Newcomb, Edgar Marshall

EDGAR MARSHALL NEWCOMB. Corporal 19th Mass. Vols., August, 1861; Sergeant-Major; Second Lieutenant, June 18, 1862; First Lieutenant, November 13, 1862; died, December 20, 1862, of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., December 13. EDGAR MARSHALL NEWCOMB, son of John J. and Mary S. Newcomb, was born in Troy, N. Y., October 2, 1840. When he was a few months old, his parents removed to Boston, which city was from that time his home. Having received his early education at the Grammar and Latin Schools, he entered Harvard College in 1856. He had during that year become a member of Park Street Church, Boston. This step was in his case, at least, no idle ceremony. While he was faithful in the prosecution of his studies, his college course was more prominently marked by the unusual rectitude and purity of his life - and by a religious activity, earnest without obtrusiveness or arrogance - than by high intellectual triumphs. These were, indeed, precluded by the state of his health, which failed in the latter part of the Sophomore year, so that it was only by the utmost perseverance that he kept up with his Class, and literally fought disease away. Unable to study more than an hour at a time, and that as the result of the most careful regimen, and at times confined to his bed by severe sickness, he yet resolutely prosecuted his studies, and graduated with his Class in 1860. Before graduation, however, he sailed for Europe, and spent the summer and autumn in travelling on foot through England and France, in the hope of regaining health. Returning in November, of the same year, with strength partially restored, he entered his father's counting-room, and engaged in active business, with the hope of soon commencing a course of preparation for the Christian ministry. In this position he remained till the ensuing summer, when the call for " more men " roused him, and he felt that he could no longer tarry. He enlisted in the ranks of the Nineteenth Massachusetts Volunteers at its organization at Lynnfield in August, 1861, and was made a Corporal in Company F. In September, 1861, he was detailed as a clerk at the head-quarters of Brigadier-General F. W. Lander, commanding a brigade in the Corps of Observation, Poolesville, Maryland. On or about November 1st he was appointed Sergeant-Major of his regiment, and returned to duty with it. He subsequently passed with his regiment through fourteen battles and skirmishes, without receiving a wound; and the hard activities of army life had the effect to improve his health, and " built up his youthful person into the stalwart, sinewy frame of an athletic man." He was prom6ted to the rank of Second Lieutenant for gallant conduct while in action on the seven days' retreat from Richmond, and assigned to Company C, then under command of Captain Batchelder. He won especial commendation on the part of his commanding officers at the battle of White Oak Swamp. One of his fellow-soldiers thus testifies: "His bravery was so distinguished as to be the general subject of remark among men who were accustomed to regard all dangers as so many trivial things easily forgotten when passed.... At Antietam he won his rank of First Lieutenant; and to have lived through the ordeal of that day was to have come from the very jaws of death." The religious zeal and integrity which had marked him in college characterized also his army life, but were never exhibited ostentatiously. The reports of his comrades in arms, with a warmth of expression showing a depth of personal affection, unite in placing side by side his signal valor in the field and his eminent holiness in the camp. When his death gave prominence to all the incidents of his life, his family learned for the first time, what his letters never mentioned, that he had frequently officiated as chaplain of his regiment, preaching to the men and holding prayer-meetings. Captain Chadwick, who commanded Company C after the battle of Antietam, writes: -"Some of my most profitable hours have I spent in his company, while in our tent, or log-house, after the day's duties were done. Those were the hours in which he delighted to speak of his 'beautiful home,' as he termed it, as well as of the temptations of camplife, and the regard he felt for the spiritual welfare of his brother officers and fellow-soldiers." The same union of qualities was exhibited in the closing scenes of his life. Before the disastrous battle of Fredericksburg, he seems to have had one of those presentiments which we count so singular and impressive when fulfilled, - though many more may pass unnoticed, when contradicted by the event,- remarking to his captain that he did not expect to come out of another battle safely. When the day arrived, he was one of the first to volunteer, and was among the earliest of those who crossed the Rappahannock and took possession of the city. Colonel Devereux, his commander, thus narrates the rest: "His regiment being ordered to charge the batteries directly in front, there were shot down in the storm of bullets that met them no less than eight color-bearers in succession. At one time both were killed at once, and both colors lay on the ground. Here was an opportunity for a self-sacrificing manhood that young Newcomb was eminently fitted to put forth. Rushing to the front, he seized both colors, and waved his regiment on. But the inevitable consequence followed. Like all who had preceded him, and those that followed, every man that bore a color was the fated object of the unerring bullets of the enemy's sharpshooters whilst the regiment remained in the open field. Newcomb was wounded in both legs, which were very much shattered, and his system could not sustain the shock of amputation." This occurred in the third assault upon the enemy's works, in the afternoon of December i3th. For nearly a week he lingered, "fighting, struggling for existence as only a strong man can." Amid intense pain, his brother, who arrived at Falmouth just before the battle, could hear him softly repeating, "Perfect through suffering, - perfect through suffering." He held and watched wistfully the pictured faces of those dear ones he was to see no more on earth; and in an interval of comparative freedom from pain, he sent to each a special message: "Tell mother I could not die in a holier cause, or more happy"; " It is all light ahead"; "I am only going to a different sphere of labor"; "To live is Christ, and to die is gain." He called his fellow-soldiers to his side, and giving them his dying charge to "meet him in heaven," gave also directions that no words of praise be placed upon his tombstone. Devising his property equally to the Societies for Home and Foreign Missions, selecting with prophetic faith as the text for his funeral sermon, "Until the day break, and the shadows flee away," at length, on the morning of December 2oth, he died. On that day week, appropriate funeral services were held at Park Street Church, attended by his Excellency Governor Andrew and suite, by Colonel Hinks and other wounded officers and soldiers of the Nineteenth and other regiments, as well as by a large number of classmates and friends. The sword and cap of the soldier, scarred and riddled with bullets, were laid among the flowers on his coffin, and the tattered flags of the Nineteenth were crossed behind it. An eloquent sermon was preached by Rev. J. O. Means of Roxbury, Massachusetts, from the text selected by the departed; words most inspiring and comforting to those who, in that dark night of national disaster, were anxiously watching for the dawn, as well as to those who must wait yet more wearily under the shadow of personal bereavement for the morning of a better day. The remains were deposited at Mount Auburn, "in whose sacred precincts he had delighted when at Cambridge to seclude himself for study and meditation." In person Lieutenant Newcomb was above the medium height, with well-proportioned figure, pleasing features, and a complexion of feminine fairness. Somewhat reserved and diffident, yet amiable, firm, and brave, he won the devoted love of his friends and the unhesitating respect of all who knew him. In the words of his colonel, "As an officer he was prompt, careful, and zealous, kind to his men, but a good disciplinarian!" His military character was of a peculiar type. He being the last man who would ever have been expected to become a soldier, and a soldier's career being the last he would have chosen, there were qualities latent in his character which needed only the touch of duty and danger to make him conspicuous among the brave. When his sense of duty urged him into war, it would have been expected that he would exhibit a sober and unshrinking faithfulness in all duties and dangers. The enthusiastic valor he displayed was a surprise to many, and perhaps to all who knew him. All would have been confident that his Christian purity and rectitude would be maintained in the camp as before; but few would perhaps have expected the continuance of such a peculiar and earnest zeal. While by such a record we are taught the power and passion which may slumber unknown in the depths of the most quiet natures, we may also learn anew the lesson that a man may be a hero without disregard of the claims of humanity or defiance of the laws of God.