Diary of Musician David Lane, September 9, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky.     Again has the note of preparation sounded in our camp, and all hands are busy getting ready for another campaign. In all probability we will soon be on our winding way among the Cumberland Mountains, en route for East Tennessee to assist in driving treason from that unhappy State. Orders have not been issued, but our artillery and ambulances have come, clothing has been issued, knapsacks, haversacks, canteens and tents have been distributed, and, more ominous still, forty rounds of cartridges have been dealt out to every man—in fact, we are ready to take the field at a minute's notice, and only await the order.

"Be ready to march tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock," is the order that greets me as I write. It is one hundred forty miles to Knoxville, our objective point, and will take us fourteen days if unopposed.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 90

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 13, 1863

London, Ky.     We broke camp last Thursday morning, the tenth of September, bound for Cumberland Gap, ninety miles distant. The first day we marched eleven miles over a rough, broken country, and encamped for the night. The next morning we started at 5 o'clock and made eighteen miles; yesterday, nine miles — thirty-eight miles in three days, with eight days' rations and our accoutrements. The second day we marched rapidly, making few halts, our business being urgent, for Burnside's left was threatened, and we were hastening to the rescue. But, thanks to a kind Providence, a messenger met us at this place with the intelligence that the Rebels had suddenly left East Tennessee to join Bragg's army at Lafayette, and the Gap was already in possession of our forces. There being no cause for haste, our commander decided to spend the Sabbath here, and give the poor, tired mules a chance to rest. We will probably resume our march in the morning and proceed leisurely to the Gap—perhaps to Knoxville. We have borne the fatigue thus far better than I expected.

It is a long time since I carried a knapsack, but the more I have to do, the more strength I have to do it with.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 90-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 14, 1863

We were aroused this morning at 3 o'clock and ordered to be ready to march at 5 o'clock. In a very few minutes hundreds of fires were brightly glowing, striving by their feeble rays to dispel the gloom of night. At the appointed hour we were up and away with hearts as light and buoyant as though privations, toil and danger were unknown. The morning was delightfully cool, and before the god of day had risen to scorch us with his burning rays, nearly half our day's march was done. The rest of the day was made easy by frequent halts, and when, at 2 o'clock p. m., we filed into line and stacked arms, all were agreeably surprised. We had marched twelve miles.

Today is the anniversary of our first battle—our baptism. The mind naturally reverts to that trying time, and all its scenes pass rapidly in review. Then, for the first time, we met face to face our country's foe. The chivalry of the South then met the mudsills of Michigan and learned to respect them. Today we met them again, but not in battle array. As we were starting, this morning, we came upon 2,300 prisoners taken at Cumberland Gap. They were free to talk, and a more ignorant lot of semi-savages I never met. We could not convince them that Vicksburg or Port Hudson were in our possession. They were very "frank," and indulged freely in epithets and pet names.

9 o'clock p. m.     Our camp is in a beautiful grove, on the banks of a "babbling brook." A cool, delicious breeze is gently blowing from the west. The sky is cloudless, and the bright, scintillating stars shine out in unwonted brilliancy, and the pale moon is pouring down upon the earth a flood of silvery light. It is an ideal night in which to rest after a fatiguing march-an ideal night, so seem to think our boys, in which to celebrate the anniversary of our first battle. The Sutler came up about sundown with the "accessories." The preliminaries have been gone through with, and the "celebration is in full blast." Pandemonium reigns. This quiet glen has been transformed, for the time being, into the council hall of demons. Men fall upon each other's necks and weep, and laugh, and drivel, and shout "’Rah for Seventeenth Michigan." It was an impressive ceremony, and one in which all allusions to the brave men who fell and sympathy for their bereaved families were considerately left out, lest they wound the tender sensibilities of the living.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 91-3

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 15, 1863

We marched fifteen miles to Barboursville and encamped on the banks of the Cumberland River. Many of the men fell out by the way and came straggling into camp until after dark. I am too tired to write, and will lie me down and rest.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 93

