Chapter XXXV

Splendid Ovation at Canandaigua.—Speeches and Address by E. G.
Lapham, J. P. Faurot, and the Colonel, Lieutenant-Colonel, and
Chaplain of the Regiment.—Return of the Regimental Banner to
the Ladies of Canandaigua.—Parting Exercises.—The Thirty-third
passes into History.

On the following Monday, May 25th, the Regiment proceeded to Canandaigua, where a splendid ovation was received at the hands of the citizens. The most extensive preparations had been made and the people flocked in by hundreds from the surrounding country to welcome home their own “Ontario Regiment.” The train, consisting of ten coaches, reached the depot at nine o’clock, where an immense crowd of people were assembled to catch a first glimpse of the heroes of Williamsburg and Marye’s Heights. After a brief delay, a procession was formed, under the direction of the Marshal of the day, in the following order:

Marshal—WILLIAM HILDRETH.

BAND.

COMMITTEE OF ARRANGEMENT.

SPEAKERS.

Assistant Marshal—M. D. MUNGER.

COLONEL TAYLOR AND STAFF.

REGIMENT.

Assistant Marshal—DARWIN CHENEY.

BAND.

FIREMEN.

CITIZENS.

Having formed, the procession marched to the Court House Square, where E. G. Lapham, Esq., addressed the Regiment as follows.

_Officers and Soldiers_:—You have come back, after two years
of arduous service in the cause of your country, to receive,
as is your due, the gratitude of the State and the homage of
the People. The high honor has been assigned me, humble and
unfitted as I am for the duty, in the name and behalf of the
people of this County and locality to bid you a hearty and
generous welcome. You have come among us at a period when our
hearts are inspired to make your reception the more cordial
by the news of the brilliant achievements of our arms in the
south-west. You return with thinned ranks, and diminished
numbers, the glorious remnant of a noble band, whose bravery
and skill have been displayed on almost every battle-field,
from the scene where the great contest for our independence was
closed, to the last deadly conflict around Fredericksburg and
Chancellorsville. Each one of you has brought home his tale of
thrilling incident or noble daring, which will be repeated from
hearthstone to hearthstone, and from generation to generation,
as long as the name of America shall be known among men.

You have brought back in triumph that banner (pointing to the
regimental banner presented by the ladies of Canandaigua),
soiled and tattered by the casualties of the war, and it, too,
is a witness of your devotion and fidelity to the honored flag
of your country. That banner was an object of interest to us
when it was confidingly placed in your keeping by the donors.
It was an object of interest to you when you received it on
your parade ground at Elmira. It was an object of still deeper
interest to you when its tattered fragments were borne aloft
by brave hands, and dimly seen through the cloud and smoke of
battle. It is to become an object of still deeper interest to
us when you shall soon return it to the fair hands from whom
you received it, in fulfilment of your honored pledge to return
it unstained by cowardice or shame, “though stained with blood
in a righteous cause.” Soldiers, that flag, like all things
earthly, will perish,

“Its silken folds may feed the moth,”

but the precious lives which have been gloriously lain down
in its defence are treasures laid up where “neither moth nor
rust corrupt,” and their names will go into the history of this
Republic as among its most priceless treasures. We trust, that
after a brief respite from the toils and privations of the
battle-field, and the enjoyment of the rest and renewed vigor
you will derive from the abundant delights and comforts of home
and fireside, most, if not all of you, will again be found, if
need be, rallying to the support of the flag you have so long
and so nobly defended.

To you sir (addressing Colonel Taylor), and your Aids, the
cherished leaders of this glorious band of men, no words
are adequate to express the deep gratitude we feel for your
fidelity to your trust.

Officers and Soldiers, it only remains for me, in conclusion,
without detaining you longer, again to say, that in the name
and by the authority of the people I represent, we bid you
welcome—thrice welcome—among us.

After a brief reply from Colonel Taylor, the procession re-formed, and marched through various streets of the village, which were gaily festooned and decorated with flags. In front of the Webster House a wreath of evergreen spanned the entire street, and the Stars and Stripes were unfurled over the building. Crossing the railroad, a little distance above, was a massive arch, consisting of two semicircles of evergreen, studded with bouquets and bright flowers, and containing in the centre the word “Welcome.” A second arch was erected near the Episcopal Church, composed of green twigs bespangled with roses, and extending across the street. On one side appeared the words, “Welcome to the Brave,” wrought with red and white flowers. On the opposite, “Tears for the Fallen,” enshrouded with crape. Over the entrance to the Seminary Grounds appeared the mottoes, “Our Country,” and “Its defenders,” gracefully set out with laurel and roses. Suspended over the gateway of the Academy was a “Welcome,” of red, white, and blue. On entering Gibson street, the procession passed under a third beautiful arch of evergreens and flowers, bearing the significant word “Williamsburg.” Arrived at the Fair Grounds, east of the village, the gates were thrown wide open, and the spacious enclosure soon filled with thousands of spectators. After listening to numerous stirring airs from the Hopewell, Canandaigua, and Regimental brass bands, the Regiment performed the various evolutions of the manual, exhibited the manner of pitching tents, made a “charge,” and went through with numerous other military exercises, which elicited rounds of applause from the lookers on. These ended, J. P. Faurot, Esq., ascended the platform, which had been erected for the occasion, and delivered the following address:

SOLDIERS AND OFFICERS OF THE THIRTY-THIRD REGIMENT OF
VOLUNTEERS, AND OF THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC:—The thousands
within the sound of my voice have this day assembled to
extend to you, for your courage, your patriotism, your noble
sacrifices, the plaudits and homage of a grateful people, and a
warm and hearty welcome to your homes, and the joys of domestic
life. A little more than two years ago, this nation was basking
in the meridian splendor of national glory, happiness and
prosperity, with a territory extending from ocean to ocean;
a flag that floated in triumph over every part of our vast
domain; a Constitution and Government dispensing its blessings
and its benefits over all; a great, a glorious and happy nation
of thirty-three millions of people. Suddenly the tocsin of war
was sounded by several of the States, which, for three-quarters
of a century, had enjoyed the blessings, the privileges and
prosperity incident to the Government handed down to us by our
patriot fathers. The freemen of the north saw the threatened
danger to our institutions, to our country and our homes.
You, Soldiers and Patriots, at this crisis in our country’s
history, worthy sons of patriot sires, left your farms, your
work-shops, your counters and your homes, and organized the
Regiment comprising the immortal Thirty-third Volunteers of
the Empire State, and went forth to meet the foe that would
strike down the liberties of millions of happy freemen, and
who would destroy the wisest and best government ever devised
by the wisdom of man. Unacquainted with the arts of war, with
patriot hearts you rushed to the rescue of your country from
impending ruin and desolation; and first in deadly conflict
at Lewinsville, you proved that your valor, your patriotism
and your skill, were equal to the trying emergencies through
which you were called to pass. At Yorktown, the place of
final victory to our arms under the immortal Washington, you
seemed to be inspired by his spirit and nobly, bravely, proved
yourselves soldiers worthy the high and holy cause you were
defending.

At Williamsburg—that desperate conflict—you exhibited a daring,
a high and ennobling courage, unsurpassed in ancient or modern
times; a daring that knew no fear; a resolution as immovable,
as determined, as that of the most daring patriots and veterans
of Revolutionary fame. For your noble conduct, for your deeds
of valor _there_, the name of WILLIAMSBURG was inscribed
upon your banner, by order of your great chieftain, GEO. B.
MCCLELLAN.

You, officers and soldiers of the gallant Thirty-third, in
every battle have covered yourselves all over with glory. After
the inscription upon your banner, you no less distinguished
yourselves for bravery and deeds of noble daring, at the
battles of Mechanicsville, White-Oak Swamp, Malvern Hills, the
second battle of Bull Run, Antietam and South Mountain, and
the battles at Fredericksburg, under the gallant Burnside and
Hooker, the last of which was only three weeks ago this day.
It was then but a few days before your two years of enlistment
expired, that many of your brave companions offered up their
lives as sacrifices upon their country’s altar.

It was _then_ that an officer advancing with his men, in the
midst of a deadly fire, silenced one of the largest and most
deadly guns of the enemy—a deed that has seldom, if ever, been
exceeded for noble daring and self-sacrificing patriotism in
the annals of any age or of any country. You left your homes
from the rendezvous at Elmira two years ago, with about nine
hundred men; you return to us with three hundred and fifty, all
told; your colors and your flags rent and torn by shell and
shot of the enemy in bloody strife, tell a truer tale of _your_
sacrifices, _your_ achievements and _your_ patriotism, than
any language can portray. Yes, you have by that flag and your
deeds of valor, erected a prouder monument, a more enduring
fame, than would be perpetuated by the loftiest mausoleum that
the genius of man could erect. While we sympathize and do honor
to you who appear with us to-day, we must not forget your
companions—the patriot dead—who fell fighting for civil and
religious liberty; for the great principles of constitutional
government. They have offered up their lives on the altar of
their country, and their and your names will fill the brightest
page in history for all coming time; yes, this day we must
think of the sacrifices of fathers and mothers; of the desolate
homes; of the tears and the sighs of the widowed, and the
sufferings and sorrows of the bereaved. You have nobly met the
necessities of your bleeding country, and obeyed her every
call, until the last hour of your enlistment expired, and may
we, your countrymen, catch the spirit of your patriotism and
fill up the ranks in our country’s defence. We shall triumph;
our country again shall hold her high position among the
nations of the earth. The principle, that man is capable of
self-government, shall here be maintained. Your example has
shown us that no sacrifice is too great; that the Stars and
Stripes of our native land again shall float in triumph over
every foot of American soil, and the Bird of Liberty shall
again expand her pinions, and with one wing touch the sunrise,
and the other the sunset, and cast her shadow over the whole
world. It may be truly said—

“Your country’s glory, ’tis your chief concern:
For this you struggle, and for this you burn;
For this you smile, for this alone you sigh;
For this you live, for this would freely die.”

