I hope to soon meet you here, and enter into a friendly interchange of thoughts and feelings without the formality of paper and ink. I am anxious to give you a hearty shake by the hand and welcome you to Washington. If you are left to your leisure hours, you will undoubtedly have much enjoyment both in society and in Congress. You must not anticipate too much pleasure in the crowded parties of the metropolis. To me they are perfect bores.
Let me know when you are to come on, and if not immediately I will write you a long letter. Read this if you can.
Yours in the true bonds of friendship,
H. Wager Halleck.
Although unable to procure the cadet appointment for Oliver, he greatly enjoyed his first visit to the capital, especially the debates in the Senate, where he listened to both Clay and Webster. The former impressed him as more a leader of men and controller of measures than the latter.
One would think that with his official duties, and all the studies and pursuits he was carrying on, every minute of his time must have been taken up; yet he organized a course of lectures for the winter, and himself delivered an address on Oliver Cromwell, whose character and achievements he greatly admired. In this lecture he presented with great force and clearness a new and original conception of the great Puritan, depicting him as a true patriot and a religious, God-fearing man, obliged by the circumstances of the times to seize the helm of state in order to save his country from despotism or anarchy. This was much the view afterwards so ably set forth by Carlyle. This lecture excited no little attention at the time; and when Carlyle’s Cromwell appeared, not long afterwards, it was said that the lecture would seem to have been taken from that work, had it not been delivered before that was published. He afterwards delivered this lecture in Andover and other places.
In the spring of 1841 he was placed in charge of Fairhaven Battery in New Bedford, Mass., in addition to his duties in Newport. This required frequent trips to the former place, which he usually made by stage, but several times he traversed the intervening country on foot. On one of these trips, in an economical mood he refrained from dinner in order to save the cost of the meal. Soon afterwards a lean and friendless dog attached himself to him, and followed his footsteps so persistently, and looked so piteous and hungry, that the young man’s sensibilities were touched, and he stopped at a farmhouse and purchased a good dinner for the half-starved animal, which, as he laughingly declared, cost all he had saved by his self-denial.
A letter from Mr. Bishop conveyed the afflicting and unlooked-for intelligence of the death of Susan, April 8, 1841, from pulmonary disease, after a brief illness. Thus unexpectedly passed away another loved sister, and one whose sunny, affectionate disposition, fine mind, and high principles had especially endeared her.
Benjamin Hazard died March 10, 1841. During his lingering illness he derived much comfort and pleasure from the society and attentions of the talented and sympathetic young man. He gladly sanctioned his betrothal with his daughter Margaret, and willingly intrusted the future of his beloved child to one whom he both loved and respected, and in whose character and ability he had the fullest confidence.
The marriage was solemnized by Mr. Brooks, September 8, 1841, in the great parlor of the old mansion, the same apartment which witnessed the wedding of “Charming Polly” and her Revolutionary hero, and of their daughter Harriet and Benjamin Hazard, the parents of the present bride.
It was a quiet and simple ceremony, so soon after the death of Mr. Hazard, but the ample room was well filled with beautiful young girls, the sisters and cousins of the bride, officers in full uniform, the companions of the groom, and old friends of the family. Hither came from Andover the groom’s brother Oliver, and cousin Henry H. Stevens, his West Point friend, Lieutenant Jeremy F. Gilmer, from Washington, Lieutenants James L. Mason, Henry J. Hunt, and Lewis G. Arnold, from Newport, and a goodly number of Lymans and Dunnells from Providence, uncles, aunts, and cousins of the bride.
The wedding journey was to New York by Long Island Sound, and thence up the Hudson to West Point, where they spent several days, and were received with flattering attentions by his old friends. With great pride and pleasure Mr. Stevens presented them to his lovely bride, and revisited with her the romantic scenes of the Point, endeared by so many pleasant associations. They returned by way of Springfield and Boston.
New Bedford, September 24, 1841.
My dear Father,—I was very glad to see Oliver and my cousin Henry at Newport on the occasion of my marriage, and, though your presence would have afforded me much pleasure, yet, as I well knew that it was a busy season with you, and that something very unusual only could induce you to leave home, I was not much disappointed at your not coming. You will certainly see us as early as next Thanksgiving. We had a most pleasant trip, were favored with unusually fine weather, and were disappointed in no one of our anticipations. Margaret had never visited West Point before, and had always lived in a country the scenery of which is very tame compared with the alpine grandeur of the Highlands. I had said a great deal to her about West Point, and I feared that her expectations were raised high above the reality. I was, however, agreeably surprised by her assertion that her ideas had scarcely approached the truth. The day after our arrival at West Point she insisted upon climbing to the Crow’s Nest, which you recollect is two miles from West Point, and commands the plain about twelve or fourteen hundred feet. Finding that my dissuasion had little effect, I took her up one of the roughest ways,—in many places we had to ascend almost perpendicular rocks. In one hour and a half we were on the very topmost height of the mountain. We came back by a rough, winding, long road, and got to the hotel four hours after leaving it. I call that a pretty good feat for a lady. From Hudson to Springfield the road was completed except about two miles near Chester Factories. It passes through a most wild and picturesque country, follows the valley of one of the rivers that empties into the Connecticut for some thirty miles, crossing it frequently and constantly changing direction, and is constructed in a truly magnificent style.
