THE SEVENTEENTH CONNECTICUT

August 28, 1862-1883.

By Rev. J. K. Lombard

Ho! from the reaches of ripening corn,

From the ridges that front the sea,

Who comes to swell, on this autumn morn,

The host of the loyal free?

Who leaps at the sound of the trumpet word

When the faithless falter and fail?

Who flings, like the Roman, his belted sword

In the weight of the trembling scale?

Quick beat the heart-throbs, strong and high,

In time to the rattling drum,

And swift the voices that make reply-

"To the rescue! We come! We come!"

From ringing forge and from hillside farm,

From the swing of hammer and flail,

We bring the might of a good right arm,

And a trust that is triple mail.

With gift of our choicest in sacrifice

Crowned with surrender complete,

See, Fatherland, the full sum of the price

Here we lay down at thy feet!

Sweet the embraces of children and wife,

Dear are the homes by the sea!

Sweeter and dearer is Country than life,

All we have given to thee!

You by the shore is a goodly sight

Where the mustered bayonets shine;

Far stretch the tents with their lanes of white,

And full is the gleaming line.

Aye, full to-day! there will rents be made,

Ask not of the future "When?"

While "Here!" comes the answer prompt on parade

To the roll of a thousand men.

Whispered the partings and hidden the tears,

Proud sweeps the regiment by,

Fervent the blessings that wafted in cheers

Rain down from the echoing sky.

Weary the lagging in fortress and camp,

Dull in its scabbard the blade,

Sweeter than rest is the toilsome tramp,

Better the gun than the spade.

On with the tide that is swept to the front

Where the crimsoned banners wave,

Where the loyal hosts bear the battle-brunt

And earth quaffs the wine of the brave.

Melting away by the roadside then,

Scarred in the deadly fight,

Starved in the noisome prison-pen,

Blanched with its ghastly blight,

Grouped on the cliffs where the storm-clouds meet,

Breasting the madd'ning gale,

Pelted and blinded by iron sleet,

Thinned by the murderous hail,

Borne on the torrent of wild retreat,

Rallied in swift pursuit,

With tattered garments and bleeding feet

Plucking the battle's fruit,

Still through the sickness of hope deferred,

Through the night of doubts and fears,

Those faithful hearts at their leader's word

March on with the lengthening years.

Late breaks the morning on wakeful eyes,

Slow drift the smoke-wreaths away,

Earth, chant of peace to the answering skies,

Night, yield the sceptre to day!

Home! with the banner ye rallied to save,

Bearing it proudly as then,

But what shall respond to the roll of the brave,

From the wreck of a thousand men?

Ours to speak only cheap words of praise,

Yours both to dare and to do,

Take at our hands these poor withering bays,

Yet green with a welcome to you!

Thanks, and a welcome! 'tis little to give,

But what shall our gratitude spend

For love yielding all that the Nation may live,

That gave life for the life of a friend!

ADDRESS OF G. STOCKTON BURROUGHS.

I make these remarks not to glorify our town, not to glorify our welcome to you to-day, but that standing on such soil, we may recall to our own minds this great fact, the character of all American struggles, a character common to all, but especially seen in that great struggle in which you were engaged. America's conflicts have never been wars of conquest. Unlike the struggles of Greece and Rome, they have not been for the love of war. Nor have they been wars for territory, as the struggles past, and yet to come, of the great European powers. They have been struggles for principles, struggles which came from convictions of conscience, struggles which the power of circumstances brought upon us and which the cause of true progress required us to pass through. Such was the struggle in which you were engaged, a struggle for convictions, I think we may rightly say as we look back upon it, on the part of those engaged on both sides. This made it so long, so terrible, so desperate.

The character of your memories to-day is determined by this character of your struggle. True, there are casual remembrances, incidents of friendship in the camp and in the field; there are recollections of many chance events. But your great remembrance is a remembrance of a common struggle for principle. This is the great link which binds you together. And I ask, is it not ever the great, the lasting link by which men are bound to one another. View the various organizations of men. You will find organizations for pleasure to be but short-lived, their memories fleeting. But organizations for duty's sake, for convictions' sake, these are abiding.

There comes to us, therefore, this thought; what can make such organizations as is yours lasting, their memories ever-enduring? What can arouse, call into being such fellowships? Must we not say a struggle for principle? and does not such a struggle still remain for you, for all, for our united country? The perpetuity of our nation-life demands such a struggle. Struggles are to-day necessary that true convictions may conquer. Men of convictions must always struggle, come into conflict. Would that we had, to-day, in our land more men of conviction, who must needs, from their very nature, be strugglers! Then would our political life rise to that true level which it ought to occupy. Then would our party conflicts be worthy of our nation's history. They would be no longer scrambles for booty or position, but the earnest outcome of real conviction, of sterling principle.

