Grant’s Army in the Sanitary Commission, only the day before; after an absence of three months. His duties had been among sick and wounded men, whom he served with faithful care. The position had been one of great exposure and peril—and those months of separation, full of anxieties to me. So our dear daughter will understand how blessed and beautiful to us was that day of her birth—which her dear, new life seemed to make doubly sacred.”

Richard A. Kellaway 10 Rosedale Street Dorchester, MA 02124 617 419 5197 [email protected]

March 2013