We got back to Newport just seven days after leaving it. There I found orders had been awaiting me two days to repair to New Bedford, to take charge of all the repairs of the old fort. You can judge of the urgency of the orders from my going to New Bedford the next day, and leaving Margaret at Newport, where she has been ever since. We arrived at Newport about four o’clock on Thursday. I left the next day at two o’clock, made an inspection of the fort on Saturday forenoon, issued a hand-bill the same day for mechanics and laborers, and on Monday morning had a gang of about twenty men at work. I never was in New Bedford before, and knew not a single man in the place. Monday morning I fell in with a real full-blooded Yankee, whom I engaged as overseer, and immediately sent around the country for stone-cutters and masons. I went on Monday into a ledge of granite rock, and have already thrown out about two hundred tons of stone, and got about a hundred feet cut. The people in New Bedford are disposed to criticise my plans, but they will find out I know what I am about, and that they had better save their sneers for some other object. After I had been at work three days, I dismissed three men for idleness, which had a very good effect. My plan is to be rather familiar with every man, but at the same time to make every one feel that he must do his duty. To-morrow I am going to Newport after Margaret. I have been so busy that I have had no time to miss her. In fact, this is the very first moment since I have been in New Bedford that I have been able to write home. Now my business has got into a regular course, and will require but little time to attend to it. Whether I shall spend the winter in Newport, or New Bedford, I don’t know. I have at present only orders to get in readiness platforms for nine guns.
Your son,
Isaac I. Stevens.
Mr. Isaac Stevens.
The young couple boarded in Fairhaven, a suburb of New Bedford, for several months, and then removed to the town. They entered with lively interest into the society of the place, at that time the abode of many wealthy and somewhat aristocratic families. Mr. Stevens had already made the favorable acquaintance of the first people before bringing his wife there; her family and personal attractions were known, and they were cordially received. Mrs. Hazard made them a short visit during the winter.
Halleck asks his assistance in starting an engineering journal for the corps.
I know too well your zeal for the profession to doubt for a moment that the measure will receive your countenance, and the support of your able pen. If we succeed in the undertaking, I am quite sure that it will be of much advantage to us individually, and will contribute greatly to the reputation of the corps.
If the delights of married life have not entirely driven away the recollection of old bachelor friends, I hope you will again favor me with one of your old-fashioned letters. I have heard too much of the attractions of your bride to scold you for so long neglecting me. From all accounts, my dear Stevens, I must pronounce you a most fortunate and happy man, and I shall embrace the first opportunity to make the acquaintance of your lady, and most heartily welcome her into our corps.
Yours most truly,
H. Wager Halleck.
The young couple spent Thanksgiving in Andover. The stern but true-hearted father, deeply mourning the untimely loss of his two elder daughters, was gladdened by the presence of five children,—Sarah, Isaac, Oliver, Mary, and the new daughter, Margaret. The latter was greatly admired, and was received with warm affection and kindness by them, and by uncles William and Nathaniel and their families. She was highly interested and pleased with the Thanksgiving festivities, a new experience to her; for the Quakers and Come-outers of Rhode Island, many of whom left Massachusetts to escape the tyranny of the “Lord Brethren,” never made much of that holiday, but kept Christmas instead.
After a delightful visit of a week, they returned to New Bedford and the pleasures of domestic life, and for the young husband what he always enjoyed,—hard work. This seriously encroached upon his proposed course of study and reading, yet with Mason he would run up to Providence to hear Ralph Waldo Emerson’s lectures.
On June 9, 1842, their first child, a boy, was born in the old Newport mansion, and named Hazard, after his maternal grandfather.
Newport, June 9, 1842.
My dear Father,—I came here last Friday with the intention of returning to New Bedford on Monday, but I was seized with a very violent bilious attack that kept me in the house for a day or two. The physician that was called prescribed calomel, and I was fool enough to take it, the consequence of which is that instead of being perfectly well to-day, as I should otherwise have been, I have a pain in my bones, and not half the elasticity that generally attends my recovery. However, calomel or no calomel, I don’t regret my illness, for it has been the cause of my being in Newport at a most interesting moment. Early this morning Margaret was safely delivered of a fine, healthy boy, after an uncommonly short and easy labor. She was fortunate in the attendance of a most judicious, skillful, and experienced physician, a younger brother of her father, who has been in an extensive practice for more than forty years. Now, father, you may fairly say that you have a right to your gray hairs. Gray hairs and grandfathers always go together. The little fellow has been squalling most unmercifully this morning, and seems to take it for granted that no one’s convenience is to be consulted but his own. If he will but show the same energy in the development of his other faculties, we may expect great things of him.
Your son,
Isaac I. Stevens.
During the greater part of this year Oliver pursues his studies at Phillips Academy in South Andover; Sarah is teaching an unruly school in Saugus, Mass., where she punishes a refractory boy, maintains order, and overcomes the unreasonable anger of the boy’s parents in a way that proves her gifted with much firmness, decision, and good sense. Only Mary remains at home. She writes: “We had a fugitive slave to spend the night with us. He was as black a person as I ever saw.” So it appears that the old Abolitionist is doing his part towards the “underground railroad,” as harboring and forwarding fugitive slaves was termed.
Elizabeth, in Tennessee, became engaged in the spring to Mr. L.M. Campbell, a promising young lawyer, and they were married September 9.
After the birth of the child, Mr. Stevens and his wife went to keeping house in New Bedford. Sarah visited them in the winter, and on her return home in March, 1843, they accompanied her as far as Boston, where they remained a week while Mr. Stevens attended to some engineering duties on one of the islands in the harbor. In April he was again in Boston, while his young wife was visiting her mother in Newport for election day in May, when the state government was to be inaugurated.
