Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr.: Civil War Sailor and Civil Rights Activist

By Bennett White
HRNM Volunteer

Thomas Paige likely served aboard USS Minnesota during the Battle of Hampton Roads. In this painting, USS Minnesota is protected by USS Monitor on March 9, 1862. (Tom Freeman Art)

African Americans have participated in armed conflicts since the American Revolution; however, the Civil War was the first time the Federal Army and Navy officially incorporated free Black men and previously enslaved individuals into their ranks. In his preliminary Emancipation Proclamation, Abraham Lincoln instituted a policy allowing Union military commanders to begin enlisting Black men into the Union military. By May 1863, the Bureau of Colored Troops was established in Washington, D.C., to administer the increasing number of African American units operating in the field.[1] While the Union Army quickly established complex regulations to segregate African Americans into all-Black units, the Navy—desperately short of manpower at the start of the war—fully integrated the decks of its steamboats, supply ships, and war frigates to put together an effective fighting force.[2] Hampton Roads, due to Fort Monroe’s reputation as a refuge for escaping slaves, proved to be a rich recruiting ground for Navy personnel to identify and enlist African Americans into military service. Many of these Black veterans would go on to shape American life after the war through political activism and entrepreneurship.

Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr. was one of these brave men. Born into slavery in 1838, Paige had to combat racism in antebellum Norfolk from an early age. Before the Civil War, enslaved people in Norfolk held the same jobs as free Blacks and less affluent whites, and often developed skillsets necessary for carpentry, barbering, crafting sails, and staging freight along Norfolk’s dockyards. However, economic stagnation made jobs scarce, which prompted white laborers to lash out against African Americans through street brawls and vigilantism.[3] In 1857, seeking freedom, Thomas—along with his brother Richard Paige (who eventually became Virginia’s first Black attorney and a Republican congressman)—escaped aboard a schooner bound for Philadelphia through the help of northern abolitionists. While Richard remained in Boston to study law under abolitionist George Hilliard Steward until 1867, Thomas quickly found himself back in Hampton Roads after enlisting in the Navy in Boston sometime in early 1861.[4]

Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr.'s USN Pension File (National Archives)

According to his pension file, Paige worked as a landsman on four different ships, including USS Minnesota, USS Princeton, USS St. Louis, and USS Macedonian.[5] Although archival records are not definitive, his time spent on Minnesota in late 1861 and early 1862 likely coincided with Minnesota’s famed involvement in the Battle of Hampton Roads on March 8-9, 1862. On March 8, punishing broadsides from the Confederate ironclad CSS Virginia crippled the Federal flotilla blockading southeastern Virginia, sinking USS Congress and USS Cumberland before forcing USS Minnesota to run aground off the coast of Newport News. Immobilized by a thick mud bank, Minnesota’s crew ferociously returned fire from CSS Virginia, CSS Jamestown, and CSS Patrick Henry while tugs worked to pull the steam frigate to safety. As the battle continued, the ironclad USS Monitor defended Minnesota’s crew from CSS Virginia’s attacks long enough for tugs to escort Minnesota back to Fort Monroe. Often overshadowed by the historic showdown between ironclads, Minnesota’s crew heroically withstood artillery barrages and returned fire throughout the two-day ordeal, protecting the Union blockade and ultimately helping USS Monitor neutralize the Confederacy’s most prized naval asset.

After the war, Thomas Paige—through his advocacy for racial equality—embodied the courage exhibited by Minnesota’s crew during the Battle of Hampton Roads. As the smoke cleared from Virginia’s battlefields and waterways, Thomas and Richard Paige immediately began advocating for recently emancipated African Americans. In the summer of 1865, prominent African Americans in Norfolk organized clubs that lobbied for Black political equality. Led by a former slave, dentist Dr. Thomas Bayne, community organizers established the “Colored Monitor Union Club” and gathered nearly 2,000 African American citizens on the steps of Catherine Street Baptist Church to listen to local speakers reflect on issues central to the Black community. The lectures were then published with the help of Thomas and Richard Paige—their Bostonian contacts connected them with E. Anthony and Sons, a Black press located in New Bedford, Massachusetts. The resulting pamphlet, Equal Suffrage: Address from the Colored Citizens of Norfolk, Va, to the People of the United States, called for Black male suffrage in state and local elections in order to obtain legislative representation and to ensure ex-slaveowners would be unable to re-form the Confederacy.[6] The Paige brothers, along with the Colored Monitor Union Club, financed the printing of 5,000 copies dispersed throughout the United States.[7]

Emboldened by his political leadership, Thomas Paige navigated persistent racial discrimination during Reconstruction to become a successful businessman and property owner in Norfolk. By 1872, Norfolk had 74 Black-owned businesses. Black entrepreneurs forged successful law practices, established importation companies, and opened barber shops. All six of the city’s oyster dealers were African American, and four Blacks held positions on the Freedmen’s Bank advisory board. Black social life experienced a renaissance, too. Norfolk’s Black community spent their leisure time attending lectures, hosting weekend picnics, and organizing grand parades complete with veterans in military dress and lively musical bands. By 1880, Thomas opened Paige’s Hotel, a boarding house centrally located on the western side of Market Square, Norfolk’s premier business district in the late nineteenth century. There, an exhausted dockyard worker could pay fifty cents per night for access to a warm bed, eat a hearty meal any time of the day, and play pool in the attached billiards hall while imbibing with “the best wines, liquors, and cigars” in Norfolk.[8]

Advertisement for Paige's Hotel in the Norfolk City Directory, 1880 

The story of Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr. is just one of the many unique narratives that can be uncovered when exploring the archival records of African American service members. For many Black Civil War veterans, serving in the Union Army and Navy meant more than performing their patriotic duty. Rather, it was a deeply personal endeavor to free their own parents, wives, and children from the same plantations from which they escaped. Once free, Black veterans like Thomas Paige built on their military careers by fighting for political rights and economic prosperity during Reconstruction and beyond.



