Steve Roberts Collection

Richard Watson Seage's Swords

Henry rose to the rank of color sergeant. Watson became 2nd Lieutenant of company I. John became Chaplin of the 4th Michigan Volunteer Infantry. 

This flag was captured at Fredericksburg, Va. in 1862

by Henry Seage

It was recently rediscovered in the Michigan Historical Museum by  two museum employees . This picture is provided courteously by the Save the Flags Project. Kerry Chartkoff is to be commended for her dedication to identifying the Michigan Regimental flags from the Civil War. Without her commitment to these flags, this flag would have never been identified. Meri Schoof has been  instrumental in retrieving this flag and it's history. Without Meri there would be a lot less known about the 4th Michigan Volunteer Infantry Regiment.

Inscription on the capture Confederate 1st National Flag

The Seage stamp.

from: Michigan Commandery Loyal Legion Vernor Building Detroit, Mich.

BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURG

Companions:

At the close of the disastrous and bloody battle of Groveton, or as we call it, "The Second Bull Run," McClellan was called to supersede Pope in command of the Army of the Potomac, and under his lead the army marched into Maryland, and there met the same old enemy, Lee, on the battlefield of Antietam. I will not dwell here but ask you to cross the Potomac with me in pursuit of Lee's retreating hosts. Down the Valley we go by easy marches, gradually pushing our enemy back until Warrenton, Va., is reached. Here the Army comes to a halt and takes a rest.

On the 10th of November, 1862, we receive orders for a Review by Corps, and we begin the preparation for a general "clean-up." Guns and bayonets are cleaned, brasses polished, army shoes "shined" by the application of a pork rind, a strong requisition is made on the Company barber, who armed with an empty cracker box as a chair and a razor that has long outlived its usefulness takes position in the Company street and awaits the coming of his victims. "None but the brave deserve a shave" is his motto, and brave they must be who voluntarily face such a torture. But the skinning process is at an end, guns and bayonets glisten in the sunlight as we take position, while the bugle sounds the assembly.

Out in front of the little village of Warrenton, on the crest of a range of hills, we take our position in the Corps. Down the pike is seen a cloud of dust and shortly after "Little Mac" (as he is called by the boys) accompanied by a full staff halts to the front and right of the corps, and as he passes, in company with our "Fitz-John," each Brigade massed in close column gives them a cheer.

.After the review there is read to each regiment Little Mac's "farewell of the Army," and we return with sad faces and hearts to our camps to speculate as to ~ will succeed to the command. But at parade we are relieved from further speculation by the reading of general order of Gen. Burnside, who "with doubts and misgivings assumed command" by order of the President. Under our new commander we break camp on the 16th of November, 1862, and continue our march southward and on the night of the 23rd, in a drenching rain, we halt near Falmouth. Here we remain till December 11th, when at 4 A.M. we break camp and head for the River and Fredericksburg.

What a train of thought does the mention of Fredericksburg bring to each of us! As we file out of camp we hear the signal gun and then follows a heavy cannonade. Then we realize in part what is in store for us. Arriving at the River opposite the town, we halt and learn that the pontoon bridges have not been laid. But first the pickets and sharpshooters who have taken refuge in the houses along the bank must he dislodged. So thirty pieces of heavy artillery are placed in position and hurl their deadly missiles upon the city; the lighter batteries join in the fearful din and uproar and for a time all other sounds are lost in their thundering reverberations.

The fire slackens and the engineers attempt to lay the bridges, but in vain. Back they come, leaving their dead and dying. Then all the available batteries are brought up and join the thirty great guns and begin their work of destruction. The roar is indescribably awful, the city walls of brick hurl back a thousand echoes which beat up against the bluff and roll back again, convulsing the earth as though the heavens were rent asunder .

Once more the fire ceases and silence succeeds the fearful din of battle. Slowly the cloud of smoke rolls back and there stands the city in utter desolation. A huge column of black smoke towers above the city, while livid flames leap and hiss with fiery tongues from roof to roof.

