Even though the term “midshipman” automatically conjures images of Annapolis, Maryland, it did not derive from the formation of the U.S. Naval School established there in 1845—150 years ago. In the Royal Navy of the 1600s, quartermasters transmitted orders from the quarterdeck to the forecastle. But they became bogged down with various other duties as ships became larger and more complicated, so they selected seamen of reliable quality to stand at the mid-ship portion of the vessel and convey these messages—hence, the term.
Before the Naval School was founded, midshipmen were not grouped into classes but into “dates.” If a midshipman entered the Navy in 1838, he was a midshipmen of the ’38 date. Both regularly warranted midshipmen and civilians could enter the school. The term “oldster” meant a warranted midshipman who came from the fleet and ranged in age from 18 to 27 years. “Youngsters,” then, were acting midshipmen who entered the Naval School straight from civilian life. Most were younger than 17 years of age.
At the time, midshipmen spent two years at Annapolis, after which they took an examination. All who passed went to sea. After six months, the captain of the ship would determine if the acting midshipman merited a warrant as a midshipman. If so, he would spend another two-and-a-half years on the ship before returning to Annapolis for two more years of academic instruction. The years spent in school totalled four, but they were split in half, with three years of sea duty in between.
In July 1850 the Naval School became the Naval Academy, and soon after, in 1851, the academic course of instruction became four consecutive years. Because of this, not until 1855 was a fourth-class established.
Four buildings on the Yard—Apollo Row, Brandywine Cottage, Rowdy Row, and The Abbey—were used as midshipmen quarters. All but The Abbey were named by midshipmen. Holdovers from the old Fort Severn Army post, these buildings were in horrible shape. Apollo Row was probably the worst. The window frames were warped, and the doors did not close or fit tightly. Four midshipmen were packed in a room. As quoted in Park Benjamin’s book, The United States Naval Academy (New York and London: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1900, p. 161) one midshipmen of the ’40 date states, “. . . the temperature we were able to sustain in winter with one grate fire was not sufficiently high to melt the snow.” Rowdy Row, a two-story building that was once the old post hospital, was used to quarter most of the midshipmen. Brandywine Cottage was occupied mostly by Youngsters who named the building after the frigate Brandywine, a marvelous ship that provided many summer training cruises for midshipmen.
All in all, 11 buildings comprised the Yard. Along with the midshipmen quarters were the buildings of Buchanan Row, Mess and Recitation Rooms, The Gas House, Superintendent’s House, Gate House, Chaplain’s House, and Fort Severn. The Gate House in those days was in the same location as today.
The uniform of the midshipmen changed from 1845 to 1865. The first uniforms consisted of blue vests and jackets with no insignia. Warranted midshipmen wore the uniforms they had been issued prior to coming to Annapolis. Modifications continued up until 1855, when the Academy adopted the double-breasted jacket with an anchor on each side of the collar. This uniform, with a few minor modifications, is still the one used by midshipmen today. The only other uniform worn at the time was a working dress commonly called a “jumper.” The mayor of Annapolis at the time, Richard R. Goodwin, made boots and shoes as a hobby and sold them to the midshipmen.
Up until the early 1850s, liberty was permitted after study hours every day. All midshipmen needed to do was to log their names in the liberty-book at the gate house when they departed and returned. The officer of the day was posted there, and each morning he would take the liberty-book to the Superintendent for review. If a midshipmen did not return by 2200, he would receive a slight reprimand.
Until this time, rules and regulations were comparatively loose. About the only regulation enforced heavily was against hazing, which was strictly forbidden. Oldsters were generally good-natured toward, and respected the youngsters, rarely harassing them. One tradition of the times began with an oldster selecting his favorite youngster as a special helper. Because of the oldster’s support, the youngsters seldom felt used or humiliated. The oldster referred to this individual as “my plebe,” and the title was born. The oldster supported the plebe if any problems arose. Not until later did hazing plebes become a tradition.
