On the first day of the Battle of Gettysburg, Lieutenant General Richard S. Ewell crushed Major General Oliver Otis Howard's XI Corps due in large part to the mistake of a lawyer-general by the name of Francis C. Barlow. General Barlow positioned his division to far in advance of the rest of the XI Corps, opening a gap between his unit and the rest of the Corps and exposing his flanks to attack. Ewell quickly capitalized on this mistake, sending Brigadier General John B. Gordon against Barlow. Barlow's division collapsed, and the rest of the XI Corps with it. In his memoirs Gordon describes how he met Barlow on the battlefield.
In the midst of the
wild disorder in his ranks, and through a storm of bullets,
a Union officer was seeking to rally his men for a
final stand. He, too, went down, pierced by a Minie ball.
Riding forward with my rapidly advancing lines, I
discovered that brave officer lying upon his back, with the
July sun pouring its rays into his pale face. He was
surrounded by the Union dead, and his own life seemed
to be rapidly ebbing out. Quickly dismounting and
lifting his head, I gave him water from my canteen, asked
his name and the character of his wounds. He was
Major-General Francis C. Barlow, of New York, and of
Howard’s corps. The ball had entered his body in
front and passed out near the spinal cord, paralyzing him in
legs and arms. Neither of us had the remotest thought
that he could possibly survive many hours. I summoned
several soldiers who were looking after the wounded,
and directed them to place him upon a litter and carry him
to the shade in the rear. Before parting, he asked me to take
from his pocket a package of letters and
destroy them. They were from his wife. He had but
one request to make of me. That request was that if I
should live to the end of the war and should ever meet Mrs.
Barlow, I would tell her of our meeting on the
field of Gettysburg and of his thoughts of her in his last
moments. He wished me to assure her that he died doing
his duty at the front, that he was willing to give his
life for his country, and that his deepest regret was that
he must die without looking upon her face again. I
learned that Mrs. Barlow was with the Union army, and
near the battle-field. When it is remembered how closely
Mrs. Gordon followed me, it will not be difficult to
realize that my sympathies were especially stirred by the
announcement that his wife was so near him. Passing
through the day’s battle unhurt, I dispatched at its
close, under flag of truce, the promised message to
Mrs. Barlow. I assured her that if she wished to come
through the lines she should have safe escort to her
husband’s side. In the desperate encounters of the two
succeeding days, and the retreat of Lee’s army, I thought
no more of Barlow, except to number him with
the noble dead of the two armies who had so gloriously met their fate. The
ball, however, had struck no vital point, and Barlow slowly
recovered, though this fact was wholly unknown to me. The
following summer, in battle near Richmond, my
kinsman with the same initials, General J. B. Gordon
of North Carolina, was killed. Barlow, who had recovered, saw the announcement
of his death, and entertained no doubt that
he was the Gordon whom he had met on the field of
Gettysburg. To me, therefore, Barlow was dead ; to Barlow,
I was dead. Nearly fifteen years passed before either
of us was undeceived. During my second term in the
United States Senate, the Hon. Clarkson Potter, of New
York, was a member of the House of Representatives. He invited me to dinner in
Washington to meet a General Barlow who had served in
the Union army. Potter knew nothing of the
Gettysburg incident. I had heard that there was another Barlow in the
Union army, and supposed, of course, that it was
this Barlow with whom I was to dine. Barlow had a
similar reflection as to the Gordon he was to meet. Seated
at Clarkson Potter’s table, I asked Barlow: “General,
are you related to the Barlow who was killed at
Gettysburg?”
He replied: “Why, I am the man, sir.
Are you related to the Gordon who killed me?”
“I am the man, sir,” I responded. No
words of mine can convey any conception of the emotions
awakened by those startling announcements. Nothing
short of an actual resurrection from the dead
could have amazed either of us more. Thenceforward, until
his untimely death in 1896, the friendship between us
which was born amidst the thunders of Gettysburg was
greatly cherished by both.
Historians have called this account into question, as there is another account of how Barlow was rescued from the battlefield.
In the
midst of the action on the first day of the battle, after losing two staff
officers, Gen. Barlow fell from his horse with four musket balls in his body.
The corps fell back, and he was left on the field near the village of Gettysburg,
to all appearance dead. While lying in this state, exposed to the fire of both
armies, he received two other wounds in different parts of his body. It was
almost a miracle that he was ever heard from again. Yet, toward evening, as Gen. Jubal Early [another lawyer-general] and
Staff were riding across the field the rebel chief saw the star on the
shoulders of an apparently inanimate figure, and stopped for a moment to obtain the name of the dead Union General. It was
Barlow; and as the movements of Early’s
staff officer caused him to open his eyes and discovered him to be alive, Gen.
Early inquired if he could do anything for him. Being answered in the negative,
it was proposed by some of the Rebels to parole him, but Gen. Early declared it
to be a waste of time, saying that he would never live to fight again. Slowly
raising his head and resting it on his arm, the plucky hero replied: “I will
live to fight you yet, General.” Improbable as it might have seemed to the
Confederate chief at that time, the prophecy was fulfilled at the battle of
Spotsylvania Court House, where Barlow, in a brilliant charge, snatched from
Early’s corps an entire division and forty pieces of artillery. Mrs. Barlow,
who had followed the army, assisting in the hospitals, and even carrying succor
to the wounded on the field, mounted a horse as soon as she learned the fate of
her husband, and rode over to the Confederate lines in search of him. She was
permitted to look over the field and through the village, and she found him
that night in a barn in the village of Gettysburg.
Readers may judge for themselves which of these accounts is the more plausible. It may be of some assistance to know that The Union State Ticket is campaign literature from Barlow's successful quest to become New York's Secretary of State after the war.
The Union State Ticket is correct when it says that at Spotsylvania Barlow led a charge which resulted in the capture of 3,000 Confederate soldiers, 30 Confederate banners, 40 cannon, and 2 Confederate generals. After the war, Barlow was offered a professional commission in the Regular Army, but he turned down the offer to return to the practice of law.
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