But still the pits are held by the "Johnnies," and it is apparent that the artillery cannot dislodge them and the bridges cannot be laid unless the Rebs are driven out by a bold dash. Volunteers are called for to cross in boats and the 7d1 Michigan Infantry offers its services and is soon on its way, while the enemy rain upon them a storm of leaden hail. Unflinchingly the old 7d1 presses forward and, gaining the opposite shore sweep the rifle pits and houses and capture several prisoners. The bridges are then laid and the Army crosses and takes position in the streets of the city. But to the old 7d1 Michigan Infantry belongs the glory of opening up a highway for the army and making victory possible and retreat sure. The occupation of the city having been accomplished, the next move is to drive the Rebels from their stronghold in the rear of the city . The Rebel lines extend from the River, six miles above the city , in the form of a semi-circle to Port Royal below, and occupy a very strong position, guarded by a range of low hills. Immediately in the rear and only about half a mile from the city was the center of the Rebel line of battle and was known as "Marye's Hill." On the crest of this, Lee had planted several guns and at its foot was a heavy stone wall, behind which the Rebel Infantry was posted. About one hundred yards in front of this stone wall was a deep ditch, which had been filled with water by tapping Hazel Creek.

General Sumner commanded the right, Hooker the center and Franklin the left of our line, my regiment, the 4th Michigan Infantry, being in the center under Hooker. The disposition of the troops occupied the entire day and night of the 12th; and dawn of the 13th of December found us in line and ready for the signal. This was to be given by Franklin, who was to push the Rebels on the left flank, in the hope that Lee would take troops from our right and center and so weaken it that Hooker and Sumner could break through and gain Lee's rear and communications and force a surrender. My recital must now be confined to the part of the line in which our regiment bore a conspicuous part. Our Corps filled the streets of the city, except those leading out to the Rebel's position. Not a house escapes the prying eyes of our soldiers. Costly pianos were used to cook our coffee. Beautiful oil paintings were hung on the line of stacked arms. Captain Parsons' darkey, boots and all, had found a resting place on a satin covered sofa, while here and there soldiers could be seen, taking solid comfort in beautifully upholstered furniture, studying and reading the many books taken from the deserted houses of the first families and so we put in the time, waiting for the signal gun.

About nine A.M. we hear the roar of battle, away off to our left, and we know that Franklin has crossed and is seeking to turn Stonewall Jackson, and about ten A.M. word comes that he has driven the Rebel line back nearly a mile. Then the order comes for us to advance -we fall in, "take arms," right face, and at a double quick we turn the streets to the right, leading out to the Rebs' position.

As the column comes into view the Rebs greet us with shot and shell and grape, but on we go at a double quick and are soon outside the city; swinging into close column by divisions the Corps moves on over the gradual slope up to the Rebel' s line. We are left in front and the 3rd Division is in the advance, followed closely by the 2nd. Soon we reach a little ravine or depression and we halt in support of the two divisions ahead. These are now fairly within the "horse-shoe" with Marye's Hill the objective point. The Rebel artillery is concentrated and rain upon them a perfect storm of grape and canister. No troops can withstand such a tempest of ruin and the head gives way and falls back on the 2nd Division, and that, too, is thrown into disorder. Back these come on our division, will the first division catch the panic and it, too, fall back? Griffin, realizing the critical moment, orders: "Lie still, boys, and let them pass through."

Soon the fleeing ones are jumping over us, but assured by Griffin's words we lie flat and let them pass, when word comes, "Forward First Division" and away we go to the front on a double quick. Soon we are passing over ground just abandoned by the 3r Division, and what a sight! Over the bodies of headless, armless, legless, disfigured men we pass. To the right and to the left are the lifeless forms of the slain. Oh! What a sacrifice, for what: History has yet to record how far that "slaughter pen" tended to bring to a close the war. But on we go, with a yell. Up to this time we have been sheltered in a measure by the smoke, but as we pass on and near the hill the smoke is above our heads and seeing a fresh column close to their works, the Rebels redouble their fire and add to the storm of grape the Infantry fire from the stone wall, for we are now within musket range.

Before this terrible storm our boys go down in hundreds, but we press on, so close to the hill that we are soon out of the range of the cannon in front. But from the right and left our Division is plowed by the Rebel cannon.

