Saturday, June 27, 2015

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, November 29, 1861

Vienna,
December, 1, 1861.

My Dearest Mother: Your letter of November 5 reached us a few days ago. It is always a great delight to me to receive a note, however short, from your hand, and this time it was a nice, long, and very interesting letter. God knows how long we shall be able to correspond at all, for what I have been dreading more than anything else since our Civil War began seems now, alas! inevitable. Before this reaches you the Southerners have obtained an advantage which all their generals and diplomatists would not have procured for them in twenty years — the alliance of England and the assistance of her fleets and armies. As a technical point, I shall ever remain of opinion that a merchant ship like the Trent is no portion of neutral soil, and that therefore it is no asylum for any individual against a ship of war exercising its belligerent rights on the high seas. The jurisdiction of English merchant vessels is municipal and extends only to their own subjects. It cannot legally protect the enemies of the United States against the United States government. The law of nations prevails on the ocean, and the law of war is a part of that code. The law of war allows you to deal with your enemy where you can find him, and to intercept an ambassador on his passage to a neutral country, provided you can do it without violating neutral soil. A ship of war is deemed a portion of its sovereign's soil; a merchantman is not; so that if the Trent was not a ship of war, and was not within three miles of a neutral coast, I should say that the arrest of Mason and Slidell was legal according to public laws and to the decisions of English admiralty, and according to the uniform practice of the English cruisers throughout the early part of this century. We know too well how many of our sailors were taken from our merchant vessels and compelled to serve against nations at peace with us. But all this signifies nothing.

The English crown lawyers have decided that the arrest was illegal, and it is certainly not in accordance with the principles which we formerly sustained, although it is with the English practice. So England has at last the opportunity which a very large portion of its inhabitants (although not the whole, nor perhaps even a majority) have been panting for, and they step into the field with the largest fleet which the world has ever seen as champions and allies of the Southern Confederacy. If the commander of the Jacinto acted according to his instructions, I hardly see how we are to extricate ourselves from this dilemma, and it remains nevertheless true that Mason and Slidell have done us more damage now than they ever could have done as diplomatists. I am sorry to have taken up the whole of my letter with this theme. Our thoughts are of nothing else, and our life is in telegrams. I never expect another happy hour, and am almost brokenhearted. My whole soul was in the cause of the United States government against this pro-slavery mutiny, and I never doubted our ultimate triumph; but if the South has now secured the alliance of England, a restoration of the Union becomes hopeless.

We are on very good terms with the English ambassador here and Lady Bloomfield, and they, as well as most of the members of the embassy, have always expressed themselves in the most frank and sympathetic language in regard to our government and our cause, and even now that this incident has occurred, Lord Bloomfield, in discussing the matter with me last night, expressed the deepest regret, together with the most earnest hope that the affair might be arranged, although neither he nor I can imagine how such a result is to be reached. We are, as you may suppose, very unhappy, and have really nothing to say about our life here. If Vienna were paradise it would be gloomy under such circumstances. Mary and Lily are both well, and join me in much love to you and my father and all the family.

I shall write by the next steamer, if only a single page like this. Perhaps the communications will be stopped before your answer can arrive.

God bless you. And believe me

Your ever-affectionate son,
J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 218-20

Congressman Charles Baldwin Sedgwick to John M. Forbes, March 6, 1862 – 4 p.m.

Washington, 18 May, 1862.

. . . I hope God will give his servant Abraham the grace to stand by his general and not let the border state men sacrifice him. I cannot say, however, that I have the highest degree of faith in a president who thinks it necessary to salvation to allow the enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Law in this District at this time. . . .

SOURCE: Sarah Forbes Hughes, Letters and Recollections of John Murray Forbes, Volume 1, p. 308-9

Charles Eliot Norton to George William Curtis, July 24, 1864

Ashfield, Mass., 24 July, 1864.

. . . This week, let us hope, we shall hear that Sherman is in Atlanta, and that he is breaking up the army opposed to him. His work is not better done than Grant will do his. But I do not want peace till there is certainty of our carrying the Amendment to the Constitution. We must have that to make peace sure.

