Critic's Corner

“Carleton”

By Stephen Davis · Originally published October 2022 · pp. 28–29

Editor’s note: With this piece we begin a new series in Civil War News, “Clippings from the Past”: excerpts from Civil War newspapers, articles about them and profiles of reporters who wrote for them. Here we begin with Steve Davis’ column on a famous reporter for the Boston Journal, Charles Carleton Coffin, who signed his articles with his middle name.

Engraved portrait of Charles Carleton Coffin. (Library of Congress)

“Carleton” Born in Boscawen, southern New Hampshire, in July 1823, Charles Carleton Coffin received some schooling but was mostly self-taught. He worked at lumbering, labored on a relative’s farm and taught music (he bought an organ for his church, then played it). Coffin married Sallie Farmer of Boscawen in 1846. He surveyed for railroads, moved to Boston and began writing for the Boston Journal. “Through the years 1857, 1858, 1859,” writes Coffin‘s biographer William Elliot Griffis (1898), “Carleton was floating around among the newspapers getting a precarious living—hardly a living.”1 When the war began Coffin had no affiliation with a newspaper. After a youthful ankle injury prevented his enlistment in the Union army, a friend suggested that he take up reporting the war. He was an alert correspondent, and knew that he could report best what he had personally witnessed. Thus he was present at Bull Run and sent back so clear and dramatic an account of the battle that the Boston Journal hired him for $25 a week. “Keep the Journal at the front,” were his instructions. In this capacity he served throughout the entire war.2 J. Cutler Andrews, the historian of Civil War journalism, wrote of Coffin that “he had what amounted to a sixth sense for recognizing the signs of an impending movement: the loading of a barge, the quick departure of an orderly, or the nod of a general’s head.”3

He kept close to the Army of the Potomac and its campaigns. At Fredericksburg a Federal soldier was wavering under fire when “but a little distance off,” he saw a man standing under a tree and coolly writing away—it was Coffin: “there he stood, perfectly unconcerned, and I felt easier every time I looked at him.” Coffin missed Chancellorsville, but wrote about it anyway, based on what he had heard; he knew his readers in Boston wanted all the war news he could deliver. In June 1863 he paralleled Lee’s march toward Pennsylvania. He wrote letters from Harrisburg, Washington (twice), Baltimore (twice) and from Frederick, where he learned of Meade’s appointment. From Gettysburg he wrote two letters, having witnessed the fights of July 2 and 3 (penning them those very nights).4 Coffin was not solely eastern theater, though. At Cairo, Illinois in January 1862, he met Grant in what became a genuine friendship. (The general issued Carleton a pass to go anywhere in Union lines.) He was with Grant’s forces at Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, and wrote about their siege and capture. On the morning of Donelson’s surrender, an excited Coffin was seen “doing the fortifications on the run with his head down like an animal which trails by scent.” Understanding that scoring a scoop was a news reporter’s constant goal, Coffin managed to beat fellow correspondents in getting his story into print—back in Boston, no less. He caught the earliest available steamboat to Cairo. The zealous reporter, though, had a soft streak. Onboard the boat were wounded Union soldiers. While he could have been writing his story, he ministered to the wounded heroes. He ended up writing his account on the train from Cairo to Chicago, and mailing it east from there. “Carleton” was mindful of his journalistic success, and worked hard to attain it. He mingled with generals when he could, and with the troops in their encampments. He was with the Army of the Potomac in the Wilderness, and after writing his account of the huge battle, he entrusted his article to a nephew, Edward, who rode frantically to Fredericksburg—just don’t kill your horse, the uncle cautioned— where he mailed the pieces.5 “Carleton” was one of more than three hundred Northern correspondents covering the war. He stood among such luminaries in the profession as William Swinton of the New York Times