Notes:
[1] Keith P. Wilson, Campfires of Freedom: The Camp Life of Black Soldiers during the Civil War (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 2013), 2.
[2] Segregation in the Navy | Naval History Magazine - February 2021 Volume 35, Number 1 (usni.org)
[3] Tommy L. Bogger, The Slave and Free Black Community in Norfolk, 1775–1865 (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Virginia, 1976), 161–62; 188.
[4] Encyclopedia Virginia, “R. G. L. Paige (1846-1904),” Last modified (n.d.), Accessed Dec. 14, 2023, R. G. L. Paige (1846–1904) - Encyclopedia Virginia.
[5] The National Archives, Washington, DC, USA. U.S., Civil War Pension Index: General Index to Pension Files, 1861-1934; NAI Title: General Index to Civil War and Later Pension Files, Ca. 1949-Ca. 1949; NAI Number: 563268; Record Group Title: Records of the Department of Veterans Affairs, 1773-2007; Record Group Number: 15; Series Number: T288; Roll: 211. U.S., Civil War Pension Index: General Index to Pension Files, 1861-1934 - Ancestry.com
[6] Excerpts from Equal Suffrage: Address from the Colored Citizens of Norfolk, VA, to the People of the United States (1865), 5. Excerpted by the National Humanities Center, accessed September 28, 2023, http://nationalhumanitiescenter.org/pds/maai2/freedom/text5/equalsuffrage.pdf.
[7] Thomas C. Parramore, Peter C. Stewart, and Tommy L. Bogger, Norfolk: The First Four Centuries (Charlottesville, VA: University Press of Virginia, 1994), 227.
[8] Norfolk City Directory (1880), “Paige’s Hotel,” 177. Accessed Dec. 14, 2023. U.S., City Directories, 1822-1995 - AncestryLibrary.com.

HRNM Brick-by-Brick Lego Shipbuilding Event: Building CSS Virginia

By Jim Beute

One of the best things that ever happened to my son Andrew and myself was attending the HRNM Lego Shipbuilding event back in 2014. We had a lot of fun, and it started us on a shared hobby that we’ve enjoyed together for eight years now. As our building skills and our pile of bricks have grown over those years, we challenge ourselves to build bigger and better creations for all the different Lego events that we now attend. The time that I’ve spent as a volunteer docent has sparked my interest in the Battle of Hampton Roads, and in the CSS Virginia as well.

Starting with the goal to “Build a big, cool model of CSS Virginia out of Lego for the HRNM Event!”, my first step is to nail down the scope of the model (how big, how cool) within the design constraints (the actual CSS Virginia design), the budget (my pile of bricks), and the project schedule (4 February deadline). The figure below depicts how my little Systems Engineer brain relates these concepts to each other, and the decisions that I reached for this model.

Jim's thoughts about creating his next big Lego build

Bigger is almost always better with Lego models, since it allows greater precision when making constant compromises of scale when building with Lego bricks. Building at minifigure scale (1:42) allows much more interesting models with lots of small plastic human interaction within the model to bring it alive for the audience.

One guiding principle for Lego kits and for my own models is that there should always be some fun or interesting feature that is a pleasant surprise. I have decided to “cut away” the starboard side to show the interior decks and spaces and to have a working engine room with pistons turning the propeller shaft. This decision quadrupled the complexity of the model, but it should significantly increase human interest and interaction with the model.

The decision to build a cut-away interior made it important to find good, detailed plans and drawings of the Virginia. The resources and helpful staff at HRNM, Portsmouth Naval Shipyard Museum, and the Mariners’ Museum helped me to find the best drawings and books available. Unfortunately, there just aren’t any complete interior drawings for the Virginia, and the available source materials often contradict each other. Carl Park faces this same dilemma in Ironclad Down. To fill in the gaps, he extrapolates from the limited construction drawings by John Porter such as the one shown below, pre-conversion drawings of USS Merrimack, and additional clues from crew memoirs.

This Porter drawing came from a digitized version at Eastern Carolina University (https://digital.lib.ecu.edu/4498)

While Carl Park provides the most complete composite sketch of the Virginia interior available, his efforts are more focused on ship construction than operational use. Even his composite makes extensive use of “Compartment Configuration Unknown” throughout the berth deck. Since I must build something there, I’ve put on my old ship’s ballcap and tried to imagine what a feasible arrangement for messing and berthing would be, extrapolating from the same limited sources. The picture below shows what I came up with. I’m sure there are many errors, but in my research, I’ve learned that every model of the Virginia falls back upon the artist’s imagination at some point.

CSS Virginia (Jim Beute)

Over the years, I have also learned to build modularity into the design of larger models. An 8-foot Lego ironclad looks great on the coffee table, but it needs to fit through doors in order to share it with others. I’ve built the Virginia in five easy pieces for transport. The four sections shown below snap together, and the casement then snaps onto the hull.

CSS Virginia in pieces (Jim Beute)

In addition, there is a bin of accessories (cannon, minifigures, etc.) that are then added to complete the scene. Minifigures and motion turn the static model into a historic scene of Civil War mayhem and chaos as shown below. Hopefully that will bring some of this history alive for the kids at the event. Lego doesn’t make Confederate minifigures, but they do make a variety of rebel scum from the Star Wars universe. This keeps the model from being too serious and allows for “find the Wookie” easter eggs that will lead people into spending a lot more time studying the interior of an ironclad than they would otherwise.

Closeup of the interior (Jim Beute)

Building the Virginia was a fun and educational experience for me. Come out to the HRNM Brick-by-Brick Lego Shipbuilding Event on February 4th for a closer look!

Correcting the Record: USS Cumberland Lost 123 Sailors at the Battle of Hampton Roads

By Hunt Lewis
HRNM Volunteer

USS Cumberland rammed by CSS Virginia (Library of Congress)

When USS Cumberland was rammed and sunk by CSS Virginia (ex-USS Merrimack) on March 8, 1862, approximately a third of the crew were lost. Lost also were all personnel records. All that was known was the number of officers and men aboard at the start of the battle.

The ship’s commanding officer, Commander William Radford, had to report circumstances of the loss of his ship and number of Sailors killed or drowned. Lacking an accurate muster roll on which names could be called out, and a count made of those who made no response, Commander Radford did the next best thing. He mustered and took a count of the survivors and subtracted that count from the number of men attached to the ship at the beginning of the battle.

Final page of the muster roll, indicating the number of killed and drowned aboard USS Cumberland on March 8, 1862 (Library of Congress)

The muster consisted of 255 handwritten names on six pages. On the last page is the annotation:

            "Officers and men when action commenced          376
                do              do                  do          over               255
                                                       killed or drowned        121

              This is a large number and I am hoping more men will be found.
                                                        (signed) Wm. Radford,
                                                                        Commander”

The 121 fatalities has been reported in official records for 160 years, but this muster roll of survivors contains an error. On the first page of the muster, two officers were listed as having died in the battle, but when we counted up every name on the muster roll, we found that Radford accidentally counted the two men as survivors. Chaplain John Lenhart was listed as drowned and Master’s Mate John Harrington shown as killed. Because these two men were killed but accidentally counted among the survivors, the correct count of survivors should have been 253 rather than 255. Thus, the number of Sailors killed when USS Cumberland sank on March 8, 1862, stands at 123. With that conclusion, the Hampton Roads Naval Museum will begin using the corrected number of 123 in all future historical documents and exhibits. 

