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Scott, Lucian

MILITARY SERVICE

Age: 21, credited to Eden, VT
Unit(s): 1st VT CAV, 4th US ARTY, US CAV
Service: Battery 4, 4th US ARTY, 1861; unidentified US CAV unit, at least 1862; enl 9/9/64, m/i 9/9/64, Pvt, Co. M, 1st VT CAV, pow 11/22/64, prld 2/15/65, m/o 6/21/65

See Legend for expansion of abbreviations

VITALS

Birth: 10/21/1842, Johnson, VT
Death: 07/19/1894

Burial: Whiting Hill Cemetery, Johnson, VT
Marker/Plot: Not recorded
Gravestone researcher/photographer: Deanna French
Findagrave Memorial #: 20396989

MORE INFORMATION

Alias?: None noted
Pension?: Yes, 7/21/1870
Portrait?: Unknown
College?: Not Found
Veterans Home?: Not Found
(If there are state digraphs above, this soldier spent some time in a state or national soldiers' home in that state after the war)

Remarks: Brother of Julian Scott, MOH recipient

DESCENDANTS

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BURIAL:

Copyright notice

Tombstone

Whiting Hill Cemetery, Johnson, VT

Check the cemetery for location/directions and other veterans who may be buried there.



Lucian Scott

Lucian Scott enlisted in Battery F, 4th U.S. Artillery, in Albany, NY, within days of Lincoln's initial request for troops. This first letter reflects that service. The second letter appears to indicate he served in a regular (U.S.) cavalry unit for some period of time, at least in 1862. In September, 1864, he enlisted in the 1st Vermont Cavalry, during which service he was taken prisoner and incarcerated at Libby Prison in Richmond from December 1864 to February 1865. In his brother Julian's biography, author Robert Titterton says "Lucian almost starved to death at Libby; the experience completely shattered his health. He began to suffer epileptic seizures, sometimes three and four a day." *

LAMOILLE NEWSDEALER. NOVEMBER 18, 1861

The following is an extract from a letter from a son of C. W. Scott, of Johnson. Mr. Scott has our thanks for the privilege which he gives us of publishing it.

CAMP NEAR MUD BRANCH, MD.

NOVEMBER 11TH, '61

******I have got so now I care no more for my life than I do for a snake's.

My birthday this year was the most remarkable of any other of my life. I was killed, as it were, and came to life again. You have probably heard of the disastrous battle of Ball's Bluff. I shall have to tell you of a little incident that occurred to me there.

About one o'clock in the morning of the 21st of October, the whole company was roused up to get ready to march in half an hour. Sometime in the P.M. we got to Conrad's ferry. The battle was going on the other side, but we could not get our battery over----there was no commander to head things.----the scows were kept on the Virginia shore and no re re-enforcements could get over. Six of us cannoniers with Sergeant Driscoll got a little boat from the canal into the river and went over to Harrison's Island.----here we met some men with the body of Gen. Baker and several wounded officers. A man told us there were two howitzers on the field in front of the Massachusetts 15th, where the cannoniers were all shot and no one could work them. We launched our skiff and rowed over as soon as possible --- climbed the steep bank --- turned to our left --- went through the woods keeping hold of hands (the smoke was so dense and the bark flew up so-torn by the balls, we might get astray) We passed over any quantity of dead and wounded men, of the Mass. 15th, strewn through the woods. We soon came to the shattered ranks of the Mass. 15th, still standing their ground under a fire from the rebels ten times more than they could return. We were shown the howitizers, which were some rods in front of our lines --- we rushed up, supported by several Mass. Boys and commenced firing canister. The Mass. Boys cheered by again hearing the roar of artillery on our side, rallied, closed ranks and advanced to us. We had fired but a few shots when the rebels, re-inforced, poured tremendous fire into us and advanced. When their bayonets became visable through the smoke we in with a double canister. I primed the vent. No 4 fired the gun too soon --- it recoiled and knocked me senseless. The last I remember was to see the fire leave the muzzle of the piece and the glistening of the rebel muskets hust coming through the smoke. When I came to I raised my head --- the two howitzers were there --- the field was strewn dead and all kinds of implements of war. The wounded were all taken away. It was just twilight. I raised myself with difficulty. I was so weak I could scarcely walk. My head ached and was dreadfully swollen where the cannon hit me. I went toward the river --- on seeing a rebel picket near where we crossed, I turned up the river around him. I saw many dead bodies by the landing where our forces retreated. I went up the river about a mile --- coming to some hay stacks and seeing no one I got between them, and the night being rather cloudy and warm, I soon fell asleep. I waked up twenty or thirty times with a severe pain in my head and shoulders. If I had not been most dead with fatigue I could not have slept at all. After a long long time morning dawned and with it came rain, a slow steady rain and a cold wind was kept up all day. In the course of the dreadful long day I put my hand into my pocket for my knife. I found not only that gone but my purse containing a $10 dollar gold piece --- some rebel was tickling over that. My memoranda book with $10 more were safe in my inside pocket. I wondered why they did not take my boots, as they were a new, long legged $7 pair. Towards night, as the storm continued, I had one of two things to choose --- give myself up to the rebel picket or swim the Potomac. They were so near I heard them halloa to our men to come over and take our Yankee dirt off their virgin soil. I was very weak and faint with hunger, yet I decided to swim if I drowned, rather than to lay in some southern slave-pen-prison. I stripped and waded in as far as possible, then swam --- turning on to my back frequently to rest. I finally reached an island about midway the river and feeling myself up by the bushes I lay on the shore about two hours. I was so weak I could not stand. The current had taken me down the river near where the rebel pickets were. While I lay there, their picket on the island went back to the Virginia shore. I crawled up the bank --- it was dark and cloudy with a fine misty rain. I worked my way to some cornstalks --- crawled in as well as I could --- shivered the night through with a soldiers overcoat on, which I picked up in the island and busied myself by knowing corn all night. Morning came, cold and clear with a severe wind. In the course of the night several shells were thrown over. They roared through the air just over my head and struck and exploded on the Virginia side. Early in the morning I could see our men on the Maryland side getting down near the water. I put myself where they could see me. I was too weak to hollow. The sun was two hours high when I saw a boat leave the Maryland shore and push toward me. A body of men were stationed right opposite with their guns all ready to cover the boat. I cannot describe my joy when I saw they were two fellows from my own section. They said our section of two pieces were stationed near the canal on picket. We crossed. I ate as much as I ought at first, warmed and dressed. At night we went back to headquarters and the whole brigade moved to Edward's Ferry. When we got to Edward's Ferry I could see our camp fires all over that part of Virginia that was visable. We had 10,000 men over. We planted our battery on the heights over the Ferry. The next morning when I waked up every one of our troops had re-crossed. There was a feint to draw the rebel troops this way. Oct. 27th we moved to this place.