Lieutenant Stevens received orders to assume charge of the fortifications at Portsmouth, N.H., to which those at Portland, Maine, were added soon afterwards. These consisted of Forts Constitution and Scammell at the former, and Forts Preble and McClary at the latter place. Breaking up housekeeping at New Bedford in 1843, and leaving his wife and boy in Newport, and the little stock of furniture and belongings stored in the old mansion temporarily, Lieutenant Stevens proceeded to Portsmouth and took charge of the works. Having in his ever prompt and energetic manner set everything under way, he returned to Newport, and brought his little family to the new station. They boarded for a short time, then he leased a spacious house, using a portion of it as an office. They speedily found themselves among warm friends and pleasant surroundings. Lieutenant Tom Breese, of the navy, a generous, whole-souled gentleman, who had married Lucy Randolph, a cousin of Mrs. Stevens, was stationed at the navy yard, and made them more than welcome. Lieutenant A.W. Whipple, of the engineers, a fellow student at West Point, was conducting a survey of the harbor. He became a major-general, commanded the third division, third corps, Army of the Potomac, and was mortally wounded at the battle of Chancellorsville. There were also Colonel Crane, Captain Stanberry, and Lieutenants William H. Fowler and Joseph Hooker, of the army, and Major Harris, of the marines. Hooker afterwards rose to be major-general, and commanded the Army of the Potomac at Chancellorsville. Portsmouth, like Newport, had its old families and cultivated and agreeable society, which cordially received the young engineer officer and his wife. Among the first to call upon Mrs. Stevens were Mrs. John L. Hayes and Mrs. Samuel Elliott Coues, two beautiful young women, the daughters of Mr. Alexander Ladd, and a warm friendship grew up between the families, which continued after all three moved to Washington in after years.
In Portland, only a few miles distant, resided Rev. Asa Cummings, Mr. Stevens’s maternal uncle, the editor of the “Christian Mirror,” and his house was always open to the young couple like a second home. During the winter Mrs. Stevens’s sister Mary visited them. There was much social visiting and many entertainments; they attended the marriage of Lieutenant Whipple and Miss Sherburne. They were on board the frigate Portsmouth when she was launched at the navy yard.
Mr. Stevens found his hands full, with the two sets of works intrusted to him, and was obliged to spend no little time in traveling between them. At Fort Preble he planned and built the barracks, conceded to be among the best arranged in the country. Having to cross the harbor frequently in his visits to the fort, he had built at Newport one of the catboats for which that town was famous, and had it brought to Portland. He also brought on from New Bedford a faithful retainer, named Daniel Murphy, and put him in charge of the boat.
In addition to these onerous and responsible duties, he was placed in sole charge of the fortification of the narrows of the Penobscot River, where it was decided to build a regular, bastioned, casemated work for forty guns on the right bank of the river, opposite Bucksport, to be named Fort Knox. Mr. Stevens visited Bucksport in July, 1843, on this new duty. The first thing to be done was to purchase the site for the fort, and for this purpose he sought the owners of the land and made arrangements with them. One of these, an old farmer, not deeming it possible that the government could be represented in so important a matter by so young, boyish-looking, and unassuming a man, refused to talk with him, and soon afterwards, meeting an acquaintance, complained to him about that young fellow, a mere boy, talking to him as to buying his farm for the government, etc. To his astonishment, his friend assured him that he had made a great mistake, that the young man was Lieutenant Stevens, of the engineer corps, who had entire charge of building the fort, and advised him to lose no time in seeking the young officer and explaining his mistake, which he made haste to do. This incident shows how youthful Mr. Stevens appeared at that time, although twenty-five years old, a husband and a father. He was always quiet and unobtrusive in manner, without a trace of self-assertion or pretentiousness; and the marked impression he made upon all with whom he came in contact was due to real superiority of mind and spirit, and not to any adventitious advantages of stature or manner.
He also, in July, visited Castine, and inspected and reported upon the old works there, which had been fortified and held by the British during the war of 1812.
His sisters were again widely scattered from their father’s house. During the summer Sarah was staying with uncle Asa Cummings, and, being attacked by a severe cough, Mary came there to wait upon her, and also to attend school. Their brother Isaac constantly visited them, and supplied them with books and comforts. He also freely aided Oliver with funds. He was at North Yarmouth fitting for college, and helping himself by teaching school.
With all these calls upon him, Mr. Stevens was obliged to ask his father to repay—
“as much, not exceeding one hundred dollars, as you can conveniently raise. My expenses in the way of traveling have been very heavy this year. Three journeys to Bangor already, and two more in contemplation, besides quite a number between Portland and Portsmouth. With this I send you the ‘National Anti-Slavery Standard,’ the organ of the American Anti-Slavery Society. I have just commenced taking the paper. I like its spirit and views much.”
In this letter he speaks of spending four days in Portland, and finding Sarah improved and Mary well; gives a long account of the condition and medical treatment of the former, and suggests means for her recovery and plans for Mary’s education. These sisters were very dear to him, and he was very solicitous for their welfare. But Sarah rapidly grew worse with quick consumption, and died February 8, 1844, only twenty-two years old. After her death, Mary returned home.
One day at Portsmouth, as Mr. Stevens was at work in his office and his young wife was at the window, her attention was attracted by a unique vehicle coming down the street, followed by a tail of small boys in high glee. This was a rude sleigh fashioned out of poles, and drawn by a rough-looking nag, whose coat was innocent of currycomb and brush. Seated on a box in the bottom of the sleigh, and driving the horse with entire unconcern at the attention he was attracting, was a large, tall man, with light hair and fair, florid complexion, clad in homespun garb, the very type of an independent backwoods farmer. Stopping at the door, he inquired for Leftenant Stevens, who ran down, and was surprised and pleased to find in the rustic caller one of his mother’s brothers, John Cummings, from Albany, on his way to Andover. How uncle John received a warm welcome, how he was brought in and given a hearty supper, while his team was sent around to the nearest stable, and how he was loaded with viands and supplies enough to last the remainder of his journey when he resumed it, may be imagined. Such an opportunity to dispense hospitality to one of his relatives was a source of unalloyed pleasure to the young officer.