The Rebel self-appointed peacemakers took nothing by their move, and Lincoln showed as usual his straightforward good sense. What a contrast between him and the politicians who fancy themselves his superiors in insight and shrewdness! What does Raymond1 mean by his Saturday's article on Lincoln's statement of terms? Is he hedging for a reconstruction with slavery? If so, he is more shortsighted and more unprincipled than I believed. I never fancied, indeed, that he had principles, and I thought he had learned enough not to confess such bad ones. . . .
_______________

1 Henry J. Raymond, editor of the New York Times.

SOURCE: Sara Norton and  M. A. DeWolfe Howe, Letters of Charles Eliot Norton, Volume 1, p. 274

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, April 7, 1862

Camp Near Edinburgh, April 7, 1862.

As I write less often now, you must expect me to be more voluminous, and I shall stick to my form of journal, as it may be interesting to me as well as you, some of these days, to have a connected history of our small share in this campaign.

The Saturday following my last letter, our whole regiment was ordered to go on outpost duty. We started about four o'clock and relieved the Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania. By the way, at this time our regiment consisted of only eight companies, Company G being on provost marshal and off at Centreville, and Company A being at Snicker's Ferry guarding the bridge over the Shenandoah. I had command of Company D, Captain Savage was sick. Three companies were held in reserve, the other five, B, D, E, H, and K, formed the pickets, furnishing the outposts and sentinels. We did not get our men posted till dark, and then it began to storm, raining, hailing, thundering and lightening. My company did not have the slightest shelter, and at the outposts no fires were allowed. The rain froze as fast as it fell, giving everything a coating of ice; altogether it was what might be called a pretty tough night. Morning came at last, and then I found that we were within a hundred yards of a big barn full of hay and straw; of course I moved the company right into it and had big fires built in front of the door, making things seem quite comfortable. The next thing to do was to push out the outposts and sentinels; this I did in connection with the other officers, until we came in sight of the enemy's vedettes. They do all their outpost duty in our neighborhood with Ashby's cavalry. It is an interesting sight to see their line of horsemen slowly walking back and forth on a ridge, standing full out against the sky.

About nine o'clock, Company F was sent out to make a reconnoissance of their position, but was driven back by a large force of cavalry. In the afternoon, they ran a gun down to within a mile of us and fired a few shells; one of them burst within a few yards of one of my men, but did no damage. We were relieved in the afternoon by the Third Wisconsin.

Monday night, we were waked up to draw and cook rations, and received orders to march in the morning. At nine next morning, our line was formed; our brigade had the advance of all. As soon as we came in sight of the enemy's vedettes, the column was halted; five of our companies were deployed as skirmishers, H, C, F, B, and I, forming a line a mile or more wide. As we advanced within rifle range, they fell back: wherever they had any woods to take advantage of, they would stay on the edge and fire at us as we came across the open, but they shot very badly, most of their bullets going over our heads. One of Company I received a bullet in his breast-plate, bending it all up and passing through his overcoat, dress coat and shirt, inflicting a slight wound. Occasionally they would give our men a chance to fire, but very seldom, though we managed to kill several of their horses, and, I think, wound some of their men. Going through Woodstock was very lively; the rebels planted their battery in the middle of the street, and shelled away at our main body until our skirmishers almost flanked them. One of our shells went straight through a church steeple and through one wall of the jail.

We marched thirteen miles, the shelling and firing continuing the whole way. The enemy burnt their bridges as they retreated; there were four splendid railroad bridges burned in this way. We almost caught them at Edinburgh; the two bridges across Stony Creek had not been on fire fifteen minutes when we arrived. The enemy, knowing we could not ford that stream, took up a position and shelled away at us, but our battery silenced them in less than a quarter of an hour, firing with great accuracy right into the middle of them. One of the Third Wisconsin was killed here, and three or four others slightly wounded. It seemed impossible that we should get off with so small a loss; the shells seemed to strike everywhere except where our men were. My good boy Hogan knocked one of their cavalry out of his saddle at nearly five hundred yards; he is quite a hero now in the company. As night came on, the firing ceased and we went into bivouac near by. The day was a very exciting one, and though it really amounted to nothing as a fight, on account of none of our men being hurt, yet it was good practice for us and gave us confidence under fire. Our pickets along the river are in sight of the enemy's all the time.

