Joseph Hooker Birthplace, Hadley, Massachusetts

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The birthplace of General Joseph Hooker on West Street in Hadley, Massachusetts, around the 1890s. Image from History of Hadley (1905).

The scene in 2021:

The house in the center of the first photo was likely built at some point during the 1700s, and it stood on the west side of West Street, just north of Cemetery Road. It is best remembered for having been the birthplace of General Joseph Hooker, who was born here on November 13, 1814. Hooker’s father, who was also named Joseph, purchased the house from the Porter family in 1805, shortly before his marriage to Mary Seymour. They had four children who were born here, including Joseph and his three older sisters: Nancy, Mary, and Sarah.

The family would only live here in this house for a few more years, before selling it in 1817 and moving to a house nearby on Middle Street, where Joseph Hooker spent much of his childhood. He attended Hopkins Academy here in Hadley, and he lived with his family in several other houses on West Street before entering West Point in 1833. He graduated in 1837, and that same year his parents left Hadley and relocated to Watertown, New York.

Upon graduating from West Point, Hooker was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the army. He served throughout the Mexican-American War, and after the war he was stationed in California. In 1853, he resigned from the army and took up farming in Sonoma County in California, and from 1859 to 1861 he served as a colonel in the California state militia.

Like many of his fellow West Point peers who had entered civilian life in the 1850s, Hooker returned to the army following the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861. He was appointed as brigadier general, and he served in the Peninsula Campaign, where he earned his nickname, “Fighting Joe Hooker.” The nickname originated because of an error in a newspaper dispatch that was intended to have read “Fighting – Joe Hooker Attacks Rebels.” However, perhaps because of his reputation for aggressive fighting on the battlefield, the name stuck with him.

Hooker would subsequently serve in the Second Battle of Bull Run, and at Antietam, where he was wounded early in the fighting. Then, in January 1863, President Lincoln appointed Hooker as commander of the Army of the Potomac, replacing General Ambrose Burnside. After the failures of both Burnside and his predecessor, George B. McClellan, Lincoln hoped that a more aggressive commander like Hooker would have greater success against Robert E. Lee. As it turned out, though, Hooker’s one major battle as commander was Chancellorsville, where he suffered a severe concussion and was ultimately defeated in one of Lee’s most decisive victories of the war.

Despite the loss, Hooker retained command of the Army of the Potomac, but he ultimately resigned in late June 1863, after a falling out between him and Lincoln. However, he remained in the army, and served with distinction in the western theater, including at the Battle of Lookout Mountain and during the Atlanta Campaign. Again, though, he had disagreements with his superiors, including General William T. Sherman, and in 1864 he was transferred to Cincinnati, where he commanded the Northern Department. He held this position until the end of the war, and he would continue to serve in the army until 1868, when he retired with the rank of major general.

Aside from his actions on the battlefield, Hooker would become the subject of an oft-repeated myth that his name was the origin of the term “hooker” for a prostitute. As the story goes, Hooker was a hard-drinking, hard-partying womanizer during the war, to the point where his prostitutes were referred to as “Hooker’s Brigade,” which became the origin of the term. In reality, while Hooker was a bachelor for most of his life including during the war, it seems unclear as to exactly what kinds of drunken debaucheries, if any, he was involved in. And, in any case, the word was being used in reference to prostitutes for at least a few decades prior to the war, although it is certainly plausible that his reputation—whether deserved or not—may have helped popularize the already-existing term.

In the meantime, Hooker’s birthplace here in Hadley changed hands several times over the course of the 19th century. His father had sold the house to John Hopkins in 1817, and it was later owned by Hiram Thayer. He died in 1854, and the house was subsequently owned by two of his sons, Ezra Thayer (1827-1895) and Chesmin Miller Thayer (1829-1882). The brothers evidently lived here together, and the 1860 census showing Ezra here with his wife Rebecca (1831-1916) and their 2-year-old son Charles (1858-1932), along with Chesmin and his wife Julia (1831-1912).

Hooker’s 1863 appointment as commander of the Army of the Potomac drew attention to the house. A February 8, 1863 article in the New York Times, which had originally appeared in the Northampton Free Press, described the house as “an old-fashioned, two-story house, with the gambrel-roof so peculiar to olden times, and altogither [sic] is a fit place for the early home of genius, whether it be an embryo Poet, President, or Major-General.”

