FIRST DIVISION OF MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEER MILITIA, PASSING IN REVIEW, AT NORTH ABINGTON.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING-ROOM COMPANION [September 10, 1853]
The parade depicts events of an encampment that took place in North Abington, Massachusetts from August 16-18, 1853. The article makes little mention of the bands even though two are depicted in the engraving.
The Mighty Drum-Major
Harper’s Weekly [July 13, 1872]
Drawn by Julian Scott
Scott was a painter and drummer in the 3rd Vermont Infantry during the American Civil War.
Scott received the Medal of Honor in February 1865 for rescuing wounded soldiers while under enemy fire during the Battle of Lee’s Mills on April 4, 1862 as a part of the Siege of Yorktown.
Poem by Isaac I. Hayes
Hayes was an American arctic explorer who led an expedition north of Greenland from 1860-1861.
After arriving home, Hayes joined the Union army in the American Civil War and became the commanding officer at Satterlee General Hospital in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Following the war, Hayes became an author and politician, ultimately serving in the New York State Assembly.
Troiano commentary:
Since Scott was a member of the 3rd Vermont, I was curious if the band in the illustration could be the 3rd Vermont Regiment Band. There is an image of the 3rd Vermont band in the Mark Jones collection, but the uniforms do not appear to match.
The Mighty Drum-Major
O MIGHTY drum-major, with tassels and stripes on,
And bright scarlet coat, with its buttons of gold,
And a great silver globe at the top of his baton-
What a wonderful man in the good days of old!
Him only we saw when the soldiers paraded;
The colonel and major were nothing to see;
Beside him we ran through the streets until jaded-
A mighty great man, the drum-major, was he!
How majestic his air when be twirled round his baton!
How measured his tread, and how stately his walk,
When he marched through the town with his great shaggy hat on,
Hardly deigning to see us and never to talk?
Oh, dear to our hearts was the lofty drum-major,
Six feet in his stockings, if he wae an inch!-
The mightiest man in the town, I would wager,
And plank down my marbles the bargain to clinch.
O dreams of my youth-gorgeous visions of battle!
Nor glory nor scars call them back to my soul;
I've faced the wild charge and the musket's death-rattle,
But in dreams the drum-major eclipses the whole.
And the girl of my youth, whom I loved with each passion—
Just under her window he strode in his pride;
And her eyes sought his form la such worshipful fashion,
Mars filled all my heart while I ran by his side.
Was it music and color, the pageant, that caught her,
That flushed her fair cheek, thrilled her pulses with life?
My arm in a sling, crowned with honor, I sought her—
But alas! not drum-major-I found her a wife.
Sweet dreams of my youth! they are gone like the shadow ;
The smoke of the battle, the death-speaking roar,
Float faint o'er my fancy, like mists o'er the mendow:
So fades the drum-major-he moves me no more.