Wednesday, May 27, 2026

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Wednesday, February 5, 1862

No news of the expidition yet. Too mudy to do any thing yet but stand Guard. It rains about half the time. Both Rivers are still raising, & threaten to inundate & overflow our camp The camp at Ft. Holt is nearly all under water now. The members of our Regt express great chagrine because they were not permitted to accompany the expedition and share with it in its perils & honors Capt. Parke Officer of the Day.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 235

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Thursday, February 6, 1862

Weather quite pleasant, clouds cleared away to day     The sun shines bright & warm & it looks like spring. Favorable news from the expedition this morning had no Battle up to yesterday—but guess they are hard at it to day at Ft. Henry ———

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 235

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Friday, February 7, 1862

Camp Cairo Illinois. Weather cold. Glorious News, Two of our Gun Boats returned this morning bearing the Rebel Flags captured at Fort Henry. The respective loss is not yet ascertained. One of our Boats in the parts not ironed got pretty badly splintered up. One of the Rebel Gens. was also captured.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 235

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Saturday, February 8, 1862

Weather cool & cloudy much rejoicing over the victory gained at Ft. Henry Our success in that section we think decides the fate of Columbus     Rumors are current that fighting is going on in the region of Ft. Henry and Donelson. Nothing definite.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 235

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Sunday, February 9, 1862

Clear but cold. Guard mounting at the usual hour Lt Allen Officer of the Guard. Inspection of Battalion by the Staff at the usual hour 10 O'clock 48th Ind. arrived here last night 2 Regts also came down from St. Louis this evening    It is reported that Fort Donelson is taken by our troops.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 235

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Monday, February 10, 1862

Weather cold cloudy and disagreeable. No truth in the reported capture of Ft Donelson

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 235

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Tuesday, February 11, 1862

Weather still cold no news from Fort Donelson to day of any consequence Troops still going by way of this place for that point.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 235

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Wednesday, February 12, 1862

News of the capture of Roanoke Island rec'd with rejoicing weather moderating, Clear & pleasant.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 235

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Thursday Morning, February 13, 1862

Camp Cairo, Illinois.  Lt. Williams Officer of the Guard to day weather clear and pleasant in the morning but changed towards night commenced storming sleeting and snowing with the wind in the north.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 235

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Friday Morning, February 14, 1862

Weather extremely cold clear with snow about 12 inch deep. Report of Burnsides capture of Roanoke confirmed this morning. The seige of Ft. Donelson is said to have commenced both by land and water.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 236

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Saturday, February 15, 1862

Weather still cold No duty can be performed except to stand guard & perform fatigue duty an uncommon amount of which has fallen to our share of late.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 236

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Sunday, February 16, 1862

Our Regt. on Guard to day Lt. Williams detailed with 40 men on fatigue duty to Mound City to day, more news from Fort Donelson to day rather unfavorable although the reports are conflicting.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 236

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Monday Morning, February 17, 1862

Camp Cairo Illinois.  Glorious news this morning, Ft. Donelson is taken, Fifteen Thousand prisoners and an immense quantity of arms and ammunition. A salute of 34 Guns fired by order of Col. Buford in commemoration of the event.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 236

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, February 18, 1862

Prisoner taken at Donelson are continually arriving Lt. Williams detailed with a squad of 50 men on fatigue duty in town A salute of 10 Guns was fired at 10 O'clock in honor of Gov. Yates and Suit who arrived to day also Gov. Morton. Weather fair.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 236

Tuesday, May 26, 2026

Robert C. Winthrop to John J. Crittenden, June 25, 1854

BOSTON, June 25, 1854.

MY DEAR SIR, — Why should the Attorney-General stay at home while all the rest of the cabinet are traveling? I hear confidentially that old Harvard is going to make him an LL.D. at her approaching commencement. Why can you not come on and take it in person? You shall have three days of most agreeable festival. On the 15th of July the law-school hold their anniversary celebration, and have an oration from Mr. Choate, followed by a dinner. On the 16th, the commencement exercises take place; and on the 17th, the principal literary society, É¸ B K, have an oration and poem, followed by a very quiet free-and-easy sort of dinner. I want you especially at this last frolic, as I am president of the fraternity. You shall meet all our cleverest people and see old Harvard with all her bravery on. Such a trip would "renew your youth like the eagle's." I have written to Sir H. Bulwer to come along, and perhaps you can make a party together. We should be most truly glad to see you, and then you could go off to Newport or where you like.

I am, dear sir, very faithfully yours,
ROBERT C. WINTHROP.
Hon. J. J. CRITTENDEN.

SOURCE: Ann Mary Butler Crittenden Coleman, Editor, The Life of John J. Crittenden: With Selections from His Correspondence and Speeches, Vol. 2, p. 110

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 16, 1863

Reveille at three P.M.; started at half-past four; marched through Burkittsville, and went into camp at half-past nine A.M. Seven miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 278

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 17, 1863

Started from Berlin at half-past five. Crossed the Potomac, into Virginia, over a pontoon-bridge. Went into camp at eight P.M. Six miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 278

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 18, 1863

Reveille at three; started at half-past five; marched through Burlington, Va., and went into camp at half-past ten.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 278

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 19, 1863

Reveille at four; started at six A.M.; marched through Princeton, and went into camp at nine o'clock.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 278

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 20, 1863

Reveille at two; started at four A.M.; went into camp at half-past ten. Twelve miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 278

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 21, 1863

In camp at Goose Creek.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 278

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 22, 1863

Started from Goose Creek at half-past one P.M.; marched to Rectortown, Va., and went into camp at six P.M.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 278

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 23, 1863

Reveille at four A.M. Left Rectortown at half-past six, and marched through Markham. Went into camp at Manassas Gap at three P.M. Thirteen miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 278-9

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 24, 1863

Started at half-past ten A.M.; marched through the Gap a mile or two, and went into camp on the Blue Ridge Mountains.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 279

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 25, 1863

Reveille at half-past three; started from the Gap at five A.M., and went into camp at three P.M. Weather hot. Fifteen miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 279

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 26, 1863

Reveille at three, and started at half-past six. Marched to within three miles of Warrenton, and went into camp at three P.M. Marched ten miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 279

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 27, 1863

Reveille at three; started at half-past five; marched through Warrenton, and went into camp two miles from the town.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 279

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, July 28-August 2, 1863

Remained in camp at Warrenton.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 279

Congressman Albert G. Brown’s Speech on the Homestead Bill, and in Vindication of the Policy of Providing Homes for the Homeless on the Public Lands, in the United States House of Representatives, April 28, 1852

"Despise not these Squatters."

The bill to encourage agriculture, commerce, manufactures, and all other branches of industry, by granting to every man who is the head of a family, and a citizen of the United States, a homestead of one hundred and sixty acres of land out of the public domain, upon condition of occupancy and cultivation of the same, for the period herein specified, being under consideration, in Committee of the Whole—Mr. BROWN said:

MR. CHAIRMAN: — It is my purpose to submit a few remarks on the proposition before the committee, and, however tempted by the example of others, I shall endeavor to keep within the lines of legitimate debate on the bill and the pending amendments.

I claim to have been among the earliest, as I have certainly been among the most steadfast friends of the wise and humane policy of providing homes for the homeless.

