The Colonel sent in his resignation this morning. It will go to Department head-quarters tomorrow.
Saw the new moon over my right shoulder this evening, which I accept as an omen of good luck. Let it come. It will suit me just as well now as at any time. If deceived, I shall never more have faith in the moon; and as for the man in the moon, I shall call him a cheat to his face.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 101
The devil is to pay in the regiment. The Colonel is doing his utmost to create a disturbance. His friends are busy among the privates. At noon an effort was made to get up a demonstration on the color line in his behalf. Now a petition is being circulated among the privates requesting Major Keifer and me to resign.
The night is as dark as pitch. A few minutes ago a shout went up for the Colonel, and was swelled from point to point along the line of company tents, until now possibly five hundred voices have joined in the yell. The Colonel's friends tell the boys that if he were to remain he would obtain leave for the regiment to go back to Camp Dennison to recruit; that he was about to obtain rifles and Zouave uniforms for them, and that there is a conspiracy among the officers to crush him.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 101-2
Petitions from four companies, embracing two hundred and twenty-five names, have been presented, requesting the Major and Lieutenant-Colonel to resign.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 102
We closed up the day with a dress parade, the Colonel in command. The camp is more boisterous than usual. No more petitions have been presented.
The Major received a package from home to-night containing, among other articles, a pair of slippers, which, greatly to my advantage, were too small for him. They were turned over to me, and it happens that no little thing could have been more acceptable.
The bright moonlight of to-night enlivens our spirits somewhat, and fills us with new courage. The days have been dark and gloomy, and the nights still more so, for many days and nights past.
From the band of the Tenth Ohio, half a mile away, come strains mellow and sweet. The air is full of moonlight and music. The boys are in a happier mood, and a round, full voice comes to us from the tents with the words of an old Scotch song:
March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale!
Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order?
March, march, Eskale and Liddlesdale!
All the blue bonnets are over the border.
Many a banner spread flutters above your head,
Many a crest that is famous in story;
Mount and make ready, then, sons of the mountain glen!
Fight for the King and the old Scottish border!
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 102
The Major and Mr. Furay are engaged in a tremendous dispute. Furay is positive he can not be mistaken, and the Major laughs him to scorn. When these gentlemen lock horns in dead earnest the clatter of words becomes terrible, and the combat ends only when both fall on their cots exhausted.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 103
The Colonel's resignation has been accepted. He delivered his valedictory to the regiment this evening. Subsequently he passed through the company quarters, shaking hands with the boys and bidding them farewell. Still later he made a speech, in which he called God to witness that he was a loyal man, and promised to pray for us all. The regiment is disorderly, if not mutinous even. The best thing he can do for it and himself is to get out.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 103
The Colonel has bidden us a final adieu. His most devoted adherents escorted him to the depot, and returned miserably drunk.
One of the color guards, an honest, sensible, goodlooking boy, has written me a letter of encouragement. I trust that soon all will feel as kindly toward me as he.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 103
We left Bacon creek at noon. There were ten thousand men in advance of us, with immense baggage trains. The roads bad, and our march slow, tedious, and disagreeable. Many of the officers imbibed freely, and the senior surgeon, an educated gentleman, and very popular with the boys, became gloriously elevated. He kept his eye pealed for secesh, and before reaching Munfordsville found a citizen twice as big as himself in possession of a doublebarreled shot-gun. Taking it for granted that he was an enemy, the Doctor drew a revolver and bade him surrender unconditionally. The boys said the Doctor was as tight as a little bull. What phase of inebriety this remark indicated I am unable to say; but certain it is that he did not for a moment lose sight of his gigantic prisoner, nor give him the slightest opportunity to escape. He was quite triumphant in his bearing; directed the movements of the captive in a loud and imperious tone, and favored him with much patriotic advice.
A wagon with six unbroken mules attached is an uncertain conveyance. If the mules are desired to stop suddenly, they are certain not to do so, and if commanded to start suddenly, they are just as sure not to obey. If, after an immense amount of whipping and many fervent asseverations on the part of the driver that all mules should be in Tophet, they conclude to start at all, they go as if determined to reach the place indicated without unnecessary delay. If a mudhole, ditch, tree, or any other obstacle lies in the way, and the driver cries whoa, the mules redouble their speed, and rush forward as if they did not in the slightest degree consider themselves responsible either for the driver's neck or the traps with which the wagon is laden.
It was about eight o'clock in the evening when we crossed the bridge over Green river. The moon had around it a halo, in which appeared very distinctly all the colors of the National flag-red, white, and blue-and the boys said it was a good omen; that they were Union people up there, and had hung out the Stars and Stripes.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 103-5
To-morrow we start for Bowling Green, our division in the lead. Before night we shall overtake the rebels, and before the next evening will doubtless fight a battle.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 105
Long before sunrise the whole division was astir, and at seven o'clock moved forward, our brigade in the center. Far as the eye could reach, both in front and rear, the road was crowded with men. A score of bands filled the air with martial strains, while the morning sun brightened the muskets, and made the flags look more cheerful and brilliant. The day was warm and pleasant. The country before us was, in a military sense, unexplored, and every ear was open to catch the sound of the first gun. The conviction that a battle was imminent kept the men steady and prevented straggling. We passed many fine houses, and extensive, well improved farms. But few white people were seen. The negroes appeared to have entire possession.
Six miles from Green river a young and very pretty girl stood in the doorway of a handsome farm-house and waved the flag of the Union. Cheer after cheer arose along the line; officers saluted, soldiers waved their hats, and the bands played "Yankee Doodle" and "Dixie." That loyal girl captured a thousand hearts, and I trust some gallant soldier who shall win honorable scars in battle may return in good time to crown her his Queen of Love and Beauty.
From this on for fifteen miles we found neither springs nor streams. The country is cavernous, and the only water is that of the ponds. In all of these we discovered dead and decaying horses, mules, and dogs. The rebels in this way had sought to deprive us of water; but while their action in this regard occasioned a vast deal of profanity among the boys, it did not in the least retard the column. We were, however, delayed somewhat by the felled trees with which they had obstructed miles of the road. At sunset we halted and pitched our tents in a large field, near what is known as Bell's Tavern, on the Louisville and Nashville Railroad. We had marched eighteen miles.