CivilWarNews.com and George W. Smalley of the New York Tribune. And he shared with his colleagues a common set of vexations, such as the horse-stealing that bedeviled field correspondents. Coffin had a black servant with him, whose too-often morning greeting was “Breakfast is ready, Mr. Coffin. Your horse is gone again.”6 We know, if only from recent wars, that journalists come under fire, and that some are wounded or even killed. As for that threat in the Civil War, Coffin wrote about war reporters, “But let me say, if they were once brought into close contact with all the dreadful realities of war,—if they were obliged to stand the chance of getting their heads knocked off, or blown to atoms by an unexpected shell, or bored through with a minie ball,—to stand their chances of being captured by the enemy,—to live on bread and water, and little of it, as all of the correspondents have been obliged to do the past week,—to sleep on the ground, or on a sack of corn, or in a barn, with the wind blowing a gale, and the snow whirling in drifts, and the thermometer shrunk to zero,— and then, after the battle is over and the field won, to walk among the dying and the dead, to behold all the ghastly sights of trunkless heads and headless trunks,—to see the human form mutilated, disfigured, torn, and mangled by shot and shell,—to step in pools of blood,—to hear all around sighs, groans, imprecations, and prayers from dying men,—they would be content to let others become historians of the war.”7 A good reporter aims to get his “scoop” on the competition— other newspapers serving his readership. Carleton addressed this, too: “But this is not all; a correspondent must keep ever in view the thousands that are looking at the journal he represents, who expect his account at the earliest possible moment. If he is behindhand, his occupation is gone. His account must be first, or among the first, or it is nothing. Day and night he must be on the alert, improving every opportunity and turning it to account. If he loses a steamboat trip, or a train of cars, or a mail, it is all up with him. He might as well put his pencil in his pocket and go home.”8 More recently, James M. Perry terms Charles Carleton Coffin, “perhaps the toughest, and eventually one of the most skilled, of all Civil War Corresponsdents.”9 It is for this reason that “Carleton,” skilled, tough and determined, is one of the most quoted Northern newspapermen in the war literature. Richard Wheeler, for instance, in his “eyewitness history” of Bull Run, quotes his writing so extensively that Coffin’s passages run six pages in print.10 Rather than draw from “Carleton’s” columns in the Boston Journal, however, most historians of today quote from Coffin’s postbellum books. After the war, he had at least sixteen books published on subjects ranging from foreign sightseeing (he traveled around the world during 1866-68) to the history of the American Revolution, biographies of Lincoln and Garfield and, of course, the war: • Following the Flag: From August 1861 to November 1862 (1865); • The Boys of ’61; or, Four Years of Fighting; Personal Observation with the Army and Navy, from the First Battle of Bull Run to the Fall of Richmond (1866); • My Days and Nights on the Battle-Field (1887); • Redeeming the Republic: The Third Period of the War of the Rebellion in the Year 1864 (1889); • Freedom Triumphant: The Fourth Period of th4 Wear of the Rebellion, from September, 1864, to It Close (1890); and • Marching to Victory: The Second Period of the War of the Rebellion, Including the Year 1863 (1899). As example, for his Eyewitness to Gettysburg, editor John W. Schildt drew text from Marching to Victory.11 There are exceptions. One of the earliest document compilations on the war was Frank Moore’s Rebellion Record (eleven volumes, 1861-68). Coffin’s wartime account of Forts and Henry was republished in Moore’s fourth volume; from it Paul M. Angle and Earl Schenck Miers printed “Carleton’s” take on the battles of February 1862.12 Writing about Coffin in Reporters for the Union (1953), Bernard A. Weisberger observed that even a seasoned correspondent like Carleton sometimes “wallowed in bathos.”13 Weisberger may be a little harsh, given Carleton’s reputation for crisp, clear reportorial writing. Perhaps the best thing to do is to put that on display, from his account of the battle of Bull Run. In the first months of the war, Washington swarmed with reporters seeking news for their papers. When General McDowell and his army set out toward Bull Run, two dozen reporters followed: Henry J. Raymond of the New York Times, Edward C. Stedman of the New York World, and of course C. Carleton Coffin of the Boston Journal.14 Writing at Centreville on July 18, Carleton sent a letter that got to Boston so quickly that the World was able to print it on the 23rd. By that time everyone in the North knew the outcome of the battle, and of the Union army’s ignominious retreat. He next wrote from Washington on July 22, a piece that appeared in the Journal on the 25th. What stood out in Carleton’s reporting was that he did not flinch from detailing the Federals’ rout, and that in it his own escape was providential. (Note, however: the war was just a few months old, and already one sees in the Northern press allegations of Rebels committing battlefield atrocities.) As late as four o’clock on the 21st, Coffin believed that McDowell had won a victory. Slowly, however, realization set in, as he describes in his letter. “It was now 4 P.M., and the firing gradually died away. Reports came in that the day was ours. I did not feel like hurrahing, for I was not satisfied. I knew we had driven them, that we had got their ground; that we had captured cannon, and taken many prisoners. I sat down by our hospital and commenced to write a dispatch to the readers of The Journal, but suffering from intolerable thirst, in company with two other gentlemen of the Boston press, went down in front of the hospital through woods, to a spring. While there I heard a commotion, and thought our men were hurrahing over the victory. The next moment a Minie bullet whistled over my head, then there was a rapid firing of musketry, two or three cannon discharges and a terrible commotion. Gaining the cleared land I could see a part of Sherman’s battery driving with terrible speed toward Cub run bridge, with private carriages, the bridge train, men on horseback and on foot, soldiers and citizens, fleeing for their lives. Being only a reporter I tried the virtue of my legs till I gained the other side of the Cub run, through the abbati which the rebels had felled. Then, feeling that I was safe, stopped long enough to comprehend the whole affair. It flashed upon me in an instant. Now I saw the meaning of the abbati; also of the cloud of dust. We had been charged upon by the enemy’s cavalry—four thousand—on the extreme left. They had crossed Bull run several miles above, had come down secretly, with the design of sweeping Schenck’s whole brigade into the cul de sac—the Indian buffalo trap