First page of the muster roll, listing the officers. When we added up the number of Sailors listed in this entire muster roll, we realized Commander Radford had accidentally counted Lenhart and Harrington as among the living. (Library of Congress)

Memories of USS Cumberland (Part 3 of 3): A Living Spirit: Cumberland in Song

By William Clarkson
HRNM Educator

In the previous two parts of our March series about USS Cumberland, we have looked at reporting, perceptions, and poems about the Battle of Hampton Roads and sinking of Cumberland. In today’s third and final part, we briefly examine how music has served to keep Cumberland’s memory alive in national consciousness. As we saw in part two, poetry can be set to music, like Longfellow’s “The Cumberland,” but lyrics were also newly composed and brought Cumberland’s tale to audiences both across the nation and time. Today we will focus on two examples that were written within a year after the battle. These songs are titled “The Cumberland’s Crew,” and “The Good Ship Cumberland.” “The Cumberland’s Crew’s” author is unknown, while “The Good Ship Cumberland” is by one E.F.M. whose exact name remains unidentified.

Songwriters produced a wealth of music during the American Civil War. Songs served to entertain, inspire, and sustain the troops as well as the civilian populations. Tunes were sung from the stage to the campfire by professional musician and enthusiast alike. Many of these songs have no known attributable artist, having been written and performed by anonymous sailors, soldiers, and civilians from opposing sides. Many of these songs can be found in two of the larger folk music indexes compiled during the 20th century. The “Laws” Index (named for the creator of the index and folk music scholar, George Malcolm Laws), contains 2,576 unique English language song listings, with many sub-listings for similar songs. A second index called the Roud Folk Song Index (after creator Steve Roud, also a folk music scholar), contains a more comprehensive set at around 25,000 unique listings. Both songs featured here have individual listings on both indexes.

“The Cumberland’s Crew,” Published by H. De Marson, NYC c. 1863 (Library of Congress)

Our first song, “Cumberland’s Crew,”[i] recounts the battle between USS Cumberland and CSS Virginia on March 8, 1862. The opening stanza invites the listener:

Shipmates, come gather and join in my ditty
Of a terrible battle that's happened of late
When each Union tar shed a tear of sad pity
When he heard of the once-gallant Cumberland's fate

O, the eighth day of March told a terrible story
And many brave tars to this world bid adieu,
Our flag it was wrapped in a mantle of glory
By the heroic deeds of the Cumberland's crew

Already, the listener is primed for a tale of struggle and defiance, and the rest of the song plays out much like one might expect. The familiar encouragement from the acting captain, Lieutenant George Morris, is echoed when he says, "’Boys, of this monster, now, don't be dismayed. We've sworn to maintain our beloved Constitution, and to die for our country we are not afraid.'" The battle commences, and Cumberland and Virginia fire on each other, with Virginia’s iron plating largely rendering Cumberland’s guns ineffective. Meanwhile, fire from Virginia takes a terrible toll on Cumberland’s crew, even before the ship is rammed. The song doesn’t specifically mention the ramming and sinking, but the final two stanzas make clear that the crew will not surrender and will go down fighting by saying:

Now, the pride of our Navy can never be daunted,
Though the dead and the wounded our decks they did strew
"We'll die at our quarters or conquer victorious:''
Was answered in cheers by the Cumberland's crew.

"We've fought for the Union, our cause it is glorious.
To the Star Spangled Banner we'll ever prove true.
We'll be wept for by Columbia's brave sons and fair daughters
And never forgotten," sang the Cumberland's crew.

The ending to the song serves two purposes. First, it commemorates the bravery of the crew, who refused to surrender to the ironclad Virginia. Second, it inspires both combatants and civilians to continue to support the “glorious” Union cause. It’s important to note here that different performers and printings of folk songs will include slight variations in the lyrics, as well as a wide variety of instrumentation and musical arrangements, often being set to the tune of other traditional folk music. This is certainly the case with our second song, “The Good Ship Cumberland.”

“The Good Ship Cumberland,” Published by A.W. Auner, Philadelphia c. 1863 (Library of Congress)

“Good Ship Cumberland”[ii] is the earliest title for a song that can be more widely found under the names, “The Cumberland and the Merrimac[k],” “The Cumberland,” or even “The Merrimac.” Despite the different title and arrangements, lyrically they are the same song. As with “Cumberland’s Crew,” “Good Ship Cumberland” begins with an invitation to “all ye merry sailors, and all ye landsmen too,” and unfurls the story of battle between Cumberland and Virginia in much the same way as “Cumberland’s crew.” There are a few marked differences, however, between “Good Ship Cumberland,” and “Cumberland’s Crew.” First, “Good Ship” includes the demand for Cumberland’s surrender, and Morris’ alleged reply:

In vain we poured our broadside into her ribs of steel,
Yet still no breach we made in her, or damage did she feel;
Then to our bold Commander the rebel Captain spoke—
Haul down your flying colors, or I'll sink your Yankee boat!

Our Captain's eye did glisten, and his cheek grew white with rage,
And to the Rebel pirate in a voice of thunder said,
My men are brave and loyal, my flag shall ever stand—
Before I'll strike my colors you may sink us and be damned!

Second, the song includes the ramming of Cumberland by Virginia, and third, when it becomes apparent that Cumberland is sinking, Morris offers the crew the opportunity to escape, saying, “I'll go down with flag a flying into a watery grave, but you, my gallant comrades, may seek your lives to save.” Morris did not, in fact, go down with the ship, but the sentiment is conveyed nonetheless. To Morris’ offer the crew replies:

They swore they'd never leave him, and manned their guns afresh,
And poured broadside after broadside, till the water reached their breasts;
And as she sank far down, far down, in the briny deep
The stars and stripes were flying from the maintop's highest peak.

This final line provides the final major difference between the two tunes, presenting the listener with the image of Cumberland’s flag still flying even as the hull and many of the crew rest at the bottom of the James River. As discussed in the two previous posts, this image was a focal point for participants, writers, and the public alike.

