Diary of William Howard Russell: July 21, 1861

The calmness and silence of the streets of Washington this lovely morning suggested thoughts of the very different scenes which, in all probability, were taking place at a few miles' distance. One could fancy the hum and stir round the Federal bivouacs, as the troops woke up and were formed into column of march towards the enemy. I much regretted that I was not enabled to take the field with General McDowell's army, but my position was surrounded with such difficulties that I could not pursue the course open to the correspondents of the American newspapers. On my arrival in Washington I addressed an application to Mr. Cameron, Secretary at War, requesting him to sanction the issue of, rations and forage from the Commissariat to myself, a servant, and a couple of horses, at the contract prices, or on whatever other terms he might think fit, and I had several interviews with Mr. Leslie, the obliging and indefatigable chief clerk of the War Department, in reference to the matter; but as there was a want of precedents for such a course, which was not all to be wondered at, seeing that no representative of an English newspaper had ever been sent to chronicle the progress of an American army in the field, no satisfactory result could be arrived at, though I had many fair words and promises.

A great outcry had arisen in the North against the course and policy of England, and the journal I represented was assailed on all sides as a Secession organ, favorable to the rebels and exceedingly hostile to the Federal government and the cause of the tumors. Public men in America are alive to the inconveniences of attacks by their own press; and as it was quite impossible to grant to the swarms of correspondents from all parts of the Union the permission to draw supplies from the public stores, it would have afforded a handle to turn the screw upon the War Department, already roundly abused in the most influential papers, if Mr. Cameron acceded to me, not merely a foreigner, but the correspondent of a foreign journal which was considered the most powerful enemy of the policy of his government, privileges which he denied to American citizens, representing newspapers which were enthusiastically supporting the cause for which the armies of the North were now in the field.

To these gentlemen indeed, I must here remark, such privileges were of little consequence. In every camp they had friends who were willing to receive them in their quarters, and who earned a word of praise in the local papers for the gratification of either their vanity or their laudable ambition in their own neighborhood, by the ready service which they afforded to the correspondents. They rode Government horses, had the use of Government wagons, and through fear, favor, or affection, enjoyed facilities to which I had no access. I could not expect persons with whom I was unacquainted to be equally generous, least of all when by doing so they would have incurred popular obloquy and censure; though many officers in the army had expressed in very civil terms the pleasure it would give them to see me at their quarters in the field. Some days ago I had an interview with Mr. Cameron himself, who was profuse enough in promising that he would do all in his power to further my wishes; but he had, nevertheless, neglected sending me the authorization for which I had applied. I could scarcely stand a baggage train and commissariat upon my own account, nor could I well participate in the system of plunder and appropriation which has marked the course of the Federal army so far, devastating and laying waste all the country behind it.

Hence, all I could do was to make a journey to see the army on the field, and to return to Washington to write my report of its first operation, knowing there would be plenty of time to overtake it before it could reach Richmond, when, as I hoped, Mr. Cameron would be prepared to accede to my request, or some plan had been devised by myself to obviate the difficulties which lay in my path. There was no entente cordiale exhibited towards me by the members of the American press; nor did they, any more than the generals, evince any disposition to help the alien correspondent of the "Times," and my only connection with one of their body, the young designer, had not, indeed, inspired me with any great desire to extend my acquaintance. General McDowell, on giving me the most hospitable invitation to his quarters, refrained from offering the assistance which, perhaps, it was not in his power to afford; and I confess, looking at the matter calmly, I could scarcely expect that he would, particularly as he said, half in jest, half seriously, "I declare I am not quite easy at the idea of having your eye on me, for you have seen so much of European armies, you will, very naturally, think little of us, generals and all."

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, Vol. 1, p. 439-41

The Victory on the Cumberland—The End in Sight

We have reason to believe, if not the certainty, that Fort Donelson has fallen.  After a struggle, desperate on both sides, and, as far as my be judged from the imperfect details which have reached us, creditable to the fighting qualities of both, the post capitulated, and the National colors took the place, on the ramparts, of the rebel rag.  The destruction of life and the lists of wounded are probably largely in excess of those of any previous contest of the war.  It could hardly be otherwise.  The opposing forces were strong in numbers, but while the assailants were more perilously exposed, the defenders, from their very numbers, cooped up as they were in lines where they were helpless to fight, and simply in the way of each other, must have suffered frightfully from the storm of shell and shot hurled upon them from that circumvallation of fire.  It was doubtless the terrible sacrifice of life to which they were subjected within the fort that prompted these daring sorties which the besiegers so gallantly repulsed.

