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Death and Burial

The last letter in the preceding chapter was received long after the hand that penned it lay cold in death.

The movements of our Western Army, from its hour of triumph at Champion Hills (to which allusion is made in that letter) to the disastrous assault of the 22^nd of May upon the enemy’s almost impregnable defenses at Vicksburg, must be familiar to the mind of every reader.

On the morning of that day, General Grant issued an order that the whole line should make the assault at ten o’clock, a command that was promptly obeyed by Generals Sherman and McPherson; but this was not the case with General McClernand, who called for reinforcements before taking the field. In answer to General McClernand’s request, the Seventh Division of General McPherson’s corps was assigned him as a reinforcement; but instead of its being kept as a reserve it was ordered to the front.

It maintained by many of Boomer’s friends that from the moment this decision was known he looked apprehensively upon the result to himself, and said to one of them, standing near, that he should never see St. Louis again.

He was prostrated by the laborious campaign, fatigued by the fighting of the morning, disappointed at the result, and filled with a sense of injustice that the worn troops

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should be sent to the front while McClernand’s fresh soldiers were kept in reserve. All these would naturally combine to fill his mind with depression, which might have been the only ground for belief that some foreshadowing of his fate rested upon him.

Before making that fatal charge he gave directions that in case he fell his body should be sent to his sister in Cleveland, Ohio; and remembering, with a tenderness peculiar to his nature, that dear home in Missouri, desiring in his last moments to recognize the tie that bound him to it, he also ordered that the field officers of his own regiment should bear his body from the battle ground.

He then, with alacrity and cheerfulness, marched with his brigade to the scene of contest.

General Carr, in a private letter, says:--

"Boomer was perfectly cool and collected. He examined the position carefully, formed his men into two lines, took his place, and said, ‘Boys, I shall be with you right between the lines,’ and, giving the usual commands marched them forward over the brow of and down the first hill or ridge.

As soon as the men appeared over the brow of the ridge, the enemy’s fire opened, and was terrible hot, but did not have much effect, as they fired high, and the men immediately commenced to descend the steep slope.

At the bottom of this slope there was a ravine full of fallen trees and brush, very difficult to get over. After the men had scrambled across this, Boomer went on to the next ridge, and was making his arrangements for continuing his march, when he received his death wound.

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His last words were, ‘Boys, don’t charge those works.’ He had discovered that it was too much for them to do."

This heroic officer was killed instantly by a bullet from the sharp-shooters, which pierced his head.

Whether he had any presentiment of his death of not, he had looked it in the face, and was prepared to meet it calmly as a condition of his loyalty, as a proof that he loved his country well.

There is a martyr’s spirit in our war as true and grand as that which the poet comprehended, when, in describing the dying gladiator in the Roman arena, he painted him as one "whose manly brow consents to death, but conquers agony," a martyr’s spirit more touching and sublime than any which "men or angels have ever gazed upon since they saw the drooping victim of Calvary’s middle cross."

On learning the valuable service which this true hearted patriot had accomplished for his country at Champion Hills, Governor Gamble again requested that the President should confer upon him the rank which had long been justly his due.

The following answer was received to this petition:--

"Gov. H. B. Gamble:--In answer to your request, the President directs me to say that the government will testify its sense of the gallant conduct of Colonel Boomer by his appointment as Brigadier-General.

Edwin M. Stanton
Secretary of War."

In accordance with the wishes of this officer, the attempt was made to send his body north; but the facilities for embalming

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bodies were so imperfect in the army, and transportation was so difficult, that it was deemed advisable to bury him at Young’s Point, until such time as his friends could furnish a safe passport.

A deputation was immediately sent from St. Louis to recover all that remained of him who had nobly made his last offering for his country; and on Sunday morning, June 21^st, his body reached that city. It was conveyed at once to the Planters’ House, where it lay in state until the funeral obsequies, which were observed the following day.

Loving hands shrouded the casket in which he lay with "a magnificent national banner of silk; over the head lay a well-earned chaplet of classic laurel, on the breast a large wreath of evergreen and white flowers, in the center of which appeared a single white floral star, and at the foot a beautiful cross formed of the same pure white material."

At half-past one the body was transferred from the Planters’ House to the Second Baptist church, where as a mere youth, on entering that city years before, he first found a home in the public worship of God.

At the church, in front of the altar, a beautiful arch of evergreens and white flowers had been arranged with great taste, and underneath it his coffin was placed by those who had loved him faithfully in life. The religious exercises were conducted in the presence of a very large and attentive audience, in a most solemn and impressive manner by Dr. Post and the Rev. J. P. Schofield.