 “The Loggers,” an image depicting loggers in Michigan during the 1880s-90s, Detroit Publishing Co. c. 1890 (Library of Congress)

After Union victory in the American Civil War, sailors and soldiers from both sides returned to civilian life and sought employment anywhere they could. They carried with them the stories, memories, and importantly the songs they learned and sang during the war. Printings of songs like “Cumberland’s Crew” were disseminated widely and have been found as far away as England and Ireland. In the United States, these songs were commonly heard in lumber camps in New York, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, as well as from sailors and shipping laborers throughout the Great Lakes region. As Civil War veterans aged, these songs were passed down and eventually found their way into the repertoire of professional folk musicians. This interest in folk music intensified and reached its zenith between the late 1940s-1960s, during a period known as the American Folk Music Revival. Many renditions of Cumberland songs date from this period; the version found in endnote ii by Warde Ford is off the album Wolf River Songs, released in 1956. Another musically different version was performed by Ellen Stekert and released on the album Songs of a New York Lumberjack in 1958.[iii]

Sketch of USS Cumberland by Alfred R. Waud, c. 1861 (Library of Congress)

Versions of these songs are still performed 160 years after the Battle of Hampton Roads, with some groups giving them a bit of an updated flavor.[iv] Though the sound of more recent recordings might be different, the words and message remain largely the same. Hearing songs from the past that continue to be performed today provides us with a closer connection to what a Civil War contemporary might have felt or believed, and how the battle between USS Cumberland and CSS Virginia took on meaning far beyond the sinking of one ship. Music drives this home, perhaps even more so than articles and poetry. What each of the media we have considered over the past three posts share is the reminder that the Battle of Hampton Roads and sinking of USS Cumberland took root in the contemporary public consciousness. And, like Cumberland’s flag flying on her mast, the legacy of the ship and crew’s struggle is still visible today, 160 years later.


Notes:
[i] A version of “Cumberland’s Crew,” performed by the 97th Regimental String Band, and played on contemporary instruments can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_tVGoiKOJA.
[ii] A version of “Good Ship Cumberland” Performed by Warde Ford (under the title “The Sinking of the Cumberland”), can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tp8U_ySDEIA. Notice that the first stanza is omitted in this version.
[iii] A version of “Good Ship Cumberland” (under the title “The Cumberland and the Merrimac”), performed by Ellen Stekert can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hb6I_f2pHzw.
[iv] A version of “The Cumberland’s Crew”, performed by Smokey Bastard, 2008 can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX984Pdl6WM.

Memories of USS Cumberland (Part 2 of 3): The Poets

By William Clarkson
HRNM Educator

In part 1 of our series about the sinking of USS Cumberland during the Battle of Hampton Roads, we looked at how the public perceived the loss of Cumberland in the accounts of newspapers, witnesses, and participants. Today, we will explore how writers of the day retold the event in poetry. In addition to many other poets, literary titans Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Herman Melville produced works about USS Cumberland. The poetry written soon after the battle established the well-known narrative. However, while a few names become synonymous with brave words and actions, every work celebrates the courage and commitment of Cumberland’s crew and seeks to preserve their deeds for future generations. Links will be provided at the end to the full texts of each of the three poems discussed.

Portraits of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (left) and Herman Melville c. 1860 (Library of Congress)

It is no surprise that the two most famous poets to pen works about the struggle between Cumberland and Virginia are Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Herman Melville. In fact, both authors titled their pieces “The Cumberland.” Longfellow’s “Cumberland” was first published in the December 1862 edition of Atlantic Monthly. While Longfellow wrote many pieces about the sea, ships, and sailing, he never served aboard a naval vessel. His personal experience of fighting vessels came from his childhood and his proximity to the September 5, 1813, battle between USS Enterprise and HMS Boxer off the coast of Portland, Maine, where he and his family were living at the time. He later penned a poem recounting the event, titled “My Lost Youth.” Longfellow’s “Cumberland” is written from the point of view of a Sailor aboard the ship during the battle. This anonymous Sailor recounts Virginia’s approach up the Elizabeth River with its “feather of snow-white smoke… to try the force of our ribs of oak.” After receiving shots from Virginia, Cumberland “sen[t] her straight defiance back in a full broadside!” The fire from Cumberland’s guns, while able to damage a few of Virginia’s cannons, lifeboats, and smokestack, is unable to penetrate the “iron scale of the monster’s hide.” At this moment, in Longfellow’s telling, a Sailor aboard Virginia demands Cumberland’s surrender:

"Strike your flag!" the rebel cries,
In his arrogant old plantation strain.
"Never!" our gallant Morris replies;
"It is better to sink than to yield!"
And the whole air pealed
With the cheers of our men.

This action becomes a defining moment of the engagement. First, it signals the Cumberland crew’s intent to continue fighting regardless of the circumstances, becoming a rallying cry for Union forces as well as the public. Second, it places Lieutenant George Morris as the central hero in the tale, something that is mirrored in some of the articles and recollections in part 1 of this series, as well as in poetry, song, and prose. Morris was acting commander of the vessel since Cumberland’s captain, William Radford, was not aboard when the battle commenced. Longfellow describes Virginia ramming Cumberland, and Cumberland’s subsequent sinking, continuing to fire until the decks were submerged. The scene is completed with the image of Cumberland’s flag still flying the following morning on the mast, visible above the water. He states, “Every waft of the air was a whisper of prayer, or a dirge for the dead.” Longfellow’s “Cumberland” was well received publicly, and in 1863 composer Francis Boott put his words to music.

Cover of F. Bootts' musical arrangement of Longfellow’s “The Cumberland,” 1863. (Library of Congress)

In contrast, Herman Melville’s “The Cumberland” was first published by Harper’s New Monthly Magazine in March 1866, four years after the battle. Its publication was part of a series of Civil War poems by Melville published in Harper’s as a leadup to the release of his collection of poems titled Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War. Melville, unlike Longfellow, served over a year in the US Navy, aboard USS United States from 1843 to 1844 (one of the first six frigates authorized by the US Congress in 1794). Where Longfellow and others recount the events and deeds of the battle, Melville uses his poem to eulogize and memorialize USS Cumberland and its crew. He begins by declaring, “Some names there are of telling sound, whose vowelled syllables free are pledge that they shall ever live renowned,” immediately identifying Cumberland as worthy of remembrance. To aid in imprinting the name Cumberland into his reader’s mind, each stanza ends with a sensational description of saying the ship’s name, feeling it, “flowing, rolling on the tongue.” As with other poetry about the battle, Melville invokes the image of Cumberland’s flag still visible and flying on the mast, a symbol for defiance, and states, “Your flag and flag-staff shall in story stand,” as the “dead unconquerable manned the Cumberland.” While Melville is now considered one of the United States’ most celebrated poets, his book Battle-Pieces, which contains “The Cumberland,” only sold 496 of the 1,200 copies printed in the 10 years after its publication. Regardless, the existence of the poem, and the fact that Melville was moved enough by the events of March 8th, 1862, to pen the work four years later, is a testament to the effect the actions of Cumberland’s crew had on the popular consciousness.

