The Death of Hugh R

The Death of Hugh R. Miller at Gettysburg

Gregory Coco, in his book Wasted Valor: The Confederate Dead at Gettysburg, notes the only official correspondence between General Robert E. Lee and General George G. Meade was a letter in which Lee asked Meade as a personal favor to ascertain the condition of Col. Hugh R. Miller of the 42^nd Mississippi Regiment, who had been wounded and captured the preceding day during Pickett’s Charge. The letter is posted on the Web at http://www.gdg.org/leeletter.htm. Coco details how Col. Miller’s son, Edwin Miller, who was the Commissary Sergeant of the 42^nd Mississippi, stayed on the battlefield and allowed himself to be captured so that he could search for his father. Edwin stayed with his father for almost two weeks after the battle, when Col. Miller finally died while recuperating in a home in Gettysburg. Edwin and Rev. Thomas D. Witherspoon, the Chaplain of the 42^nd Mississippi, then persuaded the Union authorities to allow them to send Miller’s body across the opposing lines to be buried in Richmond. Few if any other Confederates who died at Gettysburg received such a favor. Col Miller was my great-great grandfather. The following are several original documents or excerpts, including those quoted extensively by Coco, which provide additional detail to this story.

Letter dated July 11, 1863 from George Miller to his mother, Susan G. Walton Miller[i] (original in the possession of Bob F. Thompson, Nashville, Tennessee)

Mrs. Russell’s Winchester Va

July 11th 1863

My Poor Mother,

As far as my maimed fingers will admit I will try and write you of the fate of all of us.

I sent you a dispatch as soon as they brought me here telling you of my terrible fear of my poor father’s loss and of my being wounded slightly in the hand and severely through the thigh and of my being here. I am afraid you may not yet receive the dispatch nor the letter written by Capt. Jones to Andrew Clarke in case you had left Uncle Eppa’s and followed us. Oh God grant you have not gone to Culpepper and missed us, for then I may not see you for weeks. Capt. Jones I told to write to Andrew Clarke all that we knew of my poor lost fathers fate, and he was requested to write to you immediately if you had gone from Cumberland. All we know of poor father is that he was left supposed to be mortally wounded on the field between the enemy’s lines and ours, that he said to one of our officers on leaving him, “I am wounded, and I fear mortally,” more than this I could not hear from anyone, but I fear that the worst is too-too terribly true. Our poor Eddy staid with Mr. Witherspoon to try to find him and either bring him back or at least inter him decently. They were left to stay with the wounded, left in the enemies hands, and intended asking permission of the enemy to search for him. They sent me off with the wounded and I have not heard anything since from them, Ma. God save my poor brother at least. My Dear Mother I entreat you bear up for the sake of those that are left--oh do not give way too much--do not utterly break down under this terrible blow or we may never see each other again. I have struggled alone wounded and I am back to Virginia upheld only by this hope and I stopped here with these kind friends when I could go no further, they have done all that a mother or sister could have done for me, and I am doing well enough as to my wound. We have some friends here from others. Miss Regts. Col Holder and Gwinn Cherry[ii] among them that could help us. I expect Mrs. Holder will come here and I hope you will come with her. Come soon I entreat you and take me away, too terrible to be here away from every one I know. I have lost all my socks and Eddy I fear all his as they are with the wagons and they are with the army. Get someone to come on with you and hasten on as fast as you possibly can. I have scratched on thus far but must send it off now or it will be too late. Oh I hope this at least may reach you.

I shall direct it to Mr. Clarke or John Carr and they will send it to you. My poor Mother Goodbye

I hope to see you soon.

Your affec son

George Miller

Poor Eddy may be taken to City Point and exchanged directly.

[This portion is crossed out .]

Will Mr. Clark or John Carr enclose this letter to my Mother upon receiving it? I fear she may not be in Cumberland and therefore direct to you thinking she would go to you for aid in getting to us. I am wounded.

Mr. Clark or J H Carr

Gentlemen

I have directed this letter to you as I feared that my mother had left Cumberland and it might not reach her there and I knew she would go to you for aid to come here. I had sent already a dispatch to her, and Capt Jones wrote to you for me, but fear they haven’t reached you and this induces me to write again to be certain. I am wounded severely in the thigh and left here because I could struggle on no farther. My poor father I fear dead and in the enemy’s hands, Eddy staid with Mr. Witherspoon to try and recover his body. Help my poor mother to get to me if you can and you have my heartfelt gratitude.