Having this glorious result of the fight, we may well postpone the discussion of details.  With the capture of Fort Donelson, another of those mortal blows recently struck at the heart of the rebellion has been inflicted.  Nor are we to lose sight of the fact that nearly all of these victories come from the command of Gen. HALLECK.  Fort Henry captured, the loyalty of Tennessee brought to light, the surrender if Fort Donelson, the retreat of PRICE, from Springfield, and the report of this morning that CURTIS had overtaken his rear, had seized his baggage-train and more prisoners that he knew what to do with, show with what energy and how victoriously the commander of the Western Department is executing his part of the great programme.  These, with the retreat of JOHNSTON from before BUELL, relieve, practically, both Missouri and Kentucky from the rebel enemy, and lay bare the Tennessee  to the admission of these Union armies which shall bring liberation to its oppressed but loyal people.

While the war in the West is thus drawing to a close, the signs are not less significant in the East.  There is little doubt that in North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia, our forces are at this moment executing flank movements to the interior, which must effectually isolate the main rebel army in Eastern Virginia from its sources of supply.  It is clearly improbable for the rebels to hold their position at Manassas.  Their retreat must be a question of a few days—perhaps of a few hours.  There is but one reason for the evacuation of Bowling Green that is not valid for the evacuation of Manassas, and it is that no division of the Potomac army has been thrown forward to threaten an attack.  But such a threat is no longer necessary.  The news that Fort Donelson is in National hands; that the Tennessee river is open to our gunboats even to Muscle Shoals in Alabama; that the Cumberland can now be ascended to Nashville; that Memphis is in danger, and that the garrison of Columbus are for all practical purposes prisoners of war, must give that shock to the rebels near Washington which shall leave to its leaders an only alternative of withdrawing their army, or seeing it dissolve.  A retreat will be begun, but where will it end? Nowhere, we conceive short of the Gulf States.  The only pause at Richmond will probably be to witness the gloomy pageant of JEFF. DAVIS inaugurated as President, like a King crowned on his death-bed, or the succession of a Byzantine Emperor, when Byzantium itself was beleaguered and stormed by the Turks.  It will be in the Gulf States that the last stand of the rebels will be attempted.  But there our lines are already drawn tightly about them.  We hold the coast.  The blockade is pinchingly close.  What our gunboats and mortar-boats have done East and West they can do for every river and harbor on the Gulf.  Our troops will escape from the mud and the frosts of the Border States, to a theater of war, where for months to come the temperature is that of our Northern Summer, and where roads are settled, and military movements facile.  Indeed, of the resistance of the desperate traitors can be protracted through the Summer, a campaign in July and August would convey no discomfort to those who have experienced similar heats in our own latitudes; for the steady Southern Summer is far less intolerable that the varying temperatures of the North.

It is no extravagance, therefore, to say the rebellion has culminated.  Its settling must be as the flash of a meteor.  Had the illusory stimulus of the apparent victories of Bull Run and Ball’s Bluff been wanting; and had the certainty of the non-interference of France and England been earlier attained, the result must have been early reached.  After this, it certainly can[no]t be materially postponed.  The monster is already clutched and in his death struggle.

SOURCE: “The Victory on the Cumberland—The End in Sight,” The New York Times, New York, New York, Monday, February 17, 1862, p. 4.

Diary of William Howard Russell: July 20, 1861

The great battle which is to arrest rebellion, or to make it a power in the land, is no longer distant or doubtful. McDowell has completed his reconnoissance of the country in front of the enemy, and General Scott anticipates that he will be in possession of Manassas to-morrow night. All the statements of officers concur in describing the Confederates as strongly intrenched along the line of Bull Run covering the railroad. The New York papers, indeed, audaciously declare that the enemy have fallen back in disorder. In the main thoroughfares of the city there is still a scattered army of idle soldiers moving through the civil crowd, though how they come here no one knows. The officers clustering round the hotels, and running in and out of the bar-rooms and eating-houses, are still more numerous. When I inquired at the head-quarters who these were, the answer was that the majority were skulkers, but that there was no power at such a moment to send them back to their regiments or punish them. In fact, deducting the reserves, the rear-guards, and the scanty garrisons at the earth-works, McDowell will not have 25,000 men to undertake his seven days' march through a hostile country to the Confederate capital; and yet, strange to say, in the pride and passion of the politicians, no doubt is permitted to rise for a moment respecting his complete success.