Portrait of George Boker, author and later US Diplomat, c. 1860. (Library of Congress)

Somewhat less well-known today, George Boker also wrote a poem titled, “On Board the Cumberland,” which like Longfellow’s verse recounts the events of the battle from a crewmember’s perspective. The poem was published in Boker’s book, Poems of the War, in 1864. Throughout the American Civil War, George Boker was a staunch Unionist and was a foundational member of the Union League Club, supporting the war effort with his writing. During the presidency of Ulysses Grant, he was appointed as a diplomat to the Ottoman Empire, and later served as a representative to the Russian Empire. Boker’s poem focuses on the heroism of acting commander Lt. Morris. He has Morris giving an inspirational speech to the crew as CSS Virginia approached. In this lyrical account of Morris appealing to the crew, Boker ascribes him with great eloquence, stating:

"Remember, boys, this flag of ours
Has seldom left its place;
And where it falls, the deck it strikes
Is covered with disgrace.

"I ask but this: or sink or swim,
Or live or nobly die,
My last sight upon earth may be
To see that ensign fly!"

This moment of foreshadowing primes the reader for the now famous image of Cumberland’s flag still raised off its sunken wreck, having not surrendered even to the last. In his poem, Boker does something that many other works do not; he recounts the actions of other individuals made famous by the battle, most notably future Rear Admiral Thomas O. Selfridge Jr. and Acting Master (later Lieutenant Commander) William Pritchard Randall. To Selfridge, Boker attributes the command to abandon ship, but only once the sinking was imminent, and so that the crew may survive to continue the fight, saying, “’Up to the spar-deck! Save yourselves!’ Cried Selfridge. ‘Up, my men! God grant that some of us may live to fight yon ship again!’" While the crew prepared to leave Cumberland, Boker writes, “We reached the deck. Here Randall stood: ‘Another turn, men – So!’ Calmly he aimed his pivot-gun; ‘Now, Tennery, let her go!’” With this final shot from USS Cumberland, Boker describes the ship finally sinking, coming once more to the image of Cumberland’s flag remaining to wave over the wreck as a “sign that we who live may claim the peerage of the brave; a monument, that needs no scroll, for those beneath the wave!” The inclusion of these men in the poem presents a slightly different narrative than so many other works. While Morris is still the intrepid commander, intent on fighting, regardless of the odds, introducing others into the work reminds the reader that it was actions of the entire crew that fueled the public’s imagination and inspired so many authors to write about this event.

An illustration that accompanies Boker’s “On Board the Cumberland,” depicting a soldier pointing out Cumberland’s mast and flag, still visible, to a rescued Sailor. (A Selection of War Lyrics, by Felix Darley and James Gregory, 1864)

The narrative of “brave Morris” and Cumberland’s struggle, stuck in the public consciousness well after the war, with efforts to recognize and reward Cumberland’s crewmembers led by authors and citizens, including Nathaniel Hawthorne and members of Congress, continued well into the 1870s and‘80s. While we have seen three poets and their interpretations of the battle’s aftermath, many more were produced by authors of various backgrounds and perspectives. Many extol Morris as a singular hero, but there are a few, like Boker, that include the deeds of a wider variety of individuals. What remains true in every case is the admiration and praise from the authors for the crew of USS Cumberland and their desire to preserve this crew’s actions in writing for future generations. Poetry wasn’t the only creative endeavor to give voice to Cumberland’s story. In part 3 of this series, we will look at songs about Cumberland and the Battle of Hampton Roads, and how they passed through time into the present day.

Poem Links:

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Cumberland,” 1862

Herman Melville’s “The Cumberland,” 1866

George Henry Boker’s “On Board the Cumberland,” c. 1864

Memories of USS Cumberland (Part 1 of 3): Perceptions and Observations About the Loss of Cumberland During the Battle of Hampton Roads

By William Clarkson
Educator

Much has been written about the Battle of Hampton Roads and the clash between the ironclads CSS Virginia and USS Monitor during the American Civil War. Few ships captured the popular imagination of the day quite like these two vessels. Accounts and depictions of the events of March 8th and 9th, 1862, began to appear almost immediately. However, another vessel involved in the action stirred nearly as much admiration and inspired a wealth of observations and creative works. USS Cumberland, the first vessel sunk by CSS Virginia on March 8th, 1862, roused the likes of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Herman Melville, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, among many others, to pen works about the battle and Cumberland’s demise. In addition to newspaper articles, these works spread the tale of Cumberland’s heroic yet doomed struggle. March 8th, 2022, marks the 160th anniversary of the sinking of USS Cumberland. Throughout the month of March, we will explore some of these works, and how the story of USS Cumberland has been perceived and passed into the annals of U.S. history.

Sketch of USS Cumberland off Newport News, by Alfred R. Waud c. 1861 (Library of Congress)[i]

Interpretations of the Battle of Hampton Roads often were not entirely based in fact. How the story was reported and conveyed depended on which side the individual or organization supported. While various versions about the battle’s details exist across different accounts, USS Cumberland’s ramming and sinking by CSS Virginia is not in dispute. Where accounts do differ is the significance of Cumberland’s loss. The Richmond Enquirer (a Confederate newspaper) of March 11, 1862, proclaims the headline, “Great Success of the Confederate Iron-Clad Steamer Virginia - Large Number of Yankees Shot and Drowned.” The paper continues, “The object in first getting rid of the Cumberland was probably to destroy the very heavy armament which that frigate carried, it being the heaviest in the Yankee Navy.” While Cumberland had been fitted with more powerful guns in 1861, such a claim inflates the perceived victory. Another southern paper, the Staunton Spectator, also in its March 11th, 1862, edition, claims that Virginia sank six ships during the battle (not true), and caused a far greater amount of damage to the surviving vessels, including USS Monitor, than was actually the case.