Yours

George Miller

Andrew B. Cross, United States Christian Commission (Andrew B. Cross, Battle of Gettysburg and the Christian Commission, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1865, quoted in Gregory A. Coco, Wasted Glory: The Confederate Dead at Gettysburg. Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, 1990, p. 119-120.)

In a fence corner just above us, among our men, lay Colonel Hugh R. Miller, of Pontotoc, Mississippi,… an eminent lawyer and judge of that State, shot through the left breast and right knee. We gave him a little wine and a cracker, which he took with great modesty, saying he was not dangerously wounded, but was thankful for our offer to write to his wife, Mrs. Susan G. Miller, at Sunnyside, Cumberland Co., Virginia. The surgeon told us his case was dangerous. Calling again after a short time to see if he would have anything, he modestly said: ‘ I am very much obliged to you, but give it to those around, who are worse, and need it more.’ On the 20^th we met his son in the office of Col. Alleman[iii], stating that his father was dead, and requesting liberty to accompany his body home.

Letter from Virginia Locke[iv] to Kate Wiley Miller[v] dated January 5, 1893 (original in the possession of Bob F. Thompson, Nashville, Tennessee)

A few days after the Battle of G. a Gentleman and Physician Dr. Harry Fraser of Charleston, S. C. called at Mrs. Myers House on Chambersburg St. opposite Dr. Horneys Drug Store and inquired for Mrs. Myers. Mr. Edwin H. Miller of Miss. who said he had been informed Mrs. Myers and daughter were the only persons in town who would risk taking in their house a wounded confederate. That his Father Col. H. Miller of 42nd Reg. Miss. had been shot through lung and was so nervous at the Pennsa. College Hospital,[vi] a quiet private house was desirable for his comfort. Dr. F. and he had obtained permission from General Commanding that Department if any private family would receive Col Miller a permit should be given them and that Mrs. Myers might receive them. So Col. Miller and Edwin came to our House. Col. Miller preferred the Room over Dining room. a porch on eastern side and dressing closet with room ajoining on account of quiet. He was able to sit up a portion of day read and see persons. Dr. Fraser sent a Miss Goldsboro (afterwards sent across the lines, married a Mr. Willison near Summit Point, Jeff Co. W. Va. now dead) a volunteer nurse from Balt. Md as many Ladies came and did for Confederates all that money supplied and love for cause could give. Miss G. went back and forth Col. Miller was bright looked well and we hoped would recover. A Doctor Papa from Baltimore-(German parentage) who gave time & sympathy to all Rebels a perfect gentleman staid with Edwin--occupied the spare room--near Col M. Dr. Papa afterwards married a Miss Anderson or Gordon of Savannah Geo. Gen. A. or G. daughter or Neice and when the cholera raged in N. Orleans the last time went as a nurse--and died a victim-- He was so good and Edwin never left him and when his Father died accompanied him as far as possible by comity. Every body came Southern visitors to see Col M. Brown--Banker from Balt. Col Magruder’s[vii] wife and Col M. son physician--friends every day. He eat one day some soup which did not seem to agree with him. Oh that which the Doctor feared internal hemmorhage of the Lungs--the wounded one occurred and he gradually sank--Died about eleven o clock A. M. his Body was embalmed and with his chaplain Dr. T. D. Witherspoon who came that day and two other Physicians to our House to see him. Dr. Ward I think the name. one of them of his Reg--all dined at our house. Dr. Witherspoon was there a day or longer. Paul C Morton Chaplain there some Sundays, but came first the day Col M died. Col M was willing to die read his Bible Blessed are chapter 5th St. Matthew he repeated and read. He with General Armsteads Body were the only two Confederates taken at that time away. The General in command gave orders everything that could be done must be done for Col M’s remains and for my Mother--Dr. W & E were sent with Body to City Point near Richmond where Exchange Boat met Edwin and Remains--placed in Mr. Davis vault in Holywood Rich. Col Gordon can inform you of rest.

Where Col Miller was wounded in Longstreets Division--he lay in fence corner and one of the Christian Commission Mr. Cross Minister offered him water from canteen but he refused asking them to give it to a Federal soldier lying near him wounded. He lost his gold glasses but they were found and given him. Did you have them and some gold and watch chain--have you them? I am confident Edwin had in his trunk when he left here--a small book with some account of Col Miller wounding on Battlefield. Have you it?