The water used in the preparation of the evening meal was that of the ponds. The thought of the rotting dogs, horses, and mules, could not be banished, and when the Major sipped his coffee in a doubtful way and remarked that it tasted soupy, my stomach quivered on the turning point, and, hungry as I was, the supper gave me no further enjoyment.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 105-6
Resumed the march at daylight. Snow fell last night. The day was exceedingly cold, and the wind pierced through us like needles of ice. I think I never experienced so sudden and extreme a change in the weather. It was too cold to ride, and I dismounted and walked twelve miles. We were certain of a fight, and so pushed on with rapid pace. A regiment of cavalry and Loomis' battery were in advance. When within ten miles of Bowling Green the guns opened in our front. Leaving the regiment in charge of the Major, I rode ahead rapidly as I could, and reached the river bank opposite Bowling Green in time to see a detachment of rebel cavalry fire the buildings which contained their army stores. The town was ablaze in twenty different places. They had destroyed the bridge over Barren river in the morning, and now, having finished the work of destruction, went galloping over the hills. When the regiment arrived, it was quartered in a camp but recently evacuated by the enemy. The night was bitter cold; but the boys soon had a hundred fires blazing, and made themselves very comfortable.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 106-7
This morning we were called out at daylight to cross the river and take possession of the town; a sorrier, hungrier lot of fellows never rolled out of warm blankets into the icy wind. It was impossible for many of them to get their wet and frozen shoes on, but we hurried down to the river, and were there halted until it was ascertained that our presence on the opposite side was not required, when we went back to our old quarters.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 107
To-day we crossed the Big Barren, and are now in Bowling Green. Turchin's brigade preceded us, and has gutted many houses. The rebels burned a million dollars worth of stores, but left enough pork, salt beef, and other necessaries to supply our division for a month; in fact the cigar I am smoking, the paper on which I write, the ink and pen, were all captured.
General Beauregard left the day before our arrival. It is said he was for days reported to be lying in General Hardee's quarters, dangerously ill, and that under cover of this report he left town dressed in citizen's clothes and visited our camps on Green River.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 107-8
The weather is turning warm again, the men are quartered in houses. I room at the hotel. This sort of life, however pleasant it may be, has a demoralizing effect upon the soldier.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 108
Spent the forenoon at the river assisting somewhat in getting our transportation over. It is a rainy day, and I got wet to the skin and thoroughly chilled. After dinner I went to bed while William, my servant, put a few necessary stitches in my apparel, and dried my underclothing and boots. I am badly off for clothing; my coat is out at the elbows, and my pantaloons are in a revolutionary condition, the seat having seceded.
The Cincinnati Gazette of the 14th instant reports that I have been promoted. Thanks.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 108
We learn from a reliable source that Nashville has been evacuated. The enemy is said to be concentrating at Murfreesboro, twenty or thirty miles beyond.
The river has risen fifteen feet, and many of our teams are still on the other side. The water swelled so rapidly that two teams of six mules each, parked on the river bank last night so as to be in readiness to cross on the ferry this morning, were swept away. Captain Mitchell returned this evening from a trip North. We are glad to have him back again.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 108
Hear that Fort Donelson has been taken after a terrible fight, and ten thousand ears are eager to hear more about the engagement. No Teams crossed the river to-day; we are flood bound.
There was an immense number of deaths in the rebel army while it encamped here. It is said three thousand Southern soldiers are buried in the vicinity of the town. They could not stand the rigorous Northern climate. A Mississippi regiment reported but thirteen men for duty.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 108-9
Moved at seven in the morning toward Nashville without wagons, tents or camp equipage. Marched twenty miles in the rain and were drenched completely. The boys found some sort of shelter during the night in tobacco houses, barns, and straw piles.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 109
The day pleasant and sunshiny. The feet of the men badly blistered, and the regiment limps along in wretched style; made fifteen miles.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 109
Routed out at daylight and ordered to make Nashville, a distance of thirty-two miles. Many of the boys have no shoes, and the feet of many are still very sore. The journey seems long, but we are at the head of the column, and that stimulates us somewhat. Have sent my horse to the rear to help along the very lame, and am making the march on foot.
The martial band of the regiment is doing its utmost to keep the boys in good spirits; the base drum sounds like distant thunder, and the wind of Hughes, the fifer, is inexhaustible; he can blow five miles at a stretch. The members of the band are in good pluck, and when not playing, either sing, tell stories, or indulge in reminiscences of a personal character. Russia has been badgering William Heney, a drummer. He says that while at Elkwater Heney sparked one of Esquire Stalnaker's daughters, and that the lady's little sister going into the room quite suddenly one evening called back to the father, "Dad, dad, William Heney has got his arm around Susan Jane!" Heney affirms that the story is untrue. Lochey favors us with a song, which is known as the warble.
Thou, thou reignest in this bosom,
There, there hast thou thy throne;
Thou, thou knowest that I love thee;
Am I not fondly thine own?
Ya-ya-ya-ya.
Am I not fondly thine own?
CHORUS.
Das unda claus ish mein,
Das unda claus ish mein,
Cants do nic mock un do.
On the banks of the Ohio river,
In a cot lives my Rosa so fair;
She is called Jim Johnson's darky,
And has nice curly black hair.
Tre alo, tre alo, tre ola, ti.
O come with me to the dear little spot,
And I'll show you the place I was born,
In a little log hut by a clear running brook,
Where blossom the wild plum and thorn.
Tre ola, tre ola, treo la ti.
Mein fadter, mein modter, mein sister, mein frau,
Undt swi glass of beer for meinself,
Undt dey call mein wife one blacksmit shop;
Such dings I never did see in my life.
Tre ola, tre ola, tre ola ti.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 109-11
General Nelson's command came up the Cumberland by boat and entered Nashville ahead of us. The city, however, had surrendered to our division before Nelson arrived. We failed simply in being the first troops to occupy it, and this resulted from detention at the river-crossing.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 111
Crossed the Cumberland and moved through Nashville; the regiment behaved handsomely, and was followed by a great crowd of colored people, who appeared to be delighted with the music. General Mitchell complimented us on our good behavior and appearance.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 111
Captain Wilson, Fourth Ohio Cavalry, was shot dead while on picket. One of his sergeants had eight balls put through him, but still lives.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 111
We were ordered to
cook five days' rations for those in camps and those on the scout, and be ready
to march at seven next morning. The scouting party returned without any news of
interest.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 201
Promptly in the
saddle by seven Colonel Barteau moved his regiment about fifteen miles in the
direction of Iuka (on the Memphis and Charleston Railroad), thence about five
miles on the Russellville (Alabama) road, where he bivouacked for the night.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 201
Returning to the Iuka
road, thence about four miles in the direction of Iuka, we bivouacked within a
few miles of the enemy's picket.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, pp. 201-2
Colonel Barteau left
Fulton with the expectation of going on to Iuka, but the aid that he expected
not coming up, and not being willing to venture an attack with but little over
two hundred, he turned, came back by the way of Marietta and bivouacked some
four miles south on the Fulton road.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 202
The regiment
returned to camps near Fulton; had quite a dusty trip. We remained at Fulton
until [July 11, 1862.]