Conversely, many newspapers supporting the Union sought to downplay the losses of March 8th, preferring to report a more matter-of-fact sequence of events. They focused on Monitor and the engagement of March 9th, even downplaying the loss of Cumberland and Congress. The March 11th, 1862, Chicago Daily Tribune asserts, “Aside from the loss of life attending the loss of the Cumberland and the Roanoke, there is little to regret.” It further proclaims that Cumberland was an old ship, in need of major overhaul and repair, being “…ill-adapted to the requirements of modern warfare.” Note that that the paper mistakenly identifies the second ship sunk as USS Roanoke instead of USS Congress.[ii] Not every pro-Union paper dismissed Cumberland’s loss so readily (more on this later). However, just as the southern papers proclaimed a major victory, so did many northern papers downplay Virginia’s fight with USS Cumberland, Congress, and Minnesota to focus on the appearance and performance of USS Monitor.

Portrait of Nathaniel Hawthorne c. 1861 (Library of Congress)

With such intense focus on the ironclads, Cumberland, as well as Congress, became unwitting symbols of what many considered (and still do), to be a major transition in naval warfare. In July 1862, Atlantic Monthly published an article by Nathaniel Hawthorne titled, “Chiefly About War Matters.” In this article Hawthorne recalls his travels from New England to Washington DC, and then to various points of interest in Virginia. One of these stops was at Fort Monroe, which had recently witnessed the Battle of Hampton Roads. It’s clear from Hawthorne’s account that seeing the aftermath of the battle affected him deeply. In his words, “It was the sight of the few sticks that are left of the frigate Congress, stranded near the shore, — and still more, the masts of the Cumberland rising midway out of the water, with a tattered rag of a pennant fluttering from one of them,” that affected him most of all. Having toured both USS Minnesota and USS Monitor, as well as seeing the carnage wrought by the ironclad CSS Virginia, Hawthorne puts forth a sentiment, echoed by contemporaries and future writers alike, in saying, “[t]hat last gun from the Cumberland, when her deck was half submerged, sounded the requiem of many sinking ships. Then went down all the navies of Europe, and our own…” He further states that, “…human strife is to be transferred from the heart and personality of man into cunning contrivances of machinery, which by and by will fight out our wars with only the clank and smash of iron, strewing the field with broken engines.” No longer would Sailors serve as part of the living whole of a ship, but as pieces in one great machine, at least in Hawthorne’s view.

These opinions were shared widely, including by John Taylor Wood, an officer aboard Virginia during the battle and later commander of the commerce raider CSS Tallahassee. He states some 22 years after the battle, in the Nov. 1884-Apr. 1885 edition of The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, “Line-of-battle ships… were at once universally condemned as out of date. Rams and iron-clads were in future to decide all naval warfare.” However, wooden ships and ships of sail continued to serve in various roles far beyond the famous battle of the ironclads. While technology may provide some advantage in a naval engagement, it is still the ship’s crew that provides the knowledge, bravery, and dedication necessary to operate their vessel in combat. In this respect, the crew of USS Cumberland serves as an example of Sailors performing their duty, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, and with the likelihood of injury or death. This example was recognized and extolled by contemporaries and continues into the present.

Events of the battle and sinking of Cumberland were covered internationally, as can be seen in this April 1862 editions of The Illustrated London News, showing CSS Virginia ramming USS Cumberland (Library of Congress)

While some northern papers downplayed the momentous struggle of USS Cumberland, others praised the steadfast determination of its crew. A reporter for the Baltimore American wrote (and their words were reprinted in papers across the north), “She went down with her flag still flying, and it still flies above the mast, above the waters that overwhelmed her, a memento of the bravest, most daring, and yet hopeless defense that has ever been made by any vessel belonging to any navy in the world.” Indeed, even while despairing the future of naval action, Nathaniel Hawthorne, in his article, likened the bravery of Cumberland’s crew to the storied battles between sailing ships past, invoking names like Blake, Nelson, and Trafalgar.

Admiration was not limited to northern sources. On March 20, 1862, the Richmond Christian Advocate reprinted a March 10th article from The Norfolk Day Book which read, “A gallant man fought that ship – a man worthy to have maintained a better cause. Gun after gun he fired, lower and lower sunk his ship, his last discharge comes from his pivot gun, the ship lurches to starboard, now to port, his flag streams out wildly, and now the Cumberland goes down on her beam ends, at once a monument and an epitaph of the gallant men who fought her.” One might presume that the reporter was referring wholly to the ship’s commander, but it was the actions of the whole crew that inspired such recognition, even amongst their enemy. In the words of Virginia officer John Taylor Wood, “The crew were driven by the advancing water to the spar-deck, and there worked her pivot-guns until she went down with a roar, the colors still flying. No ship was ever fought more gallantly.”

Line engraving published in Leslie's Weekly, c. 1862, depicting USS Cumberland continuing to engage CSS Virginia, even as the ship sinks (NHHC)

The image of USS Cumberland continuing to fight, until the ship sank beneath the waves, its flag still flying, became a symbol of inspiration for the Union. Many years after the battle, Cumberland’s surgeon, Dr. Charles Martin, remarked in a speech, “Instead of defeat, it is a victory. The whole camp is rushing to meet them (Cumberland’s crew) with cheers [and] with embraces.” Currier and Ives issued their famous print of the Cumberland’s sinking, with the phrase “Destroyed but not Conquered,” printed below the image. These words and the deeds of Cumberland’s crew would live on throughout the war, with accounts of their heroism printed and reprinted across the nation. The praise and memorializing of Cumberland’s crew wasn’t limited to newspapers, magazines, and speeches. As we shall see in part two of this three-part series, many of the era’s most famous poets put ink to paper to ensure USS Cumberland’s actions and story would not be forgotten.


Notes:
[i] Alfred Rudolph Waud was an artist and illustrator who created hundreds of sketches during his time traveling with the army of the Potomac, including several sketches of USS Cumberland in 1861.
[ii] USS Roanoke was also a Merrimack-class steam frigate that was converted into an ironclad by the Union Navy soon after the Battle of Hampton Roads. To see a model of the ship in person, visit the Hampton Roads Naval Museum, or reference https://hamptonroadsnavalmuseum.blogspot.com/2013/01/ironclad-uss-roanoke-ship-model.html.

