In the immediate aftermath of the Civil War, Chamberlain returned to Bowdoin College as a professor, and also spent time speaking around Maine about his war experiences. But, like many a returning veteran, he became restless and somewhat depressed, and it became clear to him that a college professorship was becoming too narrow and confining a role.

Then, it occurred to Republican party leaders in Maine that a man of Chamberlain's reputation--an educated, well-known and wounded war hero--would be attractive to the electorate as a candidate for governor. In those days, Maine elected its governors for only one-year terms. After much thought, Chamberlain allowed his name to be placed in nomination at the June 1866 state convention, and accepted when he was chosen by the delegates as their candidate.

In September 1866, Chamberlain was elected Governor of Maine by the largest majority in the state's history, up to that time. He would eventually be elected to four consecutive one-year terms--1866, 1867, 1868 and 1869.

During his terms as Maine's Governor, Chamberlain undertook projects that were not just talked about, but instead were carried through. He organized a state War Claims Commission, putting former Governor Samuel Cony in charge. As a result, not only were debts owed to Maine for subsidizing troops during the Civil War paid off, but so were those dating back to the War of 1812.

Chamberlain also publicized the horrible conditions at the Hospital for the Insane, which became more crowded since the start of the Civil War. He pushed for the hospital's enlargement, saying in 1870:

As a matter of course, Chamberlain was also an advocate for veterans of the Civil War, as well as for their widows and orphans. He told Maine taxpayers:

In education, Chamberlain won public support for the College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts in Orono, which later became the University of Maine. He also addressed the problem of young Mainers leaving the state for better employment elsewhere. Referring to that, he said:

With that in mind, he looked for ways to bring industry to Maine. Seeing that Maine's natural resources, particularly its waterways, was a great selling point in attracting industry, he ordered an in-depth survey of the state's major rivers; this hydrographic survey was completed while Chamberlain was still in office, and eventually attracted developers to southern Maine. He also succeeded in encouraging Scandinavian immigration to Maine. In that regard, he said, half-sarcastically:

Not all of his proposals and stands on state and national issues were this popular, however. During his terms as Governor, Chamberlain made many enemies within his own Republican party; instead of "toeing the line", Chamberlain instead followed his conscience and sense of justice, fully recognizing that his unpopular stands could ruin his political career. For instance, he opposed the impeachment of President Andrew Johnson in 1868. Mass meetings were held throughout Maine, urging and threatening Senator William Pitt Fessenden, who also opposed impeachment--and who had the support of Governor Chamberlain. In May of 1868, Fessenden and six other Republican senators voted with the Democrats, finding Johnson "not guilty" by one vote. The proceedings, known as "The Great American Farce", disgusted Chamberlain.

On the state level, Chamberlain faced opposition on two major fronts: the state Liquor Laws, and capital punishment.

As to the former issue, Maine had at that time a Prohibition Law, making the sale, purchase and manufacture of intoxicating liquor illegal. This Prohibition Law was supported by another law, called the Constabulary Law, which gave law enforcement officers the right to enter and search private homes on suspicion of possession of liquor. The Republican party supported this law--but Chamberlain sided with the Democrats, believing this was not only an infringement on the constitutional rights of individuals, but afforded these officers a great opportunity to misuse their authority. He believed it was not the state's job to dictate virtues and that:

Because of this stand, Chamberlain received much criticism from his own party, as well as church groups and temperance advocates. The pressure to support this law intensified when he politely refused to be chairman of a temperance convention in Augusta. At the time, litigation on the Constabulary Law was pending, and Chamberlain believed it would be a conflict of interest if he attended--and particularly if he acted as chairman. It turned out to be the right stand to take--during his administration, both the Constabulary Law and the part of the Liquor Law requiring jail sentences for a first offense were repealed by the state Legislature.

The other major issue Chamberlain faced opposition on was capital punishment. On a personal level, Chamberlain favored it, feeling that without the threat of the death penalty, criminals were more likely to commit murder. Criminals found guilty of murder in the first degree in Maine were sentenced to be hanged--in accordance with that law, a year after the sentence was pronounced. It was the Governor's responsibility to sign the death warrant and set an execution date. When Chamberlain became Governor, he discovered that his predecessors (except for Governor Samuel Cony) had neglected to follow through with this duty, because the law put no time limit on when death warrants were issued.

