This is the third of five installments of “Whose Father Was He?” — an investigation into a photograph of three children found on the dead body of Amos Humiston, a fallen Union soldier, at Gettysburg in 1863. Part one can be read here, and part two here.

There is something magical and sad about chronicling the history of a man who went more than halfway around the world on a whaling ship and then died (presumably alone) in a small town, a couple of hundred miles from his home. It is possible to chart Humiston’s movements from the moment he joined the 154th in Jamestown, N.Y., to Gettysburg, Pa. — a winding, circuitous, ant-like path that might have meaning — but then again, might not. And even if we could chart it completely, does it bring us closer to Amos Humiston? Does it capture the essence of the man? Even if we knew where he was every minute of his waking life? Would that tell us who he is?

There is also a stereogram[6][7] of the place where he died. Does it make his death more real? Does it reconnect us with the event by showing us where it happened? By looking at a photograph of the fence on Stratton Street where Humiston was found — does it allow us to imaginatively reenact Humiston’s death? There was a full moon that night [8]. But it was raining on and off through the three days of battle, and the sky was intermittently overcast. Can we imagine Humiston looking up through shifting clouds at the moon? And then at the ambrotype?

There is an endless fascination with last words, but what about last images? There is the legend of a last image being permanently imprinted on the retinas of those about to die. Here, the ambrotype reveals that last image. By looking at the faces of the Humiston children, we can see what Humiston was seeing as he died [9]. Or perhaps they can provide a glimpse of what was in his mind. Does linking his experiences with ours allow us to better know him or only to imagine ourselves as him?

Adapted map from War Telegram Marking Map, Louis Prang and Company, Library of Congress.

Humiston’s story reminds us that most historical mysteries remain unsolved. And in all likelihood can never be solved. That Mark Dunkelman was able to recover so much of Humiston’s lost history is the exception, not the rule. On the whole, we know little or nothing of the thousands of soldiers who lost their lives at Gettysburg. Odds and ends. Flotsam and jetsam.

Dunkelman writes:

Even when an item obviously belonged to a dead soldier, it didn’t always serve to identify him. Scattered near a dead Confederate on the first day’s field were letters and a photograph of his South Carolina fiancée, torn to pieces. The burial party who found him surmised the man had ripped apart the items before he died to prevent them from becoming souvenirs… On some lucky occasions, an artifact served to identify a corpse. Two cases involved privates found on the southern portion of the battlefield. A Pennsylvanian was identified by a silver medal found clutched in his hand. Another soldier was found missing his hat, shoes, and socks, but inside one of his pockets the burial squad found a gold locket with a photograph of his wife or sweetheart, along with her name and address. And so some of the Gettysburg dead were identified in a fortuitous manner by a letter, a photograph, an inscribed testament or diary, a stencil plate, or an identification disc found on their bodies. But their stories remained unknown to the general public, merely noted in passing by the members of the burial squads who found them. One such soldier’s story, however, made headlines in newspapers across the North and captured the imagination of millions. But as famous as that story became, it came very close to being another forgotten tale of the battlefield. [10]

A gold locket, a diary, even the images of bloated corpses that dot the Alexander Gardner photographs of the battlefield. It is all ephemera.

Library of Congress

James F. Gibson, Library of Congress

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ERROL MORRIS: And then there’s the photograph of Amos Humiston himself, taken before the war. David Humiston Kelley has the original ambrotype. But I’ve seen two versions: Amos with and without a beard.

Left, courtesy of David Humiston Kelley, from Gettysburg’s Unknown Soldier [ 12 ]; right, Mark H. Dunkelman Collection.

MARK DUNKELMAN: Bourns wanted to issue photographs of him. But rather than just reproduce the photograph of him as a civilian, Bourns, or in all likelihood one of the photographers employed by him, had the brilliant idea to make a soldier out of him and slap the beard and the uniform on him, retouched.

ERROL MORRIS: Why would someone in a photography studio want to slap a beard on Amos Humiston? Doesn’t it seem to be the handiwork of someone who was marketing this image to the public? Isn’t it about how Amos Humiston should look as opposed to how he did look?

