Fox, Thomas Bayley

THOMAS BAYLEY FOX. Second Lieutenant 2d Mass. Vols. (Infantry), August 14, 1862; First Lieutenant, November 1, 1862; Captain, June 6, 1863; died at Dorchester, Mass., July 25, 1863, of wounds received at Gettysburg, July 3. THOMAS BAYLEY FOX, JR., fourth and youngest son of Thomas Bayley and Feroline Walley (Pierce) Fox, was born in Newburyport, Massachusetts, February 1, 1839. He was a healthful, bright, happy child; affectionate, thoroughly good-tempered, requiring only the mildest government, fond of play, and equally fond of books. The peculiar activity and bent of his mind were shown in an artless inquisitiveness about subjects not apt to attract the attention of a sportive lad, an amusing fondness for argument, and a fanciful ingenuity in the contrivance of amusements for himself and his companions. He would say, in the most decided tone, that " he meant when he grew up, to go to college, study law, and plead the cause of freedom." From this almost instinctive choice of a profession, made when he was hardly beyond infancy, he never for a moment swerved. It shaped his whole intellectual career, and colored all his tastes and pursuits. The unfolding of his mental and moral character was a natural and harmonious growth. He received most of his elementary instruction in two of the excellent public schools of Dorchester, to which town his father removed in 1845. The following familiar letter from the then principal of the High School, Mr. William J. Rolfe, correctly describes Thomas's diligent and promising boyhood, while it has a further interest as indicating how he and others were unconsciously fitting themselves for a future then undreamed of. " Tom was, on the whole, the most remarkable boy in that very remarkable group of boys who formed the first class in the Dorchester High School. He was not the quickest scholar of the group. He had to work as hard as the average of boys to get his lessons. He was good in both the classics and the mathematics, but showed no marked aptitude for either. But as a writer and a speaker he soon gave indications of extraordinary promise. Many of his school compositions were admirable, both in plan and execution. They were singularly free from the usual extravagances and affectations of the school-boy's first attempts at writing..... He expressed his best thoughts, and expressed them in the best words; and a fine instinct taught him that the simplest words were the best.... "He was a born orator. In all my experience as a teacher, I have never known his equal as a speaker. He declaimed with the same simplicity and earnestness with which he wrote. All his conduct and demeanor at school was equally natural, unassuming, and unpretentious, yet marked by a manly earnestness and dignity beyond his years. He was beloved and respected by all, teachers as well as scholars. He was as pure in heart, as frank, and truthful, and artless, as a child; yet as brave, as chivalrous, as heroic in spirit, as when he fought at Antietam. "Tom and ' Henry W.,' as we used to call him, Adjutant Henry Ware Hall, Fifty-first Illinois Volunteer Infantry, [whose memoir' will be found in this volume,] and ' Charlie Humphreys' (Chaplain C. A. Humphreys, Second Massachusetts Cavalry), were three out of seven boys who, in June, 1853, formed a school debating-society, which was kept up with remarkable spirit and ability for three years, or more than one hundred meetings. Here these boys were unconsciously preparing themselves for the parts they were to play in the drama of life and of history, ten years later. The first debate in the society was on the question, 'Is it our duty to obey the Fugitive Slave Law?' These three boys took an active part in the discussion, after which the question was decided in the negative by a very strong vote. A few months after this we find them debating the question, 'Whether slavery or intemperance is the greater curse to this country?' Tom leads the affirmative, and the merits of both the argument and the question are decided by vote to be on that side. Later, we have the trial of H. W. Hall, an alleged fugitive from South Carolina, before the United States Commissioner (me), and Tom is counsel for the defendant, who had been duly blackened for the part he was to play. The Commissioner decided that there was not sufficient evidence to justify the giving up of the negro to the claimant. Had he decided otherwise, there would have been a rescue. Again, the society becomes a State Senate, and here, too, with Hoosac Tunnel, the Liquor Law, and the like, is again the Fugitive Slave Law. Soon we find this is the question for debate, 'Is a man justified in obeying a law of his country which he believes to be morally wrong?' And 'T. B. Fox, Jr. and H. W. Hall' are the regular disputants on the negative. All the leading political questions of the day were discussed in this little lyceum..... The majority of the members had a decided taste and no small talent for theatricals; but from first to last, debating and oratory were the main work of the society." The lyceum, referred to in the above letter, led to the formation of the "Pickwick Club," an association of Dorchester young men for mutual improvement. Of this society Thomas was an interested and active member. One of the best of his juvenile performances was an oration on "The Youth of Great Men," delivered at the request of his associates, July 4, 1857. The maturity of his thoughts, the chaste beauty of his diction, and his sincere eloquence impressed all who listened to him on that occasion. The tone and spirit of this fraternal club, including, as it did, a majority not yet of age, may be inferred from these facts in its history. Thirteen of the twenty-seven active members, and nine of the twenty-two honorary members, joined the Union army. Four of the former and three of the latter died of wounds or sickness. Among those who became soldiers were one lieutenant-colonel, four captains, three adjutants, and one chaplain. Two of these, as already intimated, have their names inscribed, with prefixed stars, on Harvard's roll of honor. In 1856 Thomas entered college, one of four graduates of the Dorchester High School who passed the examination unconditionally, and took foremost places in their Class. Of this happy portion of his life, his most intimate daily associate from childhood and nearly to the