Did Demon Rum Play a Part in the Destruction of CSS Virginia?

By Hunt Lewis
HRNM Volunteer

One of the last survivors of the crew of the CSS Virginia (ex USS Merrimack) said so.

In an interview conducted by B.C. Utecht for the Calvert News, Calvert, Texas in 1923, 85-year-old Andrew Jackson Sharp claimed rum did indeed play a part in the ship's destruction. Sharp was a landsman on CSS Virginia when it was destroyed by the Confederates on May 11, 1862.

Article from the Calvert News

Sharp related:
        "The Merrimac, or Virginia, suffered some damage from the Monitor’s guns, but the damage was easily repaired, and the warship then was in good shape as before. But now about this prohibition; "Our plans were well laid," said the aged veteran as he sat reminiscing on the veranda of his home. "The Merrimac had been thoroughly gone over, and we had plenty of ammunition and were in shape for good work. We were close to the mouth of the James River, and in order to steam upstream it was necessary for us to raise the ship about two feet so that we could cross the bar at that point. To do this it was necessary to throw off ballast.
        "We began the job of lightening the vessel about 9 o’clock that night. Now, as everybody knows, sailors in every navy are, or were, supplied with whisky rations. Both the navies of the North and South were furnished with rum. While throwing off ballast, so we could head up the James to relieve Richmond, members of the crew got hold of a barrel of whisky and drank it down with a large dipper. A little of this was all right, but they kept at it too long and were soon tipsy. No officer was at hand at the time. The men continued to throw off ballast until all of it went overboard. I remonstrated with them, raising quite a row and they argued back at me. I told them of the danger, and we had quite a tilt. Soon I saw our ship, instead of being raised only two feet, was up five feet exposing the wooden sides. This was due to throwing away all our ballast. I hurried to Captain Technor and explained the situation, but by this time it was too late. Federal ships were not far from us, and they could see us plainly because of the five foot difference. A shot from one of them into our wooden sides would have done for us. So the plan to go to the relief of Richmond was abandoned for the lack of ballast control protection on such an undertakings and decided to attack the Union fleet off Newport News instead." [1]

Sharp’s memory may have failed him or else the reporter misunderstood the name of the Virginia’s captain. It was Tattnall, not Technor, and the attack was never made.

CSS Virginia's captain, Josiah Tattnall (Naval History and Heritage Command)

There may be an inkling of truth in Sharp’s story, although the presence of Demon Rum is never mentioned in official reports. Commodore Tattnall in his report on May 14, 1862 to Confederate Secretary of the Navy Stephen Mallory stated, "The pilots had assured me they could take the ship with a draft of 18 feet to within 40 miles of Richmond...Confiding in these assurances...I determined to lighten the ship at once and run up the river for the protection of Richmond. 

        "All hands having been called on deck, I stated to them the condition of things, and my hope that by getting up river before the enemy could be made aware of our design we might capture his vessels which had ascended it. And render efficient aid in the defense of Richmond, but to effect this, would require all their energy in lightening the ship.
        "Being quite unwell, I had retired to bed. Between 1 and 2 o’clock in the morning the first lieutenant reported to me that after the crew had worked for five or six hours and lifted the ship so as to render her unfit for action,.. the pilots had declared their inability to carry 18 feet above Jamestown flats, up to a point the shore on each side was occupied by the enemy." [2]

The chief pilot explained that 18 feet could be carried only if the prevailing winds were blowing up-river, but for the last two days the winds had been blowing downriver: "I had no time to lose. The ship was in not in a condition for battle even with an enemy of equal force, and the force was overwhelming. I therefor determined...to save the crew for further service by landing them at Craney Island, the only road for retreat open to us, and to destroy the ship to prevent her falling into the hands of the enemy."

Explosion of the CSS Virginia (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Notes:
[1] The Calvert News story by J.C. Utecht dated Sunday November 25, 1923 is reproduced verbatim on pages14-17 of On the Hills of Home by John Calvin Sharpe. This book can be viewed or downloaded from https://ia800206.us.archive.org/24/items/OnTheHillsOfHome/On_the_Hills_of_Home.pdf

[2] Official records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion, Series 1,Volume 7, North Atlantic Blockading Squadron, pp 336-338

Wooden Warrior: The First USS Minnesota

USS Monitor defends Minnesota during the Battle of Hampton Roads, March 9, 1862 (U.S. Navy)

By Zach Smyers
HRNM Educator

When the smoke cleared and the cannonade ceased on March 9, 1862, the wooden frigate USS Minnesota was still standing and the Battle of Hampton Roads was over. During the battle, Minnesota had gotten stuck on a sandbar, and the ship suffered heavy damage and several casualties from the attacking ironclad CSS Virginia. Due to the arrival of the ironclad USS Monitor, Minnesota was spared a fate similar to its fellow wooden ships, USS Cumberland and USS Congress, which were both sunk on the first day of the battle. Minnesota was successfully removed from the sandbar on March 10, 1862. The ship received much-needed repairs and returned to duty, serving as the flagship of the Atlantic Blockading Squadron.

Built at the Washington Navy Yard, Minnesota was high-tech for its time. Minnesota had two engines operated by four boilers, as well as a full complement of sails known as a “ship rig.” This allowed Minnesota to reach a top speed of 12.5 knots (approximately 14 mph). Initial construction of the ship began in 1854. It was launched on Dec 1, 1855, and commissioned on May 21, 1857. The newly commissioned USS Minnesota, classified as a Steam Frigate 1st Class of the Merrimack class (interestingly, the same class as the renamed CSS Virginia), displaced 4,833 tons, had a length of 264 feet 9 inches, a beam of 51 feet 4 inches, and a draft of 23 feet 10 inches. The ship’s crew consisted of 646 officers and enlisted sailors. Armament included two 10-inch guns, twenty-eight 9-inch guns, and fourteen 8-inch guns.

USS Minnesota (Naval History and Heritage Command)

After the Battle of Hampton Roads, Minnesota experienced its fair share of action. On April 14, 1863, Minnesota participated in the Battle of Suffolk. During this battle, four Sailors from Minnesota earned the Medal of Honor while temporarily assigned to USS Mount Washington. While operating on the Nansemond River on April 14, 1863, Mount Washington lost propulsion after its boilers were destroyed by Confederate gunfire. Despite being dead in the water, the Sailors from Minnesota manned a 12-pound howitzer and returned fire for six hours.