During the term of the second Superintendent, Commander George P. Upshur, discipline was at its lowest. One group of youngsters—called “Owls”—who raised cain out in town was disobedient, unruly, and mischievous and is credited with having originated the practice of “jumping the wall.” At that time the act was called “Frenching” or “Frenching it,” which devolved from the term, “taking French leave” (an 18th century custom of departing secretly). The Owls climbed the brick wall and went downtown to their clubhouse headquarters at Rosenthal’s saloon. According to turn-of-the-century author Benjamin (page 178), “. . . the most valued possession of the ‘Owls’ was an immense bottle, apparently a champagne magnum, which they called, for some unknown reason, the ‘sand-fly.’ This was filled at ‘Rosey’s’ (short for Rosenthal’s), and duly brought into one of the rooms in Apollo Row.” The Owls had their share of obstacles between them and Apollo Row. Watchmen and a large Newfoundland dog roamed the Yard. But the ingenious Owls usually found a way to outsmart them.
In the 1860s, the midshipmen used the sloop-of-war Plymouth as a practice ship for the midshipmen during their summer cruises. On board the ship, work was strenuous. Food was unsatisfactory and scarce, and life was decidedly more harsh. In foreign ports, many would sell clothes and even sextants for food.
At the outbreak of the Civil War in April 1861, the third class petitioned Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles to legislate them into active service. The first and second class were already on active service with the Union naval forces, and the Naval Academy was moved to Newport, Rhode Island. On 9 May, the third class was ordered into active service. Displaying the general feeling among midshipmen at the time was one Oliver Batcheller, whose order of merit was 13th out of 55.
Batcheller had entered the class of 1863 from New York at age 17. In numerous letters home during his stay at Annapolis, he portrayed midshipman life in vivid detail and illuminated a slice of life few outside the yard could imagine. The following excerpts and paraphrases hint at the flavor of those letters and the personality of their author.
November 1859, Annapolis
I have arrived in Annapolis, and the weather is quite agreeable. I had no problems throughout my trip and found all to be friendly. My first view of a midshipman was impressive and I am excited to get into the uniform. Tomorrow, the results of my medical and academic boards will determine if I can become a midshipman. They put me up in a hotel downtown and having talked with many people about the Academy, my boards will be fairly hard; several fail each year. I don’t plan on studying for the academic board because if I don’t know it by now; I figure I won’t by tomorrow morning. I have roamed around town a little and about the only thing here to make note of is the State House. The room in which General Washington resigned his commission as Commander-in-Chief of the U.S. Army has been kept the same way as it was back then.
December 1859, Annapolis
I passed my board and I now am a midshipman. The first year students reside on a ship called the Plymouth. The accommodation is quite interesting—I sleep on a hammock made of canvas six feet long and a little over two feet wide. The food tastes good, and there is plenty of it for everyone.
A typical day might go something like this: At 0600 we get up, wash, clean the living spaces, and get ready for muster and inspection at 0700. After inspection the boatswain’s whistle pipes us down to mess. We have a long time to eat and with the exception of a reserved ten minutes of prayer time, we are free to do as we wish until 0800. From 0800 to 1300 we have what is called “study hours.” The officers in charge are very strict about this time. At 1300 we are “piped down” to eat lunch in the mess hall which is below the main deck. Again we have an hour to eat and from 1400 to 1600 we study some more or go to recitations. Recitations are another term for classes. At 1600 we “drill,” which has nothing to do with the tool you make holes with but is a term used for practicing with hands on experience. We drill with small rifles, sails on the ship, lines (same thing as a rope), and big guns on the ship. Guns are classified in pounds. For example, the Plymouth has 32-pound guns. I’m not sure what this means yet but I think it is the weight of the cannon ball the gun fires. We go to dinner at 1830, and after dinner, we study till we have to be in our hammocks at 2300—see, it isn’t that bad.
All of this takes place on the ship Monday through Friday. Each Saturday we are allowed to go ashore and every other Saturday we can go into town. On Sundays we may go ashore to church if we wish; I think all of us do.
There are approximately one hundred of us on the ship which seems like a lot, but it isn’t that bad. I enjoy being here and if I had to do it over again, I would be in this same place.
January to May 1860, Annapolis
Study hour, being very quiet and serious, is one strict policy I am becoming familiar with. However, on Saturday nights, there is no study hour. This leads to one wild night in which we are allowed, and even encouraged, to be as noisy as possible. I find this and one other thing strange here. The other is a frequently used term, “boys.” It does not refer to a young male, but refers to black people. The workers on the Plymouth are black and are called “boys.”