If I live to go back to Gettysburg and can find any view of where he was wounded will send Virginia. Please excuse this hastily written note for the children.

T.D.Witherspoon's Description of the Death of Hugh R. Miller, The Weekly Folio, Pontotoc Miss., Feb. 17, 1877, Vol. 1, No. 48 (original in the possession of Bob F. Thompson, Nashville, Tennessee)

RELIGIOUS HISTORY OF DAVIS’ MISSISSIPPI BRIGADE

by Rev. T. D. Witherspoon, D. D.

No. XX

But it was not of Col. Miller’s soldierly qualities I wished to write; but of his religious experience--that of which, since the death of her whom alone he admitted fully to a share of his thoughts and feelings upon religious subjects, and whose womanly devotion to him was so great that his death on the battlefield was soon followed by hers of a broken-heart--there is probably no one living who can speak so fully as myself.

From the time when I entered the Chaplaincy of his regiment, he was pleased to admit me to his full confidence and intimate association. For years before entering the army he had been seriously impressed with the necessity of a religious life, and, at times, almost persuaded to give himself up to it.

On several occasions during the earlier months of my chaplaincy he expressed a desire to become a christian. His Bible was with him on all his marches, and not only moments but hours were devoted to its perusal.

Never, however, until after the communion meeting at Ivor Station, did he give expression to his determination to devote himself to the life of a christian. How vividly the whole scene comes up before my mind! We had just broken camp at Ivor and set out upon the open campaign. He realized fully that stern work was before us. He had sent me some weeks before to take Mrs. Miller, who had been with him in camp, to her relatives in Cumberland County to remain until the close of the Summer campaign. We were riding together, one of the field officers having kindly lent me his horse for a little while, and I was telling him of my parting with Mrs. Miller, and of her saying as she pressed my hand at parting, “Oh, if my husband were only a Christian.” There was a long silence as we rode along. He seemed absorbed in thought. At length he said, “there has been a great change in my views and feelings lately. I felt on communion Sabbath as if I really longed to be with you at the table and I hope I shall be at the next, but I am so unworthy.” I looked up and there was a tear in his eye, the only one I ever saw there. We conversed together for half an hour and I left him without a doubt upon my mind that he was a true believer in Christ, though he was without the evidence he craved for himself.

After we had entered Pennsylvania, and only a day or two before the battle of Gettysburg, I was again riding in his company, and he was speaking of the impending battle. Said he, “I am fully convinced that only God’s help can gain us this battle. We must look to him. The odds are all against us.” I said, “I hope, Colonel, your personal trust is in Him.” “Yes sir, I believe it is. I have sought Him as a lost Savior--given myself up to Him, I don’t think there is anything I would not do to serve Him; but still I feel so unworthy.”

Oh , that 3rd day of July! that charge upon Cemetery Hill! My mind becomes bewildered as I think of it! My heart grows sad as I recall the brave and honorable ones that bit the dust in that fatal assault. And of them all none was nobler or braver than Hugh R. Miller.

He fell, mortally wounded, while charging at the head of his command and within a stone’s throw of the enemy’s works. It was impossible to bear him away and he fell a prisoner into the enemy’s hands. There he was found by his son a day or two afterwards and borne to the house of a kind christian family who were natives of Maryland and tenderly and skillfully nursed. The wound, which had at first been pronounced fatal, began to heal and the surgeons pronounced him out of danger and his arrangements were all being made to be sent through the lines in special exchange. During this interval of a week or more of convalescence, his mind was, as I learned from pious members of the household where he was entertained, constantly exercised on religious subjects. His son had informed him that I was within the Federal lines in charge of the wounded at the field hospital, and he had time and again expressed his great anxiety to see me. Not knowing where he was, I had searched through all the hospitals for him in vain, and had given up the hope of seeing him, when a messenger came for me, saying that secondary hemorrhage had ensued, and he was dying from his wound. I hastened to his side to find him already speechless. He asked the attendants again and again if I were not yet come. As I entered the room his face brightened up with a joyous smile, and evidently summoning all his energies to tell me something which he was anxious to communicate, but his lips were already sealed with death. He made a motion with his hand for pencil and paper and they were quickly given to him, but the fingers were too much benumbed to do the office of the lips. A shade of disappointment passed over his face. He had evidently been buoyed up by the hope of communicating with me. Not a moment was to be lost, for the life current was ebbing with every breath. I bent over him and whispered in his ear, “Shall I tell her, Colonel, that her prayers are answered, that you died happy, trusting in Christ?” A smile overspread the ashy face, the eyes kindled once more with a glance of intelligence, the lips slightly moved, and the head gently nodded assent. And then the eyes closed, and the pulse almost instantaneously ceased to beat, and over the cold clay lingered the smile which the last words he ever hear on earth had awakened.