The laying out and starting the fort at Bucksport engrossed most of his attention in the spring of 1844. The care of important works at three different places necessitated incessant traveling, besides which he had to visit Boston periodically to obtain and bring down the public funds required. With all these duties and cares he was more than fully occupied, and was obliged to lay aside, for the present at least, his projected law studies. He also sent abroad and purchased a number of French works on fortifications and military history. He became deeply interested in the forts under his charge, and was indefatigable in urging upon the Engineer Bureau in Washington improvements and measures which his active mind was quick to observe. Indeed, in his zeal he overworked himself, and was prostrated with severe sickness in consequence. “You work too hard,” writes his sister Mary; “you will not live five years unless you take business easier.” During the summer he was able to give Oliver employment on Fort Preble, and writes his father that “Oliver has acquitted himself with credit; had to manage a gang of twenty-five men.”
Mrs. Stevens spent part of the summer at her mother’s house in Newport, where, on June 27, their second child was born, a daughter, named Julia Virginia. Early in August Mr. Stevens went to Newport to escort his little family to Bucksport. They spent several days in Andover, accompanied by Mrs. Stevens’s sister Nancy, where they met Elizabeth and her husband, just arrived from Tennessee on a visit. Mary was at home, and there was a pleasant family reunion. After this agreeable little visit they went to Boston and took the steamboat for Bucksport, Miss Nancy Hazard returning to Newport.
In the fall Elizabeth and Mr. Campbell returned to Tennessee, after a round of visits to her relatives in Massachusetts and Maine. Mary accompanied them.
Arriving at Bucksport the last of August, they found quarters at an old-fashioned country tavern, the only hotel in the place, where they had comfortable though rustic accommodations. The principal people, with the cordial hospitality characteristic of Maine, welcomed them to the town.
At first many, like the old farmer, were disposed to sneer at the young stripling, but the energetic, thorough-going, and effective way in which he organized and drove on the works, his decided, self-reliant character, sound, sensible conversation, and simple, direct manners, soon won their approval and admiration, and he became a great favorite, and much respected and looked up to as well as liked. After a short sojourn at the tavern, he leased a large, roomy house of Judge Pond, half of which he set apart as an office, and made his residence in the other half. Kidder Randolph, a cousin of Mrs. Stevens, was employed as chief clerk, and with his wife, née Isabella Updike, came on from Newport. He also employed in the office Mr. Isaac Osgood, a fellow-townsman from Andover, and on the works, as assistant, Mr. Abiel W. Tinkham.
The Penobscot at this point is some half a mile wide, with a strong tidal current. For crossing the river he provided a four-oared barge, over which Daniel Murphy was installed as coxswain. Every morning the young engineer officer would cross the river to supervise the works, and return to the town late in the afternoon or in the evening. A large force was set to work. Soon deep excavations, great banks of earth, and vast piles of granite and other materials attested the vigor with which the construction was pushed. He visited many quarries far and near, and examined and tested the granite. As this material was landed in great, heavy blocks and masses on the river-bank, and had to be hauled thence to the works up a considerable ascent, he bought many oxen for the purpose, scouring the country for the largest and finest to be had. In these teams he took great pride, and especially enjoyed taking friends and visitors to see them. He was also quite proud of his ability to select good workmen from their appearance. A well-shaped head, with a full, high forehead, he used to say, denoted a good man, reliable, intelligent, and industrious.
The lonely old man in Andover writes a pathetic letter to Isaac in December, urging him to make him a visit. Of his seven children, not one was at home at Thanksgiving. Three daughters had died; the remaining two were far distant in Tennessee; Isaac was in Bucksport, and Oliver in North Yarmouth. With deep feeling the aged and lonely father writes: “My children,—you may well suppose I thought of them.”
Mr. Stevens again had a severe sickness in the winter, the result probably of overwork, although he used to say that the cold winter climate of Maine did not agree with him, that it rendered his faculties torpid or benumbed. In February, however, he visited Washington, and was present at Polk’s inauguration as President. He embraced this opportunity to urge upon Colonel Totten, chief of engineers, the need of increased appropriations for the works under his charge, and with such success that the other engineer officers complained that Stevens had left no funds for their works.
During 1845 Mr. Stevens was vigorously pushing the building of Fort Knox, as well as attending to the works at Portland and Portsmouth. In May he received a confidential letter from Colonel Totten, asking if he desired transfer to and promotion in one of the new regiments about to be raised, which, with his characteristic reply, is given:—
Engineer Department,
Washington, 28th May, 1845.
Lieutenant Isaac I. Stevens,
Corps of Engineers, Bucksport, Maine:
Sir,—In case of an increase of the military establishment at the next session of Congress, I shall probably be called upon to know if any officers of engineers desire a transfer to the new forces, with promotion.
Would you desire such a transfer? What is the lowest grade that you would be willing to accept? And in what arm of the service?
Very respectfully, your obt. svt.,
Joseph G. Totten, Col. and Ch. Eng.
I have already been spoken to on this subject by one high in authority.
Bucksport, Maine, June 24, 1845.