If one gets into trouble here, he gets a certain amount of what we call demerits. Something like whistling during study hour (this is the most common), leaving your seat before getting permission, stepping on the grass, or being late for muster, will earn one demerits. I have thirty-six demerits now, but don’t worry, some of my friends have close to one hundred. If we accumulate two hundred or more demerits per school year, we will be dismissed from the Naval Academy.
I have heard that during the summer when we are on cruise, we don’t get demerits. If we are reported to have done something wrong, we are put on “watch-a-watch.” This is four hours on watch (not a time-keeping piece but a responsible assigned job) followed by four hours off watch. This repeats over and over until the officer who reported you says you can stop.
Here are what the four classes will be doing this summer. The first class will graduate in June and get assigned to a ship and go off to sea. The second class will go on a training cruise all summer as first class. The third class get to go home on leave and don’t have to return until school starts. The fourth class go on a cruise just like the second class.
June 1860, Annapolis
Every year in June, each class takes a comprehensive test. It is called the General Examination and it determines one’s order of merit in their class. It consists of written and practical tests. The written exam contains subjects such as seamanship, geometry, trigonometry, history, rhetoric, French, and line drawing. The practical exam consists of drill with rifles, sails, lines, and guns. I passed, I am now a third-class midshipman.
We had a big parade today and the Secretary of the Navy, along with many other distinguished guests and officials, was present.
President [James] Buchanan was supposed to come but something came up and he had to go elsewhere to take care of it. That is too bad because it was probably the last chance I will ever get to see a president.
I can’t express to you how much I enjoy it here. Many do not like it and complain continually. This place has really changed my way of life and my outlook on things. When I was in high school, I thought I studied really hard. Now looking back, I didn’t study near as hard as I do now. I can testify that I never knew what study meant until I came here and in no place (unless at West Point) are such motives for study presented as here.
I won’t be able to send you a letter for some time now because the third-class leave on cruise to Norfolk, Virginia, and I will be out to sea for ten days or so. By the time this gets to you, I will be at sea on my first cruise. Isn’t that exciting? We will be sailing on the Plymouth with seventy- five men, eight guns, and two howitzers.
Our duty rotation consists of four different watch sections. This means that my watch will be four hours on, twelve hours off, two hours on, and then six hours off. This rotates so I won’t stand the same hours on and off watch the whole cruise. I don’t see where a night watch or a day watch would make much difference—just as long as I get the same amount of sleep.
June 1860, Norfolk
After an exciting voyage from Annapolis, I have safely arrived in Norfolk. I am quite pleased with the ship and crew. Everyone works so hard and efficiently. It goes like clockwork. We normally “up anchor” at 0400 and “make sail.” There is usually no set schedule for meals. At 2200 “all hands” are called to “set anchor” and after this, if not on watch, one can go to sleep. I hope you are keeping up with all these new Navy terms I am throwing at you. Please bear with me because it is hard to explain what is going on without them.
My first port of visit was Hampton Roads where we anchored and were allowed to go ashore. I saw the Pennsylvania, which is the largest frigate in our Navy and the only one in the world with four decks. It is so large that the Navy will only use it during a time of war because it costs too much to operate.
July 1860, Azores
This may be a while before it gets to you because the mail only comes once a week here. Running into a huge storm one night, I have found these past couple of days at sea to be unreal. On the day of the storm it had been real calm with winds picking up at about 2100. By midnight the winds had reached a gale force. We should have taken the sails down but the Captain thought the seas would calm and he decided to stay under sail through the night. I think he did this just so we wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of taking them down and making them again when the storm had passed. In any case, the storm got worse. I was not topside but from the way my hammock was tossing and turning, I knew it was bad. At 0400 all hands were ordered to go topside and reef in the sails. Luckily, I had a 0400 to 0800 watch that morning and didn’t participate in hauling in the sails. However, I did come topside for a few moments to see what it was like. It was a sight I will never forget. The sea was foaming and boiling with heavy downpours of waves crashing on the side of the ship. The wind was blowing through the rigging, the waves were rolling high—much above us—. . . . The sea was intense and alive. Every now and then a large wave would crash over the bow and wash the deck clean, from forward to aft. Whatever was not heavily secured to the deck was washed overboard. Men were yelling at the top of their voices trying to communicate. Everyone was having a difficult time staying on the ship, not to mention attempting to reef in sails. Thank goodness I didn’t have to go aloft.