Lieut.-Col. Corning responded to the address by thanking the speaker for his complimentary allusion to the men of the Thirty-third. They were worthy of it all. “If you could have seen them,” he continued, “on the battle-field, a spontaneous feeling of gratitude would have burst from your hearts. Yes, they are worthy of all the honor you can bestow upon them. We thought at one time that your loyalty was growing cold, and that the ‘God bless you,’ tendered to us at parting, had been forgotten. But, thank God, I am pleased to find it different, by the splendid manner in which you have welcomed us home to-day. These men are entitled to all the honor you can bestow on them; and the sick, those who had to come home on account of impaired health, are equally entitled to your honor and your regard, with those who have passed safely through the perils of a battle-field.”

After the singing of the “Red, White and Blue,” by a choir of young ladies and gentlemen, Colonel Taylor stepped forward and returned to the ladies of Canandaigua the beautiful flag which they had presented to the Regiment two years before. As he did so he remarked, that

“it had been given to them with the pledge that it should never
be sullied by cowardice, or a dishonorable act, and it had
never been; and it never trailed in the dust, except on one
occasion, when the color-bearer sank from sheer exhaustion
on the field. It was a beautiful flag when presented to the
Regiment, but it is now torn and soiled, but to him and the
Regiment it was all the dearer. He had no doubt it would be
dearer to those who gave it, as a relic of the bravery and
patriotism of the gallant men of the Thirty-third. It was
very heavy to be carried on the field, but it had always been
carried with them. On one occasion six out of eight of the
color-bearers had been shot down, and another man was called
for to support it, when Sergeant Vandecar immediately sprang
forward with a gun and bravely and heroically bore the flag
aloft.

The Regiment, when he assumed the command, numbered about eight
hundred men, and now there were not four hundred of them left.
If they had come home some two weeks ago, there would have been
about six hundred of them; but two hundred fell killed and
wounded in the battle of Fredericksburg. It now only remained
for him to hand the flag back, remarking, in conclusion, that
had it been necessary, for want of others, he would himself
have stepped forward and defended the flag with his life.

On receiving back the now torn and tattered banner, the ladies presented the following address, read by A. H. Howell, Esq.:

COL. TAYLOR:—When two years ago you honored the ladies of
Canandaigua in accepting for the Thirty-third Regiment
this Banner, the work of their hands and the gift of their
affection, the Regiment, through you, pledged themselves with
their lives, to protect it from dishonor and cherish it as the
emblem of Love and Loyalty. The Recording Angel registered that
vow in figures of Life, and nobly has the pledge been redeemed
in the blood of Malvern Hill, Fair Oaks, Williamsburg, Lee’s
Mills, Antietam and Fredericksburg.

This bullet-riven, blood-stained Banner is dearer to us, now
that we know it has inspired acts of courage and patriotic
ardor, and that it has been as the presence of mother, sister,
wife, home, to the dying soldier, than it was when we parted
with it in its freshness and new life, impatient for the pomp
and circumstance of war.

We were proud of it as a beautiful offering. We receive it now
with its honorable scars—as a weary soldier seeking rest and
shelter. We will guard it carefully and protect it tenderly.

Many a home in our midst is desolate—many waiting, watching
hearts are bereaved; but every true woman will thank God it was
not made so by the death of a coward or renegade, and that her
dead are “Freedom’s now, and Fame’s.”

Soldiers! on the field of battle you proved yourselves all that
was noble, brave and manly—worthy sons of old Ontario.

The women of Ontario will expect you to do battle in their
service, by respecting as citizens those laws and domestic
institutions for which you have perilled your lives; and
to your latest posterity your children and your children’s
children can have no prouder heritage—can make no prouder
boast, than that you were members of the gallant Thirty-third.

The choir now sang the “Star Spangled Banner,” after which Chaplain Lung delivered the following parting address to the Regiment:

GENTLEMEN AND FELLOW SOLDIERS:—You have reached the evening of
a two year’s military life. The cause in which you have been
engaged is one in which you may well be proud. It gives me
pleasure to know that the military glory which surrounds you
this hour, is a thing that you have nobly earned. The honors
which you now enjoy have been bought by your toil, and sweat
and blood. They have been purchased by long and weary marches,
by drill and duty in camp, and by your unflinching bravery amid
the thunder and peril of battle.