Reaching the old R.R. or ditch embankment, we discover a new enemy -the ditch with water neck deep. One thought seems to move the whole Division, for we are now without general orders, and instead of attempting the passage of the ditch we lie down and refuse to make a further useless effort. If we succeed in crossing the ditch, then the stone wall must be scaled, then the batteries above taken at the point of the bayonet. All this flashes through our minds and we know that with our terribly thinned ranks and without support this is impossible. So we flatten ourselves on the ground and return the fife of the Rebs.

Shortly after taking position we hear the yell of the Irish Brigade on our right and witness that splendid charge of the 69th, 63rd, and 88th New York, 28th Massachusetts and 116th Pennsylvania, five regiments composing this Brigade. With wonderful courage did these brave men charge against that stronghold, until two-thirds of their number strewed the ground. Never in the history of the Army of the Potomac was there such a pitiless, useless, hopeless slaughter. Never did men fight better, or die, alas, more fruitlessly than those thrown against these heights and stone walls, bristling with an hundred cannon. Night only put an end to the slaughter. About midnight we were recalled and we again stack arms in the streets of Fredericksburg; but now there are but a few. Thousands of brave men who, only a few hours before, had marched along these streets, had reveled in the luxuries of these deserted houses of the proud and aristocratic Virginians now lie dead only a few steps away.

It would seem incredible that on the very heel of this horrible carnage, Burnside should decide to renew the attack on Marye's Hill the next day. But such was the case. But thanks to Hooker and Sumner, who refused to be a party to it, the orders were not issued.

So we remain in the city during the 14th and 15th and on the night of the 15th our Corps, the last to leave, was withdrawn and re-crossed the River and into its old camps it went, but with only a little over half the men that moved out of these camps on the morning of the 11th of December .

The next day (December 16th) the Rebels again occupied the town and thenceforth the Pickets fired across the stream with as business-like an air as though the Rappahannock had always been the boundary line of two hostile empires over which no armed force had ever ventured.

H.S. Seage,

Color Serg't 4th Reg. Mich. Infantry Company E

Detroit, Mich., March 2,1899.

Footnote:

from:

Michigan Commandery Loyal Legion Vernor Building Detroit, Mich.

Copied by: The Works Progress Administration, June 8, 1937

now in: Michigan Historical Collections The University of Michigan Bentley Historical Library Ann Arbor, Mich.

Let us follow a short time in the wake of the flag and see how the promise was kept.

On the 24^th of June following, the regiment breaks camp and, headed by the flag, takes

up its march to the beleaguered capital.  Across the Potomac it leads us to the disastrous field of Bull Run; back to the capital we go to a season of inaction; out to the front again the old flag moves and flaunts defiance on the soil of old Virginia, from the battlements of Fort Woodbury; on to the front it goes until from the top on Minor’s Hill, its silken folds are kissed by the morning sun.

On with the general advance of the army, the flag leads us to the deserted field of Fairfax.  Down to the Peninsula we go, and on the 23^rd of March, 1862, the flag is unfurled by the ocean’s breeze at Fortress Monroe.  Up the peninsula it moves, pushing back the stars and bars of the rebs, until Yorktown is reached.  Here it is first assailed by shot and shell, but it does not flinch, and during the long and weary siege the flag is seen floating over the growing earth-works in front of the sandbag battery.  On up the peninsula it goes, and receives its first baptism of blood at New Bridge, on the 24^th of May, 1862, where the regiment wrote its name high on the roll of fame.

We follow its lead toward the capital of the rebellion and drive Branch from the field at Hanover Court House.  On the Chickahominy, at Mechanicsville, it rallies its followers against the hosts of Stonewall Jackson.

