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George Dearborn


The inscription reads:

In memory of
George Dearborn
Born July 9, 1836
Died July 8, 1864
In Nov. 1861 he enlisted for three years as a volunteer in the Cavalry to put down the great Rebellion of the South; and was in active service in the Army of the Potomac until Oct. 1863; when he was taken prisoner of war and confined several months in Libby Prison. From that crowded den of filth and famine he was carried to Andersonville, Ga and enclosed by a stockade in the open air, exposed to heat and cold, storm and stench, half clad and half starved – the most terrible slaughter pen known- where with seventeen thousand other Union soldiers he was cruelly killed in lingering misery by the systematic intentional barbarous treatment of the Rebel Government who boasted chivalry of the South.

George Dearborn enlisted on November 5, 1861 and joined the New Hampshire Battalion, First Regiment, Troop M, New England Cavalry on December 24. He was captured by Confederate forces in Culpeper Virginia on October 12, 1863 and died of starvation at the notorious Andersonville prison in July of 1864. The grave marker here in Hampton says it was on July 8, federal records indicate it was July 9, but according to the genealogy records in Joseph Dow’s exhaustive History of Hampton, NH (1894) it was July 25. Here is what Dow writes of the episode:


His internment site at Andersonville:


His house here in Hampton is still standing. It is about 5 miles from here.

The original part was built by Godfrey Dearborn in 1648, making it one of the oldest houses in New Hampshire. It remained in the Dearborn family until 1961.


  1. Tom Dilberger wrote:

    This is a Memorial day Poem. Alan Seeger was KIA in France, 1916.
    poetry near you

    I Have a Rendezvous with Death
    Alan Seeger – 1888-1916

    I have a rendezvous with Death
    At some disputed barricade,
    When Spring comes back with rustling shade
    And apple-blossoms fill the air—
    I have a rendezvous with Death
    When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

    It may be he shall take my hand
    And lead me into his dark land
    And close my eyes and quench my breath—
    It may be I shall pass him still.
    I have a rendezvous with Death
    On some scarred slope of battered hill,
    When Spring comes round again this year
    And the first meadow-flowers appear.

    God knows ’twere better to be deep
    Pillowed in silk and scented down,
    Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
    Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
    Where hushed awakenings are dear…
    But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
    At midnight in some flaming town,
    When Spring trips north again this year,
    And I to my pledged word am true,
    I shall not fail that rendezvous.

    Monday, May 25, 2020 at 6:14 am | Permalink
  2. Beautiful Poem wrote:

    Thanks for posting it Tom.

    Monday, May 25, 2020 at 1:22 pm | Permalink
  3. flower power wrote:

    Thanks, admin, for this bit of history and thanks, Mr. Dilberger, for the poem.

    Andersonville prison camp was a true horror.

    Monday, May 25, 2020 at 5:55 pm | Permalink
  4. Belle wrote:

    Thanks for posting this. I was watching Netflix “Hell on Wheels” and they talk about Andersonville Prison camp in the show. Horrific!!!
    God Bless all out fallen soldiers and those on active duty.

    Tuesday, May 26, 2020 at 9:02 am | Permalink

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