CivilWarNews.com formed by Bull run and Cub run. It was a great strategic plan. They had given way before us, we had followed up, went far enough in for the grand stroke which they must make to retrieve the day. The first intimation Schenck’s brigade had of the thunderbolt was a volley in their rear. The next moment all was confusion. Three minutes’ notice—one minute even—and Sherman and Carlisle would have annihilated the troop of black horse. But the notice was wanting, and hence the terrible rout which followed. The force of rebels across the meadows was only intended as a feint, to attract attention from the cat like step which was taking place in our rear. If a company of skirmishers had been deployed, or if a regiment had been in position on the eminence I had occupied, it would not have happened. There was a painful and criminal neglect somewhere—an utter want of generalship. We had no flankers out! THE ROUT. I cannot describe the scene which followed. I am sick of the sight, and would, if I could, banish it forever from my mind. All I can say is that the cavalry dashed upon our men, captured Carlisle’s and a part of Sherman’s guns— shooting the horses; captured soldiers; deliberately shot them after they had surrendered; went into the house used as a hospital, and killed the wounded men, and committed barbarities which the most abject savages in the world would scorn to do. One rebel soldier was seen to cut the throat of a helpless wounded soldier! One took a stake from the fence and drove it through the body of a wounded man, pinning him to the earth! These reports are confirmed by several witnesses. There were many narrow escapes. One man informed me that he hid in a wheat stack. Another fell down and shammed dead while the cavalry leaped over him. Mr. Stedman, of the New York World, who was on horseback, took an officer on behind. He had not proceeded far when the officer was shot dead. Many gentlemen of the press had a narrow escape. Your correspondent would have been there had it not been for thirst, which, under that eye which notes the fall of every sparrow, led him away ten minutes previous, and placed him in safety. As I ascended the hill toward Centreville I found Miles’ division in position with skirmishers thrown out, and reserves behind. The Garibaldians were in front. Never did I see a more determined set of men. The high bridge was a strong position, and I was confident that there was no danger. But the panic had spread. The baggage trains were on the move, rattling away as if the enemy was within gunshot distance, whereas they [the enemy] had made their dash and were away, afraid to come openly to an attack or to follow up their tremendous advantage. The scene along the road to Fairfax I will not dwell upon— the throwing away of stores, the blockades of baggage trains, the crowds of stragglers, the breaking down of wagons, all needless, and which showed that there had been a criminal neglect in the organization of the army in not making flank and rear strong as well as the front. The two New Jersey regiments, which had been ordered forward from Vienna, were met. Their officers and men did what they could to arrest the panic stricken crew, but the elements of disorder had broken loose, and the flock must have its run. Finding a conveyance to Fairfax, I made haste thither, hoping to reach the city before morning, to give an account to your readers. From Fairfax to Vienna is four miles, which was reached on foot at 10 o’clock. Here nature gave out, and I proposed to sleep at the house of a good Union man. The secessionists were awake. “For God’s sake don’t stay here,” said a resident of the place, who still loved the Union. “I am going. They will rise before morning.” Other northern gentlemen were there and we chartered a conveyance to Falls Church, where a company of the 2d Maine regiment was in camp. Here the stragglers were picked up, and ample assistance provided by Quartermaster Lord, in command, for the wounded men. Surgeon Hamlin kindly gave me an invitation to ride into the city in an ambulance, which was accepted, but our arrival was too late for telegraphic dispatches.” The Journal reporter tried to make sense of it all: “We have, as I said, gained a victory, but yet have been routed.” There was not much whitewashing he could do. “We drove them, occupied their ground, and yet in the moment of victory suffered a most terrible defeat. We were taken in our rear, were panic stricken and fled.”15 Like all wartime newspapers, North and South, the Boston Journal encouraged its readers to look on the bright side of things with this editorial: “In the valor of our outnumbered and exposed troops, we see assurances which immeasurably overshadow the incidental mishap which followed. The Capital is saved. Our determined soldiers,