Thomas Witherspoon’s account of the transportation of Hugh R. Miller’s body to Richmond (Thomas D. Witherspoon, “Prison Life at Fort McHenry,” Southern Historical Society Papers, Vo. VIII, February, 1880, No. 2). See also http://www.csa-dixie.com/prisoners/t50.htm

On the evening of the 4th of July, 1863, when it became apparent that the army of General Lee was in quiet and undisturbed retreat from its position before Gettysburg, I found myself in the midst of three or four hundred men of the brigade in which I served, who were too severely wounded to be transported to the rear. Two alternatives presented themselves, to leave these men in the hour of their distress, or to remain within the enemy's line. The decision was soon made; and the consent of superior officers having been obtained, I stood by the roadway waving adieu as the little remnant of the gallant brigade tramped silently and sorrowfully life; and then turned to the tenderest and saddest ministry of my life, as under open flies, on the bare ground, or a mere pile of straw, these gallant men lay heroically suffering or unconsciously moaning their lives away. For a few never-to-be-forgotten days this ministry was permitted me, and then our field-hospital was broken up, the few surviving wounded were removed to the field- hospitals of the Federal army, and the Confederate surgeons and chaplains transported to Northern prisons.

On the very day [July 19] before the order came to break up our field-hospital, tiding had come to us that the Colonel of the regiment which I served, Colonel Hugh R. Miller, was lying mortally wounded at private residence in Gettysburg and had expressed a desire to see me. I reached his bedside just in time to receive his dying expression of his faith in Christ and his readiness to depart. Through the generosity of the kind family (a Maryland family) at whose home Colonel Miller had been so assiduously and tenderly cared for, the services of an embalmer were secured, and the body skillfully embalmed and enclosed in a metallic case. The Commandant of the Port at Gettysburg, whose name I do not recall, but who was a true gentleman as well as a true soldier, on application being made to him to send the remains through the lines by flag of truce, did all he could to further this end. For he not only sent the remains to Baltimore in charge of one of the members of his staff, but he allowed Edwin Miller, the youthful son of the Colonel, and myself, his chaplain, to accompany the remains as escort with a letter to General [R.C.] Schenck, the commandant at Baltimore, requesting that we should be permitted to accompany the remains by flag of truce to Richmond.

The scene on the arrival at General Schenck’s headquarters in Baltimore was one that beggars description. The polite and gentlemanly Lieutenant who had accompanied us presented the letter from his superior officer, and it was handed to Colonel Fish, General Schenck’s Adjutant. He read it, and asked, “Where is the body?” The Lieutenant produced the receipt of the Adams Express Company, who had it in charge, and the Colonel, receiving it, handed it to one of his subordinates and said, “Go and get that body and have it buried.” “Where shall I bury it?” asked the surprised official--to which the answer was in substance that he did not care where, so as the body was put out of the way, adding that he had stood all that he was going to stand of this paying honors to Rebel dead.

Edwin Miller, overwhelmed with the thought of the dishonor about to be done to his father’s remains, plead most earnestly to be permitted to accompany the officer and see the remains interred, and it was only after a long interval, and through the intercession of friends of Colonel Fish, who were the witnesses to the boy’s agony, that he was permitted to accompany the remains to their sepulture, and have them place in a vault instead of being buried in the ground.