The Thayer family would continue to live here for many years. Charles seems to have been the only child of Ezra and Rebecca, and Chesmin and Julia evidently did not have any children of their own, so the size of the family remained the same in the 1870 and 1880 censuses. Hooker apparently visited his birthplace at least once after the war, but otherwise he does not seem to have had much of a connection with his old hometown in his later years. He died on Long Island in 1879, at the age of 64, and he was buried alongside his wife in Cincinnati.

Here in Hadley, Hooker’s birthplace would find itself in the spotlight in 1895, when it became the focal point for a large reunion of soldiers from the III Corps in honor of their general. The festivities were held on May 7, 1895, starting early in the morning with a parade in Northampton. The veterans, guests, and spectators then boarded a train for Hadley, and about 3,500 people gathered here on the town common, in a tent in front of Hooker’s birthplace.

Among the many distinguished speakers at the event was General Daniel Sickles, who presented the town with a portrait of Hooker. He had served with Hooker in the III Corps and two men had been friends, but Sickles was a controversial figure whose debaucheries exceeded even Hooker’s supposed reputation. Prior to the war, Sickles had become the first person in the country to successfully use the temporary insanity defense for murder, after he killed his wife’s lover, Philip Barton Key II, the son of the Star Spangled Banner author. During the war, probably his most controversial action came at the Battle of Gettysburg, when he defied orders and moved his unit into a highly exposed position, losing his right leg in the process. Despite this, his wartime service was enough to earn him the post of U.S. Minister to Spain, which he held from 1869 to 1874. There, in addition to his diplomatic work, he also had an affair with the recently-deposed Queen Isabella II, and he then married one of her attendants, Carmina Creagh.

By the time he arrived here in Hadley for the ceremony in 1895, he was 75 years old and had been estranged from his second wife for many years. Citing his poor health, his speech was moved to an earlier spot in the program of events so that he could leave early. Notwithstanding these health issues, he spoke at length about Hooker, highlighting his military accomplishments while also defending him against accusations of drunkenness. In his address he also explained how meaningful it was to visit Hooker’s birthplace, comparing it to a visit to Napoleon’s tomb. He went on to explain:

I have never been assigned to a more pleasant duty than the one which calls me here to-day. The birthplace of the most brilliant soldier given to the late war by Massachusetts has an interest for all her citizens. To the survivors of the 3d army corps this spot has peculiar attractions. Our loyalty to the memory of Hooker is a sentiment in which affection and admiration are blended. His comrades loved him because he gave them confidence in themselves; because he hade them soldiers. They loved him because he was proud of them, and jealous of their honor and fame. We admired him as the intrepid brigade and division commander whose plume was always in the front of the battle. We admired his fearless bearing, his picturesque figure in the saddle, at the head of a column or in line of battle—the type of the soldier who shared every peril to which his command was exposed. We admired his thorough knowledge of his profession—from the duty of a soldier to the responsibility of a commander.

Aside from Sickles’s address, other speakers included state auditor and Civil war veteran John W. Kimball, Medal of Honor recipient General Henry E. Tremaine, and Worcester poet John Howard Jewett, who recited a poem for the event. Lunch came after the speeches, followed by other festivities here in Hadley, such as a concert, a cadet drill exercise, and a baseball game. Aging veterans relaxed in the shade and shared stories about General Hooker, and many people in the crowd visited his birthplace, which was decorated for the occasion.

At the time of the event, the house was still owned by the Thayer family, but neither of the brothers lived long enough to see it. Chesmin died in 1882 and Ezra in January 1895, only a few months before the Hooker celebration here. Their widows would continue to live here for a few more years, but the house was ultimately destroyed by a fire on April 6, 1898. The fire started around 3:00 p.m. in a barn on a neighboring property, and it soon spread to the Hooker birthplace. High winds, combined with a lack of sufficient firefighting equipment in Hadley, helped contribute to the spread of the fire, and several other barns and outbuildings were also destroyed.

Although the Hooker birthplace is gone, its location is commemorated by a large boulder that is visible in the center of the second photo. It was installed here in 1908, and it has an inscription that reads “Birth-place of / Maj. Gen. Joseph Hooker / Born Nov. 13, 1814 / Erected by the D.A.R. / 1908.” Just to the left of the boulder is a much more modern house that now stands on the lot. Although built in the late 20th century, it has an exterior that—whether intentional or not—echoes the appearance of its predecessor here.