With this in mind, Chamberlain approached the Legislature several times, asking to have capital punishment abolished altogether, or to put a time limit on when executions should take place. As he put it:

When this appeal did not work, Chamberlain refused to follow his predecessors' example, and signed the death warrant on a rapist-murderer named Clifton Harris. Two things began to complicate matters: supposedly Harris had turned state's evidence, to implicate an accomplice. Because he did this, State Attorney General William Frye wanted the death sentence commuted to life imprisonment--but Frye had not protested Harris' death sentence until Chamberlain had signed the death warrant. But, Chamberlain pointed out, if Frye had promised Harris a lighter sentence in exchange for information, wouldn't that have given Harris an incentive to lie, and possibly implicate an innocent man, in order to save his own life? (As it turned out, Harris' supposed "evidence" wasn't enough for Frye to charge the accomplice.) Secondly, Harris was a black man, a former slave; his sympathizers cited this background as the reason for his violent behavior, and asked for mercy. Chamberlain didn't see it that way:

Chamberlain did not budge from his position. The sentence of execution was carried out.

A closer view of the Maine State Capitol building, Augusta, ME.

Photo by David Lepkowski.

Do not use without his express written permission.

On top of all the controversies--and occasional death threats!--he faced as Governor, Chamberlain's marriage began to suffer at this time as well. His decision to enter politics after the war did not sit well with his wife Fannie. She enjoyed being a Bowdoin professor's wife, and resented his absences in the state capital at Augusta. (In all fairness to Fannie, there was no "Governor's Mansion" in Augusta at the time, and being Governor was not a "full-time" job.) She began to think her husband no longer cared about her, and in 1868 began talking to some "back-door" gossips about the possibility of divorce! In a letter to Fannie, written in November of 1868, Chamberlain begged her to consider the implications of such an action--not just for him, but especially for Fannie. The lot of a divorcee at that time, in Maine, would not have been a happy one:

. Fortunately, the crisis passed, and no legal action was taken. In fact, after the stress of his political career, Chamberlain began to look more favorably on return to academic life--which naturally would please Fannie.

One very interesting -- and unusual, to me -- thing happened during Chamberlain's tenure as Governor. In the midst of all the resultant controversies, both political and professional, he got so frustrated with everything that he considered offering his military skills to -- of all people -- William, King of Prussia! At that time, Prussia was becoming the dominant military force in central Europe, and was slowly unifying the country we now know today as Germany. In 1870, Prussia was involved in a war with neighboring France, which was led by Emperor Napoleon III--and was kicking the stuffing out of the French!

In this unusual letter, written in July of 1870, and referring to himself in the third person, Chamberlain goes as far as to think about offering his resignation, as Governor of Maine:

In early 1871, Chamberlain was unanimously elected as Bowdoin's president. He took the position, on condition that he would be given the freedom and flexibility to make changes at the college. He knew that Bowdoin not only had to reform parts of its curriculum, but its attitude toward education as well. He had three areas of reform in mind: a loosening of discipline, with a view to treating students as adults; curriculum revision with a greater emphasis on science and modern languages as well as the inception of a graduate program leading to the Master of Arts degree; and the introduction of military drill.

Massachusetts Hall, Bowdoin College. It's the oldest building on campus. Chamberlain's office was located here.

Photo by David Williamson.

Do not use without his express written permission.

Changes in the first area were probably not too difficult to take. Formal morning prayers before breakfast were eliminated; prayers were held after breakfast at 8:30, with all classes for the day to follow at half-hour intervals. Evening prayers, with the exception of Sunday, were abolished altogether, as were Saturday classes and the long winter vacation. Commencement was to occur in June. Library hours were extended, and scholarship alone was now to determine the award of college honors--before that, irregularities in conduct or in attendance at college exercises had figured in the awards.

Curriculum revision, however, was a tougher nut to crack. Chamberlain's idea to add a science department, for example, was felt by some of the older professors as a threat to Bowdoin's traditional course of study, which was to prepare students for the Congregationalist ministry. Besides the addition of a science department, Chamberlain also wanted to establish an engineering course, and he also placed an emphasis on the modern languages of French and German (instead of Greek and Latin), for those students taking the science course. To make matters "worse" (in some of the more conservative faculty's eyes), Chamberlain believed WOMEN should have rights to higher education:

Chamberlain further rattled Bowdoin's academic cages in his first address as President in July 1872. Among other things, he deplored the spirit of the monastery, with its

This was Chamberlain's challenge to Bowdoin: adapt to the outside world, or die from within. And Chamberlain was bound and determined to drag Bowdoin College kicking and screaming, if necessary, into the 19th century!

Memorial Hall, Bowdoin College. Here, on the ground floor walls, are listed the names of Bowdoin College graduates, who served in the Civil War.

Photo by David Williamson.

Do not use without his express written permission.

In the area of the military drill, the Federal government at the time was concerned that, if the country ever entered another war, it would not be caught unprepared to fight, as it was in 1861. Therefore, it encouraged colleges and universities to develop military units, and Chamberlain wanted one at Bowdoin. He made the recommendation to the Boards in January 1872, and it was approved, and he selected Major Joseph Sanger to organize this unit.

