Superb pairing of signatures from the protagonists in the 'Barlow-Gordon incident,' a poignant (though possibly apocryphal) story of old enemies coming together told amidst post-war reconciliation efforts. The lot includes two endorsement signatures clipped from Civil War-dated documents: an ink signature, "Francis C. Barlow," on a light blue 3 x 2.75 slip, dated May 25, 1863; and an ink signature, "J. B. Gordon," on an off-white 3.25 x 2.75 slip, dated March 22, 1865. In fine condition.
The famous story of the Battle of Gettysburg's 'Barlow-Gordon incident' is here told:
As John B. Gordon's brigade swept over the crest of Barlow's Knoll on the afternoon of July 1, 1863, Francis Barlow was struck by a Minié ball that passed through his torso and exited out his back, very near his spine. He fell to the ground paralyzed on all fours. As his troops were forced to evacuate the knoll, he could not be moved and had to be left behind. When Gordon rode to the top of the knoll, he noticed Barlow lying among the scattered Union corpses. Gordon stopped and dismounted. Gently lifting Barlow's head, he offered the apparently dying man a drink of water from his canteen. Barlow thanked him and asked Gordon if he could send word to his wife that he had died doing his duty, and Gordon promised to do so. Barlow was then carried to the Confederate rear, believing he would not last the night. As promised, Gordon sent a message to Mrs. Barlow assuring her of her late husband's heroic performance in battle.
But Barlow did not die. He slowly recovered and was eventually exchanged. A year later, after one of the many battles during the Overland Campaign in Virginia, he read in the papers about the death of Confederate General J. B. Gordon and assumed that it was the man who had shared his water at Gettysburg. In fact, it was a distant relative. Gordon recalls in his memoirs: 'To me, Barlow was dead; to Barlow, I was dead. Nearly fifteen years passed before either of us was undeceived. During my second term in the United States Senate, the Hon. Clarkson Potter, of New York, was a member of the House of Representatives. He invited me to dinner in Washington to meet a General Barlow who had served in the Union army. Potter knew nothing of the Gettysburg incident. I had heard that there was another Barlow in the Union army, and supposed, of course, that it was this Barlow with whom I was to dine. Barlow had a similar reflection as to the Gordon he was to meet. Seated at Clarkson Potter’s table, I asked Barlow: 'General, are you related to the Barlow who was killed at Gettysburg?' He replied: 'Why, I am the man, sir. Are you related to the Gordon who killed me?' 'I am the man, sir,' I responded. No words of mine can convey any conception of the emotions awakened by those startling announcements. Nothing short of an actual resurrection from the dead could have amazed either of us more. Thenceforward, until his untimely death in 1896, the friendship between us which was born amidst the thunders of Gettysburg was greatly cherished by both.'