Our great Naval Expedition is doing good service. They will have Charleston before long.

Yours, &c.,

Lucien Scott


LAMOILLE NEWSDEALER: JUNE 13, 1862

The following is an extract from a letter from Lucien Scott to his father, in Johnson, dated at Woodstock, Va. April 14th. Though not new, its account of personal adventures will be interesting.

I had a little brush with one of them about ten miles from the field. I saw a rebel running from one piece of woods to another. I gave chase. He loaded and fired at me three times, but I was going so fast the balls went whistling far behind me. We were both making for the woods, but he was so much nearer he got the best of me; He fired the third time just as he got into the woods. I had already fired six times with my navy revolver, but riding so fast made my aim inaccurate, and they did not seem to take effect. I was now near the woods, and my horse seemed to know what was going on, had rated his speed at 2--40. so I could not check him, and we went dashing into the woods to the left of where the rebel went in. I turned to the right as soon as possible, and came right upon the rebel, in the act of loading his gun. I pointed my revolver, which was empty, just as though I was going to shoot him on the spot. He screamed for mercy, and begged for his life. I told him he had tried to take mine. He pulled up his pant leg and showed a severe flesh wound, saying I had paid him enough for it. I took him along, thinking Banks would compliment me when I got him up to headquarters. We had not gone far when I saw four af Ashby's cavalry coming around the the point of the woods, near where we were going. I thought then we were surely cut off. I began to hesitate what to do, while my prisoner looked frightened, probably wondering whether I was going to finish him before leaving; but I had no time to waste. A plan was formed quick as thought. I turned my horse and walked him quietly back into the woods as though they were not noticed, and when under cover of the woods, I took a circultous route to the right -- then the double-quick, and got back on the Strasburg road about dark, and after about an hours search, found our camp.

Almost every house on the road contains some wounded rebel soldiers, and every house we saw, we would run in and see what and who might be there. In one of the houses there were three wounded rebels, and at lookig at one pretty sharp it seemed as though I had seen him before but who was it but the very man that had the chase with me the day before. He had gone two miles from the spot, and had to stop on account of his leg. We had a long and quite an interesting talk about matters and things, and told him that when I took him prisoner in the woods, that my revolver was empty; we had a good laugh over the affair, and then we went along.

You want to know what sort of fellows my associates are? Regulars are enlisted for the mounted service in Baltimore, New York City, Albany, Boston, Louisville, Buffalo, and Carlisle Barracks.Pa., so you see there are the rakings and scrapings of the whole world. The most of our company are American born, the next are Irish, third, German, a few Prussians, Scotch, English, French, and one Russian, two Danes, one Italian, &c.. my bunk mate is Herman Richter, about 20 years of age, and born in Saxony, Germany. His parents are nobles. He is well educated- can speak seven different languages. He got a pass from the King of Prussia to be absent in this country two years. He has traveled over several countries, and came here in 1860. When his pass was out, rather than go back, he enlisted in the United States service. If he ever returns he will be imprisoned for not living up to his pass. They are all good fellows, but we will rob rebel hen-roosts and bee-hives. A milk house or a spring house full of niceties, is quite acceptable, when we can get in without the owner knowing it, and to come right down to the point, we are no better then thieves or robbers when we can find rebel property.

Obituary

NEWS & CITIZEN: JULY 26, 1894

The funeral services of Lucian Scott were conducted by the G.A.R. Post, of which he was a member. The three ministers of this place assisted in the service. His death occurred suddenly Thursday morning, the result of a fall while in a fit.

...

Lucian Scott will be generally missed, but probably by John Stewart more than anybody else.

Letters and obituary submitted by Deanna French.

* Robert J. Titterton, "Julian Scott: Artist of the Civil War and Native America," (McFarland & Co., Jefferson, NC, 1997), p. 62.