At first the students took their military duties seriously--four infantry companies were organized, numbering nearly 200 student privates, non-commissioned officers, and officers; as well as an artillery unit. But, as time went on, the novelty of drilling began to wear off. For one thing, the students resented the study time lost to the drill, not to mention the fact they had to purchase their own uniforms! In November 1873, the students decided to bypass Chamberlain and approach the Boards directly, presenting a petition to abolish the drill altogether. Negotiations between the students and the college failed, and in May 1874, the students were given an ultimatum: resume drilling, or go home. The students went home. Letters from the college followed, telling parents that their sons had to return to school within ten days to comply with the laws of the college--including military drill--or be expelled. Thankfully, all but three returned by the expected time (and even those three ultimately came back to the fold).

Hubbard Hall, Bowdoin College.

Here is where the Peary-MacMillan Arctic Museum (Peary was a Bowdoin graduate of Chamberlain's science program), as well as the college's History, Economics and Government departments, are located.

Photo by David Williamson.

Do not use without his express written permission.

This "Drill Revolt" ultimately doomed Chamberlain's military program. In June 1873, the Boards voted to make it optional; in 1883, it was abolished altogether. Chamberlain was also being attacked by those who criticized the science program--not only by those who opposed his de-emphasis on religion, but also by those who felt he'd not gone far enough. Unfortunately, the program encountered many financial difficulties; in those days, colleges were still pretty much dependent on students' tuition to meet expenses. With limited building expansion, inadequate facilities, and low salaries (and competition from both the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the Maine State Agricultural College at Orono), Chamberlain finally admitted failure in 1878.

In 1880 and 1881, the Boards discontinued both the scientific and engineering programs respectively. At the time, some of Chamberlain's academic ideas were considered too radical. But in the end, some of them would be permanently established: in 1892, a new science department was introduced; and in 1971, Bowdoin would finally open its doors to women.

During his years as Bowdoin's president, Chamberlain also kept up a strenuous outside schedule. Frequent addresses at town festivals, meetings of the Grand Army of the Republic and the Military Order of the Loyal Legion of the United States; an appearance as Maine's representative at the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia; serving as United States Commissioner at the 1878 Paris Exposition (where he wrote a 165-page report for the U.S. government appraising European education, with an emphasis on systems being utilized in France--and for which he would receive a bronze medal from the French government), among other things.

But ill health, caused by the Petersburg wound, would continue to dog him, and in September 1883, he resigned as Bowdoin's president, although the Boards asked him to lecture for the time being, in political economy and in constitutional and international law. In 1885, in ill health again, he resigned even this position, although he would continue to serve on the Boards until his death. But it was quite a remarkable record of service: from 1855 to 1885, Chamberlain would teach every subject at Bowdoin, except mathematics and physical science.

Here is a beautiful evening photo of the Joshua Chamberlain statue, which stands just beyond the Bowdoin College campus.

Photo by David Williamson.

Do not use without his express written permission.

THE "TWELVE DAYS" , JANUARY 1880

Portrait of Governor Joshua L. Chamberlain,

State Capitol Building, Augusta, ME.

Photo by Cheryl Pula.

Cheryl and I found this wonderful portrait of Chamberlain in the "Governor's Gallery" at the State Capitol building in Augusta. I believe it was painted after Chamberlain left office, but I still think it looks very striking.

While Chamberlain was still Bowdoin's president, he became embroiled in a very serious political crisis in Maine--one which came very close to plunging the state into civil war. It became known as the "Twelve Days".

In the fall 1879 election, none of the candidates running for Governor won a majority of the popular vote, which meant that the Legislature would elect the new Governor. The Republicans had just won the majority of seats in both the House and state Senate, so their candidate, Daniel Davis, was favored to win over Greenback candidate Joseph Smith, and Democratic candidate (and current Governor) Dr. Alonzo Garcelon. But before it came to a vote, Greenbackers and Democrats began to accuse Republican legislators of using bribery and fraud to win their positions--which became front page news. Governor Garcelon and his Council conducted an investigation into the election returns--and the power shifted. Now the Republicans were in the minority, and they began to cry foul! They claimed the returns had been tampered with by the Governor and his Council, and that the constitutional rights of those newly-elected legislators, whose seats were lost in the recount, had been violated. Former Maine Governor and Senator Lot M. Morrill urged Governor Garcelon to let the State Supreme Court decide who was right in these conflicting claims. The whole problem might have been solved peacefully, but for one man: a very influential Republican senator named James G. Blaine.