I think I know what sea life is really about now. I ate the most chaotic breakfast that morning I ever care to eat. Even though everything was securely fastened, the roll and pitch of the ship were so great that nothing could have made for a comfortable stay on the ship. Plates and glasses were falling and breaking everywhere. Every time one went to take a bite of food, or sip of coffee, the ship would roll violently and half would go to the floor.
The next day the storm did not calm till around noon. Even though I was sick for about twenty-four hours, I like it at sea. The views are like no other (I saw a whale that came close to us), and I wish I had a means to record them for you.
October 1860, Annapolis
The results of my General Examination (this is the examination I told you about last spring) in June came back to me and my order of merit is forty-four. My classes are going well this year. Unlike last year, I am learning something new in each class. Not that last year was easy for me or anything but this year there is no review at all. I am staying very busy with spare time only on Saturdays. We have recitation until 1000 Saturday and then drill until 1200 at which time we are allowed to go into town. Sunday I go to chapel services and afterwards prepare for Monday’s recitation.
How is [Abraham] Lincoln doing at home? Around here, everyone speaks well of his name and I think he is a great man. I think all the commotion of the South withdrawing is just rumors. I can’t imagine it happening and I don’t think it will. What will become of the Naval Academy if this happens?
November to December 1860, Annapolis
I’ve been very busy lately and haven’t had much time to keep up on politics. I have not been reading the articles in the paper, but I have been reading a couple of headlines. It sounds like the South will secede if Lincoln gets elected. I would be willing to see the Naval Academy sunk into the Severn if it would ensure Lincoln’s election.
I have changed my mind. I think the South will break up from the Union. It is hard to say what will happen to the Naval Academy. If it closes or gets suspended for a while, I will come straight home and help the family. Of course I will come back to Annapolis as soon as it reopens. I don’t want this school to close down and wish President Buchanan would find the courage to do something about the situation in the South.
January to February 1861, Annapolis
With the exception of a few things, pretty much everything is the same as usual here. If you have been reading in the papers you will see that a Navy appropriation bill has been passed which funds the Naval Academy for another year. Now the only way school will close is if Virginia secedes and Maryland follows. Just the thought of civil war sends shivers down my back. There is rumor of the first class graduating early. If I am called to duty, I will fight for the North, no questions asked.
President Lincoln’s son came and visited the Naval Academy and I got to see him. He is a fine, handsome man. He came with his nephew, who attends Harvard University, to see a friend of his who is a midshipman.
March to April 1861, Annapolis
Just to give you an idea of how tough it is here, I will show you some numbers. The first class, which started out with 112 members, is now down to 22. The second class, 108, down to 21. The third class, (my class) 121, down to 56. The cause of these diminishing numbers is mostly due to midshipmen deficient in studies. Others are because of resigning or dismissal. In any case, when they leave here they are what we call “bilged.”
Remember when I told you the rumor of the first class graduating early? Well, they will graduate early but I’m not sure about the other classes. (Batcheller, Oliver. Manuscript Collection #264. Annapolis: U.S. Naval Academy Nimitz Library.)
Resolution
Oliver Batcheller had a successful naval career, retiring with the rank of commander. During the Civil War, he served with distinction and was promoted for gallantry in action for setting the Mississippi on fire. He saw most of his action in New Orleans and Mobile Bay. During this time he continued to write letters home on a regular basis.
According to these letters, Batcheller was obviously dedicated and loyal to his family. When he wrote, he did not address the letters to the whole family. Instead, he wrote individual letters addressed to his mother, father (sometimes mother and father), brother, or sister. On the average, he wrote a letter home every week, even during the summer when he was on cruise.
At the beginning of each letter, he was sincerely thankful for his family, and most of the letters would start out something like this, “Your kind note reached me in due time. I will not attempt to tell you how much pleasure it gave me. . . .” He always wished them the best and signed his letters with something such as, “Give my love to all, write as soon as convenient and believe me, Your Affectionate Son, Oliver Batcheller.”