When the question of the disposition of the body had been finally settled, the Lieutenant in charge of us asked, "what shall I do with these men?" referring to Edwin Miller and myself. To which the reply was, "Let them go down to the guard-room." Now this guard-room was a dark basement room of the hotel in which General Schenck had his headquarters, provided with an iron door and small grated window to admit a little light, into which the provost guard emptied to the sweeping of the streets. Drunken soldiers, deserters, bummers, et id omne genus, constituted its ordinary population. Hence the Lieutenant was startled by the proposition, and said, "But this man is a minister of the gospel; you won't send him there?" "Why not," asked the now irate Colonel, "the preachers are more to blame for this war than any others. The best thing we could do would be to hang a few of them when we capture them." And so without further ceremony I was marched down by a sentinel to the guard-room. The iron door swung open and closed behind me, and I found myself, as the shadows of evening were coming on, in one of the vilest dens in which any respectable man ever spent the night

The ribaldry, blasphemy, obscenity of these poor half-drunken creatures was horrible. But not only so; there were among the prisoners one or two stout, stalwart Baltimore roughs, Irishmen, whose sympathies were with the South, and who, true to the openhearted instincts of their mother-land, were outspoken in their sentiments, and not at all averse to a submission of them to the arbitrament of battle. And so every now and then some drunken Federal soldier would cry out admits the darkness, "I can whip any man who is for Jeff. Davis." And from across the room would come, like an ominous echo out of the darkness, "Hurrah for Jeff. Davis." Then there would be a collision about the centre of the room, partaking at first of the character of a fisticuff between two, and then of a general melee with the idea of "wherever you see a head hit it," and a very painful foreboding that your own head might be the next one to attract the attention of some accommodating belligerent.

It is hardly necessary to say that there was no sleep that night, or that, squeezing as closely as possible into an angle of the room, and protected fortunately by a kind of breastwork made if the bodies of those who were too much overcome with liquor and sleep to take part in the engagement, I maintained a strict neutrality, keeping ingloriously silent even when some besotted blue-coat would move up menacingly towards me and dare me to "chirp for Jeff. Davis." Nor need I say how rejoiced I was when the morning came, and being abandoned now by all hope of return to the South, I was ordered to Fort McHenry, and the life enacted of which some account will be given in the following pages. …

All this, however, is merely by way of introduction to the old fortress, of whose hospitalities I was permitted, during the summer of 1863, to partake. At the time of my first introduction, it was used principally as a place of rendezvous for detachments of Confederate prisoners on their way to permanent places of imprisonment at Point Lookout, Fort Delaware, Johnson's Island, &c.

Prisoners brought in from the lines of the Army of the Potomac in small detachments were here assorted and sent away, the officers to Johnson's Island and Fort Delaware, the privates to Point Lookout, &c. - detachments being often held for a week or two until suitable arrangements could be made for them at some of the more populous, if not more popular places of resort.

Now it chanced that after the battle of Gettysburg a number of surgeons and chaplains found their way along with other prisoners to this point d'appui, having either been detailed for hospital service and left behind on the retreat from Pennsylvania, or having voluntarily remained with the wounded and dying of their commands.

If any one should ask me how it came that surgeons and chaplains were held as prisoners of war by the Federal Government, I can only answer that I do not know. In all civilized warfare surgeons and chaplains being considered as non-combatants and their mission being regarded as one of mercy, are not reckoned as prisoners of war, but, when captured, are released upon their own parole and sent into the lines of the army they serve. But I also know that I was captured in the afternoon of a beautiful Sabbath day, the 5th of July, 1863, in a hospital tent, on the battlefield of wounded on every hand, to whom I was ministering, and at whose urgent solicitation I had voluntarily remained within the enemy's lines.

I was sent, as already narrated, to the headquarters of General Schenck, and by him ordered to prison quarters at Fort McHenry, and although, through the influence of prominent citizens of Baltimore, General Schenck was induced to issue an order for my return to the South on the day following my incarceration, and I was actually taken on board the flag of truce boat to Old Point, yet orders were received at Fortress Monroe to return me to prison, and after a fortnight's confinement in Fort Norfolk I was returned to Fort McHenry, and kept there as a prisoner until, through the unwearied intercession of Colonel Ould, our humane and courteous Agent of Exchange, a cartel was arranged by which we could be exchanged.

Without stopping, however, to inquire into the hows and wherefore of this vexed question, suffice it to say that at the time to which I refer about a hundred surgeons, with some thirteen or fourteenth chaplains, had been collected from various points and were incarcerated at Fort McHenry. As they constituted a somewhat anomalous class, being neither, strictly speaking, officers nor privates, they could not properly be assigned to any of the permanent places of imprisonment, and therefore it was resolved to retain them as the special quests of the prison to which they had first been brought.

Letter dated July 24, 1863 from Mary C. Magruder[viii], Baltimore, Maryland, to Lt. Frank N. Farquhar, General Foster’s staff, Fortress Monroe, Virginia (original in the possession of Bob F. Thompson, Nashville, Tennessee)

Lieut. Frank N. Farquhar

Engineer Corps U. S. Army

Gen. Fosters Staff

Fortress Munroe, Va.