Great Gulf, Mount Washington, New Hampshire

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The Great Gulf, seen from just north of the summit of Mount Washington, around 1900. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The scene in 2021:

These two photos show the view looking north from Mount Washington, with the Great Gulf in the foreground and the summits of the northern Presidential Range beyond it. Mount Washington is the highest peak in New England and the northeastern United States, and it stands at the center of the Presidential Range, a north-south oriented range that contains many other high peaks. The five highest peaks are named after the first five presidents, mostly in descending order of elevation, and each one is higher than any other mountain in the northeast outside of the Presidential Range.

Mount Washington, the highest, is 6,288 feet above sea level. It is followed by Mount Adams (5,774 feet), which is seen on the right side of this scene; Mount Jefferson (5,712 feet) on the left side of the scene; Mount Monroe (5,384 feet) out of view on the opposite side of Mount Washington; and Mount Madison (5,367 feet) on the extreme right-hand side of this scene.

Just out of view in the foreground on the right side is a portion of Mount Washington, which extends to the northeast away from the summit area. That slope of Mount Washington, along with the northern Presidentials in the distance, form the walls of the Great Gulf, a large glacial cirque. There are a number of different cirques around Mount Washington that were formed by glacial activity, including Tuckerman Ravine, Huntington Ravine, and Ammonoosuc Ravine. However, the Great Gulf is by far the largest of these, extended more than two miles in length and over a mile in width.

The first recorded description of the Great Gulf comes from Darby Field in 1642. Although this was still very early in the history of European colonization in New England, and several centuries before recreational hiking became popular in the region, Darby Field and his two Native American guides became the first known people to have climbed Mount Washington. This achievement was considered remarkable enough that John Winthrop, governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, provided a lengthy account of Field’s expedition in his journal. Regarding the final ascent to the summit, Winthrop wrote:

They went divers times through the thick clouds for a good space, and within 4 miles of the top, they had no clouds but very cold. By the way among the rocks, there were two ponds, one a blackish water, and the other reddish. The top of all was plain about 60 feet square. On the north side was such a precipice, as they could scarcely discern to the bottom. They had neither cloud nor wind on the top, and moderate heat. All the country about him seemed a level, except here and there a hill rising above the rest, and far beneath them. He saw to the north, a great water which he judged to be 100 miles broad, but could see no land beyond it.

Although Winthrop’s description was secondhand information at best, the account seems reliable, since it contains information that Field would only have known if he had actually reached the summit. The “two ponds” are likely the Lakes of the Clouds, located along the ridgeline between the summits of Mount Washington and Mount Monroe, and the description of the “plain” at the summit likewise corresponds to reality. And, his description of the Great Gulf also helps to verify the account, since Field would have only known about “such a precipice, as they could scarcely discern to the bottom” if he and his guides had actually stood here at the edge of the Great Gulf headwall.

Aside from Field’s journey, there were very few recorded ascents of Mount Washington during the colonial period. However, this began to change by the early 19th century, as New Englanders began to travel to the White Mountains to experience the scenery here. By 1819 there was a footpath from Crawford Notch to the summit, and this was later followed by a carriage road in 1861 and a cog railway in 1868. The summit area became a seasonal community, with several hotels and even its own newspaper.

However, despite the extensive development on Mount Washington, the other summits on the Presidential Range remained largely untouched, as did the Great Gulf. Visitors were generally happy to admire these scenes from afar, and there were few landscapes that could compete with this view here in these photos. Writing in his 1856 book Incidents in White Mountain History, Benjamin G. Willey provided the following description of this scene:

[G]oing a few rods northward, you come to the brink of an almost unfathomable abyss, known as the Great Gulf. It is a rocky, precipitous descent of two thousand feet. Rising up opposite you from the bottom of this Gulf, almost perpendicularly, is the great range of mountains, comprising Clay, Jefferson, Adams and Madison. This vast range may be seen from their roots to their summits by one standing on the brink. Deep down in the very bottom of the hollow are rough, confused piles of rocks, with narrow and deeply-worn ravines between them. Springing up occasionally, near the very base of the mountain range, are tall spruces, while further up on their sides are birches and small firbushes. Toward the east, the Gulf has an opening, surrounded on all its other sides by mountains.