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 16, 1863

I was so completely exhausted yesterday I did not expect to be able to march at all today, but, thanks to my recuperative powers, I arose this morning "good as new." The distance is nothing; it is the load we carry, and the rough, hilly country, winding up, higher and higher, that fatigues. Rough and hilly as it is, this country is thickly settled by a people who raise barely enough to keep soul and body together. We have marched only nine miles today, and will lay over until the day after tomorrow.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 93

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 20, 1863

Cumberland Gap.     We are now in East Tennessee, one mile south of the famous Gap in the Cumberland Mountains.

When we left Crab Orchard we expected a fight here, as it was then in possession of the Rebels. I cannot say I am sorry they gave us possession without a struggle, for it is an ugly looking place, and "hard to take" without opposition. Our route, for the last sixty miles, has been over, around and among mountains, but this is the "back bone," or main ridge, which rises in a direct line high above the isolated peaks on either side. The Gap is a slow, gradual ascent that rises to about half the altitude of the mountain on each side; is very crooked, and, at places, barely wide enough for a wagon to pass. At the summit it widens out into a small plain, or basin, containing about five acres, and shut in by a solid wall of rock two or three hundred feet in height. Near the center of the basin is a large spring of crystal water. Here are the fortifications, and a stronger position can hardly be imagined. One thousand men can hold it against any force that can be sent against it, so long as provisions and ammunition holds out. On the summit is a marble shaft that marks the corners of Virginia and Kentucky and the north line of Tennessee. By taking two steps I was in three different States. We are awaiting orders, and may remain over tomorrow. It is yet undecided whether we go to Knoxville or to Morristown, thirty miles above the former place, on the Richmond & New Orleans Railroad.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 93-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 24, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.     We left the Gap on the twenty-first and made twenty miles, climbing up one side of a mountain two or three miles, then down the other side. It was a toilsome march, and, when we halted at night, my feet seemed pounded to a jelly. We reached Morristown the twenty-second, and immediately took cars for Knoxville, as we supposed, but the engine coupled to the wrong end of the train, and away we dashed to Greenville, thirty miles up the valley. We arrived there about sundown, stacked arms, unslung knapsacks, made a dash for rails with which to build our camp fires, but, while we were engaged in making them fly again, the bugle sounded "fall in"—the rails were abandoned, we were ordered on board the cars, and took the back track for Knoxville. We arrived here at 4 o'clock this morning and marched directly to the Fair Ground, three-fourths of a mile from the city, where we are now encamped.

The boys are somewhat worn by heavy marches, and a few days' rest will do them good.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 95

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 25, 1863

The Fair Ground, on which we are encamped, is simply a clearing in the wood, without buildings, fence or shade. But it is a pleasant place, near a spring of good water, and bordering on the Holston River. I have just returned from the city, where I have spent most of the day. These are glorious days for the people of Knoxville. They tell me the day of their deliverance has come at last. The story of their sufferings has been but feebly told. Even a Brownlow cannot do it justice. Hundreds of citizens followed us to their homes, from which they had been driven a year or more ago. They are flocking in by fifties and by hundreds and are organizing for their own defense. We have given them the oportunity, and they are eager to embrace it. One lady told me it was with difficulty she could repress a shout of joy as she saw our blue coats filing down the streets. Loyalty here is pure and unalloyed, as proven by the sacrifices they have made.

We are objects of much curiosity. An old gentle man, a preacher, walked six miles to see us. We were the first Northern men he ever saw. He said he could not express his gratitude to us for their timely deliverance.

Parson Brownlow is expected here soon. I saw his son today. He is a noble-looking fellow, about 21 years of age; is Lieutenant Colonel of a regiment that has been raised since Burnside came here. Burnside is the hero of the hour in East Tennessee.