At the close of the service the choir sung Montgomery’s beautiful hymn,

"Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime,
In full activity of zeal and power."

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"At the conclusion of the religious services the body was received by the military escort, consisting of the Ninety-first Illinois Infantry, Lieutenant-Colonel Smith commanding, and two squadrons of the Fourth Regular Cavalry, the entire escort commanded by Colonel Day.

The cortege moved with slow and measured tread, led by Boehm’s splendid band, thundering the awful notes of a grief-inspiring requiem, which, as it swelled to a perfect diapason, embodied at once the prayers and sorrow for the dead.

Along the streets traversed by the cortege the sidewalks were lined in many parts with citizens, for the people loved the name of General Boomer for the bravery and goodness he was animated with in his lifetime; and as the boat pushed out from the wharf, transporting his honored dust from the soil of his adoption forever, many a sigh went up, and tears were shed from eyes all ‘unused to the melting mood.’"

General Boomer’s remains were conveyed to the home of his father, in Worcester, Mass., for interment, and it was the design of his family to quietly place them in their final resting place. But the loyal citizens of Worcester remonstrated against this plan, and strongly urged that they might have an opportunity of showing their gratitude, in a public way, to one who had so generously suffered and died to maintain a common cause. This wish being acceded to, every honor was most generously paid to the dead by the kind hearts of that city.

On Sunday, the 28^th June, his funeral obsequies were observed in Worcester, at the Third Baptist Church.

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Long before the hour of service, the church was filled to its utmost capacity.

The religious exercises on this occasion were conducted with great earnestness and sympathy by the Rev. J. Banvard.

"He gave a brief sketch of the more prominent points in General Boomer’s career, and paid a merited tribute to his eminent worth, closing with an urgent appeal to the men of the North to rise in the majesty of their whole might, to crush out the rebellion, and save their country, for which so much blood had already been shed."

This deeply interesting service was closed by the chanting of that exquisitely tender hymn—

"Into the silent land, ah! who shall lead us thither?"

The casket which contained the remains of the deceased was again draped with the national banner, again profusely decked with bouquets and wreaths of flowers, and escorted to their last repose, in the Rural Cemetery, by the State Guards and Highland Cadets, accompanied by the Worcester Cornet Band.

The throngs that crowded the streets to pay their last tribute of respect to the memory of him who in his turn had passed into "the silent halls of death," gave an affecting testimony to the fact that the great heart of the North beat in sympathy with the honest soldier.

But he to whom these honors were paid had passed beyond the reach of human praise. His work was done, his voice was silenced, his eye obscured, his arm paralyzed—but not until they had each and all been uplifted for the cause

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he loved; not until he had done something for the progress of the world’s civilization, in which he felt a deep interest.

On the death of such a man, the patriot and the friend might justly pause to shed a tear, and say with truth—

In this hour of our country’s gloom, when clouds roll on clouds, when woes cluster on woes, when every cup is full of bitterness, every prospect is draped in black, how precious the record of such lives! This gigantic rebellion furnishes an innumerable host, to be gathered from every camp and hospital and battle-filed.

How delicious the fragrance of such unfading memories! How full of consolation such imperishable legacies!

The spirit of these fallen "brave" shall never die. "It shall outlive the ruins of empires and of eras, and passing through the web of time, it will weave the bright colors of virtue, self-denial, and loyalty to God and liberty, into the mighty fabric of human souls, which shall be unrolled at the judgement, and then hung up as the golden tapestry of heaven."

One of the most brilliant pages of history records the fact that the world-renowned Caesar, "in dying, first gazed on the marble brow of Pompey, and then arranged his robes to lie with becoming dignity in death." On another page, of equal lustre, the record is made of Nelson, before his last battle—Trafalgar—saying, "Now for the peerage of Westminster Abby!" But how much loftier and purer the spirit of our grave warriors, who, with an entire abnegation

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of self, accept the most trying agonies of death upon our battle-fields, knowing that their names and deeds will be alike unknown to history or to fame!

"In that wreath which a grateful nation twines around her brow, the most brilliant and imperishable flowers will be those gathered from the hallowed graves of the men who have freely offered up their lives on the altar of their country."

But a far more enduring and glorious reward awaits our Christian soldiers than that bestowed upon them by any earthly homage. Passing through the dark river of death, they are bidden to enter the pearly gates of the New Jerusalem, whose foundations are built of precious stones. In that better country there are no envyings, no strifes, no wars nor rumors of wars. The mild reign of the Prince of Peace beams over all, and transplanted to those everlasting gardens of God’s love, where angels walk, angelic hands shall crown their spotless brows with unfading diadems.