The Sweet Sadness of a Single Photo

So, that’s him. That’s Willet J. Rathbun. His youthful determination. His neatly combed hair. I felt a sweet sadness upon seeing his photograph for the first time. I first read my great-great-great-uncle Willet’s Civil War letters to home from copies my grandparents had when I was growing up. For years, I wondered what he looked like. In recent months, as I began detailed research of Willet, my curiosity grew. Archived military service records provide basic details such as height, weight, eye color, and complexion. But the record I found for Willet, a private in the 110th New York Infantry, that section was left blank. My father has been helping me with the research. He came across a site dedicated to the history and genealogy of the Rathbun/Rathbone/Rathburn family—whose many members are descended from John and Margaret (Acres) Rathbun landing in North American from England in 1654. The final edition of the family newsletter, which ceased publication in 1996, contained a cover feature on Willet. The article by my great aunt, with photo, ran under the headline, “Boy Soldier Dies at 19: Letters Kept by Family.” There was Willet. The Civil War was the first major conflict to be photographed extensively, according to the American Battlefield Trust. Photos showed Americans vivid images of the war’s death and destruction along with portraits of President Lincoln in others. Families and soldiers alike treasured photographs of their loved ones.

By the Civil War, photography was becoming accessible to the masses. A portrait may cost a Union soldier between 25 cents-$2.50. For many soldiers, the photo would be the only ever taken of them. Most of the photos were small—2.75 by 3.25 inches, according to Civil War Soldiers’ Portraits: The Liljenquist Family Collection. They could be easily carried or put into ornate frames. Soon after leaving home in 1862, Willet set out to have his photo taken. In a letter to his parents dated Sept. 7, 1862, he wrote: “I now set down to see if I can write after neglecting it so long. I have kept putting it off to see if I could get a chance to get my likeness taken. I haven’t had a chance since we left Oswego.” Willet then was at Camp Patterson in Baltimore and had not been granted leave to visit the photographer. Almost a month later, Willet wrote: “I have been to the city today and have got my likeness taken. I am sorry to say that I have bent it a little, but I will send it along before it gets any more… but you can see how I look.” His parents, Job and Electa Rathbun, surely treasured that image of their oldest son, then just 17. Much hardship awaited Willet after this photo, in Louisiana and finally Florida. Willet, or “Willie,” died of yellow fever at the age of 19 in the Union stronghold of Key West, Florida. After Willet’s death, his parents traded several emotional letters with Joseph W. Roberts, a shopkeeper in Key West who befriended Willet. Roberts had first written to Job and Electa to comfort them in their grief. On Dec. 16, 1864—exactly six months after Willet’s death—Roberts opened his letter to Willet’s parents with this: “Yours of the 28th came to hand yesterday with Willie’s picture enclosed for which I feel much obliged to you. When I saw the picture, I was forced to say, ‘How natural.’ It seems I could see him before me once more, as in days gone by. It seems he was talking with me once more…” Some 158 years later, I’m so grateful to see Willet. This is the first of occasional blog entries about the Civil War and my great-great-great-uncle, Willet Rathbun (1844-1864) of the 110th New York Infantry. I am researching Willet and his experience in the Civil War for a potential book.