It is twenty days since I received my last mail. During all that time I have not seen a newspaper, therefore am totally ignorant of what is taking place in other parts of the world.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 95-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 27, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.     We are again under marching orders. It is rumored we go to Rosecrans' support tomorrow morning. Our boys are quite as enthusiastic as when they first left home, and for the same reason. They are ready to go anywhere—do anything to hasten the end. They have borne with wonderful fortitude the excessive fatigue of marching through a mountainous country. Burnside does not like to spare them—will not unless absolutely necessary. He owes something to the Ninth Army Corps. Those stars upon his epaulets that shine so brightly, and which he wears so jauntily, were won for him by the Ninth Army Corps. General Burnside is truly a noble man. We respect him for his honesty and frankness in acknowledging his mistakes as well as for his great administrative ability.

Our orders to march have just been countermanded. General Burnside told Colonel Luce he had received a despatch from Rosecrans that we are not needed at present. That seems to confirm the rumor of his success. We are having delightful weather, clear and cool.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 97

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 29, 1863

It was rumored this morning that we march tomorrow at 5 a. m. Little attention was paid to this, however, and the men were enjoying themselves as usual, gathered in groups around their camp fires, which the cool mountain breezes rendered grateful, singing songs, spinning yarns or writing letters to loved ones at home. About 9 o'clock the official order came: "Reveille at 3; march at 5." Rations were to be drawn, which occupied us until nearly midnight, and left little time for sleep. Again was there a change of program, and we were notified that reveille would sound at the usual hour. At last we retired to rest, thinking to get two or three hours of quiet sleep. Alas, the "glorious uncertainties of war," I had hardly closed my eyes in sleep or so it seemed to me ere our Orderly Sergeant came around to every tent "Fall out, boys; pack up; we are off immediately." We have soldiered too long to stop and ask questions, be our curiosity ever so great, so out we fell, packed our traps in silence, and awaited orders.

We had not long to wait. Colonel Luce soon came around to each company and said, in his mild, quiet way, "Put on your things, men, and fall in on the color line without further orders."

In less than fifteen minutes from the time we were first aroused our brigade was in motion, filing down the ravine silently as a band of Indians upon the warpath. We marched directly to the ferry, south of the city, crossed over, and a little after daylight formed in line about two miles from the landing.

The road from the city followed a ravine running south about a mile, then turned abruptly to the right, winding around the hills in a southwesterly direction. At or in rear of this angle a cannon was placed in position to sweep the road for about half a mile. This piece was supported by the Twentieth Michigan. In advance half a mile, and on the left of the road, the Second Michigan was concealed in a cornfield, while on the right, and a little in advance of them, another gun was masked and supported by the Seventeenth. Still further on, and to the left, were two more pieces of artillery, supported by the One Hundredth Pennsylvania. Not a sign of these movements could be seen from the road. Here, then, is a most ingeniously contrived trap. Where is the game? And what?

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 97-9

Senator Charles Sumner to George Sumner, April 23, 1852

You are right in regarding both the old parties as substantially alike. I do not think that one who looks at principles and seeks to serve his fellowman can have much satisfaction in becoming the hack of one of these combinations; nor would I recommend you to enlist in any public efforts unless for the sake of a cause which you have at heart, or under an impulse too strong to resist. The consciousness of duty done must be your support under the load of misrepresentation and falsehood which are the lot of all in conspicuous stations. I have been tempted to say this by your note. I could not say less; I have not time now to say more.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 280

Senator Charles Sumner to George Sumner, April 26, 1852

If you are conscious that you can speak an effective word for Kossuth's Hungarian career, I should regret not to have it done, though I commend you to the prudence of careful preparation. Boston society, to which you allude, is of course the other way; but your point of view will enable you to look with indifference upon its criticisms. Remember this: while I counsel all caution and a proper reserve, particularly at the beginning, I would not have you sail by the meridian of Boston. Your own soul would rebuke you if you did.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 280

Senator Charles Sumner to John Bigelow, June 9, 1852

I longed to see you. When you called I was at Eames's, discoursing on Baltimore and its scenes. This nomination¹ makes me lament anew the fatal '49, when the Barnburners and the Hunkers coalesced. Had they kept apart, we should all have been together,—perhaps in a minority, but powerful from our principles and character. For myself, I am left alone. The political fellowships I had hoped to establish are vanishing. Of course I can have nothing to do with Pierce or his platform,—probably nothing with Scott or his. How I wish we had all stuck together! Should Pierce be elected, with a Democratic Senate and House, we should have the iron rule of the slave-power.