A few years later, in his 1860 book The White Hills: Their Legends, Landscape, and Poetry, described the scene in even more rapturous language, from an overlook on the nearby carriage road. He wrote:

Yet the glory of the view is, after all, the four highest companion mountains of the range. Clay, Jefferson, Adams, Madison, that show themselves in a bending line beyond the tremendous gorge at the right of the path, absurdly called the ” Gulf of Mexico,” and are visible from their roots to their summits. . . . Except by climbing to the ridge through the unbroken wilderness of the northern side, there is no such view to be had east of the Mississippi of mountain architecture and sublimity. They do not seem to be rocky institutions. Their lines have so much life that they appear to have just leaped from the deeps beneath the soil. We say to ourselves, these peaks are nature’s struggle against petrifaction, the earth’s cry for air.

This scene certainly captivated visitors, but few were adventurous enough to actually descend into this “unfathomable abyss.” Because of its remoteness, the upper reaches of the Gulf escaped large-scale logging, and even the trail builders of the late 1800s tended to avoid the area. A single hiking trail was built through the Gulf as far as Spalding Lake in the lower foreground of these photos, but it did not ascend the headwall of the mountains. Nor did it apparently see much use, because it did not see much subsequent maintenance.

The Great Gulf was still an essentially trailless wilderness when the first photo was taken around 1900, but this would soon change. From 1908 to 1910, Warren W. Hart oversaw the construction of a series of trails in the area, starting with the Great Gulf Trail, which traversed the Gulf, climbed the headwall, and ended near the spot where these two photos were taken. Another trail, named the Six Husbands Trail, was opened to the summit of Mount Jefferson by way of the steep slopes in the right-center of the scene. Two other trails—Adams Slide and the Buttress Trail—climbed Mount Adams, and the Wamsutta and Chandler Brook Trails climbed the northeastern slopes of Mount Washington from the Great Gulf.

At the time, the Great Gulf was still in private hands, but in 1916 it was purchased by the U.S. Forest Service. It subsequently became part of the White Mountain National Forest, and in 1964 it was designated as the Great Gulf Wilderness, which conferred greater protections on the land than other portions of the national forest. As a result, this view from atop the headwall looks essentially the same as it did over 120 years earlier, and in all likelihood it also looks the same as it did over 380 years ago, when Darby Field first described the “precipice” where he could “scarcely discern the bottom.”

Boston Light

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Boston Light on Little Brewster Island in Boston Harbor, around 1906. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The scene in 2021:

These two photos were not taken from the exact same angle; the first one was probably taken from a boat near the island, while the second one was taken with a telephoto lens from about two miles away on Georges Island. But, they both show essentially the same view of Little Brewster Island, the site of the first lighthouse in the present-day United States and the second-oldest existing lighthouse in the country.

During the colonial era, Boston was one of the most important seaports in British North America. Boston benefited from a large natural harbor, protected from the open ocean by a number of islands and peninsulas, but these same landforms also posed hazards to ships entering and leaving the harbor. So, to protect ships and the lives of their sailors, the first lighthouse in the British colonies was constructed here on Little Brewster Island, a small outcropping near the outer edge of the harbor. It was about 60 feet tall, built of rubble masonry, and it was lit for the first time on September 14, 1716.

The occasion was noted in The Boston News-Letter three days later, with the paper describing:

Boston, By vertue of An Act of Assembly made in the First Year of His Majesty’s Reign, For Building & Maintaining a Light House upon the Great Brewster [sic] (called Beacon Island) at the Entrance of the Harbour of Boston, in order to prevent the loss of the Lives & Estates of His Majesty’s Subjects; The said Light House has been built; And on Fryday last the 14th Currant the Light was kindled, which will be very useful for all Vessels going out and coming in to the Harbour of Boston, or any other Harbours in the Massachusets-Bay, for which all Masters shall pay to the Receiver of Impost, One Peny per Ton Inwards, and another Peny Outwards, except Coasters, who are to pay Two Shillings each, at their clearing Out. And all Fishing Vessels, Wood Sloops, etc. Five Shillings each by the year.

The first lighthouse keeper was George Worthylake, but he would soon become the first American lighthouse keeper to die in the line of duty. On November 3, 1718, he was returning to the lighthouse accompanied by his wife Ann and their daughter Ruth, along with an enslaved man, a servant, and a friend of the family. They took a sloop back to the vicinity of island, then boarded a canoe to make their landing. However, the canoe capsized, and all six people drowned.