Last Friday our company was detailed to accompany some signal officers up one of the mountains of the Blue Ridge, to establish a signal station. We had a hard climb of it; the mountain was very steep, the view on top superb. You could see up and down the Shenandoah valley for miles; could see some of Jackson's camps and a section of a battery within a short distance of our outposts; most of his force is concealed by woods. That night we bivouacked about half-way down the mountain. Our position was so isolated that we didn't dare to have any fires, but we did not mind much, as the night was warm and the moon bright. I thought, as I lay down, how impossible it would have been for me to conceive of being in such a position a year ago. It was the wildest place we have ever been in, the nearest house being a mile or more off.

Towards morning I was awakened by hearing the pleasant sound of rain-drops pattering around my head; a delightful sound, you know, when you have a roof over you, but not so pleasant when there is nothing between you and the clouds. There was nothing to do but pull my blanket over my head and sleep until daylight. No signalling could be done that day, so we marched down the hill and put the company in the nearest barn; we officers took a room in an adjoining house. Sunday was a beautiful day, and we again ascended the mountains. Monday I returned to camp.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 48-52

Major Wilder Dwight: August 30, 1861

camp Near Darnestown, August 30, 1861.

It is broad, bright noon; the men are cooking their breakfasts, the sun is drying out their clothes, the tents are ready to pitch, the Brigade Quartermaster is sitting in our tent rehearsing his exploits on the road, — how one teamster beat a horse's eye out; how, if another had hawed instead of geeing, all would have been well; how the one-line Pennsylvania saddle team-driving is better than our four-rein driving of our wagons; how this and how that would have made the march easier, and a day march instead of a night one. And such a march! But I must go back and bring myself from Washington. I wrote a hurried scratch one evening while listening to General Heintzelman's account of Bull Run. My next day was busy with the providing for my companies, and getting a delivery of the wagons to government. I was quartermaster, commissary, colonel, major, and all in one. At last, however, I succeeded in arranging things to my mind, and went out of town to my camp at Georgetown. Here I had collected the three companies which had come as escort of three separate trains. Here, too, I had packed two of the trains.

On Wednesday morning we made a good start from camp, and Captain Handy, of the Webster regiment, led the column briskly. We marched nineteen miles, a strong day's work. It was a cloudy, drizzly day. The companies came into camp at four o'clock. Tents were pitched, supper got briskly. Captain Mudge, Lieutenants Shaw and Robeson were the officers of the company from our regiment.