Baltimore

July 24th 1863

Lieut. F. N. Farquhar U. S. Army

My dear Sir:

This letter will be presented to you by Mr. Edwin Miller of 42nd Miss. Regt. who with his friend Rev. Mr. Witherspoon accompanies the remains of his father Col. H. R. Miller to City Point via Ft. Munroe[ix]. Gen. Morris at Ft. McHenry recommended his release on parole under the sad circumstances & Gen. Schenck approved it. I much fear some delay at Ft. Munroe & Mr. M. is so anxious to return to his sick & widowed mother that I shall esteem it a special favor to me in my own affliction if you will do all in yr power to facilitate their progress & procure them such priviledges as the rules of war permit.

Trusting to yr kind heart & the kind feelings, which I believe have always existed between us I remain

Yrs. very truly

Mary C. Magruder

64 Courtland St.

Parole of Edwin Miller (original in the possession of Bob F. Thompson, Nashville, Tennessee)

Head Quarters

Fort McHenry Md

July 24th 1863

I the undersigned Prisoner of War, do give my parole of honor, that I will not take up arms again, nor serve as a military police or constabulary force in any fort, garrison or field-work nor as guards of prisons, depots or stores, nor to discharge any duty usually performed by soldiers, until exchanged under the provisions of the Cartel entered into July 22d 1862, and I further pledge myself to report to Colonel Ludlow, at Fortress Monroe, Va. without any unnecessary delay

Edwin Miller

Private Co. A 42nd Miss Regt.

Witness

Gouverneur Morris

1st Lt. 5th N.Y. Arty.

and Commissary of Prisoners

Thomas D. Witherspoon’s unfinished account of the arrival in Richmond of the remains of Col. Hugh R. Miller (Original in the Thomas Dwight Witherspoon Papers, William L. Clements Library, University of Michigan):

On the afternoon of a stormy day in July 1863, whilst a cold penetrating rain was driving along the sheets and rattling against the window-panes of your beautiful city, four men might have been seen standing near the door of an Express Car, at the Northern Central Depot, as the multitudinous packages of every size and description were being transferred and assigned to their various destinations. The subdued and silent demeanor of the little group contrasting strongly with the boisterousness and commotion of the crowd around them would have assured you at once that they were upon some painful errand, nor would one acquainted with the then daily transpiring have been long in doubt as to the significance of the scene before him. A few minutes later, a plain burial case of wood was drawn to the door transferred to a wagon which was ready to receive it and borne away to the general office of the Express Company in the city. The case contained all that was mortal of the gallant Col. Hugh R. Miller, the commander of the 42^nd Miss. Regt. who had fallen at the head of his command on the 3d day of July in the heroic but fatal charge upon the Cemetery Height at Gettysburg. The arrival of such a casket was but too common an occurrence at that time to excite any unusual interest. But these four men constituted a group so eminently characteristic of the times that we must stop to dwell on it a while.

First there, as the central figure in the group, stood a boy of apparently sixteen summers of slender form and almost womanly delicacy & beauty of feature , his neat by almost threadbare uniform of Confederate grey, buttoned closely about him to shield him from the pelting rain. The quivering of the lips & the occasional tremor which passed over the lender form, telling of the mute agony of the boy whose form had stood unflinching amidst all the storm of the three days battle of Gettysburg, but who now found himself unmanned with the thought that he must bear home to his mother at once the tidings of her loss & the fearful confirmation of it.

On his right stood the speaker of this evening,

Letter dated July 30, 1863 from E. H. Brown to Susan G. Miller (original in the possession of Bob F. Thompson, Nashville, Tennessee):

Thursday July 30 1863

My dear Mrs. Miller.

I fear my many duties as clerk in my husband’s office may prevent my seeing you to-day. May I not offer you my sincere sympathy in this sore bereavement, and my heart-felt wishes that God would comfort & bless you? He only can speak words of cheer in such seasons, & bid us rejoice in the midst of deep sorrow.

Dr. Moore kindly lent me his sermon last night to copy some of it for Col. Mosley. I thought perhaps you would like to have the closing tribute, & I enclose it. I hope you are better & your sons also. Call on us if we can aid you at all. Hoping to see you tomorrow.