Determined to "rescue" his party, Blaine set up an armed camp of Republicans at his home, next to the Capitol building. Answering show of force by show of force, Governor Garcelon placed nearly 100 hired men in and around the Capitol, armed to the teeth. Democrats and Greenbackers joined forces and raised their own army in turn, with headquarters in a downtown Augusta hotel.

In late 1897, Chamberlain wrote this impassioned letter to Blaine, virtually begging him to not aggravate the situation any further than it already was:

State civil war loomed: Maine men descended on Augusta, ready to battle for their parties. Newspapers took sides, fueling emotions. Blaine's men aimed their rifles at Governor Garcelon's men at the Capitol, and Augusta became a powder keg ready to go off. At last, Garcelon realized he was in over his head, and called out the State Militia on January 5, 1880. As Major General of the militia, it was now up to Chamberlain to keep some semblance of order, until the State Supreme Court could decide the election.

As he looked over the situation, Chamberlain realized a show of military force would only make things worse. He ordered his militia commanders to mobilize their men, but not to come to Augusta unless he gave the order. Augusta was swarming with riflemen, but Chamberlain was the only man in a military uniform--and he chose to come unarmed. He received permission from Augusta Mayor Charles Nash to use the city police force to maintain law and order--and he managed to persuade Governor Garcelon to replace his hired guns with city police. He also placed state documents in the Treasury vaults for safekeeping, and kept entrances to all executive chambers under guard.

During this tense time, Chamberlain managed to find time to write to Fannie, who was home in Brunswick:

For twelve days, Chamberlain worked in a small office in the Capitol, using Mayor Nash's aid and the city police force to keep a lid on things. Each opposing camp tried to win Chamberlain's favor, asking him to recognize their candidate as Governor. Chamberlain refused; he said it was up to the Legislature, and those who made up that body had to be decided by the State Supreme Court. It would not be decided by a military commander. Even pleas from his own Republican party fell on deaf ears--his role was that of a military officer only; he would remain neutral. Chamberlain soon became the focus of many people's anger; newspapers began calling him "The Tool of Blaine", "The Serpent of Brunswick", and "The Most Dangerous Man in Maine". Chamberlain would not be bullied, so his enemies decided to try and eliminate him; Mayor Nash discovered an assassination plot against Chamberlain,and sent a police squad with him whenever he left the Capitol. Chamberlain also made it a point never to sleep two nights in the same place.

In this letter, Chamberlain describes the rising tension of the crisis to Fannie--who had to be very anxious for the fate of her husband:

As the crisis neared its climax, an aide ran into Chamberlain's office, warning that a crowd of angry men had gathered outside, wanting to kill him. Chamberlain went outside the building, alone. Descending the first two steps, he confronted the mob, saying:

With those words, Chamberlain flung open his coat in a dramatic gesture, daring the mob to kill him. His courage caught the mob off guard, and the words caused some to remember his leadership in the Civil War. One veteran was heard to yell:

The crowd dispersed, and Chamberlain was unharmed. But the crisis was not yet over: both Chamberlain and Mayor Nash uncovered a plot to assassinate Senator Blaine, and warned him of it. Suddenly Blaine's view of the situation began to change; instead of using force, he urged the Republican party to let the Court decide the matter. But the Greenbacker Joseph Smith refused, declaring himself Governor, and revoked Governor Garcelon's order that had ordered Chamberlain to duty. Chamberlain wouldn't recognize Smith as the new Governor; neither would he relinquish the duty he'd been given to carry out. When Smith sent a police officer to arrest Chamberlain, And Chamberlain refused to be arrested!

That very same day, the State Supreme Court finally made its ruling: the Republicans would retain the majority of seats in both the House and state Senate. The next day, new Governor Daniel Davis relieved Chamberlain of his duty. The crisis was over. Now, instead of being "The Most Dangerous Man in Maine", Chamberlain was hailed as the "Champion of Liberty in Maine". He received numerous letters of support from people in and out of the state, but he was especially grateful for those who stood by him when he was considered "The Serpent of Brunswick": people like Mayor Nash, and the veteran who came forward in the Capitol mob. Unfortunately, the "Twelve Days" also made Chamberlain a host of political enemies who could do great harm to Bowdoin, as long as he was its president.

It also ruined his chances to hold a major political office, such as U.S. Senator from Maine, or even a diplomatic post abroad--which he would have been greatly suited for, given his fluency in such languages as French, Italian, Spanish, and German. He was also too independent for the political bosses of the Republican party, but this very quality was something that appealed to many individuals throughout Maine.

So the crisis of the "Twelve Days" finally ended, and Chamberlain returned to Brunswick--to Bowdoin College, and to his family.

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