Colonel Joseph G. Totten,
Chief Engineer, Washington:
Sir,—In answer to the confidential circular of the Department of the 28th ultimo, asking if I should desire a transfer with promotion to the new forces, in case of an increase of the military establishment at the next session of Congress, I beg to say generally and comprehensively that I hold myself in readiness to discharge to the best of my ability the duties of any position which shall enlarge my sphere of action and of usefulness, and with which, in the judgment of those intrusted with the administration of public affairs, I may be deemed worthy to be invested; promotion or no promotion, in my own corps or in any other corps or department of the public service, and whether the field of duty be in Oregon, California, or at the North Pole.
I am, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
Isaac I. Stevens, Lieut. of Eng’rs.
This reply evinces a certain impatience, or disapproval, at the idea of consulting the personal wishes and preferences of an officer as to his assignment to duty. Mr. Stevens always held high ideals of public duty,—many would deem them quixotic and overstrained. He ever deemed it the duty of appointing officers to select the ablest and best-fitted man for any post or service that could be found, and that it was the duty of every public officer to serve with complete self-abnegation and patriotic zeal. His whole career proved the sincerity of his convictions on this point.
In consequence of the hostile attitude assumed by Mexico upon the admission of Texas into the Union against her protests, Colonel Totten, on June 8, writes the following confidential order:—
“In all the forts under your charge (including the narrows of the Penobscot) you should, as soon as it can be done advantageously, place all your batteries in a state of perfect readiness for guns, leaving nothing to be done but the mounting of the guns when they shall arrive. It is of infinite importance, should any exigency arise, that the preparation of the country shall not be found deficient in any manner depending on the Engineer Department.”
General Taylor with a small force was thrown into Texas to protect the newly acquired State, and the increasing probabilities of war with Mexico were eagerly discussed by the ambitious young army officers. In September Mr. Stevens accompanied Colonel Totten on a tour of inspection of all the works under his charge, and entertained him and Mrs. Totten for several days at his house in Bucksport.
Mr. Stevens was never so well pleased as when dispensing hospitality in his own house. He was continually bringing friends home to dinner, often on short notice, and always liked to have some of his relatives visiting him. His wife’s sister Nancy spent the summer with them. Brother Oliver, uncle William’s daughter Eliza and son William, Mrs. Hazard and her son Thomas, and sister, Miss Eliza B. Lyman, and uncle Nathaniel, also visited them, and, after much urging, his father, from Andover, was induced to make a brief visit. He employed Oliver again this summer on Fort Preble. Always ready and glad to serve any relative or friend, he saw to the purchasing and shipping of several cargoes of hay for uncle Nathaniel, declining to accept any recompense for his services.
On December 7 the little girl, Julia Virginia, died of water on the brain, after a brief illness. She was a beautiful, gentle child, and a great pet of her father, who delighted to place her on his office table when he was at work, oftentimes to the sad disarrangement of his plans and drawings, and her death was a severe affliction. The following beautiful lines were written by Mr. Brooks, in condolence upon the sad loss:—
During the winter Mr. Stevens organized a course of lectures for the Bucksport Lyceum, delivering one lecture himself, and writing to lecturers in different parts of the country, engaging their services, and inviting them to his house. Among the lecturers and subjects were: John A. Peters, on “The Profession of Politics;” William B. Merton, on “American Literature;” J.A. Smith, on “The Present State of English Poetry;” Henry Giles, George Shepard, and others, whose subjects are not known. He also became interested in organizing a Unitarian Church in Bucksport, and corresponded with Dr. A.P. Peabody in regard to a pastor, etc., but it was found impracticable to do this.
Mr. Stevens was never a sportsman or fisherman; indeed, he kept himself so immersed in work as never to have time for field sports, yet he was especially fond of the noble salmon which were taken in the Penobscot, and delighted to send fine, handsome specimens of this noble fish to his father, Mrs. Hazard, and other friends. He had a fish-weir built below the fort, in which many fish were taken at times.
Convinced of the desirability of organizing a body of engineer troops as part of the army, for several years Mr. Stevens kept writing urgent memorials and letters to the Engineer or War Department in advocacy of the plan. In those days the rank and file were nearly all foreigners, and far inferior in character to the regular soldiers of the present day. For the engineer troops he advocated enlisting American young men of intelligence, good character and physique, putting them under a thorough course of instruction, with strict discipline, in order “to raise them to the highest state of discipline and efficiency, a fair representation of what an American army might and should be, so that every man in the company can, if he chooses to study and do his duty, become a good clerk, overseer, or practical engineer.” Moreover, in case of war, or an increase of the army, some of the best qualified and most deserving men might be given commissions. He was deeply impressed with and admired Cromwell’s policy of raising his “ironsides” among men of good family and substance, discarding “serving-men and tapsters,” and was full of the idea of making the American army as honorable for the common soldier as for the officer. The soundness of these views is now becoming recognized, and within the last few years steps have been taken to raise the standard of regular soldiers by enlisting only the better class of men, and giving them more instruction, advantages, and opportunities, even to appointing officers from the ranks.
At length the War Department decided to allow the raising of an engineer company, and Lieutenant Stevens issued circulars calling for men, and personally enlisted the first soldier in the new corps, private Lathrop. The company formed part of Scott’s army in Mexico, where it rendered distinguished service under Captain G.W. Smith and Lieutenant George B. McClellan, the former of whom became a Confederate major-general, and the latter was the well-known commander of the Army of the Potomac.
In July, 1846, Mr. Stevens was in Boston loading a vessel with material for Fort Knox. During this summer Mrs. Stevens’s eldest sister, Miss Emily L. Hazard, with her little nephew, Charlie Brooks, made them a visit, and two other sisters, Mary and Nancy, spent the summer and fall with them.