Here again, The Boston News-Letter reported the tragedy:

Boston, On Monday last the 3d Currant an awful and Lamentable Providence fell out here, Mr. George Worthylake (Master of the Light-House upon the Great Brewster (called Beacon-Island) at the Entrance of the Harbour of Boston) Anne his Wife, Ruth their Daughter, George Cutler, a Servant, Shadwell their Negro Slave, and Mr. John Edge a Passenger; being on the Lord’s Day here at Sermon, and going home in a Sloop, drop Anchor near the Landing place and all got into a little Boat or Cannoo, designing to go on Shoar, but by Accident it overwhelmed, so that they were Drowned, and all found and Interred except George Cutler.

Although the article does not mention the specific burial place, George, Ann, and Ruth were all buried in Copp’s Hill Burying Ground, beneath a triple headstone that still survives today.

Aside from this article in the News-Letter, other writers covered the event. Perhaps most famously, 12-year-old Benjamin Franklin wrote a ballad, which he titled “The Lighthouse Tragedy.” No copies of the poem are known to survive, but in his autobiography Franklin referenced this and another similar poem that he wrote about Blackbeard, observing that:

They were wretched stuff, in the Grub-street-ballad style; and when they were printed he sent me about the town to sell them. The first [the lighthouse poem] sold wonderfully, the event being recent, having made a great noise. This flattered my vanity; but my father discouraged me by ridiculing my performances, and telling me verse-makers were generally beggars. So I escaped being a poet, most probably a very bad one.

In the meantime, the lighthouse continued in operation under a new keeper, and in 1719 a cannon was installed on the island for use as a fog signal. The tower was badly damaged by a fire in 1751, but it was subsequently repaired and remained in use until the start of the American Revolution. It was ultimately destroyed by the British on July 13, 1776, following their evacuation of Boston several months earlier.

Little Brewster Island remained devoid of a lighthouse for the rest of the American Revolution, but as the war was winding down in 1783 the Massachusetts legislature authorized the funding to construct a new lighthouse here. It was completed by the end of the year, and like its predecessor it was built of rubble masonry. However, it was somewhat taller, standing 75 feet in height. This tower, with some alterations over the years, is still standing today, as shown in the two photos in this post.

The lighthouse was completed prior to the current U.S. Constitution. At the time, the national government had very limited powers, so matters such as lighthouses were the responsibility of the individual states. Under the new Constitution, though, this became a part of the role of the federal government, which took over the operation of Boston Light in 1790.

Over the years, the exterior appearance of the lighthouse changed several times. In 1809, in response to large cracks in the walls, six iron bands were installed around the tower in order to provide additional structural support. Then, in 1859 the height of the tower was increased to 89 feet, and a new second-order Fresnel lens was installed in the lantern. Also during this time, the interior of the tower was lined with brick, and a brick entryway was added to the base of the tower.

By the time the first photo was taken around 1906, the lighthouse was joined by a number of other buildings on the island. Among these were two houses for the lighthouse keepers, along with ancillary structures such as the fog signal, cistern, oil house, and boathouse. The boathouse was situated next to a pier, and it was equipped with a marine railway. At the time, the light station was staffed by a head keeper and two assistant keepers, and they often lived here with their families as well.

Although still in active use as a lighthouse, the importance of Boston Light had diminished somewhat by the time this photo was taken. Around the turn of the 20th century, most large vessels began taking a more northerly channel into Boston Harbor, bypassing the old lighthouse. To accommodate this traffic, a new lighthouse was constructed in 1905 at the Graves, a rocky ledge about three miles to the northeast of Boston Light. This new lighthouse was taller than Boston Light, and it was also equipped with a larger first-order Fresnel lens.

Despite these changes in shipping routes, Boston Light remained an important lighthouse. There were some changes here in 1939, when the U.S. Lighthouse Service was absorbed by the Coast Guard, and there were further changes during World War II, when the light was extinguished for security purposes, although it was relit after the war. Then, in the postwar era, the role of lighthouse keepers started to become redundant, and lighthouses across the country were steadily automated, which eliminated the need for light stations that were staffed full time. However, just as Boston Light was the first lighthouse in the country, it was also the last one to be automated, in 1998.

Today, this scene is still easily recognizable from the first photo more than 115 years later. The large duplex keeper’s house is gone, having been deliberately burned in 1960, and the pier was destroyed during the blizzard of 1978.  Overall, though,  most of the other buildings are still here, including the 1884 keeper’s house, the 1899 boathouse, the 1889 oil house, and the 1876 fog signal building, which now also houses a generator. And, of course, the lighthouse is still here, with few exterior changes aside from the removal of one of the metal bands, leaving only five in its current appearance. It is the second oldest active lighthouse structure in the country, predated only by the 1764 Sandy Hook Light in New Jersey.