SOURCE: Richard R. Hancock, Hancock's
Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate Cavalry, p. 202
We took up the line
of march, wagons and all, except a few sick that were not able to go. After a
march of about thirteen miles on the Iuka road we encamped for the night.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 202
* It had been
ordered that the man whose arms were in the best condition should have a
furlough for eight days. On inspection day (July 13th) the inspector decided in
my favor, so I was furloughed for eight days. J. W. Kennedy and I went partly
on a pleasure trip and partly after clothing and horses—to Franklin County,
Alabama; and after spending about five days very pleasantly with our relatives
and friends near Russellville, we returned to camps at Bay Springs, July 21st.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 202
Dark and rainy as
was that night Colonel Barteau attempted to capture a wagon train that was going
east between Bay Springs and Iuka, but he was too late. The train had passed before
he arrived at the place where he expected to make the capture. After burning
some cotton within six miles of Iuka the regiment returned to camps.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 202
McKnight's Company
was sent to Marietta to picket that place for some days. Colonel Barteau,
with four companies of his regiment, left camps at Bay Springs to join General
Armstrong in an expedition into North Alabama. Will speak more of this scout
when Colonel Barteau returns.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, pp. 202-3
It was reported that the Federals in large force were in ten miles of our camps. I and a few others mounted and went out about eight miles. Hearing nothing of the enemy we returned to camps a little after dark. Loading our wagons we moved back about two miles on the Fulton road, where we remained until morning. But little rest for a poor soldier that night, on account of so much rain.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 203
Parrish's Company
was sent to Marietta to relieve McKnight's. The wagons and the few men that
were left, one company and fragments of others, moved on back through, and
encamped three-fourths of a mile from, Fulton. McKnight's Company from Marietta
joined us there in the evening.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 203
Captain McKnight,
with fifteen of his company, left camps with orders to scout north of Bay
Springs. Passing by that place he bivouacked three miles beyond, on the Iuka
road.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 203
Going a few miles in
the direction of Iuka, learning nothing of interest from the Federals, we
turned back and bivouacked four miles south of Bay Springs, on the Fulton road.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 203
McKnight's squad was
re-enforced by Captain Kitchen, with about sixty-five men. We remained near Bay
Springs until [July 30, 1862.]
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 203
* General
Breckinridge had been sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi, in the latter part of
June, with a portion of Bragg's army, and perhaps some had been sent to other
points, but Bragg was now transferring the main portion of his army from
Tupelo, Mississippi, to Chattanooga, Tennessee, to confront General Buell, who,
after the battle of Shiloh, had been ordered back into Middle Tennessee.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate
Cavalry, p. 203-4
I will here relate a
little incident that occurred while we were picketing at Marietta. Captain
McKnight was informed (August 4th) that a man who had belonged to the
Confederate army, but had deserted and visited the Federals, was at home fixing
to move his family inside the Federal lines. This man lived about ten miles north.
Determined to make an effort to capture him, Captain McKnight, I and a few
others left our schoolhouse a little after dark, and awhile before day we
surrounded his house. We called at the door, as though we were some of his
neighbors. His wife answered. We told her that we wanted to see her husband,
calling him by name, as though we were well acquainted with him. She said he
was not at home, but had gone to his father's. On being asked to open the door,
she said she would as soon as she could get a light. We believed he was at
home, because she was so much excited and so long getting a light. After so
long a time she opened the door, and Captain McKnight searched the house while
I guarded the door. We noticed three ladies lying on one bed, but did not find
our man. searched other houses, and finally went to his father's, but still
failed to find him. Our trip, however, was not altogether in vain, for one Mr.
Malone gave us a splendid breakfast, his daughters made some sweet music for us,
besides we had as many melons and peaches as we could eat. Who but a soldier,
though, could appreciate such a treat as that! While at Mr. Malone's we
learned, to our surprise and chagrin, that the object of our search was, at the
time we were searching his house, between the straw and feather beds under
those three ladies. After taking a real hearty laugh over the
affair, we mounted and returned to our picket base.
While McKnight's
Company was picketing at Marietta our camps were moved from Fulton to within
two miles of Guntown. The latter place is on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad, some
thirteen miles south-west from Marietta. The Federals were kind enough not to
visit Marietta while we were there, though they came within about five miles, taking
cotton, negroes, horses, etc.
I will here relate
another little incident, which, I am sure, some of McKnight's Company will
remember. A good lady who lived near Marietta had any amount of fine peaches,
but neither she nor we had any flour. So we told her to use corn meal in
making the crust, as we were bent on having a "peach cobbler." Novel
as the idea was, she made the "cobbler." And right heartily did we
eat of it. Well, it was a great deal better than no pie. We remained at
Marietta until [August 14, 1862.]
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 204-5
18 Henry Lee Scott, who married Winfield Scott’s daughter Cornelia, was a North Carolinian. He had just been retired as Inspector-General in command of the forces in the city of New York.
19 John A. Stevens was president of the Bank of Commerce; John C. Green was also a banker, and a merchant in the China trade; he is best remembered as a benefactor of the New York Society Library and New York University, and as the philanthropist who endowed the John C. Green School of Science at Princeton.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 60-1
Much gasconading from the sunny South, condensed in telegraphic reports fortunately. “Palmetto Flag’’ raised, great speeches, fuss and fury, messages from governors, conventions called. Collector of Charleston resigning, “secession inevitable,’’ and so on. It’s a critical time, but things are not so bad as I expected they would be three days after Lincoln’s election.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, p. 61
Trinity Church Committee on St. George’s chapel this afternoon. Gouvemeur Ogden tells me Betts wants his salary raised to $1,000 as clerk of Columbia College on the strength of our benefaction to the treasurer (Gouvemeur Ogden). They are equal in meanness and rapacity. Trustees of a religious or charitable organization should be prohibited from receiving pay for services in any capacity. They should be men who can and will give their time and labor for the public good without reward. If the College needs a financial agent who will make the management of its property his chief business, it should select him from among business men outside the board. If Betts is to have $ 1,000 for keeping our minutes, each of his colleagues is entitled to $500 per annum, at least, for attending meetings and serving on committees. . . .
News from the South continues to be menacing and uncomfortable. I think the storm will blow over and die away without uprooting anything, but it is a critical time. A trifle may fatally complicate the situation. . . .