The following year, during the December 1864 Battle of Fort Fisher in Wilmington, North Carolina, Minnesota provided gunfire support against Confederate positions located inside the fort. In addition to this, Minnesota contributed 240 men to the landing force during the second battle, which took place from January 13 to January 15, 1865. The second assault on Fort Fisher was successful, and the Union was able to shut down a vital port that had supported the Confederate war effort.

After the Civil War, Minnesota was decommissioned on Feb 16, 1865, in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. The ship was re-commissioned in June 1867 to help train midshipmen during a cruise to Europe. On January 13, 1868, Minnesota was placed in reserve at the New York Navy Yard. The ship was re-commissioned again on June 12, 1875 and served as a gunnery and training ship for naval apprentices. The ship would serve in this capacity for the next twenty years.

USS Minnesota with its signal flags flying (Naval History and Heritage Command)

In 1895, Minnesota was loaned to the Massachusetts Naval Militia. This would be the ship’s last duty station prior to being sold to Thomas Butler & Co. of Boston in August 1901. Minnesota’s name was stricken from the Navy register so it could be used again on a brand-new battleship (BB 22), and the original Minnesota was burned at Eastport, Maine, to salvage its iron fittings. USS Minnesota represented its namesake state in a proud manner during its Navy career. It fought gallantly during the Battle of Hampton Roads, and despite being stuck and unable to move, the Sailors on Minnesota never gave up. Their determination and fighting spirit lived up to the Navy’s core values of honor, courage, and commitment. These values were represented again by Minnesota Sailors during the Battle of Suffolk and the Battle of Fort Fisher. It is appropriate that a fighting ship like Minnesota was used later in its life to train future Sailors before they joined the fleet.

That's News to Me! An Armstrong Gun on CSS Virginia?

By Elijah Palmer & Joseph Miechle
Hampton Roads Naval Museum Educators

A short time ago, while researching a different project, a colleague ran into an interesting vignette which mentioned CSS Virginia several days after the Battle of Hampton Roads. Our interest was piqued by an assertion made within the March 12, 1862 Richmond Dispatch article seen below:

"The Virginia, it is intimated, while up here, has changed her forward and aft pivot guns for two of the celebrated Armstrong guns, which lately found their way into this vicinity."

This statement quickly raised many questions. But first, what was so special about Armstrong guns to make them "celebrated?" Early Armstrong cannon from the mid-1850s were a unique British design that was breech-loading. As was popular technology at the time, there were bands on the breech to reinforce the cannon when it fired, as sometimes the guns burst (as happened onboard USS Princeton in 1843). These guns had an advantage over muzzle loading, smooth-bore cannon as they had a higher rate of fire, greater accuracy, and longer range. By the time of the Civil War, there were naval variants of the Armstrong guns, as can be seen on HMS Warrior. Clearly these cannon were seen as advanced technology, most likely due to the aforementioned advantages.

We knew that the Confederates could have been well aware of Armstrong guns, but the real question was whether it was even possible for the South to have acquired them. Could some of these new cannon have made their way through the blockade to Norfolk? Could these guns have done more damage to the Monitor in a future fight? And if this article were true, why had we not heard of this before? If it was not true, was this an honest mistake or was it propaganda building on the events of the Battle of Hampton Roads? To add to our uncertainty was a report from one of the postwar salvage operations of the wreck of CSS Virginia which mentioned a "large Confederate banded rifled gun."

Could this have been an Armstrong? Or was it a Brooke gun? From The Daily Journal (Wilmington, NC), June 23, 1867. Special thanks to Dr. Anna Holloway for providing this article. 

 Any new guns would have had to come through the blockade, which was an unlikely possibility.  Was there a chance that any Armstrong cannon were at Gosport Navy Yard when it was captured? An examination of the list of guns captured and their disposition quickly put that theory to rest. Strike one! If somehow they had made it through the blockade and been put on the Confederate ironclad, it would not have made much of a difference in a future fight against USS Monitor. Tests from the time showed that, owing to the relatively small gunpowder charge necessary, the Armstrong shell could not penetrate much iron. This would have been especially true of the Monitor's turret, which was protected by 8-inch-thick iron plating. Strike two! But this knowledge was likely not widespread at the time, so reports of the "celebrated Armstrong guns" would have still carried weight.

So could the newspaper report have been an honest mistake? CSS Virginia did replace damaged cannons after the battle, but it seems to be a stretch that someone could have mistaken these guns for the other. While a later triple-banded variant of the Brooke rifle might be confused at first glance, the rounder edges of the Armstrong seem to be quite unique and the Brooke gun was not produced until months after the article. Adding to this doubt was the fact that no Armstrong guns should have been available for purchase. The inventor of the Brooke gun, John Mercer Brooke (also one of the designers of CSS Virginia) wrote in a July 1862 letter that the Confederates did not have any breech-loading guns (alluding to the Armstrong). He continued that "their manufacture is confined to the government shops of England." Strike three! 

An illustration of a single banded Brooke rifle.

A double-banded Brooke rifle mounted on fortifications. (Photo by Joseph Miechle)

Judging from the inspirational language in the rest of the paragraph from the Richmond Dispatch, it appears likely that this was a propaganda piece. Considering that the Armstrong gun was only manufactured in Great Britain, could this have been a trick to show Northern (& Southern) readers that the Confederacy had British support? Indeed, as a New York Times article discussed after the fall of Fort Fisher in January 1865, there were questions about how a large Armstrong cannon was in Confederate possession when the "English Government claims the exclusive right to use [them]."** While the Times writer went on to lay the blame directly on Armstrong himself, he also said that an investigation was needed to fully lay the matter to rest. If there were still questions near the end of the war, how much more so before the Emancipation Proclamation or the Union victories in July 1863? At the very least, the guns were known as new technology, so any Southern reader would likely be excited, while a Northern reader would possibly be dismayed.

In the end, our research put a quick death to some tantalizing possibilities. While perhaps we did not make any significant new discoveries to add to the historiography, we did come away from the experience both more knowledgeable and perhaps a bit wiser. Sometimes the fun of researching history is all about the hunt.

* Letter from John M. Brooke to Stephen Mallory, July 16, 1862, in Ironclads and Big Guns of the Confederacy: The Journal and Letters of John M. Brooke, ed. George M. Brooke, Jr. (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 2002), 102.
**"Armstrong Gun at Fort Fisher." New York Times, January 29, 1865.