A large man, finely proportioned with a most graceful carriage, and
self-poise, and withal handsome, thus had nature endowed Winfield Scott
Hancock, who was born in the county of Montgomery, Pennsylvania,
February 14, 1824.
In 1844 he graduated from West Point with honor, and served with
distinction in the war with Mexico, where he was commissioned
lieutenant. Until the breaking out of the civil war he was stationed
with his division in various parts of the country. Being recalled to
Washington, he was commissioned a brigadier-general of volunteers, and
served with great valor during the Peninsula campaign. For this and
other meritorious conduct he was made a major-general, and commanded a
division at the great battles of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville.
But in the great and decisive battle of Gettysburg Hancock won his
greatest laurels. General Meade, his commander, sent him to the field of
Gettysburg to decide if battle should be given there, or if the army
should fall back to another position. Hancock reported that Gettysburg
was the proper place, and thus the little hamlet became famous in
history; two days of terrific fighting passed; the afternoon of the
third day arrives and the final charge is made upon the division
commanded by Hancock.
About one o'clock one hundred and fifty-five guns suddenly opened on
that one division. For two hours the air was fairly alive with shells.
Every size and form of shell known to British or American gunnery
shrieked, whirled, moaned, whistled and wrathfully fluttered over the
ground, says Wilkinson. "As many as six in a second, constantly two in a
second came screaming around the headquarters. They burst in the yard;
burst next to the fence where the horses belonging to the aids and
orderlies were hitched. The fastened animals reared and plunged with
terror. One horse fell, then another; sixteen lay dead before the
cannonade ceased. Through the midst of the storm of screaming and
exploding shells an ambulance driven at full speed by its frenzied
conductor presented the marvelous spectacle of a horse going rapidly on
three legs, a hind one had been shot off at the hock. A shell tore up
the little step at the headquarters cottage and ripped bags of oats as
with a knife. Another shell soon carried off one of its two pillars.
Soon a spherical case burst opposite the open door, another tore through
the low garret, the remaining pillar went almost immediately to the howl
of a fixed shot that Whitworth must have made. Soldiers in Federal blue
were torn to pieces in the road and died with the peculiar yell that
blends the extorted cry of pain with horror and despair."
"The Union guns," says Barnes, "replied for a time, and were then
withdrawn to cool." Probably the experience of the veteran troops knew
that they would soon be needed for closer work. The men lay crouching
behind rocks and hiding in hollows, from the iron tempest which drove
over the hill, anxiously awaiting the charge, which experience taught
them, must follow. Finally the cannonade lulled, the supreme minute had
come, and out of the woods swept the Confederate double battle-line,
over a mile long, preceded by a cloud of skirmishers, and with wings on
either side to prevent its being flanked. This was Lee's first charge,
and upon it depended, as subsequently seen, the rise or fall of the
Confederate cause.
A quarter of a mile away, and a hundred guns tore great gaps in the
line, but the men closed up and sternly moved on. A thrill of admiration
ran along the Union ranks as silently and with disciplined steadiness,
that magnificent column of eighteen thousand men moved up the slope,
with its red battle-flags flying, and the sun playing on its burnished
bayonets. On they came on the run. Infantry volleys struck their ranks.
Their ranks were broken, and their supports were scattered to the winds.
Pickett's veterans and A. P. Hill's best troops went down. Out of that
magnificent column of men, only one-fourth returned to tell the story.
Three generals, fourteen field officers, and fourteen thousand men were
either slain or captured. This was the supreme moment of the war; from
that hour the Confederate cause waned and slowly died.
All honor to Hancock, the hero of Gettysburg, who was borne bleeding
from the field, not to resume active service until March, 1864, when he
took a leading part in the battles of the Wilderness, Spottsylvania
Court-House, North Anna, the second battle of Cold Harbor, and in the
operations around Petersburg. After the war was over he was placed in
command of the Middle Department, the Department of Missouri, of
Louisiana and Texas, of Dakota, and on the death of General Meade,
promoted to command the Department of the East, which position he held
at his death.
In 1868 he was a very prominent candidate for the Democratic nomination,
receiving 114-1/2 votes, but after an exciting contest, Horatio Seymour
was nominated on the 22nd ballot. The next year he was tendered the
Democratic nomination for Governor of his native State, but respectfully
declined.
In 1880 he accepted the nomination from the same party for the highest
honor within the gift of the party, but in the subsequent election was
defeated by James A. Garfield, the Republican nominee. His last
conspicuous appearance in public was at the funeral services of General
Grant, where he acted as marshal of ceremonies. Scarcely six months were
passed when we were startled with the news: Hancock is dead, and on
February 13th, 1886, with military honors, but no elaborate display, he
was laid at rest beside his father and beloved daughter. No long line of
troops, no sound of dirges, no trappings of woe, marked the funeral of
General Hancock. The man who had received the nomination of a great
party for the highest honor in the nation's gift, who had turned the
fortunes of many a battle, and whose calm courage in the midst of death
had so often inspired the faltering regiments, was laid at rest quietly,
without pomp or vain show, at Norristown, Pennsylvania.