My fellow soldiers, you are standing here to-day, with the
pleasing consideration that you have done your duty, and
can receive an honorable discharge. Sooner than have been
ingloriously dismissed; sooner than to have been branded with
the name of deserter—a stain never to be washed out, a stigma
to mark your remembrance and disgrace your children after you
are dead—sooner than this should have ever overtaken you,
you have showed by your gallant conduct that you would have
preferred to have been riddled by the enemy’s bullets and died
on the field. There were those in our own ranks who have thus
died. As a flower when bruised, mangled and crushed, will give
forth all the richness of its odor, so these bruised ones who
have gone down in the shock of battle, will leave the sweet
recollections of a patriotic spirit; and honor from a nation,
and love from mothers and sisters, sweeter than the odor of
flowers, will cluster around those names, to be handed down to
unborn millions.

It is a pleasing consideration, that you are now about to
return to the embrace of friends and loved ones. You are to
exchange the noise of the camp for the quietude of home; the
rude tent for the neat cottage; the hard blanket for the soft
bed; and the blast of the bugle for the prattling of children.
As you go, I would bind sacred admonition around your hearts,
and pray God’s blessing to go with you. If while you have been
absent from the holy influences of home, there have been some
evil and wicked habits fastened on you, let this hour shake
them off; this hour break the fetters that bind them, and
return, leaving forever every bad habit which may have come
nigh the camp.

You stand here to-day, having fully earned the proud title of
veteran soldiers. Four times you have crossed the Potomac,
twice the Chickahominy, four times the Rappahannock. You have
marched by land and water; by night and day. You have fought
in trenches, and in fields; supported batteries and charged
bayonets, until the honors of war, the smell of powder,
the scars of shell and ball, and the red dust of twelve
battle-fields are upon you.

But while we enjoy the blessings of this hour, let us not
forget the many heroes whom we have left behind us. They are
quietly slumbering in the dust. All along the Potomac, on
either side; up and down the Peninsula; amid the swamps of the
Chickahominy; on the sunny banks of the James River, and on the
sandy shores of the Rappahannock—in little groves, on sandy
hillocks; in fields, and by the road-side—are seen the silent
resting places of our patriotic dead. The green pine waves
over them, chanting mournful dirges to the piping winds; the
new-grown grass clusters around them; the sweet fragrance of
the summer’s flowers is wafted over them, and the birds warble
their notes of song among them; but no mother’s voice is heard
there; no sister’s tear has ever wet the cold sod of the brave
sleeper.

This is not a Democratic war, nor a Republican war; neither is
it a “Negro war,” nor an “Abolition war.” Let us regard all
such appellations as the result of mere party spirit rather
than of genuine loyalty. This is the Nation’s war. It is
loyalty struggling to suppress disloyalty. It is right arrayed
against wrong; Union against Disunion; order and obedience
against confusion and rebellion. In this struggle let us
worship at no political shrine.

For a time we may be defeated, but not conquered. The States
of this glorious Union are inseparably linked together by the
eternal laws of nature. The silvery chain of lakes on the
North, the sparkling sea gulfs on the South, the broad Atlantic
on the East, and the shores of the Pacific on the West, have
firmly and legally solemnized these political nuptials, and
bound them in one grand, sacred, federal bond of everlasting
union. “What therefore God hath joined together let not man put
asunder.”

But I must not detain you longer. I will only point you to that
tattered old flag—pierced by ball and rent with shell; faded by
sun and storm, and worn into shreds by the breezes of heaven,
which have flaunted her furls over fields of blood, marring
her stripes, and plucking from her proud constellation some of
her brilliant stars. There she hangs in all the glory of her
chivalry!—time-honored—a rich relic, sacred to the memory of
the brave.

“Invincible banner! the flag of the free,
Oh, where treads the foot that would falter for thee,
Or the hands to be folded till freedom is won,
And the eagle looks proud, as of old, to the sun?
Give tears for the parting; a murmur of prayer,
Then forward! the fame of our standard to share;
With welcome to wounding, and combat, and scars,
And the glory of death for the Stripes and the Stars.”

This closed the exercises of the day, and the Regiment re-forming, proceeded to the Canandaigua House to partake of a sumptuous banquet, prepared by the ladies of the village.

Rarely has it been the lot of mortals to receive such an ovation as were those tendered to the Thirty-third by the citizens of Geneva and Canandaigua. It was well nigh a recompense for two years of toil and danger, to become a recipient of such welcomes. Every circumstance connected with them will be fondly cherished by the officers and men.

The Command returned to Geneva the same evening, and was quartered at the barracks, the officers taking rooms at the hotels. Tuesday, June 2nd, Captain Beirn, of the regular service, assembling the Regiment on the green in front of the barracks, mustered it out of the service by Companies, and the Thirty-third passed into history.