I was desirous of seeing what impression was produced upon the Congress of the United States by the crisis which was approaching, and drove down to the Senate at noon. There was no appearance of popular enthusiasm, excitement, or emotion among the people in the passages. They drank their iced water, ate cakes or lozenges, chewed and chatted, or dashed at their acquaintances amongst the members, as though nothing more important than a railway bill or a postal concession was being debated inside. I entered the Senate, and found the House engaged in not listening to Mr. Latham, the Senator for California, who was delivering an elaborate lecture on the aspect of political affairs from a Republican point of view. The senators were, as usual, engaged in reading newspapers, writing letters, or in whispered conversation, whilst the Senator received his applause from the people in the galleries, who were scarcely restrained from stamping their feet at the most highly-flown passages. Whilst I was listening to what is by courtesy called the debate, a messenger from Centreville, sent in a letter to me, stating that General McDowell would advance early in the morning, and expected to engage the enemy before noon. At the same moment a Senator who had received a despatch left his seat and read it to a brother legislator, and the news it contained was speedily diffused from one seat to another, and groups formed on the edge of the floor eagerly discussing the welcome intelligence.

The President's hammer again and again called them to order; and from out of this knot, Senator Sumner, his face lighted with pleasure, came to tell me the good news. “McDowell has carried Bull Run without firing a shot. Seven regiments attacked it at the point of the bayonet, and the enemy immediately fled. General Scott only gives McDowell till mid-day to-morrow to be in possession of Manassas.” Soon afterwards, Mr. Hay, the President's Secretary, appeared on the floor to communicate a message to the Senate. I asked him if the news was true. “All I can tell you,” said he, “is that the President has heard nothing at all about it, and that General Scott, from whom we have just received a communication, is equally ignorant of the reported success.”

Some senators and many congressmen have already gone to join McDowell's army, or to follow in its wake, in the hope of seeing the Lord deliver the Philistines into his hands. As I was leaving the Chamber with Mr. Sumner, a dust-stained, toil-worn man, caught the Senator by the arm, and said, “Senator, I am one of your constituents. I come from ——town, in Massachusetts, and here are letters from people you know, to certify who I am. My poor brother was killed yesterday, and I want to go out and get his body to send back to the old people; but they won't let me pass without an order.” And so Mr. Sumner wrote a note to General Scott, and an other to General Mansfield, recommending that poor Gordon Frazer should be permitted to go through the Federal lines on his labor of love; and the honest Scotchman seemed as grateful as if he had already found his brother's body.

Every carriage, gig, wagon, and hack has been engaged by people going out to see the fight. The price is enhanced by mysterious communications respecting the horrible slaughter in the skirmishes at Bull's Run. The French cooks and hotelkeepers, by some occult process of reasoning, have arrived at the conclusion that they must treble the prices of their wines and of the hampers of provisions which the Washington people are ordering to comfort themselves at their bloody Derby, “There was not less than 18,000 men, sir, killed and destroyed. I don't care what General Scott says to the contrary, he was not there. I saw a reliable gentleman, ten minutes ago, as cum [sic] straight from the place, and he swore there was a string of wagons three miles long with the wounded. While these Yankees lie so, I should not be surprised to hear they said they did not lose 1000 men in that big fight the day before yesterday.”

When the newspapers came in from New York, I read flaming accounts of the ill-conducted reconnoissance against orders, which was terminated by a most dastardly and ignominious retreat, “due,” say the New York papers, “to the inefficiency and cowardice of some of the officers.” Far different was the behavior of the modest chroniclers of these scenes, who, as they tell us, “stood their ground as well as any of them, in spite of the shot, shell, and rifle-balls that whizzed past them for many hours.: General Tyler alone, perhaps, did more, for “he was exposed to the enemy's fire for nearly four hours;” and when we consider that this fire came from masked batteries, and that the wind of round shot is unusually destructive (in America), we can better appreciate the danger to which he was so gallantly indifferent. It is obvious that in this first encounter the Federal troops gained no advantage; and as they were the assailants, their repulse, which cannot be kept secret from the rest of the army, will have a very damaging effect on their morale.

General Johnston, who has been for some days with a considerable force in an entrenched position at Winchester, in the valley of the Shenandoah, had occupied General Scott's attention, in consequence of the facility which he possessed to move into Maryland by Harper's Ferry, or to fall on the Federals by the Manassas Gap Railway, which was available by a long march from the town he occupied. General Patterson, with a Federal corps of equal strength, had accordingly been despatched to attack him, or, at all events, to prevent his leaving Winchester without an action; but the news to-night is that Patterson, who was an officer of some reputation, has allowed Johnston to evacuate Winchester, and has not pursued him; so that it is impossible to predict where the latter will appear.

Having failed utterly in my attempts to get a horse, I was obliged to negotiate with a livery stable-keeper, who had a hooded gig, or tilbury, left on his hands, to which he proposed to add a splinter-bar and pole, so as to make it available for two horses, on condition that I paid him the assessed value of the vehicle and horses, in case they were destroyed by the enemy. Of what particular value my executors might have regarded the guarantee in question, the worthy man did not inquire, nor did he stipulate for any value to be put upon the driver; but it struck me that, if these were in any way seriously damaged, the occupants of the vehicle were not likely to escape. The driver, indeed, seemed by no means willing to undertake the job; and again and again it was proposed to me that I should drive, but I persistently refused.