At Gaine’s Mill, Savage Station, White Oak swamp, and on down the peninsula, through the 7 days fighting, ending at Malvern, we follow its wave, and, while furled to rest a Harrison’s Landing, let us look back and see how the hope and promise have been kept.  As we look back up that peninsula, can we see at any point where the flag has been dishonored?  As we count the cost, the precious lives laid as a tribute to its glory, the energies wasted in its defense, we can discover no disreputable act, but, instead, around its eagle cap there gathers a halo of glory in which are inscribed the names of these hundreds of Michigan’s brave sons, who have baptized it with their blood and consecrated it with the agonies and sacrifices of the citizen soldier.  Brightly among these hallowed dead, shines the name of him into whose hands the flag was first committed, Colonel D.A. Woodbury.  How well his part of the promise has been kept, we all know and history records.

Back to the Shenandoah valley, it takes us where, under Pope, we again see it amid the smoke and battle of a 2^nd Bull Run.  Back through the streets of our own capital it leads us, from which we had gone only a few months before, flushed with the hope of victory and confident of a speedy close of the war.

Up through the verdant valleys of Maryland it jauntily floats, beckoning us on to the battle of Antietam.  Across the Stone Bridge, the very mouth of hell, the old flag has forced its way until it rests on the heights beyond, again triumphant, reduced and hallowed.

Through the turbulent waters of the Potomac, at Shepardstown Ford, Griffin chooses our flag to lead, that others may follow.

Down the beautiful valley it follows close on the heels of the retreating Lee, who throws down the gauntlet at Fredericksburg.  Quickly accepting the challenge, the old flag crosses the Rappahannock and waves its defiance in the very teeth of Marye’s Heights.  Here, in this slaughter pen, surrounded by a leaden hail, the old flag is again stricken, and tooters, but he, whose life’s blood is fast flowing out, keeps it from touching the ground, while a more fortunate comrade grasps the flag, and it again moves forward and demands recognition at the very mouths of rebel cannon.

Out through the mud march under the leadership of Burnside, and in the Wilderness around Chancellorsville, the old flag is waving.

Back over the sacred soil the old flag takes us to the invasion of Pennsylvania, and on the rock bound ridge at Gettysburg it stands between “our loved homes and war’s desolation.”  Here for three days its beauty of outline is marred by ugly scars and deep rents, but these only add to its glory and increase its moral grandeur; and as it emerges from the baptism of fire and blood, refined and purified, its reflection is seen on the top of Mount Davidson, Nevada.  Here was located a station of the U.S. Signal Corps, and while the battle of Gettysburg was going on, the eastern front of Mt. Davidson, overlooking Virginia City, put in such a funeral gloom that its outline could not be distinguished from the dead blackness of the heavens they rested against.  This unaccustomed sight turned all eyes toward the mountain, and as they looked, a little tongue of rich golden flame was seen waving and quivering in the heart of the midnight, away up on the extreme summit.  The whole city turned to gaze with bated breath at this one brilliant mote in the brooding world of darkness.  It flecked and fluttered like a candle flame and grew wonderfully bright on its black background.  It seemed like a supernatural visitor; like a mysterious messenger of good tidings.  Suddenly its glory shone out and the people recognized the flag.

It was the nation’s emblem, transfigured by the departing rays of a sun that was entirely passed from view, and on no other object did the glory fall in all the broad panorama of mountains and valleys.  This weird visitor winked and burned in its lofty solitude, while the thousands watched with fascinating interest.

The superstition grew apace that this was a mystic courier come with great news from the east, the seat of war, and while they looked, the telegraph announced the great things this sinking sun had seen that day in the east.  Vicksburg fallen, and the flag victorious at Gettysburg.

Down the Shenandoah it follows close upon the heels of the retreating hosts, giving and receiving in turn, till it accepts the issue at Mine Run.  Back into winter quarters at Beatton Station, it leads us, from which it emerges to join the grand advance under Grant in the spring of 1864.  Across the Rappahannock and Rapidan it goes.  Torn and scarred, it moves through the Wilderness, drinking up the blood of the hand-full left among whom was our third and last colonel, Geo. W. Lombard.

Out of the Wilderness it comes at the North Anna and pushes the enemy down to the peninsula, where it again waves over our old camp grounds along the Chickahominy.  Through these swamps to the James, it leads, and on to the defenses of Petersburg.  Here it takes an active part in all the movements around the beleaguered city, and on the 19^th of June, 1864, its term of service having expired, it gathers up its tattered garments and with its handful of followers, starts for home, where wives, mothers, sisters, brothers await to give it and they a hearty welcome and fond embrace.