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, p. 61
Miss Puss at tea tonight; afterwards Charley, D’Oremieulx, Dr. Carroll, Jem Dwight, Hoffman, Jem Ruggles, and George Anthon. Political crisis thoroughly discussed. General disposition to concede the right of secession and to regard it with indifference and contempt. I hold secession unlawful and most calamitous, but the South is likely to do this wrong and folly and mischief if it find the North acquiescent and good-natured. I’m sorry, however, to find so many Northerners holding the Union so cheap.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 61-2
No material change in .the complexion of Southern news. Unless writers of telegraph items lie loudly, secession is inevitable. There is uneasiness here, but mainly as to the possibility of a tight money market from the financial crisis Southern folly is bringing upon the South, which must inevitably react on us more or less. People generally treat the political peril with what seems to me unaccountable indifference. This financial crisis is already beginning in Charleston and Mobile. Suspension of specie payments seems close at hand. They have overtraded, and their crops are short, and they would have been hard up had Lincoln been defeated, and obliged to do their uttermost to get the hogs and housing they need to carry them through the winter. But now that Lincoln is elected and their terrorists are roving about confiscating Northern property and repudiating Northern debts, their credit is paralyzed and they are in danger of a general smash. It would injure us, of course; it may bring them to their senses, or it may make them desperate and reckless.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, p. 62
20 Many business men thought the panic worse than in 1857; and numerous firms failed as their Southern paper became worthless.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, p. 62
Tonight I heard Lieber’s lecture at the Law School. Matter good and well arranged; manner bad—dreamy, dozy, and maundering. . . .
No material progress in the political crisis. Stocks have rallied a little here. Perhaps the febrile symptoms and cerebral disturbance of the South seem a shade easier. But the reign of terror in South Carolina continues unmitigated. Mrs. Sally Hampton, now in New York, wants to go home to Columbia, S. C., or thereabouts, and requires an escort, of course. Her husband can’t come North without exposing himself to a conviction of “incivisme,” and Mr. George Baxter, her papa, cannot go South without danger of being tarred and feathered as a Northerner and a possible Abolitionist. So Mrs. Sally Hampton and her three pretty babies still abide in Second Avenue. Willie Alston and Pringle meant to spend another month here, but their neighbors write them that they must come home. Their loyalty to the South will be suspected if they keep away. So they return, reluctantly. . . .
We are generally reconciling ourselves to the prospect of secession by South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, little Florida, and perhaps Mississippi, too. We shall be well rid of them. Perhaps the prevalence of this feeling— the cordial consent of the North—will keep them from seceding. I think these porcine communities incline to run out of the Union merely because they think we want to keep them in. One should never pull a pig in the direction one wants it to travel. They have long governed us and controlled our votes by the threat of secession. They naturally think secession will be a crushing calamity to the North and the severest punishment they can inflict on us for electing Lincoln.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 62-3
Things in general look bluish-gray. Prophesyings of panic and crisis, and of still worse calamity, are heard in our streets. But people try to amuse themselves; for example, Henry Fearing has just been giving a sumptuous dinner to a dozen men at the New York Club, and Giraud Foster is to give another at the Union. Charles E. Strong, Jem Strong, and H. H. Ward as umpires are to decide which dinner was the more brilliant success, and the giver of the second best pays for both. A very pleasant transaction, no doubt, but just at this time it impresses me disagreeably. It seems like some gorgeous Heliogabalic Convivium of the days when the Empire was in decadence. . . .
Memoranda of the crisis. Stocks fell heavily today. The Trust Company declines receiving deposits payable on demand, or for less than six months. A Charleston savings bank has decided to act on a by-law or a provision of its charter authorizing it to insist on ninety days’ notice of every draft. Doubt and distrust reign in Wall Street. The best paper is negotiated with difficulty. William and Edmund Schermerhorn, Edward Bancker, and other croakers think we are drawing near to the worst period of crisis and depression this city has ever known. Mr. Samuel B. Buggies confidently expects another suspension of specie payment before next spring, perhaps before January. Per contra, John A. Stevens is sure this flurry will be over, and everything in its normal stride again within thirty days. Everyone admits that our financial condition was never sounder than at this time. But a vague apprehension of some undefined change and revolution has destroyed confidence in securities and property of every kind.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, p. 63
A most gloomy day in Wall Street. Everything at a deadlock. First-class paper not negotiable; demand for money greater than in October, 1857. Stocks falling. It's said the banks resolved today to buy three millions of exchange on London. This may probably see the machine going again, for the time at least, and enable the West and South to begin moving their grain and cotton. . . .
Very few now deny the probability of secession by the Cotton States, and South Carolina is given up as hopeless. Our national mottoes must be changed to “e pluribus duo” (at least) and “United we stand, divided we stand easier.” It is generally conceded, moreover, that if federal coercion be applied to a single seceding state, the whole South will range itself against the government.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 63-4
Wall Street was a shade less disconsolate this morning. Stocks rallied at the First Board but began to waver and fall again at the Second. The banks cannot bring about a decisive reaction; the disease is too deep-seated.
The revolutionary movement in South Carolina and the Gulf States seems, on the whole, to be gaining strength and consistency. No signs yet of any “sober second thought.” Conservatism and common-sense (if any be left in the Cotton States), are still intimidated and silent. Probably the Border States, led by Virginia, will try to mediate and pacify. Dissolution of the Union and re-opening of the slave trade would be disastrous to them, so they naturally desire to make peace. But their mediation will probably be upon the basis of recognition by the North of the extremest Southern exactions (slave trade excepted). The North must consent that slavery be introduced into the territories; Massachusetts, Vermont, Wisconsin, and other states must repeal their “personal liberty” laws that interfere with the Fugitive Slave Law. That plan will not work. Those state laws ought to be repealed, but the South has no right to demand their repeal and make their enactment an excuse for treason, because they are utterly unconstitutional and mere nullities, and no one doubts the United States Supreme Court would so adjudge them.
If these traitors succeed in dismembering the country, they will have a front place in the Historical Gallery of Celebrated Criminals. No political crime was ever committed as disastrous to mankind and with so little to provoke or excuse the wrong as that which these infamous disunionists are conspiring to perpetrate. . . .
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 64
Wall Street has breathed more freely these two days. News this afternoon that all the banks from Charleston to Philadelphia have suspended. I don't know that we need suffer in consequence.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 64
Mrs. Carson of South Carolina (daughter of Petigru of Charleston) dined here; conversable, agreeable, and handsome in a mature style. Also Mr. and Mrs. D. C. Murray, Wickham Holfman, George F. Allen, and Mr. Ruggles. We had much pleasant talk, though the one engrossing subject of the time was excluded, for the sake of our South Carolinian convive. Mr. Ruggles and Allen remained after the rest had gone.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 64-5
Stocks all up today and Wall Street very jolly. But they will go lower yet, and Wall Street will look more blue than it has looked these thirty years before a.d. 1860 is ended.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 65
The Supreme Court in this district has at last reluctantly concluded that it won’t do to nullify the decision of the Court of Appeals, reversing their order in the Law School case; so Mr. H. W. Cooper will be sworn in whenever he pleases.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 65
Today’s newspapers indicate no new symptom in our sore national sickness. The tide is still rising, I think, in all the Cotton States. Reaction and ebb are sure to follow, but they may come too late. This growing excitement may do irreparable mischief before it dies out and reaction sets in. The country may be overwhelmed by a flood of disaster and disgrace before the tide begins to fall.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 65
Nothing new in Wall Street, except that stocks are all down again. Secession certainly gains favor at the South, and grows more threatening every day. But there are symptoms of backing down at the North. There are demonstrations toward repeal of the obnoxious "personal liberty bills’’ of certain Northern states. It seems likely that Republican leaders and wire-pullers have concluded on a policy of concession and conciliation. I hope it may be in time to prevent terrible mischief.