Very truly your friend,

E. H. Brown

--------------------------

Closing sentences of Dr. Moore’s sermon, delivered July 30, 1863, at the funeral of Col. H. R. Miller of 42 Miss. Reg. (original in the possession of Bob F. Thompson, Nashville, Tennessee)

“To many here present, to the speaker, the man to whom we come to pay this tribute of respect was comparatively unknown. But his eulogy has been uttered by one who knew him long and well (a laudass, a laudato) and as he said of him, no braver or better man has fallen on those many fields where so many brave and good men have died for their country in this mighty struggle. Occupying a high position in the state where he resided, and surrounded by many circumstances which others might have regarded as exemption him from the call to arms, he promptly took his place in the ranks, at the summons of his country, and has bravely, patiently, and untiringly done his duty until his career has ended on the fatal field of Gettysburg.

Although he never made a personal profession of religion, his reverence and attention to the precepts were such that he was often regarded as a member of the church, and doubtless for years, the spirit of God has been leading him by a path he knew not. And during that interval that elapsed from his wound to his death, he gave full & satisfactory expression of his trust & hope in a crucified Redeemer, so that his latter end was peace. The last utterance that came from his dying life was one of hope and trust in his heavenly Gather. Those who knew him most intimately can trace the gradual & silent preparation of his soul for its final summons for months past, & have no doubt that his brave and manly spirit is now at rest, where the noise of battle, and the scenes of human strife can never reach him in that better country where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

He is now to be laid far from the sunny fields of his distant home to repose among strangers, until his honored dust can be taken to sleep with that of his kindred. But the memory of his unbending integrity, his unselfish patriotism, and his unfaltering courage shall pass into that common heritage of glory, that belongs not to one state or section, but to the whole of that broad land that is now passing through its ordeal of fire.

May the memory of his virtues and gallantry awake many a young heart to emulate his virtues, and may that God who alone can console the stricken wife and mother, who has been left so desolate, so sanctify this stroke to her fatherless children, that she may find in their virtues and piety, a comfort for her lonely spirit, that shall cheer it until that hour shall come when he may join the loved and lost of earth in the unending blessedness of heaven.”

Resolution of the 42nd Mississippi Regiment (original in the possession of Bob F. Thompson, Nashville, Tennessee)

Headquarters 42nd Miss Regt

Davis Brigade bivouac on the Rapidan River

August 15th A.D. 1863

The officers of the 42nd Miss Regt having assembled for the purpose of expressing their feelings in reference to the death of their late Col. Hugh R. Miller, the following proceedings were had. - the meeting was organized by calling Maj. R.L. Taggart surgeon to the chair. When motion being seconded Oliver C. Carr, Adjt was appointed secretary. A committee of four was appointed to draft suitable resolutions, consisting of Capt A.M. Nelson, Comdg. Regt, Capts J. N. Powell, J.J. Meeks, and L.P. Cooper. On motion the chairman was added to the committee.

The committee reported the following preamble and resolutions which were unanimously adopted to wit:

Whereas among the many sad casualties of this fierce and cruel struggle for constitutional liberty, it has pleased the of events to call on the people to mourn their most gifted and promising leaders, who from time to time have fallen in the contest, and whereas he has seen fit to remove from the scene of his active usefullness Col. Hugh R. Miller, 42nd Regt Miss Vol,

Therefore, Resolved: that in the death of Col Miller, the Confederacy has lost a gifted and promising son, - the cause of our independence a true, devoted and fearless leader, and his family the most affectionate husband and father.

Resolved 2nd that by his learning and incorruptible integrity as a jurist he commanded the highest respect and confidence of his profession and the people of his state - by his courteous, dignified and polite bearing as a gentleman, and his warm hearted kindness and unselfish generosity as a neighbor he was an ornament to society, and doubly endeared to his friends.

Resolved 3rd that by his thorough and undivided consecration of himself and his talents to his country from the commencement of her persecutions to his death on the memorable and bloody field of Gettysburg, he made the unblemished record of a patriot, that will constitute a rich legacy to his children and canonize his name with departed heros,

Resolved 4th that we, the surviving officers of his regiment most deeply deplore his loss, and will ever hold in sacred remembrance his worth as an officer, a friend and a gentleman.

Resolved 5th that we tender to the family of our lamented col. assurance of our sincere sympathy and condolence.

Resolved 6th that these proceedings be published in the Richmond

papers - and the Memphis Appeal.