This government is the largest landed proprietor in the world. Its acres of untilled soil are numbered by the hundreds of millions. Of the area embraced within the limits of the Union, only about one-third is in the hands of private individuals. Nearly two-thirds belong to, or are subject to the disposition of the federal government. Under the general authority to dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations respecting the territory and other property of the United States, Congress has from time to time disposed of the territory for cash, and on a credit. Congress has disposed of the territory for school purposes and for internal improvement purposes, giving it to the states, to corporations, and to private companies, for these and other purposes. Congress has, from time to time, voted bounties to soldiers, to be paid in land; and these bounties have been voted in times of war, as an inducement to volunteer, and in time of peace as a naked gratuity. This legislation—these modes of disposing of territory—has received the sanction of all the presidents, and of every class of politicians. Precedent, I grant you, is the weakest of all authority, but so far as it goes, it settles the question of power in this case. If Congress can sell the public lands on a credit, or for one dollar and a quarter cash, per acre, why may we not sell them for one dollar, or for ten cents, or for one cent per acre? If we can give the new states, as we did in 1842, five hundred thousand acres each for internal improvement purposes—if, as in the case of every new state, the sixteenth section in each township can be given for common-school purposes-if, as in the case of my own and most of the new states, we can give lands for seats of government, and for colleges and for universities-if, as in the case of the Mexican war, and later, in the case of all our Indian and other wars, the honorably-discharged soldier can have lands given him, is it not idle to dispute the plenary power of the government to dispose of these lands-to give them, if you choose, to actual settlers?

The government holds the lands of Oregon by the same title—certainly by no higher title than it holds the lands in Mississippi, Minnesota, and other states and territories—and it is within the recollection of all of us, that during the last Congress we gave lands to the settlers in Oregon—to some a whole section; to some a half section, and to some a quarter section. Here is a precedent exactly in point, and it covers the whole question of power.

No one doubts my disposition to construe the powers of this government strictly-to confine it within the sphere of its delegative powers. And yet, looking at the unlimited authority given by the Constitution to dispose of the territory as property, I am free to confess that my mind is not only clear, but it is free from any shadow of doubt as to the power.* It is given in express terms, and nothing is left to implication. That the power may be abused is certainly true; and that abuses may violate the spirit of the Constitution is just as true. It is expected of Congress that it will dispose of the territory judiciously, and for the common good. A prodigal and wasteful disposition of it would be an abuse of power, and therefore a violation of the spirit of the Constitution.

The abuse, or the apprehended abuse of a power, does not at all affect the question of its existence. Congress, for example, has the power to declare war, and to this there is no limit. An unnecessary or wanton declaration would violate the spirit of the Constitution, but it would not affect the question of power. No one can dispute the power of Congress to declare war, however much we may deprecate its exercise in a given case.

The power to dispose of the public lands is just as clear as the power to declare war, and it is quite as unlimited.† I apprehend, therefore, that gentlemen are mistaken when they deny the constitutional power of Congress to pass this bill. The power is one thing, the propriety of its exercise is another, and a very different thing.

This brings us to consider the expediency of passing this bill. If it shall be found promotive of all the essential interests of the government, I take it, there can be no dispute about its expediency. And if it shall be found expedient, we shall be excluded from the conclusion that it is violative of the spirit of the Constitution. No exercise of a specific grant of power can violate the spirit of the Constitution, when it is only carried to the extent of promoting the general welfare.

If the bill shall pass in the form in which it was moved by my honorable friend from Tennessee [Mr. Johnson], or if the substitute moved by myself shall be preferred, in either case the great essential object aimed at by the friends of the homeless will have been attained. Homes will have been provided for all.

I shall presently contrast the relative advantages of the original bill and the substitute. But before entering upon this branch of the subject, allow me to submit a few general remarks on the point as to how the general interest of the country is to be promoted by the passage of this bill. The field for observation which opens at this point is a large one, and I do not propose to occupy the whole, nor indeed any considerable part of it.

It is indisputably true that every government has a general interest, as every good man certainly has a special interest, in preserving and promoting the public morals. Homeless people are generally an idle people, and idle people almost always become vicious. It has been aptly said, "an idle mind is the devil's work-shop." Men with homes are sometimes vicious, but men without homes are generally so. As a conservator of the public morals, I would pass this bill, and thus promote the general welfare.

We all have a stake in the happiness of our kind. Poverty and happiness are not incompatible. Indeed, they may be found in very good companionship. But when poverty becomes so inexorable as to turn a man, with his wife and children, out of doors, happiness is very apt to take its departure. A very sublime degree of piety might enable one of us to exclaim, "the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the son of man hath not where to lay his head," and yet be happy. But, I take leave to say, it has fallen to the lot of but few of us to be blessed with such a sublimity of piety. As one who looks to the happiness of the people, I will vote for this bill, and in this way promote the general welfare.

Every man who loves his country will sow the seeds of patriotism, not among thorns, nor upon stony ground, but upon good ground, where they may vegetate and bring forth fruit, ten, sixty, and an hundred fold.

When the hundreds and thousands of your homeless people look out upon your vast domains, and see them tenanted only by wild beasts, they will ask, is my poverty so great a crime that my government prefers these beasts to me? am I to be kept in penury and want, and leave to my children no inheritance but poverty, whilst my government guards, like a surly mastiff, this mighty wilderness, which God in his providence has created for man, and not for beasts? These men's hearts will become stony, and the seeds of patriotism, though sown therein by your wisest, purest, and best political husbandmen, will not vegetate. Withdraw, then, your sullen, dogged watch over these lands. Say to your people, Heaven, in its bounteous providence, has given these lands and their fulness for your benefit: go and enjoy them.

Their hearts will leap with joy; the seeds of patriotism, though sown by such poor husbandmen as ourselves, will spring up and grow. They will put forth shoots that will entwine themselves about the country, and, growing stronger as they grow older, they will knit the hearts of the people to the government as with threads of steel. As I would encourage patriotism, I would pass this bill, and thus promote the general welfare.

The whole country as a unit, and all its parts, is and are interested in the profitable employment of the productive industry of the nation. It has been well said that "the man who makes two blades of grass grow this year, where but one grew last year, is a benefactor of his race." How much more must he be a benefactor who subtracts hundreds and thousands from the consuming, and adds them to the producing classes; or causes by his judicious policy, a barren wilderness to pour its millions into the nation's store-house! As I would employ labor—as I would reduce the number of consumers and increase the number of producers; as I would reap rich harvests next year, where nothing has been planted this year—I would pass this bill, and in this way promote the general welfare.

If the public morals may be improved, the public happiness promoted, patriotism enlarged, and the wealth of the nation increased by the passage of this bill, why shall we not pass it?

We have seen there is no lack of power. It seems to be promotive of the general welfare. If there be well-founded objections to its passage, they must therefore exist in some other quarter. This leads me to inquire whether any general or local interest will be injured if the bill passes?

It has been urged by the representatives from the old states that it will draw off their population. That the new states will grow strong under its operations, whilst the old states will grow proportionably weak. This objection is not well taken.

That there will be an impetus given to emigration, if the bill passes, is possible, but of its character, in the main, there can be no question. The landed proprietors—those who have comfortable homes, and are living independently—will find no sufficient inducement in the provisions of this bill to abandon those lands, give up their homes, and seek the privations incident to a new country. The well settled and prosperous portion of your citizens will not leave you to embrace the advantages of this bill.