These "personal liberty laws’’ are unconstitutional and void. They are mere nullities, and do no harm to the South. What one nigger has South Carolina lost by the legislation of Vermont or Wisconsin? The clamor about them is a palpable humbug. Still they ought to be repealed, being wrong in spirit and interest.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 65
No political news of importance. The progress of events has startled and staggered some of our notables, who were laughing secession to scorn a fortnight ago. John C. Green, for one, "never dreamed these Southerners would go so far." I think, from all indications, that the Republican leaders are frightened and ready to concede everything, to restore the Missouri Compromise line and satisfy the fugitive slave remedies of the South. A movement that way has certainly begun. But it may be too soon for the North and too late for the South. Suppose it prevail. How will it be received in Massachusetts and Western New York.? Will Republicans feel that they have been sold by their leaders, and recalcitrate into more intense anti-Southem feeling? I think they will and that many Republicans will enroll themselves as Abolitionists. But if this crisis pass over without disruption and ruin, if our national life endure another year, I think a strong Union party will come into being and control extremists. South and North both.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, pp. 65-6
Thanksgiving Day. No political news today. Congress meets Monday. Mr. Ruggles’s friend. Senator Dixon,21 is in town on his way to Washington. Horribly frightened. Connecticut expects him to do something in the Senate, and he is anxiously enquiring, "What shall I do to be saved from the humiliation of admitting that I’m unequal to my high place?"
Tom Corwin was in town Tuesday night with the draft of some "Bill of Rights” which he means to propose, affirming the rights which the South pretends to believe endangered.
21 James Dixon (18l4-1873). Republican Senator from Connecticut.
SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, p. 66
An ugly year ended in backing before England, having, at least, relative right on our side. Further, the ending year has revealed a certain incapacity in the Republican party's leaders, at least its official leaders, to administer the country and to grasp the events. If the new year shall be only the continuation of the faults, the mistakes, and the incapacities prevailing during 1861, then the worst is to be expected.
The lowest in moral degradation is an European defending slavery here or in Europe. Such Europeans are far below the condemned criminals. Still lower are such Europeans who become defenders of slavery after having visited plantations, where, in the shape of wines and delicacies, they tasted human blood, and then, hyenas-like, smacked their lips and thirsted for more.
Always the same stories, lies, and humbugs concerning the hundreds of thousands of rebels in Manassas. These lies are spread here in Washington by the numerous secessionists — at large, by such ignoble sheets as the New York Herald and Times; and McClellan seems to willingly swallow these lies, as they justify his inaction and c——.
The city is more and more crowded with Jeremy Diddlers, with lecturers, with sensation-seekers, all of them in advance discounting their hero, and showing in broad light their gigantic stupidity. One of this motley finds in McClellan a Norman chin, the other muscle, the third a brow for laurels (of thistle I hope), another a square, military, heroic frame, another firmness in lips, another an unfathomed depth in the eye, etc., etc. Never I heard in Europe such balderdash. And the ladies—not the women and gentlewomen—are worse than the men in thus stupefying themselves and those around them.
The thus called arbitrary acts of the government prove how easily, on the plea of patriotic necessity, a people, nay, the public opinion, submits to arbitrary rule. All this, servility included, explains the facility with which, in former times, concentrated and concrete despotisms have been established. Here every such arbitrary action is submitted to, because it is so new, and because the people has the childish, naïve, but, to it, honorable confidence, that the power entrusted by the people is used in the interest and for the welfare of the people. But all the despots of all times and of all nations said the same. However, in justice to Mr. Lincoln, he is pure, and has no despotical longings, but he has around him some atomistic Torquemadas.
It will be very difficult to the coming generations to believe that a people, a generation, who for half a century was outrunning the time, who applied the steam and the electro-magnetic telegraph, that the same people, when overrun by a terrible crisis, moved slowly, waited patiently, and suffered from the mismanagement of its leaders. This is to be exclusively explained by the youthful self-consciousness of an internal, inexhaustible vital force, and by the child-like inexperience.
The Congress, that is, the majority, shows that it is aware of the urgency of the case, and of the dangerous position of the country. But still the best in Congress are chained, hampered by the formulas.
The good men in both the houses seem to be firmly decided not to quietly stand by and assist in the murder of the nation by the administrative and military incapacity. This was to be expected from such men as Wade, Grimes, Chandler, Hale, Wilson, Sumner (too classical), and other Republicans in the Senate, and from the numerous pure, radical Republicans in the House.
Burnside's expedition is a sign of life. But all these expeditions on the circumference, even if successful, will be fruitless if no bold, decided movement is at once made at the centre, at the heart of the rebellion. But McClellan, as his supporters say, matures his strategical plans. O God! General Scott lost by strategy three-fourths of the country's cause, and very probably by strategy McClellan will jeopardize what remains of it.
Will this McClellan ever advance? If he lingers, he may find only rats in Manassas. McClellan is ignorant of the great, unique rule for all affairs and undertakings,—it is to throw the whole man in one thing at one time. It is the same in the camp as in the study, for a captain as for a lawyer, the savant, and the scholar.
It is to be regretted that some of the men truly and thoroughly devoted to the cause of freedom and of humanity, mix with it such an enormous quantity of personal, almost childish vanity, as to puzzle many minds concerning the genuine nobleness of their devotion. It is to be regretted that those otherwise so self-sacrificing patriots discount even their martyrdom and persecutions, and credit them to their frivolous self-satisfaction.
Most of the thus-called well-informed Americans rather skim over than thoroughly study history. Above all, it applies to the general history of the Christian era, and of our great epoch (from the second half of the 18th century). Most of the Americans are only very superficially familiar with the history of continental Europe, or know it only by its contact with the history of England. Many of them are more familiar with the classical wars of Alexander, Hannibal, Cæsar, etc., than with those of Gustavus, Frederick II., and even of Napoleon. Were it otherwise, strategy would not to such an extent have taken hold of their brains.
Mr. Adams was terribly unhorsed during the Trent excitement in England; he literally began to pack up his trunks, and asked a personal advice from Lord John Russell.
What a devoted patriot this Sandford in Belgium is; he has continual itchings in his hand to pay a higher price for bad blankets that they may not fall into the hands of secesh agents; so with cloth, so perhaps with arms. Oh, disinterested patriot!