Despite being automated in 1998, Boston Light is still staffed by a resident keeper, although this is largely a ceremonial role. Along with most of the other harbor islands, Little Brewster Island is now part of the Boston Harbor Islands National Recreation Area. Unlike some of the larger islands, there is no ferry service or public access to Little Brewster, although the lighthouse can be seen from passing boats, from the mainland in Hull, or from Georges Island, as shown in the present-day photo.

Carrollton Viaduct, Baltimore, Maryland

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The Carrollton Viaduct over Gwynns Falls in Baltimore, around 1921. Image from the October 1921 issue of the Baltimore and Ohio Employees Magazine.

The scene in 2021:

These two photos show the view of the Carrollton Viaduct from the east, where it passes over the Gwynns Falls stream. This bridge is a significant civil engineering landmark, as it was the first masonry arch railroad bridge in the United States, and today it remains in use as the country’s oldest active railroad bridge.

The bridge was constructed by the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, which, depending on the criteria used, is often regarded as the first railroad in the United States. Prior to the 1830s, the primary means of inland transportation in the United States were turnpikes and canals. However, investors in Baltimore saw the potential of the newly-emerging railroad technology, and in 1827 they organized the Baltimore and Ohio Rail Road Company. This was not necessarily the first railroad in the country, as there were much smaller ones that predated it, but this was a far more ambitious plan, to construct a railroad westward from Baltimore, through the Appalachians, and to the Ohio River.

It would take many years before that goal would be completed, but in the meantime the railroad made significant progress here in the vicinity of Baltimore. Work on the railroad began on July 4, 1828, with a ceremony that featured Charles Carroll laying the cornerstone. Sources seem unclear as to whether that cornerstone was specifically for this bridge, or if it was at a different part of the railroad line, but either way it was a highly symbolic event. Carroll, aged 90, was the last living signer of the Declaration of Independence, so his presence provided an important link between the country’s founding principles and its new visions of industry and technological improvements.

Regardless of where the actual cornerstone ceremony occurred, this bridge would be one of the first of many engineering challenges that the new railroad would face as it worked its way westward from Baltimore. Here, the railroad had to cross over Gwynns Falls, a stream that was flanked on both sides by high embankments. Railroad superintendent Casper Wever was tasked with designing the bridge, and his initial plans called for a single 50-foot arch over the stream. However, because of concerns about flooding, this was changed to an 80-foot arch over the stream, along with a smaller 16-foot arch over a road that ran parallel to the stream on the left side of this scene.

In the end, the finished bridge was 312 feet long, and it rose 51 feet, 9 inches above the water. The work was completed in the fall of 1829, and it opened on December 21, 1829, in another ceremony that was attended by Charles Carroll. This time, he laid the final stone of the parapet, and the bridge was formally named the Carrollton Viaduct in his honor. The Baltimore Gazette And Daily Advertiser, reporting on the event the next day, provided the following account:

The Bridge over Gwynn’s Fall’s was yesterday completed by the laying of the last stone on the Eastern extremity of the South parapet. Carroll of Carrollton, our venerated fellow citizen, the last living signer of the Declaration of Independence, presided at the ceremony, and the Bridge, in pursuance of a resolution of the Board of Managers, was named after him—”The Carrollton Viaduct.” In the short & very appropriate address of Mr. Lloyd, the builder of the Bridge, to Mr. Carroll, he says that he does not ask for it a longer duration than the same of the last surviving signer; and we have no doubt that the Bridge will be found uninjured by time so long as the rocks upon which it is based shall stand. It speaks the character of the great work whose commencement it ornaments—firm as beautiful—useful as enduring.

As it turned out, Lloyd’s modest hope that his bridge would enjoy the same longevity as its namesake proved to be a considerable understatement. At the time, Carroll was 92 years old, and the first photo in this post was coincidentally taken about 92 years after the bridge was completed. By this point, the bridge was still going strong after nearly a century, even as rail traffic over the bridge had evolved from small horse-drawn trains of the 1820s, to the large steam locomotives and heavy freight cars of the 1920s.

Today, another century has gone by since the first photo was taken. The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad no longer exists, having been absorbed by other companies in a series of mergers. However, this line is still an active railroad operated by CSX Transportation, and the nearly 200-year-old stone bridge still carries modern rail traffic over Gwynns Falls. Because of its pioneering role in the early years of railroad development in the United States, the bridge was designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1971, and in 1982 it was similarly named a National Historic Civil Engineering Landmark.

