Lucius Manlius Sargent, Jr., was born in Boston, September 15th, 1826,--the son of Lucius Manlius and Sarah (Dunn) Sargent. He gave early evidence of much talent, and of a daring and impetuous nature. It is recorded of him as a child, that, when a friendly clergyman had taken him on his knee, and asked him what he meant to do in life, he answered, "I don't know, sir, whether to be a minister or a highwayman; but I should n't like to be anything half-way." On another occasion, having by accident fired in a upper chamber a pistol which he was forbidden to touch, and hearing the rush of the alarmed family on the stairs, he cautiously lowered himself a few feet, and then dropped from a third-story window, as the only method of gaining an instant audience of his kind old nurse in the basement, to whom he poured out his griefs, and then manfully walked up stairs to explain his offence, and receive punishment.
He had from childhood a great love of reading, a retentive memory, and a very ready imagination. He delighted in poetry, and wrote verses with great facilty. His instructors in preparation for college were Rev. W.A. Stearns; with Messrs. Charles K. Dillaway and Stephen M. Weld, and in 1844 he entered the Freshman Class of Harvard University.
In college he entered at once upon the rather perilous career which attends the class wit and satirist. In rhymes, bon-mots, and caricatures he had no rival; while his varied intellectual tastesm with his love of athletic exercises, and of gay society, furnished temptations to draw him away from the regular college studies. The paths of the class with and the class first scholar rarely coincide. Yet one of the first scholars in Sargent's class volunteers the testimony, that, "under an outside of apparent frivolity, he cherished a sincere respect for whatever was manly and true, and had many generous impulses."
He did not complete his undergraduate course wuth the Class of 1848, but received his degree 11 years later, after establishing an honorable reputation as a physician. During the intermediate period he had interested himself in a variety of pursuits, into each of which he threw himself for a time with his accustomed energy. Music, painting, astronomy, and practical seamanship occupied him in turn, he having in the last-named vocation made a voyage to Loverpool before the mast.
He was married, when barely 21, to Miss Letitia Sullivan, daughter of Jonathan Amory, Esq., of Jamaica Plain. After his marriage he fitted up a studio at his house and passed much of his time in the study and practice of art. This led him into the medical profession, in a manner best stated by Dr. B.E. Cotting, afterwards his professional instructor.
Hos other professional teachers were Dr. Jeffries Wyman and Dr. Henry J. Bigelow. He took his degree at Harvard Medical School in 1857, and was for a time House Surgeon at the Massachusetts General Hospital, and also Dispensary Physician. But the spirit of adventure was still strong in him, and at the outbreak of the war he was one of the first to volunteer for the post of regimental Surgeon, and was the first man commissioned in that capacity in Massachusetts. His regiment was the 2nd (Infantry), Colonel Gordon; he was commissioned May 28th, 1861, and remained with the regiment in Virginia, in the faithful discharge of rather monotonous duty, until October 9th, 1861, when he resigned, in order to accept the more congenial position of Captain in the First Massachusetts Cavalry (Colonel Robert Williams), to which he was commissioned on the last day of the same month. His elder brother, afterward Brevet BG Horace Binney Sargent, was then Lt. Col. of the same regiment.
The regiment was stationed in the Dept. of the South until August 19th, 1862, when 8 companies, including that commanded by Capt. Sargent, were ordered to the Army of the Potomac. From that time they took part in all the cavalry service in that region, and were especially engaged at Kelly's Ford, Sulphur Springs, Stephensburg, and Aldie. At the last action he was left for dead on the field, but subsequently revived and recovered. It proved that a rifle-ball had made a subcutaneous circuit of nearly one third of the chest, without further penetration.
Of the varied duties of a cavalry officer, those which best suited his temperament were of course the most stirring and dangerous. He had in him a large element of excitability,--a trait which, while often impairing steady discipline, may yet impart peculiar power on special occasions. Recklessly daring, he was in some respects well suited to the branch of the service he had chosen. To the strict routing of regimental business and order he was naturally less attracted. Yet he had the merit of adhering faithfully to his command, sharing the severest service and the poorest fare of his men; seeking neither promotion outside, not staff position, nor leave of absence. And he showed in some respects--as, for instance, in the temporary discontinuance of intoxicating drinks--a self-control hardly to have been expected from one of his general temperament, and one whose brilliant social powers exposed him to peculiar trials.
He was promoted as Major of his regiment,January 2, 1864; and became its Lieutenant-Colonel, September 30, 1864,--a little more than 2 months before his death.
The precise circumstances of his death have been variously stated; and the following account, derived from officers of the regiment, varies in some degree from that given in the Report of the Adjutant-General of Massachusetts. The hurried and broken character of cavalry engagements often renders it peculiarly difficult to secure accuracy of detail in narrating them. It appears that soon after the successful raid on Stony Creek Station, Virginia, as the division to which the 1st Massachusetts Cavalry was attached (part of the 5th Corps) was moving southward, the forces of the enemy were found strongly intrenched near Bellfield. The infantry has been left along the Weldon Railway, to tear up the track, while the cavalry was moving on, to distract the attention of the enemy. Lt.-Col. Sargent, with his regiment, was at the head of the column, and was just approaching some abatis through which the highway ran. Just then General Davies, the brigade commander, rode up and detached the rear squadron of the regiment in pursuit of some supposed scouts or pickets of the enemy. Capt. Teague, in command of the squadron, rode within range of the enemy's earthworks; and when the enemy opened upon them with shot and shell, he halted and formed line, seeing nothing more to pursue. At this moment Lt.-Col. Sargent rode hastily up and said, "Captain, general Davies orders that you--" and at this moment a piece of shell struck him in the shoulder, shattering it, and throwing him from his horse. Capt. Teague then drew back his men beyond reach of the fire, and sent a sergeant and four privates to bring in the wounded officer. During the transportation, he spoke a few words, but died within 2 hours of his fall. The event occured on the 9th of December, 1864.
It was afterwards ascertained that General Davies, when he heard the firing, had directed Lt.-Col Sargent to recall the advancing squadron, and that the latter, instead of sending an orderly, had gone himself. General Davies afterwards described the movement as "a most gallant charge, contributing greatly to the success of the late movements." Certainly to fall thus, sword in hand and in the face of the enemy, was the very death which Sargent's impulsive and daring nature would have chosen. "Had he lived," wrote his former commander, Col. Robert Williams, "I am sure that he would have added many additional laurels to those he had already gained."
"Art anatomy naturally led him to practical anatomy, and thence to medical science in general. Having decided to enter the profession, he made the business of preparation no half-way matter. His zeal was unbounded and his application unremitted. Nothing was too trivial to escape his rapid observation, nor too difficult to discourage his ardent enthusiasm. His progress was remarkable, and the position he attained unprecedented,--so that when he graduated he was already a man of mark, to whom the profession looked in full expectation of greater things in after days. The hospital created the office of Artist, to secure his services; and the Boston Society for Medical Improvement, at the earliest moment allowed by their constitution, elected him a member. He soon became one of the most prominent physicians of the section of the city where he was located; and a brilliant future seemed opening before him....To great physical strength he added the most delicate touch with the pencil, and the tenderest manipulation of the sick....But the chief obstacle to his medical career came from a source the last to be suspected by any one not intimately acquainted with his character,--extreme tender-heartedness. Fearless of gods and men, the plaintive weakness of a sick child appalled, and its death while under his care completely unnerved him."
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