The Mexican war was now in full progress with Taylor’s campaign on the Rio Grande, and Lieutenant Stevens, ambitious for active service, but unwilling to urge his personal wishes, writes the chief of engineers that sedentary employment is prejudicial to his health,—needs exercise in the open air,—would respond with alacrity to any call made upon him for service in Mexico, adding that he makes no personal application, but simply states facts, etc. At last, on December 25, he received his orders, and in two hours was speeding by sleigh over snow-drifted roads to Bangor, reaching Portland the next day, and Boston the 28th. Miss Nancy Hazard went, under his escort, as far as Boston, returning home. Miss Mary remained in Bucksport to spend the winter with her sister, who needed her society and care, for on November 20, the second daughter, Sue, was born.
Boston, Mass., December 29, 1846.
My dearest Wife,—We reached Boston yesterday at half past twelve, after a very pleasant journey from Bangor. The weather was unusually mild, and we experienced very little fatigue. Nancy took the afternoon cars for Providence. This afternoon the steamer Perry runs to Newport and will take her home.
I shall not sail probably till Saturday.
I have determined to take out a complete equipment, even to a servant. I am causing inquiries to be made this morning, and in case I find no one to my mind, I shall send for Daniel Murphy. Daniel would be so devoted to me. If I were sick he would take care of me. Daniel, too, would feel with me perfectly secure from all harm. The quartermaster will furnish me here with a camp equipage. I shall provide myself with a saddle, india-rubber leggings, and everything complete, so that not for a single instant shall I be delayed on reaching my destination. Immediately on my landing I wish to be ready for service. I may take out a horse. I wish some of my good friends would present me one. I should want a horse worth three hundred dollars.
I have sent for Oliver to spend the day with me to-morrow. I thought it best not to send for father. It will be hard for him to part with me, and he had better stay at home.
Since leaving you my mind has dwelt much upon my little family. I know you will look on the bright side. In all candor, I consider my life as safe in Mexico as in Maine. I hope to get a sound constitution, and to come back to you, my dear Margaret, in due season, sound in body and none the worse for wear. You have a treasure in your own mother and brothers and sisters. Mary is with you. I feel grateful to her for giving up so promptly her own wishes to stay with you. I hope you will have a pleasant winter. Keep up your spirits, and have faith in the future and in the God of the future. I go to Mexico without a single foreboding. I have faith, almost implicit faith, that I shall come back. Have faith with me.
So long as I remain in Boston you shall hear from me every day. Love to Mary and the chicks.
Affectionately yours,
Isaac.
Boston, Mass., December 30, 1846.
My dear Margaret,—Oliver has come down to pass the day with me. We are hard at work preparing inventories and getting everything ready. We have a fine vessel, and I look forward to a pleasant passage.
Oliver brought me the sad intelligence of the death of Elizabeth on the 10th of December. Campbell wrote further a most feeling and excellent letter. Elizabeth suffered but little, and everything was done for her that could be suggested by the forethought of the most devoted of husbands.
Her child was very well. Mary, we expect, will return in the spring. I shall try and send you a little note every day. Write me at Brazos Santiago, and write often, commencing now. Write once a week, adding something to your letters each day.
Remember me to all.
Affectionately,
Isaac.
Lieutenant Stevens’s orders were to take charge of the pontoon and engineer trains, then being loaded on shipboard in Boston, and accompany the same to the headquarters of General Scott in Mexico, touching first at Brazos Santiago, Texas.
Notwithstanding the urgency of his orders, various delays occurred, and it was not until the 19th of January that the vessel sailed. During this period of waiting he had a visit from his father, and one from Oliver, also. His cousins Charles and Henry also came down from Andover to bid him good-by. He spent a day in New Bedford, calling upon his friends there. Daniel Murphy, having fallen sick, had to be sent home.
Boston, Mass., January 13, 1847.
My dearest Wife,—I wrote you a brief note yesterday, stating that I should not probably sail for some days. Having nothing to do here, yet obliged to remain to be in readiness to obey any new orders, I shall endeavor to spend my time in some rational manner. There are military matters to be looked into and old friends to visit.
I hope I shall hear from you, before I leave Boston, and very much in full. I wish once more to look into the little details of your daily life, before I commit myself to the broad bosom of the great waters.
January 14. Yesterday I passed a portion of the day in Cambridge; found Mrs. Breese and family all well. The children had grown much since I last saw them. Mrs. Breese seemed very resigned, but she has evidently been a great mourner. She was the same hospitable, noble-hearted woman as of old. She expects to get to Newport about May; will go to housekeeping in their old house.
I saw the forty-eight Viennese dancers last evening. It was splendid. They are young girls from four years to sixteen, all handsome and perfectly trained. Everybody goes to see them. Last evening there was a great turn-out of the beauty and fashion of Boston.
You shall hear from me again before I leave. There is no probability of my sailing before Saturday. Love to Hazard and the babe. Remembrances, and
Yours affectionately,
Isaac.
Boston, Mass., January 15, 1847.
My dearest Wife,—There is now every prospect of my getting off to-morrow. I may not reach the Brazos till the middle of February. Colonel Totten left on the 12th for Mexico, and I shall without doubt serve under his immediate direction. Eighteen officers of engineers are either in Mexico, or on their way thither.
I trust I shall get a few lines from you to-morrow before I sail, as otherwise a month must pass before any tidings reach me. Do not fall to write quite often to me at the Brazos. I shall not object, you know, to find a dozen letters, more or less.