Oliver C. Carr, Secr'y R.L. Taggart, Chairman

Letter dated December 21, 1863 from Rev. Thomas D. Witherspoon to Susan G. Miller (original in the possession of Bob F. Thompson, Nashville, Tennessee)

Camp 42nd Miss near Orange C. H.

Dec 21st 1863

My dear friend:

The enclosed letter sent to my care has been for a long time in the hands of Captain Cooper, but through some mistake the letter containing it was not handed me until day before yesterday. I have been intending to write to you every day since I reached Camp but have been prevented by the constant confusion & bustle incident to such a life as that we hare now leading. We have only one small tent for the Regimental, Medical & chaplains headquarters, so with the crowd always collected on business of some kind, or visiting some of us there is but little time given for writing or reflection. My thoughts have been very often with you since I come away, hoping that the slight improvement in your health during my stay might prove to be the earnest of your complete restoration to health, yet fearing that it was only the excitement of my hurried visit & that after I had gone, you would again feel keenly the power of the disease. Oh how gladly I should have remained with you longer if it had been at my option to do so. How happy I should be in any way possible to minister to your comfort & relieve the weariness of long & painful sickness. I have learned to think of you as a mother for his sake, who amid all the trials & deprivations of the camp, treated me ever as if I were a son. I cannot tell you how much I miss him now. There is a vacancy in my heart, there is a vacancy in the hearts of the men--there is a vacancy in the command of the Regiment which cannot be filled. We shall never have another officer so active & vigilant, another leader so brave & true, another Colonel so much respected & admired, and I greatly fear we shall never again have a Regiment so thoroughly drilled & disciplined as that in which our lamented Colonel once took such a just & honest pride. All the men speak of him affectionately. All lament his death & long for some way to shew their appreciation of his worth.

We have just received official notice that Col. Moseley’s resignation is accepted. We have also a report in camp that Maj. Feeney is dead but I trust this report may not be true. There will be a great contention for seniority amongst Captains & we do not know how the issue between them will be decided. Cpt. Locke has gone home on furlough, his would is still troubling him.

We have just received the sad intelligence of the death of Edward Miller, son of the late Rev. Jno. H. Miller[x], killed in battle & his remains left in the hands of the enemy. How distressing to this afflicted household. Truly God’s footsteps are in the great deep. We cannot comprehend his doings, but it is the part of faith to sit meekly & lean upon the arms of the Lord though it be in the dark. We know that He doeth all things well--that he doth not willingly grieve or afflict & therefore we should not faint under his chastisements, but gather strength from his premises & fortitude from his throne of grace, glorifying him even in the furnace of affliction, and striving by every visitation of his rod to be drawn nearer to Himself.

Of the state of religion in the Regiment I am not able as yet to say much as the weather has been so inclement since my return as to prevent me from mingling much with the men. On yesterday & the Sabbath before the attendance on preaching was very large & from other indications, I think there is still a deep interest. Tomorrow we move to our permanent quarters for the winter which will be three miles beyond Orange C. H. On the wagon road to Gordonsville. It is spoken of as an excellent location with plenty of wood, water etc. When we get a little time we purpose building a chapel & hope to have regular service all the winter. Oliver is quite well, has made application for furlough & is very impatient to get home--Dr. T. & Capt. N. are also well. They are all asleep or I know they would send messages. My only chance to write is at night after every thing is at rest in the camp & my candle gives so dim a light that I can scarcely see where I write. As we are to be up very early in the morning &move by then the new encampment, I must close making this my excuse for not writing a longer & more satisfactory letter. Give my love to George & Eddie. I trust you may be comforted in seeing them each brought into the fold of Christ, through the sore affliction which the Lord has sent upon you & upon them. May His gracious spirit, the promised comforter dwell richly in your heart, soothing the wounds for which earth has not remedy or balm. With kind regards to the members of the household & heartfelt prayers for you & yours

Your true friend & brother,

T. D. Witherspoon

Hugh R. Miller’s wife, Susan G. Walton Miller, died January 10, 1864, at the home of her uncle, Epaphaditus Hobson, at Sunnyside, Cumberland County, Virginia. Her remains were also buried initially in Richmond, alongside her husband. After the Civil War, George and Edwin Miller had their parents’ remains reburied in Lot 156, Aberdeen Cemetery, Aberdeen, Mississippi, where they are located today.