Austria and Prussia whipped in by England and France, and at the same time glad to have an occasion to take the airs of maritime powers. Austria and Prussia sent their advice concerning the Trent affair. The kick of asses at what they suppose to be the dying lion.
Austria and Prussia! Great heavens! Ask the prisons of both those champions of violated rights how many better men than Slidell and Mason groaned in them; and the conduct of those powers against the Poles in 1831! Was it neutral or honest?
I am sure that Russia will behave well, and abstain from coming forward with uncalled-for and humiliating advice. Russia is a true great power, — a true friend, — and such noble behavior will be in harmony with the character of Alexander II., and with the friendliness and clear perception of events held by the Russian minister here. I hope that when the war is over the West Point nursery will be reformed, and a general military organization introduced, such a one as exists in Switzerland.
McClellan is a greater mistake than was even Scott. McClellan knows not the ABC of military history of any nation or war, or he would not keep this army so in camp. He would know that after recruits have been roughly instructed in the rudiments of a drill, the next best instructor is fighting. So it was in the thirty years' war; so in the American Revolution; so in the first French revolutionary wars. Strategians, martinets, lost the battles, or rather the campaigns, of Austerlitz, of Jena, etc. In 1813 German rough levies fought almost before they were drilled, and at Bautzen French recruits were victorious over Prussians, Russians, and Austrians. The secesh fight with fresh levies, etc.
Numerous political intriguers surrounding McClellan are busily laying tracks for him to the White House. What will Seward and Chase say to it, and even old Abe, who himself dreams of re-election, or at least his friends do it for him? All these candidates forget that the surest manner to reach the White House is not to think of it—to forget oneself and to act.
It is amusing to find in European papers all the various stories about Mr. Lincoln. There he is represented as a violent, blood-thirsty revolutionaire, dragging the people after him. In this manner, those European imbeciles are acquainted with American events, character, etc. They cannot find out that in decision, in clear-sightedness and soundness of judgment, the people are far ahead of Mr. Lincoln and of his spiritual or constitutional conscience-keepers.
And the same imbeciles, if not canailes, speak of a mob-rule over the President, etc. Some one ought to enlighten those French and English supercilious ignorami that something like a mob only prevails in such cities as New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore; and nine-tenths of such a mob are mostly yet unwashed, unrepublicanized Europeans. The ninety-nine one-hundredths of the freemen of the North are more orderly, more enlightened, more lawabiding, and more moral than are the English lordlings, somebodies, nobodies, and would-be somebodies. In the West, lynch-law, to be sure, is at times used against brothels, bar-rooms, gambling-houses, and thieves. It would be well to do the same in London, were it not that most of the lynch-lawed may not belong to the people. If the European scribblers were not past any honest impulse, they would know that the South is the generator and the congenial region for the mob, the fillibusters, the revolver and the bowie-knife rule. In the South the proportion of mobs to decency is the reverse of that prevailing in the free States. The slavery gentleman is a scarcely varnished savage, for whom the highest law is his reckless passion and will.
If Jeff. Davis succeeds, he will be the founder of a new and great slaveholding empire. His name will resound in after times; but history will record his name as that of a curse to humanity.
And so Davis is making history and Lincoln is telling stories. Beauregard gets inspired by the fumes of bivouacs; McClellan by the fumes of flatterers. Beauregard frightens us, McClellan rocks his baby. Beauregard shares the camp-fires of his soldiers; he sees them daily, knows them, as it is said, one by one; McClellan lives comfortably in the city, and appears only to the soldiers as the great Lama on special occasions. Camp-fellowship inspired all the great captains and established the magnetic current between the leader and the soldier.
McClellan organized a board of generals, arriving daily from the camps, to discuss some new fancy army equipment. And Lincoln, Seward, Blair, and all the tail of intriguers and imbeciles, still admire him. In no other country would such a futile man be kept in command of troops opposed to a deadly and skilful enemy.
For several weeks, McClellan and his chief of the staff (such as he is) are sick in bed, and no one is ad interim appointed to attend to the current affairs of our army of 600,000, having the enemy before their nose. Oh human imbecility! No satirist could invent such things; and if told, it would not be believed in Europe.
The McClellan-worship by the people at large is to be explained by the firm, ardent will of the people to crush the rebels, and by the general feeling of the necessity of a man for that purpose. Such is the case with the true, confiding people in the country; but here, contractors, martinets, and intriguers are the blowers of that worship. Lincoln is as is the people at large; but a Seward, a Blair, a Herald, a Times, and their respective and numerous tails, as for their motives, they are the reverse of Lincoln and of the people.
Victories in Kentucky, beyond the circumference or the direct action from here; they are obtained without strategy and by rough levies. But this voice of events is not understood by the McClellan tross.
Change in the Cabinet: Stanton, a new man, not from the parlor, and not from the hacks. His bulletin on the victory in Kentucky inaugurated a new era. It is a voice that nobody hitherto uttered in America. It is the awakening voice of the good genius of the people, almost as that which awoke Lazarus. This Stanton is the people; I never saw him, but I hope he is the man for the events; perhaps he may turn out to be my statesman.
I wish I could get convinced of the real superiority of Fremont. It is true that he was treated badly and had natural and artificial difficulties to over come; it is true that to him belongs the credit of having started the construction of the mortar fleet; but likewise it is true that he was, at the mildest, unsurpassingly reckless in contracts and expenditures, and I shall never believe him a general. With all this, Fremont started a great initiative at a time when McClellan and three-fourths of the generals of his creation considered it a greater crime to strike at a gentleman slaveholder than to strike at the Union.
The courtesies and hospitalities paid to Thurlow Weed by English society are clamored here in various ways. These courtesies prove the high breeding and the good-will of a part, at least, of the English aristocracy and of English statesmen. I do not suppose that Thurlow Weed could ever have been admitted in such society if he were travelling on his own merits as the great lobbyist and politician. At the utmost, he would have been shown up as a rara avis. But introduced to English society as the master spirit of Mr. Seward, and as Seward's semi-official confidential agent, Thurlow Weed was admitted, and even petted. But it is another question if this palming of a Thurlow Weed upon the English high-toned statesmen increased their consideration for Mr. Seward. Duke of Newcastle and others are not yet softened, and refuse to be humbugged.
Whoever has the slightest knowledge of how affairs are transacted, is well aware that the times of a personal diplomacy are almost gone. The exceptions are very rare, very few, and the persons must be of other might and intellectual mettle than a Sandford, Weed, or Hughes. Great affairs are not conducted or decided by conversations, but by great interests. Diplomatic agents, at the utmost, serve to keep their respective governments informed about the run of events. Mr. Mercier does it for Louis Napoleon; but Mr. Mercier's reports, however friendly they may be, cannot much influence a man of such depth as Louis Napoleon, and to imagine that a Hughes will be able to do it! I am ashamed of Mr. Seward; he proves by this would-be-crotchety policy how little he knows of events and of men, and how he undervalues Louis Napoleon. Such humbug missions are good to throw dirt in the eyes of a Lincoln, a Chase, etc., but in Europe such things are sent to Coventry. And Hughes to influence Spain! Oh! oh!