Before us there lie evident, in our coming national history, the consideration of great problems, the grappling with great social issues. These problems, these issues are as important as were those of State's rights or slavery. Their settlement, their true, right settlement is as essential to our continual national life. We must go forth to meet these with the soldier-spirit. The same conditions, the same qualities of character, which gave you success in the great struggle of the civil war, will give you, will give all, true success in the coming conflicts.

In war the individual is sunk in the thought of the general good. This is essential in every struggle for principle. The martial spirit of self-sacrifice is a leading condition of success for the future. it will bring to us that true civil service reform, which shall enable us, as civilian soldiers, to serve our country in all reform, as question after question presents itself. In war the educated soldier is the victorious soldier. It was our New England soldiery, educated in the common schools of our hills and valleys, that went forth to victory in our late struggle, that went forth with intelligent conviction of what the conflict was and what its issues must be. They were strong through their intelligence. And thus, as a nation, must we face the future. With national education, secured for all, South and North, must we strengthen ourselves for the struggles yet to come. In war the self-restrained, virtuous soldier is the victorious soldier. From our New England homes of virtue and self-restraint went forth to our great civil struggle those who were able, in the strength of self-possession and self-conquest, to endure the hardships of the march and the camp, and to stand in the thick of the battle. Even so, as a soldierly nation, must we meet all coming conflict. If we can but have for ourselves national freedom from vice, true national temperance, in the broadest sense of that broad word; if we may be characterized by national self-possession and self-conquest, we shall be able to endure the hardship which is the only road unto victory.

The true soldier is such not because he wears the uniform. he is a soldier not simply on days of parade, nor even in the battle alone. He is a soldier in spirit, in heart. He is a soldier in the very character of his inward life. For the true soldier there is ever sounding forth his country's and humanity's call. Such may we all be!

ADDRESS OF GEN. NOBLE.

It was fitting that this goodly town, which sent one hundred men to the Seventeenth Connecticut, should have so heartily fallen into line with that round of welcomes, which this regiment has received from the towns of Fairfield county. It was emphatically your County Regiment: ninety-five per cent of its force were sons of your soil. If, in the time to come, those of them who were saved from the dread ordeal of march, and camp, and conflict, are as good citizens as they proved gallant soldiers, well may Fairfield County say with the Roman Matron of her sons, these are my jewels.

Let me here pay tribute to that gallant company of my regiment, the Glover Guard, which bore itself through every trial of danger and exposure with patience and courage. No more gallant officer ever led a company than your brave Captain McCarty. The flag presented to the guard by the matron whose name it bore, that daring officer carried through two severe conflicts, Chancellorsville and Gettysburg, and the siege of Fort Wagner.

But, fellow citizens of Fairfield, though hardships patiently borne, and dangers faced, and wounds are honorable, yet the soldiers of this regiment and of Connecticut, made a more glorious record when they came home, as they went out, loving and honoring the sovereignty of the people. They thus disappointed all the prophecies, and perhaps the hopes of many in the old word. It was thought that the Republic would vanish before such a host of disbanded soldiery. They looked to see them following the lead of belligerant chieftains, ambitious of power. But no commander was to those who saved the flag any more than an honored leader. The head of our armies knew and felt this just as much as those in the ranks. When the cruel war was over the soldiery and officers had no other thought or longing, but for home, and to renew their toil of life. The implements of husbandry, the plow left in the furrow, the pen in the counting-house, the work among the busy mill-wheels, were taken up as if laid aside but for a day. This conduct was in obedience to no command, was prompted by no awe of rulers. It was the outcome of that instinct of the American citizen which looks upon the will of the majority as his law. His sovereign is the sovereign people of whom each man and soldier forms a part. The self-reliance, and the dignity which the soldier feels from his duty done, makes broader and safer the foundations of the Republic. it rests not on crowns or titles, but on the solid granite of the people. It is the mass of men who rule with us, and not ranks and classes. The sentiment is oft repeated that the pen is mightier than the sword, but the ballot is master of both. It may be carelessly handled for a time, prejudice and political clap-trap may briefly shape its edicts, but sooner r later the tiny paper speaks its decrees in a voice before which all cower and surrender. With freedom everywhere, so long as the people keep their self-respect, and uphold the purity of the ballot, the country is safe. "Men may come, and men may go," but the stream of liberty "will roll on forever."

ADDRESS BY HON. JOHN H. GLOVER.