In all the old states there are large numbers who are landless and houseless, who are dependent on the bounty or favor of others for the means of living. There are many thousands who belong to the consuming rather than to the producing class. Is it your interest or your policy to retain such a population? Is it not better to give them up, let them go, and even encourage their exit? I do not mean to say that these people, under other circumstances, might not be good and profitable citizens. I intend to say that a man without a house, and without a home, is very likely to fall into bad habits, and to become an incubus upon the country in which he lives. And that it is therefore better to encourage this emigration to a country where he can have land, a house, a home, and where he will be almost certain to become a useful citizen. Of the thousands in the old states who have neither lands nor houses, how few will ever rise above their present position! Some, I know, will set poverty at defiance, and move on to independence, or, it may be, to fortune. But the great mass will live and die as they have begun life, with no estate but penury.

In this view of the subject, the local interests of the old states will not be injured, but must, on the contrary, be essentially promoted by the passage of this bill.

I can imagine no worse condition of society than where a considerable portion of the people are without homes of their own, nor any better condition than where every man is his own landlord. Instead of sending sheriffs with armed posses to collect rents for the lordly proprietor, let us say to the unhappy tenants, Give up these lands, and take others that are better. They are the free-will offering of your government. In all this I see no sacrifice, but rather the promotion of the local interests of the old states.

The fear has been expressed that the passage of this bill will encourage an influx of foreigners, and that, instead of 500,000 per annum, we shall have 1,000,000 of emigrants to our shores. I do not think so. All come now that can get here. They come for freedom, and not for land. But suppose this prediction should prove true, I shall not be appalled. Let them come; yes, sir, let them come. They are of the same great family with ourselves. Heaven made this mighty continent not for our benefit alone, but for the use and benefit of all mankind. Let them come to it freely. It is the gift of God, and we have no right to withhold it from his people.

What is the objection to an increase of our foreign population? I have heard but one that is worthy of consideration; and that is, that they congregate about our towns, oftentimes become unruly, and too frequently swell the calendars of crime. This bill strikes down this objection at a single blow. It encourages these people to abandon the purlieus of your towns and cities; to give up vagrancy and crime, and become the owners, occupants, and independent cultivators of the soil. Does any man object to the Irish or German emigrant who cultivates the soil with his own hands? Is he not as orderly, as quiet, and as law abiding a citizen as your native sons? And do not the products of his labor go as far towards an increase of your national wealth? For one, I am willing to receive all who come to us from abroad, if they come to cultivate the soil.

Heaven has bounded our republic with two mighty oceans, thus placing a barrier deep and wide between us and the despots of the old world. I would not impiously defy the protection of Providence by crossing this barrier to attack despotism in its stronghold; but upon every breeze that sweeps the Atlantic I would send a message to the oppressed millions of Europe, bidding them come—come to an asylum on these shores, prepared by the Almighty, and defended by his chosen people.

It is said again, that this is a scheme of the Jesuits to extend the Catholic religion in our country, and to cripple or put down the Protestant faith. I was raised a Protestant believer, and I hope to die a professor of the Protestant religion. But it is no part of my Protestant faith to fear the Catholics. I am no more afraid that the Catholics will upset the Protestant church, than I am that the subjects of crowned heads in Europe will overturn Democracy in America. To the Catholic as well as to the Protestant emigrant, I extend a hearty greeting, and a cordial welcome. If he cultivates the soil, he will most likely be a Democrat; and whether he worships in a Catholic or Protestant church, he will make us a good citizen.

I have heard it said, the effect of this bill, if it becomes a law, will be to encourage foreign emigration, and that as most of these come to us with strong anti-slavery prejudices, we of the South are but nerving the arm of an enemy when we advocate its passage. If slavery is to be defended by excluding those from abroad who have prejudices against it, its doom is fixed, and the sooner the fiat for its extinction goes forth the better. I place my defence of this institution on the high ground of moral, social, religious, and political propriety, and if I cannot defend it on this ground I will not defend it at all. The right is never so much in danger as when its advocates shrink from an open and manly vindication of it. Justice may be overthrown if its votaries skulk and prevaricate in its support. Resting the defence of slavery upon high moral principles, I do not fear its overthrow, unless by the brute force of superior numbers. An untamed multitude, revelling in the insolence of unbridled power, may tear down the Constitution and bury slavery beneath its ruins. If this is the destiny to which the mighty North is conducting us, it does not matter whether we reach it during our pilgrimage on earth, or leave the journey half concluded, and entail on our children the melancholy task of following it to the end.

If American-born citizens will do their duty, we have nothing to fear from our emigrant population. If the native son refuses to do his duty, and wages war upon the Constitution, and upon the rights of his neighbors, we have then nothing to hope from any quarter. We must stand firmly by our section, and self-poised in the vindication of our rights.

If we contrast the relative position of the two great sections as to the public domain, we shall see how little there is in the idea that this bill gives an undue advantage to the North.

There is comparatively little soil in the Southern States belonging to, or under the control of the United States, and that little is of inferior quality. There are vast tracts in the Western States and territories, and much of it is of very superior quality. It follows, therefore, that, under the present system of disposing of the public lands, emigration to the Southern States must fall off rapidly at first, and presently cease altogether, whilst the stream to the West will increase in volume, and continue for a great while. The refuse lands in Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Florida, Missouri, and Arkansas, will never be occupied at $1.25 per acre, and out of these states we have little or no government lands in the slave states. The good lands in Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and the western territories, will very soon be occupied at $1.25 an acre, or even at a higher figure.

I am for changing the policy so as to give us occupants for our refuse lands; and if in doing this, we send tenants to your virgin soil a few years earlier than they would otherwise go, I do not still perceive but that we shall be more gainers than losers by the operation.

I submit to my southern friends whether it is not better to divide the emigration with the North for a few years at least? Is it not better to take an addition to our population of a million in five years, and give the North two millions in the same time, than to stop emigration to the South entirely, and let the North have her two millions at the end of ten years? I take this to be true, that without a change of policy we shall never get our poor lands settled; and it is just as true, that the virgin soil of the West will be occupied in a few years, whether we change our policy or not. I want a change. It will people our lands, and if it has the effect of giving to the North as many emigrants in five years as she would otherwise get in ten, let it be so. It is only a question of time with them. Emigrants will go to them after a while under any policy. With us it is different. Our lands have all been picked and culled, and the refuse tracts may be peopled under this bill, but never at a cost of $1.25 per acre. I throw out these observations to show my southern friends that this is not a losing business to us.

I admit the obligation of a representative to guard the interest of his own constituents, and in this view I am for reform. I admit my sectional predilections—prejudice, if you please—and yet in this view I am for reform. Regarded in any and every light, I am for that policy which will populate our vacant lands, and give homes to the homeless and houses to the houseless.

The people who will be chiefly benefited by this bill, are among the most meritorious and yet the least cared for of all our population. The landless, the homeless, the houseless—who are they, and what are they in the old states? Hardy sons of toil, slighted by the world for the crime of being poor, and elevated to the dignity of freemen only on election days. In the new states, under the operations of this bill, they will become freeholders and householders, and will be at all times, and in every season, equal to the proudest nabobs in Christendom.