Dayton frets on account of the mission of Hughes. Dayton is right. Generally Dayton shows a great deal of good sense, of good comprehension, and a noble and independent character. He is not a flatterer, not servile, and subservient to Mr. Seward, as are others Mr. Adams, Mr. Sandford, and some few other diplomatic agents.
The active and acting abolitionists ought to concentrate all their efforts to organize thoroughly and efficiently the district of Beaufort. The success of a productive colony there would serve as a womb for the emancipation at large.
Mr. Seward declares that he has given up meddling with military affairs. For his own sake, and for the sake of the country, I ardently wish it were so; but I shall never believe it.
The Investigating Committee has made the most thorough disclosures of the thorough incapacity of McClellan; but the McClellan men, Seward, Blair, etc., neutralize, stifle all the good which could accrue to the country from these disclosures. And Lincoln is in their clutches. The administration by its influence prevents the publication of the results of this investigation, prevents the truth from coming to the people. Any hard name will be too soft for such a moral prevarication.
McClellan is either as feeble as a reed, or a bad man.
The disorder around here is nameless. Banks compares it to the time of the French Directory. Banks has no guns, no cavalry, and is in the vanguard. He begs almost on his knees, and cannot get anything. And the country pays a chief of the staff, and head of the staffers.
The time must come, although it be now seemingly distant, that the people will awake from this lethargy; that it will perceive how much of the noblest blood of the people, how much time and money, have been worse than recklessly squandered. The people will find it out, and then they will ask those Cains at the wheel an account of the innocent blood of Abel, the country's son, the country's cause.
The defenders of, and the thus called moderate men on the question of slavery, utter about it the old rubbish composed of the most thorough ignorance and of disgusting fallacies, in relation to this pseudo science, or rather lie, about races. More of it will come out in the course of the Congressional discussions. Not one of them is aware that independent science, that comparative anatomy, physiology, psychology, anthropology, that philosophy of history altogether and thoroughly repudiate all these superficially asserted, or tried-to-be-established, intrinsic diversities and peculiarities of races. All these would-be axioms, theories, are based on sand. In true science the question of race as represented by the Southern school partisans of slavery, with Agassiz, the so-called professor of Charleston by European savans, at their head, — that question is at the best an illusive element, and endangers the accuracy of induction. As it presents itself to the unprejudiced investigator, race is nothing more than the single manifestation of anterior stages of existence, the aggregate expression of the pre-historic vicissitudes of a people.
If those would-be knowing arguers on slavery, race, etc., were only aware of the fact that such people as the primitive Greeks, or the ancestors of classical Greeks, that the ancestors of the Latins, that even the roving, robbing ancestors of the Anglo Saxons, in some way or other, have been anthropophagi, and worshipped fetishes; and even as thus called already civilized, they sacrificed men to gods, could our great pro-slavers know all this, they would be more decent in their ignorant assertions, and not, so self-satisfied, strut about in their dark ignorance.
Those who are afraid that the freed negroes of the South will run to the Northern free States, display an ignorance still greater than the former. When the enslaved colored Americans in the South shall be all thoroughly emancipated in that now cursed region, then they will remain in the, to them, congenial climate, and in the favorable economical conditions of labor and of existence: Not only those emancipated will not run North, but the colored population from the free States, incited and stirred up by natural attractions, will leave the North for the South, as small streamlets and rivulets run into a large current or river.
The rebels extend on an immense bow, nearly one hundred miles, from the lower to the upper Potomac. Our army, two to one, is on the span of the arc, and we do nothing. A French sergeant would be better inspired than is McClellan.
SOURCE: Adam Gurowski, Diary from March 4, 1861, to November 12, 1862, pp. 137-50
My Dear Sister: The wind is now so strong and fair that we have hopes of reaching Valparaiso in about ten days, and, as our stay there will be too short to gratify curiosity and write letters too, I must prepare them beforehand. We sailed from Rio on the evening of the 21st of September, and ran down the coast of South America with nothing to disturb the usual monotony of a sea life till, on the twenty-first day out, we made Statenland, an island to the north and east of Cape Horn. It had become cold, and the bleak mountains, covered with snow, looked desolate enough. Soon they were sunken beneath the horizon, and our vessel felt the majestic swell of the Pacific. We were then in the sea so much dreaded by sailors, but a bright sun made us for the day think the dangers like most others, more imaginary than real. We were soon undeceived, for the southwest wind arose, driving us to the eastward amidst a conflict of waves such as I had never seen before. For twelve days we struggled with the storm, snow, ice, and cold, and when the wind lulled, we found that no progress had been made. A favoring breeze then enabled us to reach Cape Horn, with its snow-capped rocks, and we passed quite near it, with a clear sky and bright sun overhead. We began to flatter ourselves that it was done with us, but we were again mistaken; for a northwester began and served us more rudely than its predecessor. For another twelve days it was one continued struggle for mastery, and really it seemed more than once as though the ship must be swamped. All hands were completely exhausted; our Captain Baily of the navy has made the passage some ten or twelve times, and the purser still oftener, and each say they never encountered so heavy a sea or such persevering head gales. Often our decks were covered with ice and snow, the rigging dangling with icicles, whilst the wind moaned and whistled as in our western woods. I will not attempt to give you an idea of the height or force of the waves, — words are inadequate to convey a true idea, and one must expеrience them to feel their full force. I trust, however, you may never have to seek such experience. Yesterday, however, the observation of the sun placed us in 54° 40' or north of Cape Horn, whose latitude is 55° 59', or we had been twenty-six days south of the Cape passing through a distance we might return in less than two. Our course on the chart is jagged and crooked enough; the farthest south latitude we made was 59°. Here it is now spring and the days very long. I have seen the sun rise before four in the morning and set after eight, with twilight extending nearly the whole night. Were we to remain here a month longer, we might see the sun throughout twenty hours out of twenty-four. Travellers always allude to the strangeness of seeing the sun to the north, new constellations in the sky, etc., but education explains causes, removes mystery, and strips travelling of nearly all its ancient zest. The constellation of the Southern Cross is composed of four stars that are not very conspicuous. You may look up any night and see the same in any latitude. The Magellan clouds are three small patches of nebulæ like the Milky Way. They are near the South Pole, and cannot, of course, be seen in the northern hemisphere. In no other respect does this part of the world differ from any other, for the sea, monotonous sea, is the same everywhere, differing only according to the freshness of the breeze. The little world, bounded by the walls of our ship, continues the same limited monarchy, with its grades and distinctions. The captain in his cabin, the officers in the wardrooms, and sailors and soldiers forward. Of the three, ours, being