And over us, today, floats that beautiful flag, hallowed by the prayers and tears of loved ones at home; baptized in the blood of over 400 brave, noble men, shed on 54 battle fields, -- consecrated on the altar of freedom and equality before the law.  Stripped of its fetters, it floats over us today an emblem of the free, a thing of beauty and a joy forever.

“O banner triumphant!

  Though grand is thy story,

We’ll stamp on thy folds,

  In this struggle today,

Deeds of our armies

  Transcending in glory

The bravest yet chanted

  In poetry’s lay.”

And let us, comrades, “believe with courage firm and faith sublime that it will float until the eternal morning pales in its glories all the lights of time.”

Speech given by H.S. Seage at the reunion of the Fourth Michigan Infantry held at Hillsdale, Michigan, on 20 June, 1882.  From the Hillsdale Herald, quoted by the Alpena Argus, Wednesday, 12 July, 1882.

All hearts were light, each face a smile,

And jokes went round through rank and file, -

We knew not then of Gettysburg.

                                         Perchance a wit roused up, and then

                                         Played the buffoon for graver men;

                                         Nor dreamed we of the future, when

                                         The cloud should burst o'er Gettysburg.

                                         A Bugle sounds.  “What means it!  Say?”

                                         A General Staff just passed this way.

                                         Said one, – “I think we’ll fight to-day,

                                       For Lee’s in force at Gettysburg.”

                                                The veterans well knew what it meant,

                                                For Meade had re-enforcement sent

                                                To Reynolds’ men, now well nigh spent

                                                            In holding ground at Gettysburg.

                                         Our three days’ march was nearly done;

                                         Foot sore and scorched  ’neath burning sun,

                                         We waited now the signal gun; –

                                                            To take our turn in Gettysburg.

                                                And presently there came a sound,

                                                That filled the heavens and shook the ground,

                                                And echoed wildly all around

                                                            The woods and vales of Gettysburg.

                                         “Fall in!  Fall in!” The host uprose,

                                         With one consent, to meet its foes; –

                                         Thus did the morning dawn for those

                                                            Who fought with us, at Gettysburg.

                                                What were our thoughts? – You ask in vain,

                                                For scarcely two men felt the same;

                                                Before us on the open plain –

                                                            ’Twas LIFE or DEATH at Gettysburg.

                                       Some thought of HOME, and raised the prayer:

                                                “Father, this day our firesides spare,

                                                And if we fall, in mercy care

                                                            For those bereft by Gettysburg.”

And some with doubts and fears oppressed,

Others with thoughts of sin distressed,

And some said: “Comrades, Breast to Breast

We'll stand or fall at Gettysburg.”

                                                Said Christian men: “We humbly pray,

                                                0, God! for our success this day,

                                                Help Thou the right, aid us to say,

                                                            ‘Thy will be done’ at Gettysburg.”

                                                As on we hurried came the cry

                                                Of battling hosts for victory;

                                                “Unfurl Your Colors!” Let them fly

                                                            To cheer the men at Gettysburg.

                                                We pass by scores the Boys in Blue,

                                                Jaded and sick and wounded, too,

                                                They’ll rest awhile, and then anew

                                                            Fill up the Gaps in Gettysburg.

                                                “Fresh Troops!  Hurrah!” rings over the field,

                                                Now to the North, the South must yield;

                                                We knew them not; their hearts were steeled

                                                            To WIN or DIE at Gettysburg.

                                                This was the turning point; if won

                                                By Southern arms their work was done.

                                                Were ours the day, a Northern sun

                                                            Would shine as now o’er Gettysburg.

                                                The cannon roar from every mound,

                                                And horsemen fly at bugle sound,

                                                While wounded men upon the ground

                                              Were bruised and crushed at Gettysburg.

                                              In ghastly heaps the dead were thrown;

                                              In shapeless piles the wounded strewn;

                                              Like fields of grain the men were mown

                                                          By shot and shell at Gettysburg.