To-day I dined at Mr. Eben Dale’s, a nephew of aunt Cummings. Cousin Charles Stevens dined there also. He designs going this evening to see the Viennese dancers. I wish you could see them. Everybody is charmed. Whole families go, children and all, and to-morrow there is to be an afternoon exhibition for the particular benefit of the children.
I will write you again before I sail.
Affectionately yours, Isaac Stevens.
Boston, Mass., January 19, 1847.
My dearest Wife,—It is now ten o’clock in the morning, and I shall in an hour take my departure for Mexico.
We have a fine vessel—good officers and crew—and it is a charming day.
I hoped to have heard from you before I left, but no letter has reached me.
God bless you and the little ones.
Yours affectionately,
Isaac.
My dearest Wife,—It is now January 27, and the eighth day of our being at sea. I wrote you a brief note on the day I sailed, Tuesday, January 19. We left the wharf at three P.M., with a strong westerly wind, which drove our bark through the water at the rate of eight knots per hour. The weather was very cold, but with my cloak around me, I remained on deck several hours. Soon Boston and its suburbs vanished in the distance, and we were fairly embarked on our journey’s way. As I think it will interest you, I will jot down the occurrences of each day since our departure. And first of all, my ocean home is in a beautifully modeled and fast-sailing bark of about two hundred tons, called the Prompt. There are twelve souls on board: Captain Wellman, first officer Gallicer, second officer Stebbins, six men before the mast, one man acting as cook and steward, my servant, a nice Irish lad, Owen Clarke, nineteen years of age, and your humble servant. The officers of the bark are a fine set of fellows, and the crew perfectly cheerful and attentive to their duty. Tuesday evening I was not much troubled with sea-sickness, and I enjoyed a good night’s rest; but Wednesday, January 20, was a hard day, nothing but sea-sickness. In pursuance of the advice of Captain Wellman, I remained on deck as much of the time as possible. The weather was somewhat cold, but the wind moderate. We drifted along the greater portion of the day, not faster than two or three knots an hour. After suffering from sea-sickness till noon, I went to my berth. There is an inexpressible lassitude accompanying sea-sickness, that is worse than anything else. It requires an effort to make the least exertion.
Thursday, January 21. This day we had snow all the time. I remained on deck twelve hours, and towards evening felt vigorous and well. The weather begins to grow milder. I begin to relish food and to enjoy sea fare. Our steward has been sick ever since we left port, and we are in consequence obliged to do the best we can without a cook. It is now evening, the breeze freshens, the bark dances along merrily, and there are signs of a gale of wind. I remained up till eight o’clock, and then retired for the night. As I awoke from time to time, I could observe from the working of our vessel that it went hard on deck. I took things quietly and remained in my berth, and about sunrise of
Friday, January 22, I went on deck. The scene was wild and exciting. The ocean tossed in wild confusion, and our brave bark riding the crests of the waves like a sea-bird. The gale had been a severe one, and the captain told me that at one time he expected he should be obliged to lay to under bare poles. We pursued our way before the wind, making nine and ten knots per hour.
Saturday, January 23. The sea has become much smoother and the weather milder. Yesterday we were in the midst of the Gulf Stream, and to-day we have passed it.
Sunday, January 24, was a beautiful day. The weather mild and lazy. I was on deck all day,—part of the time reading, and part dozing and sleeping. It is comfortable on deck without a coat. We are getting rapidly into southern latitudes.
Monday, Tuesday, January 25, 26. Head wind and slow progress. Monday we saw several sail. The weather exceedingly mild and soft. I never enjoyed existence more than on these two days,—that is, mere existence. I dreamed away many hours, and built and pulled down air castles. The thought of home was uppermost. What a change in outward things in six days. In Bucksport you wrap your cloaks and comforters around you; at sea we pull off our coats. My health is perfect; everything like sea-sickness has left me.
Wednesday, January 27. This is likewise a mild, soft, somewhat damp day. We make exceedingly slow progress; the wind is dead ahead. I fear we shall be a month reaching the Brazos. Shall I hear from you there, and how many letters will await me? I trust I shall be with you again in the course of the summer. I dwell much on my probable duties in Mexico. In case the contest should be of short duration, I shall certainly return in the course of the year. I fear that you will take things hard in my absence. When I reach the Brazos, I may be able to speak with some certainty of my duties in Mexico.
Thursday, January 28. Last evening we had a rough night. This morning the sea is very rough, and our bark is pitching about in all directions. I am fortunate in having no return of sea-sickness. My boy, Owen, is not so fortunate. I observed his head over the bulwarks a few moments since in no equivocal position. He is a nice, willing lad. I picked him up in Boston, the very day we sailed. He is now in the steward’s hands learning to cook. On reaching the Brazos, he will be quite accomplished in the culinary art.
Friday, January 29. To-day we are making fine progress, about nine miles per hour; shall reach the Abaco Island, one of the Bahamas, on Saturday (to-morrow night) at this rate. The weather is charming. I have most of the day read in my military works, sitting on the deck of the vessel. The weather is, indeed, rather warm.
Saturday, January 30. Last night there was a change of wind, and to-day we are making little or no progress. The sea somewhat rough. We shall not reach the Abaco this evening.
Sunday, January 31. Last evening the wind died away, and to-day we have not moved one mile per hour. The sun has been warm; I have worn nothing about my neck to-day. Several of the men are barefoot, and all of us are in our shirt-sleeves. We are in about latitude 27°, and some one hundred miles from the Bahamas. This calm weather is very tedious, but we must be patient; we have now been out twelve days.