I know something, Mr. Chairman, of squatter life. It was my fortune to have been raised in a new and unsettled country. I know something of the toils, and hardships, and privations encountered by the squatters. I shall not detain you with a recital of all that I have seen, and heard, and felt. One incident I may relate. I will tell you why my heart is with these people. When I was a boy—a very little boy—an honest, but poor man settled (squatted is a better word) in the country where I yet reside. Removing from South Carolina, he pitched his tent amid the unbroken forest in the dead of winter. He had two sons able to work. He was in a strange land, without money and without friends. But with an iron will, such as none but squatters have, he attacked the forest. It receded before him, and in three short months the sun, which had been shut out for many centuries, was permitted to shine on a spot of earth in which the squatter had planted corn. Day by day he might have been seen following his plough, while his two sons plied the hoe. Toil brought him bread-and he raised up his sons to know, as Heaven's wise decree, that "by the sweat of their brows they should gain their bread." Industry and economy brought not wealth, but a competency. The elder of the two sons followed the example of the father, and cultivated the soil. Fortune smiled and he prospered. The younger, with such moderate qualification as a frontier country could afford, studied law and practised with success. In an evil hour for his private fortune, he was drawn into politics. He was elected to the state legislature, to Congress, judge of the circuit court, governor of his state, to Congress again and again, but he never forgot that he was the squatter's son. He stands before you to-day the humble advocate of the squatter's rights.

That, which was my father's fortune, and the fortune of his sons, has been, and may be again the fortune of others in a more pre-eminent degree. Nature has created no aristocracy of intellect. Despise not these squatters. Among them is many a rough diamond. They and their sons may rise to the first honors in the republic. Reared in no hot bed of aristocracy, never enfeebled by the enervating influences of wealth and luxury, their bodies are capable of unlimited endurance, and their minds are prepared for that rational progress which is the pride and boast of "Young America," and of the age in which we live. Is it at all wonderful, Mr. Chairman, that my heart should be always open to the privations and hardships, the wants and sufferings of the squatters on the public lands?

My associations with these people have never ceased, and I trust they never may. I have partaken of their fare. I have eat their bread, and slept beneath their humble roofs. Generous to a fault, with hearts free from guile, they receive their guests with an open, frank, and manly bearing, that says at once, You are welcome. A squatter never says from his lips am glad to see you, and in his heart wish the devil had you. This is a refinement on duplicity which belongs alone to the "rich and well-born."

I approach that point in this discussion which, of all others, is the most interesting: The best and most certain means of securing every man a home. How may this be done? My friend, the mover of the main proposition [Mr. Johnson of Tennessee], thinks this end will the most certainly, and in the best manner be secured, by giving to every man the right to settle on the public lands, and by conveying to him the title in fee simple, after a continuous residence of five years.

I am not going to make an argument against my friend's proposition. I honor the head that conceived it. The heart that is capable of such appreciation of the poor man's wants, is entitled to and receives the homage of my poor esteem. The nation, and, indeed, all mankind, should yield a grateful tribute to the mind that, almost unaided, has forced the consideration of this subject upon the American Congress. No; I am not about to oppose the main proposition; but I am about to inquire whether, in its details, it offers us the best guarantee that the first great object sought by us, that of giving homes to the homeless, will most certainly be obtained.

It proposes to surrender to the occupant the absolute title, after a continuous residence of five years on the land. If all men had capacity for managing with success their own private affairs; if all were provident, and we had security against the misfortunes of ten thousand kinds to which men are subject; if we had not already a full realization of the fact, that

"Man's inhumanity to man,

Makes countless thousands mourn;"

if men would learn to "love their neighbors as themselves;" then I should think that no better scheme had ever been devised than that of my friend from Tennessee, for securing every man a home. But we must look at men as they are, and shape our acts accordingly.

I feel under no sort of obligation to give land to any man by my vote, to be used in paying debts improvidently or viciously contracted. I shall not undertake to pay debts forced upon any man by misfortune. If debts have been contracted in consequence of disease or death; or of fire or water, or any other misfortune; or if, as is too often the case, they have been contracted by a foolish improvidence, or by drinking and gaming, I cannot and will not, in my legislative capacity, undertake to provide the means for their payment.

Suppose you give these lands in the mode proposed: Is there not great danger, that at the end of the five years' occupancy, a great deal of them will pass into the hands of sharpers and speculators, as the bounties to your soldiers have passed? It is no disparagement to mankind to say, that hundreds and thousands of them have no capacity for the transaction of business. God has made them so. May not a class of men more cunning than those for whom you are providing, draw settlers into contracts, involve them in debt, and at the end of five years, seize the very land you are now so generously giving?

It is not more a matter of reproach than of pity, that men will drink and gamble, and thus waste their substance. One man plies another with intoxicating drinks, or decoys him to the gaming table. In the one or the other case, he is made the easy victim of craft or villany, and this land which you are now voting in a spirit of generosity, may go to settle the account between them.

It is no man's fault that misfortunes fall upon him, and yet disease may prostrate him and involve him in debt. His domestic animals may die. Too much rain or too much drought, a late spring or an early frost, may cut off or destroy his crop. Floods, storms, or fires, may lay waste his property. A thousand misfortunes like these may run him in debt; and then inexorable creditors may come and take away his land, and leave him no better off than before you gave it to him.

To all this I am opposed, and against all these contingencies I would provide, as far as possible; and hence the substitute which I have proposed to the original bill.

The leading idea of my substitute is, that the settler shall have the right of occupancy so long as he chooses to remain on the land, being never required to pay for it, but always at liberty to do so whenever it becomes his desire and his interest to own the soil in fee simple. The fee under my substitute remains in the government until the occupant can receive it with safety, of which he is made the judge. If the substitute is adopted, it will make no difference how a squatter's debts may have been contracted—whether by improvidence or dissipation or misfortune his home is secure. The government gives him the right of occupancy, and no power on earth can take it from him. Secure in its possession, the energies of his mind and body will be free to expand and rise above the petty tyranny of a neighboring creditor. He will not be afraid to improve his grounds, or repair his fence, or stop the leaks in his cabin, lest he excite the eye of cupidity. He will not watch the clouds with a aching brow, lest it fail to rain upon his growing crop, thus dooming it to destruction, and himself to bitter disappointment in getting the means to buy his preemption. Let fortune smile, or fortune frown; let it rain, or let it shine; let storms or devastating floods come upon him, he may look them all in the face, and say, this is my home, this the castle of my defence: my government stretches over me its strong protecting arms, and bids my heart be still, for in this, at least, I am secure. I fix no five years of security; and after that, nor any other period, expose the poor man's home to execution sale; but for five years, and for all time thereafter, he is made secure in its occupancy. He need not look with a sad heart to the end of the five years, nor fear that his creditors will then come to take possession of his home, and turn him out of doors. His wife need not water with her tears a favorite plant, nor count the hours that are bringing the moment of her separation from her humble cottage. His children may pursue their childish sports, nor sigh as they look for the last time on some favored spot, made sacred by the recollection of many an happy hour spent there in childish revelry. Whatever may be his and their relations with the world, the whole family—husband, wife, and children—may rest secure in the possession of their home. There they may cluster around them the comforts of life-nor disturb their moments of quiet or repose with anxious fears, lest some inexorable creditor shall snatch it from them. Such, sir, is my substitute.