                                              And still the carnage fiercer grew,

                                              And yet the fight fresh troops renew,

                                              And more the murderous bullets flew,

                                                            Laden with death at Gettysburg.

                                                And still the strife throughout the day

                                                Abates not ’tween the Blue and Gray,

                                                At nightfall Thirty Thousand lay

                                                            Upon the field of Gettysburg.

The end has come.  Let those who bled

Be e’er revered as honored dead.

Let Peace her glorious mantle spread

And hide from all men Gettysburg.

What of the Living?  Were they not true

In time of need and danger, too?

They fought for Right, for Home, for You,

And shunned not even Gettysburg.

Honor them well, Old Comrades Brave,

They did their best the land to save,

Wealthy or Poor, their all they gave

Before the guns at Gettysburg.

If then these sufferings made us free,

And gave our bond men Liberty,

We’ll say: Thrice blessed the chastening be,

And thank the Lord for Gettysburg.

Let us in unity to-day,

Lift up the prostrate foe and say

The Northern Blue and Southern Gray

Brothers shall be since Gettysburg.

In well the PAST has been, or ill,

We have the glorious PRESENT still.

In FUTURE let us trust His will

                                                            Who brought us safe through Gettysburg.

                                              Comrades, we send a brother’s cheer,

                                              As you convene from far and near.

                                              May this eclipse each former year

                                                          In harmony since Gettysburg.

                                                Live honest lives.  Let every one

                                                Be faithful ’till his time shall come,

                                                Then heaven will surely “Welcome Home”

                                                            Each Noble Son of Gettysburg.

                                                “God of our sires,” within whose hand

                                              The Nations rest, “like grains of sand.”

                                                Bless Thou our great and glorious land

The Seage's service records ( from "Michigan in the War" by Robertson)

Seage, Henry S., Hillsdale County. Enlisted in company E, Fourth Michigan Infantry, Sept. 27, 1861, at Hudson, for three years. Mustered Oct. 8, 1861. On detached service with Company K, First Infantry, by order, July 6, 1864, Petersburg, Va., Sargent. Discharged at expiration of term of service near Petersburg Va., Sept. 10, 1864. Was in the following battles: New Bridge, Siege of Yorktown, Mechanicsville, Gaines' Mill, Hanover Court House, Malvern Hill, Second Bull Run, Antietam, Shepardstown Ford, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Rappahannock, Mine Run, Wilderness, Laurel Hill, Spottsylvania Court House, and North Anna River

Seage, John, White Pigeon. Entered service in Fourth Michigan Infantry as Chaplain, July 10, 1862, at Falmouth, Va. for three years, age 45. Mustered July 10, 1862. Commissioned July 20, 1862. Mustered July 20, 1862. Wounded in action June 8, 1863. Mustered out at expiration of  term of service at Detroit, Mich., June 29, 1864. Enlisted in company F, 4th Michigan Infantry, Aug. 28, 1864, at Adrian for three years. Mustered Aug. 28, 1864. Commissioned Chaplain reorganized Fourth Infantry to date July 26, 1864. Mustered out Oct. 14, 1864. Mustered out at Detroit, Mich. May 26, 1866.

Seage, R. Watson, (Veteran), White Pigeon, Enlisted in company E, Fourth Michigan Infantry, as Corporal, June 20, 1861, at Adrian, for 3 years, age 23. Mustered June 20, 1861. Sergeant. Wounded in action at Malvern Hill, Va., July 1, 1862. Sergeant Major Dec. 13, 1862. Commissioned Second Lieutenant, company I April 1, 1863. Mustered to date May 22, 1863. Honorably discharged Dec. 31, 1863, for disability, on account of wounds received in action at Gettysburg, Pa., July 2, 1863. Re - entered service as Regimental Quartermaster, reorganized Fourth Infantry, Aug. 2, 1864. Commissioned to date July 26, 1864. Mustered Aug. 31, 1864. Discharged for disability March 6, 1865 by S.O. No. 59, War Department. Brevet Captain U.S. Volunteers, March 13, 1865, for gallant and meritorious service during the war

Lt R. Watson Seage's Tombstone on Stanton Island, Ny.