In my last post, I profiled one of the Biddles, the massive
family of Philadelphia elites that had its mitts all over the Army of the Potomac. The
last post examined the brief Civil War career of “Charles the Valiant,” the
widely-reviled Charles J. Biddle, ex-commander of the Pennsylvania Bucktails.
In this post, we will look at his distant cousin, the exalted and widely-respected Chapman
Biddle.
Unlike Charles, Chapman Biddle came from the other branch of the Biddle
family, the one connected to John Biddle, grandson of the first Quaker settler.
Also, unlike his cousin, Chapman Biddle was well-liked by his men, who continued to praise and honor him even after he
resigned his commission with the war still unfinished. A lieutenant said that Chapman
Biddle was “as firm a rock to lean on; as firm and true a friend in civil life
as in the military.” This praise was typical.
Chapman Biddle was born on January 22, 1822. Like so many other Biddles,
he enjoyed the advantages of wealth and prestige. He studied law
at St. Mary’s College in Baltimore and was admitted to the bar in 1848. For years, he traveled the globe, going on trips to South America, the West
Indies, and to Europe. According to a biographer, he was erudite, cosmopolitan,
and possessed fluency in multiple languages.
Like many young men from elite Philadelphia families, Chapman Biddle joined a city militia
regiment. In 1844, he helped establish Company I, 1st Pennsylvania
Artillery, a militia company organized in the wake of the anti-Irish Bible Riots. Within
two years, Biddle became a first lieutenant. During the Civil War, he rose to
the rank of captain. During the war’s first year, Biddle’s company stayed behind, but when
Lincoln made his call for “300,000 more” after the disastrous Peninsula
Campaign, Biddle called upon his fellow militiamen to raise a regiment of
volunteers to augment the weakened Army of the Potomac. With the aid of his first cousin, Alexander Biddle, he recruited
about 600 men in Philadelphia. By the end of the month, Governor Curtin
consolidated Biddle’s Philadelphians with men from Venango County, and together, they formed
the 121st Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry. Biddle received a colonel’s commission and
command of the regiment. The 121st left the city on September 5,
1862, and it joined the Army of the Potomac’s 1st Corps. Biddle and
his regiment fought at Fredericksburg in December and participated in the depressing
Mud March in January.
However, the moment that captured his men’s respect came on July 1,
1863, when Colonel Biddle took command of the brigade to which the 121st
Pennsylvania belonged (1st Brigade, 3rd Division, 1st
Corps). Deployed west of Gettysburg, atop McPherson’s Ridge, Biddle’s brigade (1,361
officers and men) held the crucial left flank of the 1st Corps. At 2
P.M., two North Carolina regiments stormed out of the low ground near
Willoughby Run, commencing the hellish afternoon engagement that constituted
Gettysburg’s first day. Biddle well understood the importance of the occasion.
His men had to hold the line stubbornly. A captain in his regiment, remembered
the scene vividly:
The coolness of
Colonel Chapman Biddle, commanding the brigade, was remarkable. Throughout this
tornado of fire he rode back and forth along the line of his brigade, and by
his daring, by his apparent forgetfulness of his own danger, accomplished
wonders with his four small regiments—cheering his men and urging them through
that fiery ordeal, his words unheard in the roaring tempest, but, as well by
gesture and the magnificent light of his countenance, speaking encouragement to
the men on whom he well knew he could place every reliance. A modest,
unassuming gentleman in the ordinary walks of life, suddenly transformed into
an illustrious hero, the admiration of friend and foe. Even his devoted horse
seemed to partake of the heroism of the rider, as he dashed along the line
between the two fires, daring the storm of death-dealing messengers that filled
the atmosphere.
Biddle nearly paid a dear price for his bravery. The Confederates from
the 47th North Carolina saw him riding along the line of battle and tried to take him out. Captain Joseph
J. Davis of Company G spotted Biddle riding back and forth and called on a
sharpshooter from his company to do the deed. He told him, “Bring down that general!” With a
crack of his rifle, Private Frank Escue took aim and fired. Biddle seemed to disappear. (After
the war, Davis consulted with John Batchelder, the battle’s foremost historian,
telling him he believed he had ordered the death of Major General John F. Reynolds.
Batchelder said it was impossible. “Well, what general officer was killed on my
front?” asked Davis. “I saw him, colors in hand, dash into his disordered ranks
to rally his troops. . . . I directed
the shot and saw him fall.” Batchelder, who knew the story of Gettysburg better
than anyone, set the matter straight, telling Davis that the daring officer he
had ordered to be shot was Colonel Biddle.)
Private Escue did not kill Biddle; he only wounded him. In fact, two
balls came in his direction. One struck Biddle in the head and the other struck
his horse. As Biddle recalled, “My horse was shot; I was struck by a round ball
on the back of the head, but only slightly wounded. When the horse was struck,
he reared and threw me and fell over himself, but fortunately, fell on the side
of me.”
Biddle’s horse righted himself and panicked, bolting to the brigade’s
left flank. Interestingly, Biddle’s cousin, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Biddle,
found the frightened horse and caught it. Alexander Biddle wrote, “Soon I saw a
black horse which I recognized to be his [my cousin’s] galloping towards me
riderless–I caught him by the bridle, succeeded in stopping him, and sent . . . one of the men to find the Colonel.”
Dismounted, Colonel Biddle brushed himself off, and despite his head
wound, continued to direct his brigade. As the afternoon progressed, Biddle’s
men made a final stand behind a log and furniture barricade on the west
side of the Lutheran Theological Seminary. For another hour, Biddle’s men
endured an assault delivered by two Confederate brigades. When the corps
commander, Major General Abner Doubleday, ordered the 1st Corps to
withdraw to the south end of town, Biddle’s men came off in relatively orderly fashion, an
amazing feat, since the brigade had lost 898 officers and men, 66% of its strength. A
newspaperman who covered the doings of Biddle’s brigade said, “There is
probably no instance showing more complete discipline and masterliness of
management than bringing back of such a command after such a contest, in such a
perfect condition without a semblance of disorder.” Although wounded, Biddle kept fighting. He commanded the brigade for the rest of the
battle.
Biddle didn’t last the entire war. His health had suffered because of
an illness he contracted during the Mud March. He stayed with the Army of the
Potomac for six more months, but when the weather soured, he admitted he could
no longer command his men to the best of his ability. He resigned his commission on
December 10, 1863. Although he left the army long before the war came to a
close, no one blamed him for it—quite a contrast to the situation involving his
cousin, Charles, who faced criticism for leaving too early. One admirer said of
Chapman Biddle, “His energy in raising the 121st, his ability to
discipline it, his gallantry in leading it in battle, his zeal and endurance in
its hard service, have made his reputation as a soldier one that can never be
forgotten by his comrades. . . . Even after ill-health forced him to resign, he
maintained his interest in them, and he watched over their welfare and their
widows and orphans, and long after the regiment was mustered out he was always
ready to help its members or their families.”
After the war, Biddle served as counsel for the Pennsylvania Railroad,
joined the Fairmount Park Association, helped organize the 121st
Pennsylvania’s veteran association, and served on the Society of the Army of
the Potomac (First Corps Association). He died on December 29, 1880, at age 59.
Six years after his death, another Pennsylvania veteran delivered the dedicatory remarks
that Biddle had written before the completion of the 121st
Pennsylvania’s monument at Gettysburg. Even in death, his words echoed across
the now-silent battlefield.
A eulogizer said of Biddle: “His courage in battle was characteristic
of the name he bore.” How true. The
world expected a lot from the Biddles. Because of their surname, they had to
ask the best of themselves.
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