hour of his death (Rev. C. A. Humphreys) writes thus:"You have asked me to give some account of Tom's college life. How can I compress four years into as many pages, especially four such years, so full of experience and growth? Our preparation for college was more broad than thorough; so in the first year we had no stock to fall back on, except a good will to work. Tom took a good stand in the first year, but in the second he was sixth in rank; and in the third, he was second in his Class, and obtained a scholarship. He was very faithful in his studies, trusting less to memory than to a clear insight into principles. In deportment he was perfect, gaining the respect of all his instructors. He was very fond of literary societies, and was a leader in all of those with which he was connected. He was especially fond of speaking in debate, and was a very formidable opponent in an argument. This was only the unfolding of a desire and purpose entertained for years to devote himself to the study and practice of the law. He was a natural orator, and spoke with elegance, calmness, and deep impressiveness. His elocution was rich, full, and clear, and brought him one of the Boylston prizes. His pieces for declamation were generally chosen from the great parliamentary and forensic speakers, Burke and Webster being his favorites. In his oratory he prevailed as much by his face and figure as by his voice and gesture. He had a bright, flashing eye, and a commanding presence, a form full of dignity, and a face full of truth. He was chosen Class Orator, and embodied in a production of great simplicity and earnestness the best feelings and hopes of the Class. What shall I say more, except that among his classmates he was universally loved and respected? He never stooped to gain popularity, but stood upon his own merits, and leaned only upon his own self-respect. As I look back upon his character and life, its best quality seems to me to have been a noble ambition. He was poorly satisfied with any attainment, and was always pressing on to something higher and better. This quality would have assured his advancement among his fellow-men, while his conscientiousness and high character would have secured their devotion and esteem. "It seems to me that this simple statement better befits Tom's character than the loftiest eulogy. You will please accept it from his college chum." These concise but suggestive sentences leave hardly a word more to be said of four years full of enjoyment and marked progress. The allusion to the slight stress Thomas laid on any success he had already gained, points to a trait in his character which relieved it of all boastfulness, egotism, and self-conceit. He did not believe in genius and natural abilities as substitutes for persevering diligence. A few sentences in his Class Oration expressed the decision of his clear good sense and described his own deliberately chosen methods and purposes: "Some years," he said, "must elapse before the best of us can make any perceptible advance in our new life. We shall be strongly tempted to rush rashly forward into notice. The hardest lesson men have to learn is to sacrifice a present to a future good; but if any one has reason to reserve his powers, it is a scholar. He knows that every great work is matured in silence, and long seclusion must ripen the mind which brings it forth. When we are laying the foundations of professional success, how can we hope to reach its height if we allow our attention to be called away and become absorbed in other objects, if we are enticed by public applause to seek it too soon, or if we waste our energies by turning them to many directions before we have ever concentrated them in one? As many fail from premature efforts as from the lack of any effort at all." Notwithstanding his fondness for literature, there was nothing about him of the ascetic or the recluse. He was quite an enthusiast in his love for manly sports, vindicating some of the roughest of them as a salutary discipline for the body. He welcomed the establishment of the Gymnasium, and took a leading part in word and practice in the formation of the public sentiment of a Class which left the nurture of Alma Mater as remarkable for its muscle as for any of its other qualities. His own physical system was trained by exercise to toughness and strength; and, without losing anything of the dignity and grace of his carriage, he added great firmness and power of endurance to a fine but somewhat sensitive constitution. Immediately on graduating he began the study of his chosen profession. He spent a few months in the offices of ex-Governor Andrew and-A. G. Browne, Esq., and then entered the Law School in Cambridge. It was said of him by one of the professors of that School, "He will make just as good a lawyer as he chooses to be." The truth of that remark was indorsed by every one who noted his determination to win eminence at the bar. As two of his brothers entered the army soon after the commencement of hostilities, Thomas was led by his strong preference for the pursuits of civil life and the wishes of his kindred to resist, as long as he conscientiously could, the patriotic impulse to follow them into the field.. The. critical condition of the national cause in the summer of 1862 convinced him that it was his duty to abandon, for a time at least, and perhaps forever, his long-cherished hopes and plans, and give himself to his country, where the services of her loyal young men were then most needed. As soon as his resolution was known to his classmates and friends in the Second Massachusetts Infantry, to which one of his brothers already belonged, they sought, with success, to obtain him for a comrade. He was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant, August 14, 1862, and joined the regiment soon after the battle of Cedar Mountain. Just before leaving home he made a few unstudied remarks at a "recruiting meeting" in Dorchester. One of his sentences is worthy of repetition, as indicating his own feelings and motives. Saying that the hour of mere enthusiasm had passed, and that the hour for obedience to principle and for action had come, he closed his modest little speech with these words: "Hereafter, if our lives are spared, should our children's children ask what we did for our country in this its great crisis, a blush such as never should be seen