If fortune smiles on the humble occupant; if, by his labor, he has enhanced the value of the land, and for this, or for any other reason, he desires to possess it in his own right, he may pay for it at the minimum price of $1.25. This is his privilege; but it is a privilege that belongs to no one else. If, by his labor, he makes the land worth $10 an acre, he may still buy it for $1.25; and this he may do at the end of five years, or twenty years, or at any other time that suits him best. And if he never does it, the government will never permit another to take it from him. If he has made an unfortunate location, my substitute allows him to change it; and this he may do as often as he chooses-it being stipulated that whenever a place is abandoned or given up by an occupant it is again subject to entry or occupancy by any one who may choose to take it. If the husband dies, his right of occupancy survives to his widow. If both husband and wife should die, leaving infant children, the fee passes to these children, and it may be sold for their benefit. This provision has been inserted for two reasons: first, infant children cannot occupy the land alone; and secondly, these objects of misfortune, thrown, without father or mother, on the charities of the world, are entitled to our protection. If they find a parent's care nowhere else, I would let them to this extent, at least, find it in their government.

I have purposely excluded the adult children from all interest in the homestead, and for the reason that, as they become of age, each one acquires the same right that his father had before him; and I desired to encourage the rising generation to enter upon the active duties of life at an early age, instead of lingering under the parental roof.

That the new states within which these lands lie might have no just ground of complaint, I have expressly reserved to them the right of taxation. It will be the privilege of states to tax the settler, and in default of payment to sell his right of occupancy. The purchaser at such sale will acquire the same and no greater right than the settler. That is, he will acquire the right of occupancy for an indefinite term, with the privilege of entering the land at his pleasure, and to suit his own convenience.

There is one feature in my substitute which I must not omit to mention. It perpetuates the existing preemption laws. The same parties who are entitled to preempt under the law as it now is, will have the right if the substitute is adopted, and they will enter upon the lands under the same regulations and in the same way that they now do. The only alteration proposed being in the removal of the twelve months' limitation, and all other limitations as to the time when the right of occupancy shall cease. The right of occupancy without payment, under my substitute, is unlimited, it being the exclusive privilege, but never the duty, of the occupant to buy the land. The perpetuation of the existing law of preemption is better than the enactment of new laws. First, because the old laws have been adjudicated by the courts; second, because they have been construed by the executive departments; and thirdly, because the people generally understand them, and will need only to be told, if the substitute passes, that the law exists just as it did before, with the single exception that they will not be compelled to pay until it suits them.

I have already pointed out some of the public and private advantages which will result from the passage of the original bill. All these will result in an equal degree from the adoption of the substitute. I have pointed out some of the advantages which are peculiar to my proposition; but there are others to which I must advert.

The proposition has been assailed on the ground of its squandering the public lands and cutting off the revenue resulting from their sale. I shall show that there is nothing in these objections. What is it that you give under my substitute? Nothing but the right of occupancy, the right to occupy a bit of land in the wilderness, and therefore unproductive-and the right to improve and cultivate that land, and make it useful to the occupant and beneficial to the general wealth. In this there is not only a private, but public advantage. You make that productive which was before useless, and of no public or private benefit. But you answer, that I put an occupant on the land who may be a drone -one who will not cultivate or buy it himself, and yet, by his occupancy, keeps off all others; and generally that these unlimited rights of occupancy will prevent sales, and therefore destroy the land revenue. In all this, I think you are mistaken. That which a squatter on the public lands most needs is to have his energies—physical and mental left free. This twelve months' limitation hangs like an incubus about him. It paralyzes his body and disturbs his mind. Whilst he can hope to pay for his land at the expiration of the time limited by law, his energies are unshaken; but when hope dies-when, from any one of a thousand causes I could name, he foresees that he cannot pay, his energies sink-then it is he becomes a drone. He will not work, because he sees that every lick he strikes enhances the value of his little home, and more strongly attracts the eye of the speculator. These are the shackles that have bound many an honest and industrious man, and made him an easy victim to idleness and vice. Let us knock them off -let the man's mind and body have fair play. Give him plenty of time and plenty of land to work out his fortune, and nine times in ten he will do it.

Your present preemption system is a curse to the settler. He is first inveigled on to a piece of public land, and then he is afraid to improve it, lest some speculator, with more money than himself, shall take it from him. It is this fear that cramps his energies, and makes him idle, and sometimes vicious. I have great confidence in the squatters, if you will only give them an open field and a fair fight.

But, as a revenue measure, I should advocate this bill. Its earliest advantages will be found in the increased productions of the country. It will, as I said before, subtract largely from the consuming classes, and add as largely to the producers. I need not attempt to estimate the advantages to the national wealth, if all the loafers and idlers in the Union can be set to work. The advantages would indeed be incalculable. This measure proposes a bonus to all who will cultivate the soil. How many thousands will accept it I cannot say-but that many will I have no doubt.

The next advantage which I anticipate, will be found in the increased sales of the public lands. Yes, sir, instead of diminishing, I anticipate an increase of revenue from this source; and particularly if my substitute is adopted. When a man has settled on a piece of land, and has by his labor increased its value from one dollar and a quarter to five or ten dollars per acre, he will find many reasons for desiring to possess himself of the freehold; first, because he may want to sell it, and thus increase his active wealth; or he may, and in many cases he will, prefer to own the land in his own right, that he may enjoy the privilege of making an equal distribution of it among his children; and then there is a certain feeling of independence which all men experience in owning, by a clear title, the lands and houses they occupy. These are some of the reasons which will induce the settlers to purchase the land. What we ask of you is simply the right to occupy, free from all restraint and apprehension; and we give you the guarantee which these and other reasons afford, all of which are founded in human nature, that your sales will be increased instead of being diminished.

I pass over the general advantages resulting from early settlement on your frontiers; I say nothing of the gregarious habits of men-how one man goes because another has gone before him. I will not pause to count how much more land men will want when their industry has lifted them up in the world. These and many other considerations I pass over, because my time is almost out.

A word in conclusion to the friends of this measure.

It is an old trick in this House, when the enemies of a bill cannot slaughter it in an open field, to attack it in ambuscade. Many important bills have been killed off in this way, and you could no more discover the hand that strikes the blow, than you could tell "who it was that struck Billy Patterson." The bounty-land bill was disposed of in this way for ten years.

The modus operandi is this: We go into committee of the whole on a bill. Here the ayes and noes are not recorded, and consequently no responsibility attaches to any man's vote. All manner of amendments are offered. Some intended in good faith to perfect the bill, but much the greater portion to make it ridiculous. They are passed on a division, or by tellers indiscriminately, until finally the features of the bill are so distorted that its friends do not recognise it, and they turn from it in disgust. It is then left to the tender mercies of its enemies, and they table it without compunction or hesitation.

We are about closing the debate on this bill, and then we shall be brought to vote on amendments. I anticipate the usual course of proceeding. I shall not be surprised to see an amendment proposing to give every man a horse and a plough; another to supply him with all the necessary farming utensils, and a third to give him a negro to work his land, and others of like kind, and all intended to bring the bill into ridicule, and finally to destroy it. I need not say that such a mode of attack is ungenerous. Give us a fair record vote; let every man take the responsibility, and if the bill is lost, the country will know who were its friends and who its enemies, and with this we shall be satisfied.