Mr. Desellum,* who lived near our camping-ground, invited us to supper with him, and gave us what we all prized, — a good one. Appetite and digestion wait on one another on a march. Mr. Desellum was a character. He had lived on his place all his life, and never gone beyond the limits of the two adjoining counties; his father and grandfather were rooted in the same soil. He gave me a full account of the surrounding country, and also a capital map. Both he and his maiden sister were ardent Union lovers, and bitter in their hatred of Jeff Davis. He was very calm and intelligent, formal and precise, full of talk of the war, of the battles of Napoleon, &c. He lives with his sister in their faultlessly clean home, with twenty-five negroes. When asked if he owned slaves, “No, the slaves own me,” which, I think, expresses his conscientious performance of his duties. I gave orders to have reveillé at four o'clock in the morning and to have a brisk start. I took pleasure in attempting to realize some of my theories about the march, and had great satisfaction in accomplishing a good breakfast and an early start; and before eight o'clock in the morning my men had marched from their camp on Muddy Creek to Nealsville, eight miles. There we met the report that the regiment had left Hyattstown, and was on the march with the whole column. I halted my detachment, and galloping on, met General Banks at the head of his division. I reported to him, and got his order to direct my companies to join their regiments when they came up. Then I went on myself, back to see our regiment; I found them halted in a wood in the driving rain. After a greeting with the Colonel, whom I found acting as brigadier of our brigade in the absence of Colonel Abercrombie, I went back again to wait with my companies the slow progress of the column. It rained hard. The wagons made slow work. At about one o'clock our regiment, the first of the Second Brigade, reached us at Nealsville. There we turned off down towards Darnestown, — a charming name!
At last we were pointed to a camping-ground at a place called Pleasant Mountain, — a valley or hill, I can't say which. But where were our wagons? Far back on the heavy, wet, and swampy road. Just at dusk the regiment fell down, tired, into the wet stubble, and the fog settled chill upon it. The evening star looked mildly down, but it gave no cheer. Colonel Andrews was sick, Colonel Gordon in charge of the brigade. I did what I could, — got the guard posted, good fires built of the neighboring rail-fences, in the absence of other wood, and then, wet and tired, lay down myself. The march was mismanaged by the higher powers. It was wretched to see our cold and hungry men lying down dripping and supperless in the cold fog to sleep. The start was a late one. The rain ruined the road, and the delays were so many that the large column made a poor business of its day's work. This morning at five I hurried off to get up the wagons. The sun rose clear. By dint of activity, getting a party to mend road, &c., the wagons came in about ten o'clock, and hope revived. I also got a cup of tea and a breakfast, and I revived. Such is our life. I have certainly been active for a week, and now, to-day, comes shoe distributions and muster-rolls, &c. I quite envy those regiments that are quiet and in position near Washington, with every facility for order, discipline, drill, food, &c.; but, as Birdofredum Sawin says, “I’m safe enlisted for the war,” and come what will, I will be content. Though last evening, in the fog and dark and cold, I felt, as I lay down with wet feet and wet clothes, a little like grumbling at the stupidity of our Adjutant-General, who planned and executed our uncomfortable march, which hit me just as I wanted a little rest. I was happy to wake up this morning with only a little sensation of stiffness, which wore off in my early ride of six miles. During my ride I snatched a breakfast at a farm-house, and enjoyed the sensation of health and sunshine. Though I began this letter at noon, I am finishing it by candle-light. It has been interrupted variously; at this moment the Colonel comes to my tent, and says, “That is a beautiful sight,” pointing to the camp-fires and lights on the hills about us. The Webster regiment is just opposite us, and their band is now playing. We are within six miles of the Potomac. Everything here looks every day more like business; but we have not the presence of McClellan, and one who has just come from that present influence misses it as he would the quick pulse of health. The coming man is not a mere phrase. There is no cant, either, in the phrase. How we have waited for him! And has he come? I hope. Discredit all rumor. That is my advice. . . . .

I do not seem to myself to have given anything like a picture of the active life of the past week, but Colonel Andrews wants my help about rations, the Chaplain wants my letter for the mail, I want time for various things, and so good night.
_______________

* See Appendix VII.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 86-9

Endorsement of Governor Salmon P. Chase, December 20, 1856

Columbus, Dec. 20, 1856.

Captain John Brown, of Kansas Territory, is commended to me by a highly reputable citizen of this State as a gentleman every way worthy of entire confidence. I have also seen a letter from Governor Charles Robinson, whose handwriting I recognize, speaking of Captain Brown and his services to the cause of the Free-State men in Kansas in terms of the warmest commendation. Upon these testimonials I cordially recommend him to the confidence and regard of all who desire to see Kansas a free State.

S. P. Chase.1
________________

1 This eminent man, afterward Senator from Ohio and Chief-Justice of the United States, sent another letter to Brown six months later, but while he was still Governor of Ohio. It is interesting as showing that Governor Chase either did not know or did not choose to recognize the alias of Nelson Hawkins,” by which Brown was then addressed to avoid the opening of his letters by proslavery postmasters.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 363

Bayard Taylor to James T. Fields, May 13, 1861

Cedarcroft, Kknnett Square, Pa., May 13, 1861.

Being in New York three or four days ago, I found the package at the Tribune office, where it had doubtless been lying for some time.  . . . I have carefully read the proofs [of “The Poet's Journal”], and find five easily corrected errors, a note of which I inclose.

I am delighted with the appearance of the book, and will “possess my soul in patience” till the fitting time comes for its appearance.

Our visit to Germany, which was postponed, has been again determined upon, and we shall sail on Saturday, the 18th, in the City of Baltimore. We shall make but a short stay, however. I should not go at all, were it not for the fact that our passage was secured some time ago, and preparations made for us at Gotha. I can now go with an assured heart, feeling that all is safe for the present, and that the principal operations will not take place till fall. We expect to be home again early in August. . . .

SOURCE: Marie Hansen-Taylor and Horace E. Scudder, Editors, Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor, Volume 1, p. 378

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, September 5, 1864 – 7 p.m.