We have listened with interest to an account of your contests and your victories, and rejoice that as the Trojans found a Homer to record their deeds of bravery, the Seventeenth, Fairfield County Regiment, has secured a faithful record of its prowess from the pen of Mr. Beers.

Allow me, my friends, to give utterance to a few thoughts suggested by the time, the place, and the circumstances in which we are situated to-day.

While looking over the large assembly before me, I seem to be carried back more than a score of years when a gathering similar to this had met to take counsel as to our country's needs, and to unite our efforts in aid of the noble men who were struggling under McClellan before Richmond, in the swamps of the Chickahominy. All then was anxiety, distress, perplexity, but now how changed? The snows of more than twenty winters have fallen on these trees, since, Gen. Noble, you, and I, stood on this platform, and though they have left their whitened traces on your head and mine, the warmth of God's sunshine has clothed the trees with new verdure, and the blessing of God's smile has caused our country to exchange the spirit of heaviness for the garment of praise. The atmosphere, of the place on which we stand, suggests patriotic inspiration.

When Gen. Silliman was captured during he war of the Revolution, Fairfield County boys secured a prominent Tory on Long island, and Silliman came back. When the towns along the Sound were threatened by British men-of-war, the whale boats manned by Fairfield boys, took up their attention and caused their departure. One of the houses that face our village Green bears to this day traces of a fire set by Hessian hands, and by the church behind us, a Hessian met his death and was buried where e fell. The traces of the fort, built during the war of 1812, existed but till yesterday at the foot of our beach lane, and the memories of the expressions at the "sudden partings, such as rend the lives from out young hearts," are still fresh in the minds of the living. We cannot wonder then brave men that you snatched from the ashes of your sires the embers of their former fires.

The English, acting under the idea of the poet that "the brave abroad fight for the wise at home," sent hireling soldiers to do their work-they were met an conquered by freemen inspired by words like those uttered by Stark at Bennington: "Soldiers! those German gentlemen are bought for four pounds eight and seven pence per man by Englands' king, a bargain as is thought. Are we worth more? Let's prove it now, we can; for we must beat them, boys, ere set of sun or Molly Stark's a widow." It was done!

You, soldiers of the Seventeenth, had the more difficult task of fighting not hireling soldiers of a foreign land but brothers contending for what they believed the right. The difference between you lay in this; they fought to destroy, you to maintain, the union of your common fathers, and the God of battles has given you the victory.

My duty would be but half done, did I not utter in your name words of encouragement and advice to the coming generation, that I see around me. I would say to them, for you, we fought to restore the Union in its benignity, and the Constitution in its integrity and rely on you, representatives of our country's future, to see to it that our work and labor has not been in vain.

ADDRESS OF GEN. WILLIAM A. AIKEN.

At your meeting in yonder hall this morning, at your succeeding banquet, as I witnessed the fervor of your mutual greetings I fairly envied you. Next to the unspeakable love of woman ranks in fineness of texture and delicacy of flavor the friendships begun and cemented in the vicissitudes of war.

I need not say how precious these friendships, begun in mere official intercourse, are to me now. This present scene brings vividly before me events of twenty-one years ago when this gallant regiment of Fairfield County boys passed from inception to complete organic development, as it were, in a day. The "call" coming in July; the Seventeenth with full ranks by the middle of August; on the 3d of September, 1862, off for the front! A record unsurpassed.

I remember the last day in that camp which you did me the honor to name for me; the Governor's fervid words of parting and of cheer, the confident faces of your gallant commander and his officers, the firm tramp of the men. They seem as of yesterday.

Just now I see generous private Howe shorn for the fight. That same Howe who, by-and-by, when the pay came slow, put hand in pocket and drew forth fifteen thousand dollars, as an advance, that the boys might not be in present stress.

The events of your notable history filled my memory, as in clear succession they have been recounted by the historian of the day, from this platform.

Baltimore, Fort Marshall, the shovel practice about Fort Kearney, the winter camp at Brooks' Station, in which you learned these lessons of patience and obedience which lie at the root of true soldierly virtue.

Soon followed the baptism of fire at Chancellorsville where your noble Colonel was wounded and your Lieutenant-Colonel killed.

Then came the great and terrible days of Gettysburg, the fame of which you are about to signalize in imperishable stone.

The heroes of that occasion did not all wear sword or musket. On this platform sits the man who, upon the wires of his improvised telegraph was able to furnish the War Department with its first intelligence of the fate of that day, while he insured to the great newspaper which he represented the first and freshest instal[l]ments of the momentous news. His hair, to-day, is a little grayer, and perhaps his faculty of ubiquity has somewhat diminished. But his eye, as of old, is in every place and its twinkle is as merry as when he performed the miracle of the loaves among the boys. As, on that day, there was but one Meade and one Lee, so, there was but one Byington.