I call upon the friends of this measure to stand by it and protect it as far as possible in committee against these amendments. If amendments are proposed in good faith, let us give to them a just, fair, and proper consideration. But let us stand united against all ridiculous and frivolous amendments meant only to destroy the bill. If improper amendments are adopted in committee, let us not on that account abandon the bill, or allow it to be tabled in the House. We can have the ayes and noes in the House on each amendment, and thus vote them out or force gentlemen to stand by them on the record. This is the only policy that will save this bill from the fate of many of its predecessors.

With an ardent desire that this measure may pass-that it may be sent as a messenger of joy to the humble abodes of the squatters; and that, as a harbinger of mercy, it may visit the landless, the houseless, and the homeless everywhere, I take my leave of it for the time being, and commend it to the paternal care of its friends in the House.

_______________

* See art. 4, sec. 3, U. S. Constitution.

† This proposition may be stated too broadly. General Millson inquired of Mr. Brown, at a later period of the debate, whether Congress could give the whole of the public lands to the President of the United States? Mr. Brown answered, "Yes; Congress has the power. To exercise it would be a monstrous abuse of power, and would, therefore, violate the spirit of the Constitution." General Millson reminded him that the compensation of the President could not be increased during his term of service. Mr. Brown admitted, that in this view of the subject, he had stated his proposition too broadly. If the gentleman from Virginia had asked him (Mr. B.) if the President's compensation could be increased by giving him land, Mr. B. would have answered, No. But this was rather a question as to the power to receive on the part of the executive, than the power to give on the part of the legislature.

Mr. B. admits that the power of Congress over the territory, as given in the third section, article 4, of the Constitution, may be limited (as in the case cited by General Millson) by the prohibitory clauses in other parts of the Constitution. But he maintains that there is no such prohibition in regard to the settlers or other citizens, and therefore that the power is plenary as to them. It was this class of people that Mr. Brown had in his mind's eye when he stated his proposition that Congress had as unlimited power over the public lands as it had to declare war. And in this view of the case he adheres to his first proposition.

SOURCE: M. W. Cluskey, Editor, Speeches, Messages, and Other Writings of the Hon. Albert G. Brown, A Senator in Congress from the State of Mississippi, pp. 304-16

Sunday, May 24, 2026

Diary of Lucy Larcom, September 5, 1861

Why do I not love to be near the sea better than among the mountains? Here is my home, if birthplace makes home. But no, it is not my natural preference; I believe I was born longing after the mountains. And rivers and lakes are better to me than the ocean. I remember how beautiful the Merrimac looked to me in childhood, the first true river I ever knew; it opened upon my sight and wound its way through my heart like a dream realized; its harebells, its rocks, and its rapids, are far more fixed in my memory than anything about the sea. Yet the vastness and depth and the changes of mist and sunshine are gloriously beautiful; I know and feel their beauty. Still, I admire it most in glimpses; a bit of blue between the hills, only a little more substantial than the sky, and a white sail flitting across it; or when it is hightide calm, — one broad, boundless stillness, then there is rest in the sea, but it never rests me like the strong silent hills; they bear me up on their summits into heaven's own blue eternity of peace. But is it right to wrap one's own being in this mantle of peace, while the country is ravaged by war? — its garments rolled in blood, brother fighting against brother to the death? The tide of rebellion surges higher and higher, and there is no sadder proof that we are not the liberty-loving people that we used to call ourselves, than to learn that there are traitors in the secret councils of the nation, in forts defended by our own bravest men ; among women, too: "Sisters! oh, Sisters! Shame o'ladies!" A disloyal woman at the North, with everything woman ought to hold dear at stake in the possible fall of this government, — it is too shameful! I hope every one such will be held in "durance vile" until the war is over.

But will it end until the question is brought to its true issue, — liberty or slavery? I doubt it: and I would rather the war should last fifty years, than ever again make the least compromise with slavery, that arch-enemy of all true prosperity, that eating sin of our nation. Rather divide at once, rather split into a thousand pieces, than sink back into this sin!

The latest news is of the capture of the Hatteras Forts, a great gain for us, and a blight to privateering at the South; — with a rumor of "Jeff Davis's" death, which nobody believes because it is so much wished. Yet to his friends he is a man, and no rebel. War is a bitter curse, — it forbids sympathy, and makes us look upon our enemies as scarcely human; and we cannot help it, when our foes are the foes of right.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, pp. 100-2

Diary of Lucy Larcom, September 8, 1861

Norton. Am I glad for trials, for disappointments, for opportunities for self-sacrifice, for everything God sends? Ah! indeed I do not know! How many times, when we say, "Try me, and know my heart," the answer is, “Ye know not what ye ask!" And I know not why, in some states of mind and body, what seems a very little trouble (or would, if told another), should be so oppressive.

But "little," and "great," in the world's vocabulary, are very different terms from what they are in individual experience; and submission, and grateful acquiescing obedience to divine will, are to be learned by each in his own capacity. Two weeks ago, I was saying over to myself, every day, as if it were a new thought, Keble's lines,

"New treasures still, of countless price,

God will provide for sacrifice."

And as those words kept recurring, as if whispered by a spirit, I thought I should be glad to have my best treasures to give for sacrifice, to make others happy with what was most precious to me. And as my way seemed uncertain, and for a day or two I knew not whether to move or to sit still, I said, "Lead me! Behold the handmaid of the Lord; let it be unto me according to Thy will, — only let me do nothing selfishly." And the answer came in the withdrawal of a blessing from me; no doubt with purposes of greater blessing to some one, somewhere and somehow; and I am only half reconciled as yet. Shall I ever believe that God knows best, and does what is best for me, and for us all? It is easy enough in theory, but these great and little trials tell us the truth about ourselves, show us our insincerity. And now I close this record, which has been my nearest companion for so many months. Esther is gone. Is there any friend who cares enough for me just as I am, to keep it in memory of me? Or had I better bury it from my own eyes and all others'? It may be good for me to read the record of myself as I have been, — cheerful or morbid, — and of what I have read, thought, and done, wisely or unwisely. The "Country Parson" thinks a diary a good thing; and I do too, in many ways, but I would rather write for a friend's kindly eyes than for my own: even about myself. Therefore letters are to me a more genial utterance than a journal, and I would write any journal as if for some one who could understand me fully, love me, and have patience with me through all. I do not know if now there is any such friend for me; yet dear friends I have, and more and more precious to me, every year. If these were my last words, I would set them down as a testimony to the preciousness of human friendships; dearer and richer than anything else on earth. By them is the revelation of the divine in the human; by them heaven is opened, truth is made clear, and life is worth the living. So have I been blessed, drawn heavenward by saintly messengers in the garb of mortality. So shall it be forever, for true love is — eternal, it is life itself.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, pp. 102-4

Diary of Lucy Larcom, September 12, 1861

Is it always selfish to yield to depression? Can one help it, if the perspective of a coming year of lonely labor seems very long? No. I shall not be alone; I shall feel the sympathy of all the good and true, though apart from them; and though I cannot come very near to any under this roof, yet to all I can come nearer than I think I can. And by and by these strange restless yearnings will be stilled; I shall quiet my soul in the peace of God. He has said, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee!" Oh! what is any woman's life worth without the friendship of the One ever near, the only divine?