Monday, February 1. This has been an exquisite day. Soon after dinner our eyes were rejoiced with the sight of land, the first since leaving Boston, thirteen days since. Our bark glides along with scarcely any perceptible motion. Towards night we approached the Great Abaco, and about seven saw the revolving light and the Hole in the Wall, caused, according to the jolly sons of Neptune, by the Devil’s chasing a porpoise through the rock-bound shore of the Great Abaco. The hole is, indeed, a small arched opening through the rocks, admitting the passage of a small boat.
Friday, February 2. Another splendid day. Early in the morning we made the Berry Islands, inhabited by some fifty or sixty blacks under a black chief. We saw one of their boats returning from turtle-fishing. About seven we commenced crossing the Bahama Banks in soundings, nearly all the way of one hundred miles, from twelve to twenty-four feet. We had a clean run, and went into deep water about seven o’clock, running the one hundred miles in about twelve hours. The evening was surpassingly lovely. I remained on deck till ten, looking at the stars and thinking of home.
Wednesday, February 3. This day has fairly brought us into the Mexican Gulf. In ten days, I trust, we shall reach the Brazos. To-day I have been overhauling my clothes. My boy Owen has mended some rents in my garments. He says he can wash like “fun.” The captain teases him a good deal about the bright Irish lass he left in Ann Street. Owen wants me, when I reach Mexico, not only to buy a mule for his use, but a little cart for the things; quite an idea. To-day we are in latitude 24° 13´. The weather very warm. I have found the heat quite oppressive.
Thursday, February 4. Nothing of consequence has occurred to-day. We are moving on quickly with prosperous though gentle winds.
Friday, February 5. Everything has moved on lazily to-day. We have seen several vessels.
Saturday, February 6. Same as yesterday. A vessel is in sight, apparently bound to the north. It is now nearly three o’clock, and we have been out eighteen days. I shall seal up and send this letter by the vessel, if she prove to be bound north, and I trust it will find you well. We are now about five hundred and sixty miles from the Brazos. Shall I hear from you there? Love to the children, to Mary; remembrances to Mr. Osgood, Kidder, Mr. and Mrs. Tinkham.
The vessel did not send her boat, and no opportunity was offered to send this letter. We passed directly under her stern. She was a brig of two hundred tons, and bound to New York. This letter must remain on my hands till I reach the Brazos.
Sunday, February 7. A most melancholy event occurred on board today. As I was lying in my berth, about a quarter before twelve o’clock, Captain Wellman came into the cabin, somewhat agitated, and said to me, “Our steward is not to be found.” All hands were on deck in a moment, and a thorough search was made in all parts of the ship. The steward was not to be found anywhere. The appearance of the galley was conclusive as to his having thrown himself overboard. He was seen at half past eleven, and yet little or no preparation had been made for dinner. He had been observed to be moody and absent-minded in the course of the morning. We could assign no cause for the act. He had been treated well, and his duties were light. My servant had assisted him throughout the passage. His sudden disappearance whilst four men were on deck, in good smooth weather, caused us all to feel melancholy. We ate very little dinner. Our thoughts were sad, and we passed much of our time through the remainder of the day in recalling every little incident of the voyage having any connection with the unfortunate steward. The only thing which gave any light was certain expressions he had made use of, showing a melancholy and restless spirit. We found out, moreover, that he was suffering very severely from the bad disorder, contracted some two months since in Liverpool. This may have been the cause of his making way with himself.
Monday, February 8. We none of us passed a quiet night, in consequence of the distressing event of yesterday. One of the crew has been put into the galley, and things go on in the accustomed manner. This evening the effects of the steward were disposed of to the crew at auction; and so he has gone to his account, and our bark is pursuing her destined course. Our vessel has gone on very quietly the last two days.
Tuesday, February 9. We still have quiet times, and are gradually approaching the Brazos. With tolerable good luck we shall arrive there in two or three days. It is now evening and seven o’clock. There is every appearance of a norther. The captain has been somewhat anxiously pacing the deck for the last hour. It is now eight o’clock, and I will turn in for the night.
Wednesday, February 10. A severe norther came up about nine last evening, and is now sweeping over the Gulf. Our bark works admirably. Occasionally she ships a sea. But her deck for the most part is dry. The weather is very cold, and I have kept my berth nearly all day.
Thursday, February 11. The norther did not commence to abate till noon to-day. It is now six P.M. The water is comparatively smooth. I have been somewhat unwell for two or three days, but hope to become well with smoother weather.
Friday, February 12. We had a quiet night, and this morning we have scarcely a breath of wind. Our estimated distance from the Brazos is about sixty miles. We shall not arrive till to-morrow. I fear I shall not hear from you. There is some, yes, great doubt, whether letters to the army are forwarded by mail beyond New Orleans, in which event all your letters to me will remain in the New Orleans office; nor can they be forwarded till I can send for them by some ship going there.
Saturday, February 13. It is now about two P.M., and we are in direct view of the Brazos, which is some six miles distant. We are beating up against a head wind, and there is considerable doubt as to whether we shall make our anchorage to-night. The wind has gradually subsided, and it is now nearly a calm. Unless a fresh breeze should spring up, we shall require another day. This is our twenty-fifth day.
Sunday, February 14, five P.M. I have just reached the Brazos, and find General Worth, Colonel Totten, Lieutenants Mason and Tower, and many other officers here. An opportunity offers to send this letter. I will write again in a few days. I shall remain at the Brazos a few days longer. Remember me to Kidder and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Tinkham, Mr. Osgood, and love of course to the children and Mary.
Affectionately yours,
Isaac.