Summit Pt., 7 P. M., Sept. 5, 1864.

This evening in a very heavy rain our wagons came up, and I am now snugly ensconced in a tent on top of my red blankets. How are “yous all” feeling about public affairs? I am growing more hopeful daily, — Atlanta falls very opportunely, Early has not got back into Maryland, and I hope Sheridan will not let him go there. By the way, I like Sheridan immensely. Whether he succeeds or fails, he is the first General I have seen who puts as much heart and time and thought into his work as if he were doing it for his own exclusive profit. He works like a mill-owner or an iron-master, not like a soldier, — never sleeps, never worries, is never cross, but isn't afraid to come down on a man who deserves it. Mosby has been “too many” for him again however, and has taken some more ambulances, — the fault of subordinates who will send trains without proper escort. Good-night; this is a mere scrawl, to tell you that the enemy did not attack but seems to have fallen back once more to Winchester. Good-night; it's only eight o'clock, but you know how unfresh I was this A. M. and I have had no nap all day, — but don't suppose from that that I'm sick!

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 336-7

Major-General John Sedgwick to his Cousin, September 13, 1862

Camp Near Frederick, Maryland,
September 13, 1862.
My dear cousin:

I have just received your letter of the 10th ultimo. You are mistaken in thinking I was offended at your criticism on the conduct of our Generals in carrying on the war. I recollect your letter perfectly, and my recollection is that I answered it at once. I do not undertake to uphold all of the Generals, but this much I may venture to say, that if the Government had kept the promises made, there might have been a very different result. With us it has been a war carried on by politicians; with them there has been but one head, and that a sound one. I have nothing with which to reproach myself. For three years I have not slept absent from my command, for two years I have not lived in a house; my division has been in as many engagements as any other, with two exceptions, and we have never been driven from the field, and I challenge comparison with any other.

Our men's hearts are not in the fight, and theirs are; and as long as such are the facts, success will not attend us.

I hope some day to go home and die at the old place and be buried beside my and your father.

Yours truly,
J. S.

SOURCES: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 81-2

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, December 29, 1861

Camp Union, Fayetteville, Virginia, December 29, 1861.

Dearest: — I have no letter from home since the boy was born. I have by mail Commercials of several days later date and hoped for a letter; but I comfort myself by thinking that all is going well with you, or the telegraph would inform me.

I now begin to think anxiously of coming home. If nothing occurs unforeseen, I must get home before the next month runs out. We have sent Major Comly with a detachment to occupy Raleigh, twenty-five miles further into the bowels of the land, and his absence may prevent my coming so soon as I hope, but I shall come if possible.

Dr. McCurdy is sick, and will probably go home soon. Dr. Hayes, the brigade surgeon, seems to be a nice gentleman, and gets along well with Dr. Jim, as surgeon of the Twenty-third. Colonel Scammon has been unwell, and says that while he likes Dr. Hayes as a gentleman, he would prefer to be doctored by Dr. Joe, and inquires often as to his coming. I tell him Dr. Joe will in no event return before the 10th and not then unless you are out of all danger.

Make Joe tell me all about “the boy.” Does “the face of the boy indicate the heart of the boy”? Do you love him as much as the others? Do you feel sorry the fourth was not a daughter? I think it's best as it is. — Love to “all the boys” and kiss the little one.

Affectionately,
R. B. Hayes.
Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 171

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Monday, December 30, 1861

A “magnificent splendid” day — the twenty-fifth fine day this month; twenty-five out of the last twenty-six!! The companies at Raleigh diminish our strength. Five hundred and twenty present. Total in companies here seven hundred and forty-three.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 171

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Tuesday, December 31, 1861

New Year's Eve — the last day of the year — a busy day with me. A review, an inspection, and a muster of the regiment all by me; also an inspection of McMullen's Battery. Yesterday received letters from Platt and Dr. Joe. The little stranger is more like Birt than the others and smaller than Rud. Birch indignant that he isn't big enough to drill! — A lovely day today. Twenty-six fine days this month; a few [of] them cold, not severely so, but all good weather. Lucy getting on well. Good, all!

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 172

Francis Lieber to Major-General Henry W. Halleck, February 20, 1863


New York, February 20, 1863.