MARK DUNKELMAN: Maybe. Philinda knew he had grown a beard, probably before he left home. Because I don’t think he mentioned it in his letters. And the uniform was just a no-brainer. But it’s obvious that it was retouched from the original. If you look at the hair, et cetera, the eyes, it’s the same image. The one that I’ve got says, “Sergeant Amos Humiston of the 154th New York Volunteers” on the front. And on the back, it gives the blurb written by J. Francis Bourns:

“Sergeant Humiston fell in the first day’s struggle at Gettysburg. When found, he could not be recognized, and was buried among the unknown dead. But the Picture his brave hand grasped in death — the portrait of his three little children — months afterward led to his identification. After the discovery of his family, who reside at Portville, N. Y., the original of this photograph was obtained; and the copies are sold in aid of the Orphan’s Homestead

J. Francis Bourns, Sec’y.

Philadelphia, Pa.”

Mark H. Dunkelman Collection

Mark H. Dunkelman Collection

Did Dr. Bourns believe Humiston’s portrait was enhanced by adding the beard and the uniform? He was, after all, raising money for a commercial venture, an orphanage to be built for “the children of the battlefield.” The carte-de-visite was for sale, and its inscription informed the buyer that the proceeds were to aid an orphanage. It cried out for an image of a soldier. A potential buyer could make an immediate connection between the appeal for money and the circumstances of Humiston’s demise.

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The Homestead Association was incorporated in 1866, three years after Amos’s death. Its purpose was to establish an orphanage for the children of deceased soldiers. A house adjacent to the cemetery was acquired, a board appointed (which included James Garfield, a future president of the United States), and a superintendent hired. Dr. Bourns was the general secretary. Philinda, Amos’s widow, accepted a position as a housekeeper and Frank, Alice and Fred, the three Humiston children, came to Gettysburg to live at the Homestead, less than a mile from where their father had died. The orphanage opened with an elaborate ceremony that included the children singing “America.” It was celebrated in newspapers around the country. It was an attempt to give meaning to the terrible battle losses that had occurred at Gettysburg — to heal a wound that affected the entire nation.

As an article in the American Presbyterian intoned: “The fidelity and affection of the dying sergeant for his own little household has set in motion a stream of benevolent intentions and efforts designed to embrace many bereaved families in widely different sections of the country. . . . Parental love has secured for the humble soldier his personal share in the gratitude of his countryman and made his name immortal.”

Dr. Bourns also provided a drawing of what the Homestead Orphanage would look like. It depicts a palatial domicile, complete with gables, arches, columns, and a mansard-roofed tower. The actual Homestead Orphanage, photographed on June 21, 1867, on the occasion of the first visit to Gettysburg by Ulysses S. Grant, is somewhat less impressive. The caption on the card-mounted photograph says, “It is used until a more commodious and suitable structure can be erected to shelter its present fatherless inmates . . .” The use of the word “inmates” may simply be an anachronism or a forbidding harbinger of what was to happen next.

The Alfred Withal Stern Collection of Lincolniana, Library of Congress, Rare Book and Special Collections Division.

Library of Congress

Sales of the cartes-de-visite — the retouched pictures of both the children and of Amos Humiston — continued to provide income to the orphanage, and it is clear from various newspaper accounts that Dr. Bourns was constantly monitoring the production of cartes-de-visite and concerned about “a recent counterfeit copy of the photograph.” But it is all too possible that part of the money was siphoned off by Dr. Bourns.

German Reformed Messenger, June 8, 1864.

By 1869, Philinda had accepted an offer of marriage from a man 24 years her senior. She left the Homestead with her “new” husband and then sent for the children. Various superintendents came and left. And this is when the story takes a turn for the wicked.

FOOTNOTES

[6] From the collection of John Richter, Director, Center for Civil War Photography.

[7] A stereogram is a pair of images taken from a slightly different perspective, mirroring the slight difference in perspective between one eye and the other in binocular vision. It is intended to be viewed through a stereoscope, a device invented by Charles Wheatstone ca. 1838. An illusion of depth is created from flat, two-dimensional image or images, in some ways paralleling how the eye perceives depth through the use of parallax.

[8] Consult the NASA site, Moon Phases: 1801 to 1900.

[9] There is an extensive literature on images on the retinas of the dead. It has been claimed that the retinas of a murder victim record the perpetrator of the crime. For an overview see Bill Jay, “In the Eyes of the Dead.”

[10] Mark Dunkelman, Gettysburg’s Unknown Soldier, p. 129.

[11] These images are interesting not only because they show casualties from the first day of the Battle of Gettysburg, but because they are the key to another photo mystery, which I’ll discuss in a future posting.

[12] Reproduced by permission of ABC-CLIO, Inc. Santa Barbara CA. All rights reserved.