Burnside Bridge, Sharpsburg, Maryland (2)

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The view of the north side of the Burnside Bridge, from the west bank of Antietam Creek, in September 1862. Photographed by Alexander Gardner. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Civil War Glass Negatives and Related Prints collection.

The scene in 2021:

As explained in more detail in the previous post, the Burnside Bridge—or lower bridge, as it had previously been known—was the focal point of the later phase of the Battle of Antietam on September 17, 1862. Ahead of the battle, the Confederates under Robert E. Lee had taken a defensive position near the town of Sharpsburg, with a line of soldiers that extended north to south. The southern end of his line was anchored on the heights just to the west of this bridge, and this led to intense fighting for control over the bridge.

Opposing the Confederates in the vicinity of the bridge was General Ambrose Burnside, whose IX Corps was positioned to the east of here, in the distance on the left side of this scene. However, because of poor coordination on the part of the Union commander, General George B. McClellan, Burnside received no orders until around 10:00 a.m., long after the fighting had begun on the northern part of the battlefield.

Despite the bridge being defended by only 500 Confederate soldiers, it took Burnside’s 4,000-man corps several hours to take the bridge, suffering about 500 casualties in the process. The Union forces finally took the bridge around 1:00 p.m., but Burnside delayed in moving his men, and they did not all cross until around 3:00 p.m. This gave the Confederates time to gather reinforcements, and rather than striking a decisive blow at the Confederate line, Burnside’s soldiers were faced with fresh Confederate soldiers commanded by A. P. Hill. The final portion of the battle occurred on the heights to the west of the bridge, to the right of where these photos were taken, and it was largely inconclusive, with Burnside’s soldiers managing to hold the bridge but unable to gain much ground.

The bridge came to be known as Burnside Bridge in his honor, although his actions here did face criticism. Some criticized his delays in moving his corps over the bridge, while others questioned whether the Union could have simply waded across the shallow creek, rather than making a costly and time-consuming effort to seize the bridge. Nonetheless, he was subsequently promoted to command of the Army of the Potomac in November, but he was ultimately dismissed after the disastrous Battle of Fredericksburg, which likewise involved a time-consuming crossing of a waterway.

The first photo was taken only days after the battle, by prominent Civil War photographer Alexander Gardner. Today, not much has changed here in this scene. The bridge is still standing, as is one of the trees from the first photo. Barely noticeable on the far left side of the first photo is a small sycamore tree, which now towers over the bridge in the present-day scene. It is the most famous “witness tree” at Antietam, and both the tree and the bridge itself are major landmarks here at the Antietam National Battlefield.

Burnside Bridge, Sharpsburg, Maryland

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The view looking west toward the Burnside Bridge over Antietam Creek in Sharpsburg, Maryland, in September 1862. Photographed by Alexander Gardner. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Civil War Glass Negatives and Related Prints collection.

The scene in 2021:

The previous posts have featured some of the most distinctive landmarks on the Antietam battlefield, including the Dunker Church and the Bloody Lane. However, probably the single most iconic landmark at Antietam is this stone arch bridge, which came to be known as Burnside Bridge after the battle. In addition to photographs such as the first one here, the bridge has also featured prominently in numerous paintings of the battle, and even on the reverse of a commemorative coin issues by the U.S. Mint in 1937.

This bridge had been built in 1836 to connect Sharpsburg and the nearby town of Rohrersville. Prior to the battle it was generally known as the Lower Bridge, and it crossed Antietam Creek about a mile to the southeast of the center of Sharpsburg. It was constructed of local limestone, with three arches that spanned the creek.

This previously obscure rural bridge became famous for the events of September 17, 1862, when the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia under Robert E. Lee clashed with the Union Army of the Potomac under George B. McClellan. It was part of Lee’s first large-scale offensive campaign, when he invaded western Maryland as part of an effort to weaken northern morale. Upon reaching Sharpsburg, he set up a defensive position line near the town, and his right flank was positioned here in the vicinity of the Lower Bridge, on the high ground on the opposite side of the bridge in these photos.