on an old man's face would come upon our faces if we were obliged to answer, - Nothing." His military career lasted only eleven months, but it was crowded with dangers and hardships. At the outset his whole strength was taxed in the march, full of privation, when Banks's division was cut off from the main army. His endurance while marching, entirely on foot and without the partial relief from riding which others were obliged occasionally to seek, during those terrible weeks, was a proof of his physical vigor, until then undiminished. His first battle was that of Antietam. After that conflict the Second Massachusetts was encamped on Maryland Heights. Here, having had no chance to become gradually acclimated, he was attacked with a slow malarious fever. This sickness took him from active duty for a few weeks, most of which he spent as a convalescent at Frederick. He returned to his post in season for the ensuing campaign, and fought in the battles of Chancellorsville, Beverly Ford, and Gettysburg. Rising in rank by regular promotion to fill vacancies, he was commissioned First Lieutenant, November 1, 1862, and Captain June 6, 1863. Colonel R. G. Shaw expressed to the Governor of Massachusetts a desire to have Captain Fox for the Major of the Fifty-fourth (colored) Regiment. But this fact was not known until the classmates and friends had both fallen. Had they lived, and had the promotion been offered to Captain Fox, his belief in the policy of emancipation and in the capacity of the negro as a soldier would probably have induced him to accept it, notwithstanding his strong attachment to the Second Massachusetts. In his letters he made but few references to his own feelings, none whatever to his conduct in times of peril, and declined to dwell upon the horrors of war. He left, as had always been his wont, his actions to speak for him; and it was from others, not from himself, that those who were most interested in his well-being and his well-doing, learned of unswerving fidelity. His scholarly tastes were never weakened, and it may be almost said that his scholarly pursuits were never intermitted. He asked to have sent him, whenever opportunity offered, standard books, arguments on the grave questions of the day, and works on government. His Horace and his Shakespeare were always a part of his accoutrements. Whatever anticipations he may have had, should his life be spared, bore reference to his chosen profession; but they never made him impatient or discontented, or caused him to shrink from the obligations of the present. It was his way to give himself wholly to the special work on hand. Writing on the eve of an expected movement, and referring to a wish he had entertained for a leave of absence, he said, "I have little hope or desire to get home now." His ability, coolness, and determination as a soldier were shown in the closing scenes of his service in the field. On the afternoon of July 2, 1863, the division to which his regiment belonged was moved from the right to reinforce the left of the line. In the evening the command was ordered back again, and the regiment set out for the intrenchments it had before occupied. Before reaching them, the scouts in advance reported them as held by the Rebels. The regiment was manceuvred with great skill and promptness by its young commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Mudge, so as to be prepared for an attack, and a company was sent out to reconnoitre. It returned without bringing sufficiently satisfactory information. The night was dark, the situation critical, and it was absolutely necessary to discover the exact position and force of the foe. In this exigency, Captain Fox was directed to push forward his company, and at all hazards to find and ascertain the numbers of the enemy. Deploying his men, he advanced rapidly and silently until he met and captured some of the hostile skirmishers, and carried his company nearly up to the opposing line of battle. This demonstration drew a heavy fire, under which, the object of the reconnoissance having been accomplished, he fell back. The regiment at once threw up new defences, facing the works it had previously built, and waited for the day. Early the next morning the Second Massachusetts and the Twenty-seventh Indiana were ordered to advance across the open meadow, and take the position then held by the enemy on the other side. It seemed certain destruction, but the order was instantly obeyed. The advance was at first successful, and the enemy's works were occupied by our forces; but the heavy fire of the outnumbering foe, intrenched behind trees and rocks, - and a movement made on both flanks with a view to surrounding the attacking force, - compelled the two regiments to fall back to save themselves from annihilation. How near the Second came to this fate is seen in the fact that, in a distance of about four hundred yards, and in about twenty minutes, out of two hundred and ninety-four men and twentytwo officers, it lost one hundred and thirty-four killed and wounded. Captain Fox was near the centre of the meadow, rallying his men, when he was hit in the left ankle. The wound was serious, but was not thought to be fatal. In a few days he was able to reach home, weak and weary, but so cheerful and uncomplaining that his appearance at first disarmed all anxiety as to his recovery. A sad change took place; the hurt was found to be more severe than was at first supposed; the previous strain upon the nervous system had been too great; fever, accompanied by delirium, supervened, and the fine constitution which he carried into the war, worn and shattered by the labors and exposures of one short year, refused to rally from the deep prostration. At four o'clock in the afternoon of July 25th he died unconsciously and without a struggle, of sheer exhaustion. And yet he is not dead; for how fittingly may the true words spoken at the burial of his body be repeated here: "The life that was still is, but broader, purer, nobler. Let us not weep for our own loss. He has only exchanged this transient life in mortal flesh for an eternal life in immortal memories and undying affections. His shrine is now in our own hearts. His fitting monument is his remembered life. Let us not weep for him. He fought for his country; who could leave a brighter record? He died for his country; who could wish a better epitaph?"