My Dear General, — Here is the projet of the code I was charged with drawing up.1 I am going to send fifty copies to General Hitchcock for distribution, and I earnestly ask for suggestions and amendments. I am going to send for that purpose a copy to General Scott, and another to Hon. Horace Binney. For two or three paragraphs you will observe we should want the assistance of Congress. That is now too late; but I suggest to you to decide with the Secretary of War whether it would be advisable and feasible to send the Code even now, and as it is, to our generals, to be a guide on some difficult and important points. I observe from some orders of General Rosecrans that he has used my pamphlet on “Guerilla Warfare,” unless there be a remarkable spontaneous coincidence.  . . . I do not believe that it will be possible to change for the present war, or at least immediately, the usage which has grown up regarding parolling privates, but you will agree with me that the law, as I have laid it down, is the law and usage. As parolling is now handled by us, it amounts to a premium on cowardice, e. g. in the affair of Harper's Ferry.  . . . You are one of those from whom I most desire suggestions, because you will read the Code as lawyer and as commander. Even your general opinion of the whole is important to me. I have earnestly endeavored to treat of these grave topics conscientiously end comprehensively; and you, well read in the literature on this branch of international law, know that nothing of the kind exists in any language. I had no guide, no groundwork, no text-book. I can assure you, as a friend, that no counsellor of Justinian sat down to his task of the Digest with a deeper feeling of the gravity of his labor, than filled my breast in the laying down for the first time such a code, where nearly everything was floating. Usage, history, reason, and conscientiousness, a sincere love of truth, justice, and civilization, have been my guides; but of course the whole must be still very imperfect.  . . . Ought I to add anything on a belligerent's using, in battle, the colors and uniform of his opponent? I believe when this has been done no quarter has been given. I have said nothing on rebellion and invasion of our country with reference to the treatment of our own citizens by the commanding general. I have three paragraphs on this subject, but it does not fall within the limits, as indicated in the special order appointing our board. . . .
_______________

1 This refers to the pamphlet entitled “Instructions for the Government of Armies of the United States in the Field,” published by the War Department, in April, 1863, as General Orders, No. 100.

SOURCE: Thomas Sergeant Perry, Editor, The Life and Letters of Francis Lieber, p. 330-1

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 18, 1861

I cannot perceive that our army increase[e]s much in strength, particularly in Virginia. The enemy have now over 660,000 in the field in various places, and seem to be preparing for a simultaneous advance.

It is said millions of securities, the property of the enemy, are transferred to the United States. It is even intimated that the men engaged in this business have the protection of men in high positions on both sides. Can it be possible that we have men in power who are capable of taking bribes from the enemy? If so, God help the country!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 85-6

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: January 16, 1864

A visit from the President's handsome and accomplished secretary, Burton Harrison. I lent him Country Clergyman in Town and Elective Affinities. He is to bring me Mrs. Norton's Lost and Saved.

At Mrs. Randolph's, my husband complimented one of the ladies, who had amply earned his praise by her splendid acting. She pointed to a young man, saying, “You see that wretch; he has not said one word to me!” My husband asked innocently, “Why should he? And why is he a wretch?” “Oh, you know!” Going home I explained this riddle to him; he is always a year behindhand in gossip. “They said those two were engaged last winter, and now there seems to be a screw loose; but that sort of thing always comes right.” The Carys prefer James Chessnut to his wife. I don't mind. Indeed, I like it. I do, too.

Every Sunday Mr. Minnegerode cried aloud in anguish his litany, “from pestilence and famine, battle, murder, and sudden death,” and we wailed on our knees, “Good Lord deliver us,” and on Monday, and all the week long, we go on as before, hearing of nothing but battle, murder, and sudden death, which are daily events. Now I have a new book; that is, the unlooked-for thing, a pleasing incident in this life of monotonous misery. We. live in a huge barrack. We are shut in, guarded from light without.