Despite having a significantly larger army than Lee, McClellan believed that the opposite was true, and he exercised extreme caution in his attack. He did little to coordinate the movements of his different corps commanders, so it resulted in a piecemeal assault that negated the Union’s significant strength in numbers. The fighting began early in the morning, with an attack on the Confederate left flank near the Dunker Church. After this stalled, the battle shifted to a sunken road that became known as the Bloody Lane. There, after hours of fighting, the Union finally dislodged the Confederates from their makeshift trench, but the heavy losses had made the perpetually risk-averse McClellan unwilling to take the initiative and make an aggressive pursuit.

In the meantime, the southernmost part of the Union line was the IX Corps, under the command of General Ambrose Burnside. He was positioned a little to the east of the Lower Bridge, across the river from the right flank of the Confederates. This portion of the Confederate army was potentially vulnerable, with so many men fighting further north against the attacks on the left flank. However, Burnside did not receive orders from McClellan until around 10:00 a.m. Burnside then used a portion of his corps to find a river crossing downstream to outflank the Confederates, while also making several ineffective charges at the bridge itself.

Despite having a significant numerical advantage, with over 4,000 Union soldiers compared to just 500 Confederate defenders, the Confederates held off Burnside’s corps throughout the morning and into the early afternoon. In the process, the Confederates suffered about 120 casualties, while also inflicting about 500 Union casualties before Burnside finally took the bridge around 1:00 p.m. But, it would take another two hours for Burnside to move his men across the bridge and prepare for a final attack on the Confederate line.

The many delays throughout the battle, combined with McClellan’s ineffective coordination of his generals’ movements, prevented what could have otherwise been a decisive blow against Lee’s army. There were also many who questioned Burnside’s decision to waste time trying to take the bridge, rather than simply having his men wade across the relatively shallow creek. Ultimately, these delays meant that Burnside’s attack on the Confederate flank was countered by the arrival of A. P. Hill at 3:30 with fresh Confederate reinforcements. The final portion of the battle was fought between Hill and Burnside on the hill beyond the bridge, eventually drawing to an inconclusive end around 5:30 p.m.

That evening, Lee withdrew his army and made his way back to Virginia. In abandoning his invasion, it made the Battle of Antietam a strategic victory for the Union, although McClellan had missed the opportunity to make it one of the greatest Union triumphs of the war. He also failed to pursue Lee’s fleeing army, and this decision, combined with his ineffectiveness at Antietam, ultimately led President Lincoln to dismiss him as commander of the Army of the Potomac in early November. And, despite the questionable decisions that Ambrose Burnside had made here at this bridge, Lincoln picked him to replace McClellan. Burnside’s time as commander would prove to be short lived, though, because he was in turn dismissed after his own debacle at the Battle of Fredericksburg in December.

The first photo here in this post was taken only days after the battle. The photographer, Alexander Gardner, arrived at the battlefield on September 19, and he spent the next few days documenting the carnage here. He took a number of photographs of the bridge, which had survived the battle relatively unscathed despite being at the epicenter of intense fighting for several hours. In fact, at first glance the photo does not seem to give the immediate impression that a major battle had just been fought there.

However, on closer inspection, the photo offers clues about what happened here. On the bridge itself, many of the wooden boards are missing from the tops of the walls on either side of the walkway. While some of these may have been damaged in the battle, many of them were removed after the battle and repurposed as makeshift grave markers. In the foreground of the first photo, running along the stone wall to the right of the bridge, is a row of temporary graves, each of which is marked by a board from the bridge. These graves had likely been freshly dug shortly before the photo was taken, and many of the graves are topped by large mounds of dirt.

Following the battle, the bridge reverted to its original use, and this continued well into the 20th century and into the age of automobiles. It finally closed to vehicular traffic in 1966, when a bypass was constructed. More recently, the bridge underwent a major restoration after a portion of one of the walls collapsed into the creek. This project involved resetting the stones and repointing the masonry, and the work was completed in the spring of 2017.

Today, the bridge is part of the Antietam National Battlefield, which is run by the National Park Service. It is one of the best-preserved Civil War battlefields, and the quiet riverbanks here at the Burnside Bridge are a must-see for any visitors. The graves from the first photo have since been relocated, but otherwise this scene looks largely the same as in the first photo, aside from additions such as monuments to the regiments who fought here. Among these is a small monument in the foreground to the 51st Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, which was one of the units responsible for taking the bridge. However, perhaps the most remarkable feature in the present-day scene is the large sycamore tree that towers over the bridge in the center of the photo. This is the same tree that was growing next to the bridge during the battle, as shown in the first photo, and it stands as the most famous “witness tree” here on the Antietam battlefield.