the middle rank, is doubtless the most pleasant, for it embraces eleven in number, with books, cards, and music. We are thrown into the most intimate contact, and thus far have not suffered from a feeling of jealousy that is very apt to arise among officers of different services. Strange, too, for it is an imperium in imperio. We are passengers, having our soldiers under one species of command—the naval officers are on duty with the sailors. We are bound to do nothing, but still do make one-fourth of our men stay on deck all the time to assist in working the ship, for the crew is very short. Such a mixture of duties seldom prospers, but here, by a good understanding on the part of the officers, we have had no trouble at all, all feeling our mutual dependence. Since we have been off the Cape it has been so cold that we have been compelled to wrap up and keep more to ourselves in our staterooms, sleeping or reading, the former having the preference — the better the sleeper, the happier the man. Never was time more perfectly sacrificed, for we have been afloat near four months, and now, for the first time, we head towards our destination, after having sailed about nine thousand or ten thousand miles. If you hear about a subscription opening to dig a canal across the Isthmus of Panama, you may put me down any amount, for really I do not fancy a voyage of twenty-four thousand miles to accomplish a distance of less than two thousand. However, I do not permit myself to dream of a return to the United States for five or six years, when I hope to pass through Mexico. We are all most anxious to hear the state of the war. How many fights have been had, how the volunteers act, how General Kearny progresses, for we expect him to be in California this winter; yea, and a thousand other things that will be old before they reach our ears, for our own slow progress teaches us how slow and uncertain is communication by sea, to which we shall have mainly to rely for news and letters. The long, tedious time on board ship has given us ample time to reflect upon the past and make me feel a little astonished at my rapid movement from Pittsburgh. There I was well off, but, impelled by a feeling of shame at leading so quiet a life when my comrades were at war, I wrote to the Adjutant-General, requesting him to order me upon any expedition, — the more hazardous, the more it would be to my liking. This letter was before him when Captain Tompkins, without my knowledge, made application for me. The coincidence produced the result, and I was ordered. My order reached Pittsburgh when I was absent of my own accord, so that when I reached Pittsburgh I found that the expedition would sail immediately; I started without regard to private risk or interest lest I should be too late and lose a reputation for prompt and willing obedience of dangerous orders. I wish now I had been more slow and made better preparations for so long an absence, but it is now too late and I must trust to fortune. I repeat these things that they may be known in case of accident to me. I cannot imagine now how I was so hasty at Pittsburgh, except that then I had an idea that we were to land in California to act offensively with a battery instead of being planted to grow rusty and old in one place till Government be good enough to recall us. The only objects of life and curiosity in this region of earth are the whales and birds; the former do not show themselves often, but are known by the peculiar misty spout of water made as they rise to the surface for breath; but the birds are seen in a clearer element; they crowd in flocks all around the ship, following it for days and weeks, pouncing upon every piece of pork or bread that is thrown overboard. This greediness makes them an easy prey, for, with a baited hook and line, they are easily caught, and I don't know when I have had a more hearty laugh than at the simple idea of fishing for birds; but the idea is now a fact, having myself caught of all kinds. The most peculiar of them is the Cape pigeon, a beautiful, innocent bird exactly like a tame pigeon, except that it sits the water like a duck, and has webbed feet; but the albatross, the huge bird of the Cape, is more to my liking, and seems so perfectly indignant at being caught by stratagem. There are of these several varieties, the gray, the quaker (color) and white; the latter is the largest, measuring as much as twelve feet from wing to wing; their bodies are white and as large as a swan, and the spread of their wings great indeed. They soar about, scarcely moving a feather, just above the surface of the water, and, let the sea be as agitated as possible, they rise and fall with the huge waves, moving along them like a spirit upon the face of the waters. To the soldier officers catching these birds, the sailors, ever superstitious, attribute our hard luck in passing the Cape.
SOURCE: Rachel Sherman Thorndike, Editor, The Sherman Letters: Correspondence Between General and Senator Sherman from 1837 to 1891, pp. 31-6
Nothing worth
writing for a few days. To-day those we left at quarantine came up looking hale
and hearty. Most of them have had smallpox or varioloid. The weather is warm
and the boys who have been out of camp report alligators are plenty in the
swamp back of us, and snakes of many kinds also. I am rambling about camp
nowadays, but am not discharged from the hospital yet. General Neal Dow found a
place next door to camp to-day where liquor is sold. He took every bottle he
could find and smashed them across the porch rail after first locking up the
landlord. Camp is being cleared and every precaution taken to keep away yellow
fever. There is none of it yet, but it is expected this summer on account of so
many soldiers that are new to the climate. Lew Holmes has been worse for some
days and we fear we shall lose him yet.
Midnight. I am sitting up to let a tired out nurse get a nap. Holmes died a few
minutes ago. He tried to tell me something, but his tongue was so swelled I
could not understand what he said. He pulled me clear down to his face and his
breath was awful. I pretended to understand, and he settled back as if
satisfied and only breathed a few times more. His troubles are over, and
those of his old father and mother and his wife and child will begin when the
news reaches them. I am glad they did not see the end.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 94-5
Company B chipped in
for a metallic coffin and Holmes will go home. A hearse from the city has just
been here and taken him away. He was one of the best of fellows, and very
popular with the men. I wonder now if Kniffin will be tried on us again. There
is some reason for it now, but it should go to Riley Burdick, who is next in
line.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 95
Two funerals to-day.
We have quite a graveyard started. From all I can hear, by talking with
soldiers of other regiments, none of them have been hit as hard as the 128th
New York. And it all comes from our being stuffed into the hold of the Arago a
month before we sailed. A big responsibility rests somewhere.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 95
Cleaning house day
in the hospital. I have been helping so one of the nurses can get off for a
walk outside. We found a burying ground where I counted fifty from the 12th
Connecticut Volunteers. Nearly all died in August and September last. So we
have not had all the sickness and death. I will try and not complain as much as
I have. There were only eight from our regiment besides two we have sent home.
From there we followed the parapet to the Jackson & Mississippi R. R.,
which runs not far back from camp. Saw a regiment of negro soldiers, who seemed
to feel fine, were having all sorts of games and were in first-rate spirits.
Their camp was clean and at the head of each company street were flower beds.
Just outside they had planted a garden and onions and other things were
growing. The commissioned officers were white. Everything else was black.
But for get-up and style they beat any white regiment I have yet seen. It made
me ashamed to go home. When I get out of the hospital I mean to try and get the
boys to be more like them.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 95-6