_______________

¹ Of Franklin Pierce, as Democratic candidate for President.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, pp. 280-1

Senator Charles Sumner to Charles Francis Adams Sr., June 21, 1852

We hear that Scott is nominated at last. I tell you confidentially how Seward regards it. He thinks that his friends have been defeated, that Scott is made to carry weight which will probably defeat him, and that the campaign can have little interest for the friends of our cause. He will take an opportunity, by letter or speech, to extricate himself from the platform. Seward's policy is to stick to the Whig party; no action of theirs can shake him off. But the cause of freedom he has constantly at heart; I am satisfied of his sincere devotion to it. Major Donaldson says that there is now no difference between the Whigs and Democrats; their platforms, he says, are identical. This is the darkest day of our cause. But truth will prevail. Are there any special words of your grandfather against slavery anywhere on record, in tract or correspondence? If there are, let me have them. I wish you were here.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 281

Diary of Private William S. White, July 1, 1862

We remained in position all night, and a more uncomfortable night I never spent; 'twas almost a matter of impossibility to sleep, but nature must at length claim its own, and so we slept at last as only broken down soldiers can.

This morning the enemy threw a few shell toward us, but we made no reply.

Longstreet's division has been relieved to-day by Magruder, and my company has been ordered back to the rear. As we moved back the terribly bloody and disastrous was commencing, but we did not participate in it. Here Lee's army received a check which enabled McClellan, who conducted his retreat in masterly style, to make good his escape.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 124

Diary of Private William S. White, July 2, 1862

We moved back a mile or so to the rear, and as we considered this a safe place our horses were "unhitched, unharnessed," etc., for the first time since the morning of the 26th, and we prepared ourselves for a good sleep—something we had not enjoyed for nearly a week. Towards morning it rained very hard for about three hours, but being so nearly broken down it did not even arouse me. It is a great wonder that this did not again cause a relapse, as I was still badly salivated. However, the excitement kept me up, and that being over I begin to feel the effects of my imprudence.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 124

Diary of Private William S. White, July 3, 1862

There was no fighting anywhere near us yesterday, though the occasional boom of a heavy gun reached us, and it is now pretty certain that the Yankees have, by extraordinary exertions, made their escape to the river.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 124

Diary of Private William S. White, July 4, 1862

To-day we have been ordered back to the old camp of the First Virginia Artillery, and a lovely spot it is. In front of us is an open field, whilst in our rear is a sloping hill covered with magnificent oaks; at the foot of this hill meanders through a grassy dale a silvery stream, and its soft ripple is music sweet to the ear so long wearied by the continued crash of cannon and the roll of musketry, mingled with the cries of the wounded and the dying.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 125

Diary of Private William S. White, July 5, 1862

One year ago to-day the lamented Dreux fell at the head of his battalion. He was the first officer of high rank that fell on our side. Alas! how many kindred spirits have joined him ere this!

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 125

Diary of Private William S. White, July 6, 1862

Having a day's leave granted me I saddled my horse and wended my way towards the devastated fields of old Hanover; passed through Mechanicsville and viewed with sorrowing eye the destruction caused by the late bloody battles. Houses, churches, and buildings of every description torn to pieces by artillery, and every vestige of grain trodden under foot by the tramp of soldiery. A wealthy old farmer by the name of Hogan made me a present of a ten dollar note to be invested in a new pair of pants: and I was not too proud to take it.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 125