Yes, I will make my work my friend. My trials, my vexations, my cares, shall speak good words to me, and I will not blind my eyes to the beauty close at hand, because of the lost glory of my dreams. I wish I could be more to all these young glad beings, — it is not in me to touch the chords of many souls at once, but I will enlarge my sympathies.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, pp. 104-5

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 5, 1861

This first week of October, this month of months, shall not pass without some record of its beauty. Norton woods and Norton sunsets are the two redeeming features of the place; as its levelness is its bane. What is it in us that refuses to love levels? Is it that there is no searching and toiling for anything, up cool heights and down in sheltered hollows?

These splendidly tinted maples before my window would be a hundred-fold more splendid if lifted up among the hemlocks and pines of the mountainsides. Oh! how magnificent those New Hampshire hills must be now, in the sunset of the year!

The place is a level, and boarding-school life is a most wearisome level to me, yet flowers spring up, and fruits grow in both. We are to welcome "all that makes and keeps us low;" yet it seems to me as if it would be good for me to ascend oftener to the heights of being; I fear losing the power and the wish to climb.

Let us say we are struggling to put down slavery, and we shall be strong.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, p. 105

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 8, 1861

Yesterday two letters came to me, each from a friend I have never seen, yet each with a flower-like glow and perfume that made my heart glad. And at evening a graceful little basket of fruit was left in my room, and this morning a bunch of fringed gentians, blue with the thoughtfulness of the sky that hangs over the far solitary meadows, the last answer from earth to heaven from the frosty fields.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, pp. 105-6

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 11, 1861

Rain: and just one of those dreary drizzling rains which turn one in from the outer world upon one's own consciousness, a most unhealthy pasture land for thought, in certain states of mind and body. Just how far we should live in self-consciousness, and how far live an outside life, or rather, live in the life of others, is a puzzle. Without something of an inner experience, it is not easy to enter into other lives, to their advantage; some self-knowledge is necessary, to keep us from intruding upon others; but it is never good to make self the centre of thought.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, p. 106

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 13, 1861

George Fox's journal is a leaf from a strange chapter of the world's history: from the history of religion. If a plain man should come among us now, asking leave of none to speak, but "testifying" in religious assemblies to the reality of the inward life of light and peace in Christ, his blunt and simple ways might be unpleasing to many, but every scoffer would look on, more with wonder than with anger. Many, I am sure, would welcome such a voice of sincerity and "livingness," sounding through the outward services of religion. The days of religious persecution can scarcely return again; nor, it is to be hoped, the days of those strange phenomena which so irritated our ancestors; men walking as signs to the people, declaring their dreams to be visions from God, and uttering wild, unmeaning prophecies for inspiration. How hard it is to learn what "true religion and undefiled" is! Life is a better word for this universal bond than religion. And we shall see, sometime, that it is only by the redemption of all our powers, all that is in us and in the outward world, that we are truly "saved." We must receive the true light through and through, we must keep our common sense, our talents, our genius, just the same; — only that light must glow through all, to make all alive. And when home, and friendships, and amusements, and all useful and beautiful thoughts and things are really made transparent with that divine light, when nothing that God has given us is rejected as "common or unclean," the "new heaven and the new earth" will have been created, and we shall live in our Creator and Redeemer.

The great difference between the early Quakers and the Puritans seems to me to be that the former had larger ideas of truth, deeper and broader revelations, yet mixed with greater eccentricities, as might be expected. The Puritans were most anxious for a place where they could worship undisturbed, as their consciences dictated; the Quakers were most desirous that the Word of Life should be spoken everywhere, — the Light be revealed to all. Each made serious mistakes, — what else could we expect, from the best that is human? And the errors of both were, in great part, the errors of the age, — intolerance and fanaticism.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, pp. 106-8

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 12, 1861

How refreshing the clear cold air is, after the summer-like fogs and rains we have had! I love the cold; the northern air is strengthening; it has the breath of the hills in it, the glow of Auroral lights, and the purity of the eternal snows. There is little of the south in my nature; the north is my home; Italy and the tropics will do for dream excursions; I should long for the sweeping winds of the hillsides, if I were there.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, p. 108

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 15, 1861

The beauty of this morning was wonderful; something in the air made me feel like singing. I thought my weariness was all gone; but leaning over books brought it back. After school four of us rode off in the wagon through the woods; and delighted ourselves with the sunset, the katydids, and the moonlight.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, p. 108

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 22, 1861

I heard Charles Sumner on the Rebellion: my first sight and hearing of the great anti-slavery statesman. He was greeted with tremendous applause, and every expression of opposition to slavery was met with new cheers. He does not seem to me like a man made to awaken enthusiasm; a great part of his address was statistical, and something we all knew before, — the long preparation of this uprising of the rebels; and his manner was not that of a man surcharged with his subject, but of one who had thoroughly and elegantly prepared himself to address the people. At this time we are all expecting orators to speak as we feel, intensely; perhaps it is as well that all do not meet our expectations. One idea which he presented seemed to me to be worth all the rest, and worth all the frothy spoutings for "Union" that we hear every day; it was that our battalions must be strengthened by ideas, by the idea of freedom. That is it. Our men do not know what they are fighting for; freedom is greater than the Union, and a Union, old or new, with slavery, no true patriot will now ask for. May we be saved from that, whatever calamities we may endure!

The ride to and from Boston has a new picture since summer: the camp at Readville, just under the shadow of the Milton hills. It is a striking picture, the long array of white tents, the soldiers marching and countermarching, and the hills, tinted with sunset and autumn at once, looking down upon the camping ground. Little enough can one realize what war is, who sees it only in its picturesque aspect, who knows of it only by the newspapers, by knitting socks for soldiers, and sewing bed-quilts for the hospitals. I should give myself in some more adequate way, if we were definitely struggling for freedom; for there is more for women to do than to be lookers-on.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, pp. 108-9

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 27, 1861

Looking out on the clouds at sunset, the thought of God as constantly evolving beauty from His own being into all created forms, struck me forcibly, as the right idea of our lives; that, like Him, we should be full of all truth and love, and so grow into beauty ourselves, and impart loveliness to all we breathe upon, or touch. Inspiration from Him is all we have to impart in blessing to others.

What is the meaning of these moods and states that fetter some of us so? I have seen life just as I see it now, and been glad in it, while for many months all things have brought me a nightmare feeling that I could not shake off. I know it is the same world, the same life, the same God; I do not doubt Him, nor the great and good ends that He is working out for all; yet nothing wears its old delight.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, pp. 109-10

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 30, 1861

"And with a child's delight in simple things." That I have not lost all this, I felt to-day, in receiving a note from an unknown person, from one who had read some poems of mine in childhood, and now, a woman, bears something not unworthy the name of poet; to hear some new voice speaking to me in this way, as a friend, is pleasant to me. I have written as I have felt, in my verses; they have been true words from my deepest life, often; and I am glad whenever they call forth a sincere answer, as now; — one word of real appreciation repays me for pages of mere fault-finding. Yet a kind fault-finder is the best of friends.

What is the meaning of "gossip?" Doesn't it originate with sympathy, an interest in one's neighbor, degenerating into idle curiosity and love of tattling? Which is worse, this habit, or keeping one's self so absorbed intellectually as to forget the sufferings and cares of others, to lose sympathy through having too much to think about?