The statistics of your killed and wounded make us sad as we have heard them read. There are the second Lieutenant-Colonel of your regiment, brave Douglas Fowler, went to his death. One hundred and ninety-seven others killed, wounded, or missing.

Next came your Carolina life. The terrible strain of the trenches before Fort Wagner. Its brilliant capture, followed by a needed rest. The regiment clad in new clothes, the luxurious bathing on these beaches so wide and smooth, and all capped by the climax of that merry Christmas of 1863.

Then the long yet not uneventful months in Florida. While your historian mentioned this part of your history I remembered that Fourth of July at St. Augustine where Lieut.-Col. Wilcoxson read to you the "Declaration" as Old Fort Marion-the more ancient castle of St. Mark-thundered forth its grand response.

Col. Noble's short but impressive sojourn at Andersonville; the brave fight and fall of that accomplished scholar and soldier, Lieut.-Col. Wilcoxson, were among the episodes of those days.

By-and-by came the end, when the gallant Seventeenth was in its turn, called back to the State from which it went. Its honored Colonel decorated with the brevet of a Brigadier-a decoration, by the way, well deserved. Its Lieut.-Col. Henry Allen, a contribution to Connecticut from the ranks of that nursery of good soldiers, the dainty yet most gallant "Seventy-First" of New York City, and to-day one of the animating spirits of this happy occasion.

After these marches a long line of brave men, some with shoulder-straps and some without, but all wending their way to hear the "Well done" from the lips of that Governor who, with a full heart had bid them God Speed nearly three years before.

To-day his body rests quietly as do those of many of your number to whom he had bidden farewell and again welcomed home. But his enduring effigy in bronze will, ere many months, be placed in that sacred vestibule of our beautiful capitol where are encased the emblems of your faith and heroism-and there, in that "Battle Flag Vestibule" they shall together remain, silent but eloquent witnesses to the glorious history of the regiments he loved so well.

Mr. President in closing these remarks permit me to quote words from his last Proclamation:

"I call upon the citizens of this Commonwealth, to manifest by expressions of gratitude and by acts of kindness, both to the living and to the families of the honored dead, their high appreciation of the sacrifices made by each of the fifty-three thousand three hundred and thirty men who, from this State, have entered the military service of the nation during our recent struggle with rebellion; and to impress upon their children and children's children the duty of holding such patriotic services in honor and perpetual remembrance and thus prove the enduring gratitude of the Republic."

The following resolution by comrade HENRY HUSS was unanimously adopted:

Resolved, That the thanks of this Association are hereby tendered to the citizens of Fairfield, for the kind and splended manner in which this organization has been welcomed and entertained; that the name of Fairfield is dear to every member of the old Regiment, for well do they remember, that in the dark days of 1862 the Town of Fairfield was ever ready to respond to any movement that would add comfort to the boys in the field, and especially have the ladies of this place at all times been the true friends of the soldier: to them and all we extend our heartfelt gratitude for the many acts of kindness received this day and in the past.

It is a pleasure to every old soldier after twenty years have rolled by, that such an acknowledgment for their services has been extended to them by the good citizens here to-day; and as every annual re-union adds one more page to the history of this Association: so will this Seventeenth Anniversary, held at Fairfield, shine forth as one of the brightest pages in that record.

It was then announced that the next re-union of the Regiment would be held in Ridgefield, August 28^th, 1884.

Letters of regret were read from Ex-Postmaster General James of New York; Maj. T. L. Watson, of Bridgeport, Conn.; Maj. J. C. Kinney, Hartford, Conn.; Capt. Alfred B. Beers, Sixth Connecticut Volunteers, Bridgeport, Conn.; Charles H. Williams, Mount Vernon, N.Y.; Gen. J. R. Hawley, Hartford, Conn.; Col. H. M. R. Hoyt, Greenwich, Conn.; Capt. F. P. Earle, Maj. A. G. Brady, His Excellency Governor Thomas Waller; also a telegram from Gen. A. Ames, stating he was unable to be present.

Time having arrived when the members must depart for their homes, "Marching through Georgia" was sung by all hands; line was formed, and the Association marched to the depot where a good-bye was said, and the promise made, if living; to be at the next Annual Re-union, and, as stated in the Bridgeport STANDARD of August 29, 1883, "The departing trains bore them to their respective homes, cherishing one of the best, and most enjoyed of the seventeen re-unions held by the Seventeenth Connecticut Volunteers, as a bright memory of the past."

Attest, George W. Keeler,

Secretary.