At breakfast to-day came a card, and without an instant's interlude, perhaps the neatest, most fastidious man in South Carolina walked in. I was uncombed, unkempt, tattered, and torn, in my most comfortable, worst worm wadded green silk dressing-gown, with a white woolen shawl over my head to keep off draughts. He has not been in the war yet, and now he wants to be captain of an engineer corps. I wish he may get it! He has always been my friend; so he shall lack no aid that I can give. If he can stand the shock of my appearance to-day, we may reasonably expect to continue friends until death. Of all men, the fastidious Barny Heywood to come in. He faced the situation gallantly.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 277-8

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: November 4, 1862

A letter from my dear S. at Winchester. She says she is wearing herself down in the Confederate service; but there are so many soldiers in the hospitals that she is too much interested to give up nursing them even for a day. Our army still at Bunker's Hill. We are expecting daily to hear that it is falling back. When they leave the Valley all the sick that can be moved will be brought down to the Richmond hospitals, which are now comparatively empty.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 169

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, April 2, 1861

charleston, April 2, 1861.

We arrived here yesterday morning and I find very little change in the appearance of things since we were here eighteen months ago. You meet a good many soldiers, but that is about the only difference. The people are all strongly in hopes that Fort Sumter will be evacuated very soon. Some think to-day, and that the reason why it has been put off so long was on account of the New England elections. Your father has gone down to-day to visit the fortifications and has had the Lady Davis put at his command.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 35

Diary of Sarah Morgan: April 7, 1862

Until that dreary 1861, I had no idea of sorrow or grief.  . . . How I love to think of myself at that time! Not as myself, but as some happy, careless child who danced through life, loving God's whole world too much to love any particular one, outside of her own family. She was more childish then — yet I like her for all her folly; I can say it now, for she is as dead as though she was lying underground.

Now do not imagine that Sarah has become an aged lady in the fifteen months that have elapsed since, for it is no such thing; her heart does ache occasionally, but that is a secret between her and this little rosewood furnished room; and when she gets over it, there is no one more fond of making wheelbarrows of the children, or of catching Charlie or mother by the foot and making them play lame chicken.  . . . Now all this done by a young lady who remembers eighteen months ago with so much regret that she has lost so much of her high spirits — might argue that her spirits were before tremendous; and yet they were not. That other Sarah was ladylike, I am sure, in her wildest moments, but there is something hurried and boisterous in this one's tricks that reminds me of some one who is making a merit of being jolly under depressing circumstances. No! that is not a nice Sarah now, to my taste.

The commencement of '61 promised much pleasure for the rest of the year, and though Secession was talked about, I do not believe any one anticipated the war that has been desolating our country ever since, with no prospect of terminating for some time to come. True the garrison was taken, but then several pleasant officers of the Louisiana army were stationed there, and made quite an agreeable addition to our small parties, and we did not think for a moment that trouble would grow out of it — at least, we girls did not. Next Louisiana seceded, but still we did not trouble ourselves with gloomy anticipations, for many strangers visited the town, and our parties, rides, and walks grew gayer and more frequent.

One little party — shall I ever forget it? — was on the 9th of March, I think; such an odd, funny little party! Such queer things happened! What a fool Mr. McG made of himself! Even more so
than usual. But hush! It's not fair to laugh at a lady — under peculiar circumstances. And he tried so hard to make himself agreeable, poor fellow, that I ought to like him for being so obedient to my commands. “Say something new; something funny,” I said, tired of a subject on which he had been expatiating all the evening; for I had taken a long ride with him before sunset, he had escorted me to Mrs. Brunot's, and here he was still at my side, and his conversation did not interest me. To hear, with him, was to obey. “Something funny? Well —” here he commenced telling something about somebody, the fun of which seemed to consist in the somebody's having “knocked his shins against something else. I only listened to the latter part; I was bored, and showed it. “Shins!” was I to laugh at such a story?

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 4-6

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, September 10, 1864

A large number were sent to the front this morning. Jeremiah Argo of Company E, who had been among the wounded, was one of them. It is reported that the rebels are planning to raid this place, for we have but few soldiers here to defend it.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 214

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Tuesday, January 26, 1864

It has been a lovely day. Some of the time it's been really uncomfortable, the sun has been so warm. About 1 a. m. last night when making the rounds considerable firing was heard towards the right of the line. It was probably deserters trying to come into our lines. Sergeant Daniel Foster came to the picket line this afternoon to get some money to send Corporal C. B. Lee's remains to Vermont who died last evening. Banty has come with some rations. Lieut. Ezra Stetson arrived in camp Sunday evening.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 12