CivilWarNews.com made wiser and more eager by the sacrifice of their brethren, are rushing forward by thousands and tens of thousands. We still have our gallant and competent leaders, who will set an immortal seal of vengeance on this transient success of the conspirators. Let us, then, calmly review all the events of the one day of trial. Our duties are paramount, and, thanks to heaven, our hopes still go hand in hand with them.”16 Notes 1. William Elliot Griffis, Charles Carleton Coffin (Columbia SC, 2022 [1898]), 3-52 passim.; “Charles Carleton Coffin,” The Bay State Monthly: A Massachusetts Magazine, vol. 3, no. 1 (April 1885), 1-18. 2. Griffis, Coffin, 25-26; John W. Schildt, ed., Eyewitness to Gettysburg: Correspondent Charles Carleton Coffin (Shippensburg PA: Burd Street Press, 1997), vii. 3. J. Cutler Andrews, The North Reports the Civil War (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1955), 83. 4. Griffis, Coffin, 27, 43-44. 5. Ibid., 33-34, 48, 52; Benjamin Franklin Cooling, Forts Henry and Donelson: The Key to the Confederate Heartland (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1987), 215; John M. Taylor, “The Career of Carleton Coffin,” Civil War Times Illustrated, vol. 21, no. 5 (September 1982), 42. 6. Andrews, North Reports, 64. 7. Griffis, Coffin, 35 8. Ibid., 35. 9. James M. Perry, A Bohemian Brigade: The Civil War C o r re s p o n d e n t s — M o s t l y Rough, Sometimes Ready (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 41.

10. Richard Wheeler, A Rising Thunder—From Lincoln’s Election to the Battle of Bull Run: An Eyewitness History (New York: HarperCollins, 1994), 112-13. 221-22. 31317, 328-29, 333, 343-44, 34950, 353-55, 357, 368-69. 11. Schildt, ed., Eyewitness to Gettysburg. 12. Paul M. Angle and Earl Schenck Miers, Tragic Years 1860-1865, 2 vols. (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1960), vol. 1, 190-93. 13. Bernard A. Weisberg, Reporters for the Union (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1953), 293. 14. Louis M. Starr, Bohemian Brigade: Civil War Newsmen in Action (New York Alfred A. Knopf, 1954), 43-44; Brayton Harris, Blue & Gray in Black & White: Newspapers in the Civil War (Washington: Brassey’s, 1999), 68. 15. “Carleton,” “OUR ARMY CORRESPONDENCE” (Washington, July 22), Boston Journal, July 25, 1861. 16. “NORTHERN PRESS ON THE BATTLE,” in Frank Moore, ed., The Rebellion Record: A Diary of American Events, 11 vols. (New York: G. P. Putnam, 1861-1863; D. Van Nostrand, 1864-1868), vol. 2, Documents page 109. Stephen Davis of Cumming, Georgia, is author of ten books on the Civil War, most of which treat the Atlanta Campaign. His two recent volumes on Confederate General John Bell Hood (Mercer University Press, 2019, 2020) have won several prizes, including the Fletcher Pratt Award of the New York CWRT.