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, pp. 110-1

Diary of Lucy Larcom, October 31, 1861

I must hurry my mind, when I have to press ancient history into a three-months' course, and keep in advance of my class in study, with rhetoric and mental philosophy requiring a due share of attention besides, and the whole school to be criticised in composition and furnished with themes.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, p. 111

Saturday, May 23, 2026

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Wednesday, April 13, 1864

Entered upon my duties to-day, as lady nurse of two divisions of tents at Small Pox Hospital.

Not obliged to come here, but have accepted this most disagreeable place, as there are so few who are willing to take it. Expect to be quite confined to the place; and the hope of doing good in a position which otherwise would be vacant, is the inducement.

The Hospital is about a mile out from the city, and near Camp Cumberland. It consists of tents in the rear of a fine, large mansion which was deserted by its rebel owner. In these tents are about 800 patients-including convalescents, contrabands, soldiers and citizens. Everything seems done for their comfort which can well be, with the scarcity of help. Cleanliness and ventilation are duly attended to; but the unsightly, swollen faces, blotched with eruption, or presenting an entire scab, and the offensive odor, require some strength of nerve in those who minister to their necessities. There are six physicians each in charge of a division. Those in which I am assigned to duty are in charge of Drs. R. & C. There is but one lady nurse here, aside from the wives of three surgeons, each of whom, however, has her special duty.

Mrs. B., the nurse, went with me through the tents, introduced me to the patients and explained my duties.

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, p. 42

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, April 14, 1864

A woman and boy died in my division last night. The woman left a little child, eighteen months old, which is inconsolable. The father, a soldier, wishes to take the child away, but was not permitted to do so or to see it, for fear of contagion. It is to be kept to see if the child has the disease. [It did not, and had no scar from vaccination, such queer freaks the disease takes.]

The boy, an Alabamian, told me yesterday he was getting better. He had been sent here with measles, recovered from those, but the small pox did not break out. He died easy, and said he was "going to Heaven." I write his people today, via Fortress Monroe. His name was G. B. Allen, of Rockford, Cousa Co., Alabama. One man died yesterday, to whose people I have written to-day. Another died to-day. The mortality here is great. Said one patient to me: "People die mighty easy here."

I asked in what way, he meant.

"Oh," he replied, "they'll be mighty peart-like, one minute, an' the next you know, they're dead!"

This is true, and I find so many who were sent here with measles, recover from those, and die of small pox. Sixty cases of measles were sent to this hospital in one month, as I learn from the lips of the surgeon in charge himself, Dr. F. These are sent by the several physicians of Nashville. The fact itself speaks volumes, but to stay here and see its effects day after day in the poor victims of such ignorance, impress one with a sense of the importance by the medical faculty of distinguishing between the two diseases.

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 42-3

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Saturday, April 16, 1864

I find many very interesting cases here, some of which shall wait to see the finale before making note of them.

What seems to me a strange feature, as I become more familiar with death-bed scenes, is the fact that so few know they are dying or are even dangerous, but persist with the last breath, or until the last struggle, that they are "getting better."

One poor young boy from Georgia, by the name of Ashman, who must die, although he eats nothing except a few canned peaches and milk, which I carry to him, will tell me sometimes when I go into the tent, that he is expecting a can of peaches every minute from home, and at another that he has just heard that his mother is in town, and that if he really knew she was, he would'nt lie there a great while before he'd be hunting her up. At another, he asked my name and State, and whether I took him to be a man or only a little boy. He is a slight little fellow of about 18, but in answer to the question I told him that of course I considered one really a man who could be a soldier and fight for our country, and who could be so good and patient while sick. To-day he called me to him, as soon as I entered the tent, and asked if I "could'nt discharge him to-day—that the doctor had told him to ask me about it, and that whatever I said he might do."

I told him that I would discharge him just as soon as that limb of his got well, and reminded him that he would want to be able to walk to the cars before starting home. He has a bad abscess on his limb, from which the doctor says the flesh is sloughing, and he does not expect him to live through tonight. And yet the boy wants me to "write to his mother in Atlanta, Georgia, and tell her to write to his aunt Shady, in Butler," that he "has been sick, but is getting better."

One man—G. W. Crane, of 3d Missouri Infantry, and who is called Major, was given up the day before yesterday by Dr. R.

He complained greatly of his throat, and I have since kept wet bandages on it, greatly to his relief. I asked permission of the doctor to do this, and advice as to telling him of his danger. He thought it would be well to do so, as he might wish to make some business arrangements. It was a most unwelcome task, but I believed it best; and first, asked him if he would like a letter written to his people.

"Oh no," was the reply, I shall be able to write myself in a few days."

"Perhaps you may," I said, "but we are all in more or less danger when sick." Adding as gently as possible, "How would you feel about it, if you thought you were not going to get well?"

The queries seemed cruel, but I knew he had loaned a gold watch and money to a man, and thought he might wish to at tend to that and other matters. But he said decidedly "I do not think anything about it, as I have no doubt I shall soon be up again. And Madam," he added politely, "it would afford me great pleasure to talk with you, if I were feeling well and in good spirits you know, but my throat is so bad it hurts me to talk”

After this rebuff, and being really undecided as to duty in the matter, I left him. Yesterday I found him living, but evidently near his end, and I felt that I ought to let him know his condition. First, I asked as before about writing letters, when he said with great difficulty that he did'nt wish to talk with me as it distressed him to speak. I then said I would only ask him one or two questions and then leave him, and I said:

If the doctor and all thought you could not live, would you wish to know it?"

He said "No," decidedly.

"Well then," I said "I will not trouble you any more, but if at any time you wish letters written, you can send me word by the nurse.”

I left him and he died in about an hour. He called for water, but as the nurse raised him to give it, he exclaimed "I am dying," and then gave some incoherent charge, in which the nurse distinguished the words; "the lady" and "a letter."

His request has been complied with.

Mrs. F. was relating a similar incident to me the other evening. Dr. F. was at the depot in Nashville, when an old acquaintance was found there, who had been ill, had received a sick furlough, and was to take the cars for home. He was so feeble, he was persuaded to go to a hospital to remain over night, and take the train next day. In the course of the evening there was a change, and the physician knew he could live but a short time. He knew also that were he aware of the truth he would wish to send some message to his family. The man was speaking of his home and laying plans for the future, when the physician asked if he should'nt write a letter for him to his wife.

"Why no," he replied, "what need of that when I'm to start home tomorrow?"

"You may not go then," said the doctor.

"Oh, yes," I must start tomorrow," was the reply.

The surgeon did not answer immediately, but was sadly thinking how to do so, and regarding the countenance of his friend, when the patient, who was about talking more of his plans, suddenly paused upon observing the expression of the surgeon's face, and earnestly asked:

"Doctor—you do not think me very sick, do you?"

"I do," was the sad reply.

"But doctor you don't think me dangerous?"

"I think you a very sick man."

He lay silent for a few moments while thought was busy, and then asked:

"Am I about to cross the lines, doctor?"

Tears, and the simple "I think you are," was the answer.

Then was business arranged, messages given, and they were alone again. Then he said:

"Why, doctor is this all that death is? It's nothing at all to die."

And thus he "crossed the lines."

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 43-7