On completing my bargain with the stable-keeper, in which it was arranged with Mr. Wroe that I was to start on the following morning early, and return at night before twelve o'clock, or pay a double day, I went over to the Legation, and found Lord Lyons in the garden. I went to request that he would permit Mr. Warre, one of the attachés, to accompany me, as he had expressed a desire to that effect. His Lordship hesitated at first, thinking perhaps that the American papers would turn the circumstance to some base uses, if they were made aware of it; but finally he consented, on the distinct assurance that I was to be back the following night, and would not, under any event, proceed onwards with General McDowell's army till after I had returned to Washington. On talking the matter over with Mr. Warre, I resolved, that the best plan would be to start that night if possible, and proceed over the Long Bridge, so as to overtake the army before it advanced in the early morning.

It was a lovely moonlight night. As we walked through the street to General Scott's quarters, for the purpose of procuring a pass, there was scarcely a soul abroad; and the silence which reigned contrasted strongly with the tumult prevailing in the daytime. A light glimmered in the General’s parlor; his aides were seated in the veranda outside smoking in silence, and one of them handed us the passes which he had promised to procure; but when I told them that we intended to cross the Long Bridge that night, an unforeseen obstacle arose. The guards had been specially ordered to permit no person to cross between tattoo and daybreak who was not provided with the countersign; and without the express order of the General, no subordinate officer can communicate that countersign to a stranger. “Can you not ask the General?” “He is lying down asleep, and I dare not venture to disturb him.”

As I had all along intended to start before daybreak, this contretemps promised to be very embarrassing, and I ventured to suggest that General Scott would authorize the countersign to be given when he awoke. But the aide-de-camp shook his head, and I began to suspect from his manner and from that of his comrades that my visit to the army was not regarded with much favor — a view which was confirmed by one of them, who, by the way, was a civilian, for in a few minutes he said, “In fact, I would not advise Warre and you to go out there at all; they are a lot of volunteers and recruits, and we can't say how they will behave. They may probably have to retreat. If I were you I would not be near them.” Of the five or six officers who sat in the veranda, not one spoke confidently or with the briskness which is usual when there is a chance of a brush with an enemy.

As it was impossible to force the point, we had to retire, and I went once more to the horse dealer's where I inspected the vehicle and the quadrupeds destined to draw it. I had spied in a stalk a likely-looking Kentuckian nag, nearly black, light, but strong, and full of fire, with an undertaker's tail and something of a mane to match, which the groom assured me I could not even look at, as it was bespoke by an officer; but after a little strategy I prevailed on the proprietor to hire it to me for the day, as well as a boy, who was to ride it after the gig till we came to Centreville. My little experience in such scenes decided me to secure a saddle horse. I knew it would be impossible to see anything of the action from a gig; that the roads would be blocked up by commissariat wagons, ammunition reserves, and that in case of anything serious taking place, I should be deprived of the chance of participating after the manner of my vocation in the engagement and of witnessing its incidents. As it was not incumbent on my companion to approach so closely to the scene of action, he could proceed in the vehicle to the most convenient point, and then walk as far as he liked, and return when he pleased; but from the injuries I had sustained in the Indian campaign, I could not walk very far. It was finally settled that the gig, with two horses and the saddle horse ridden by a negro boy, should be at my door as soon after daybreak as We could pass the Long Bridge.

I returned to my lodgings, laid out an old pair of Indian boots, cords, a Himalayan suit, an old felt hat, a flask, revolver, and belt. It was very late when I got in, and I relied on my German landlady to procure some commissariat stores; but she declared the whole extent of her means would only furnish some slices of bread, with intercostal layers of stale ham and mouldy Bologna sausage. I was forced to be content, and got to bed after midnight, and slept, having first arranged that in case of my being very late next night a trustworthy Englishman should be sent for, who would carry my letters from Washington to Boston in time for the mail which leaves on Wednesday. My mind had been so much occupied with the coming event that I slept uneasily, and once or twice I started up, fancying I was called. The moon shone full through the mosquito curtains of my bed, and just ere daybreak I was aroused by some noise in the adjoining room, and looking out, in a half dreamy state, imagined I saw General McDowell standing at the table, on which a candle was burning low, so distinctly that I woke up with the words, "General, is that you?" Nor did I convince myself it was a dream till I had walked into the room.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, Vol. 1, p. 434-9

Diary of William Howard Russell: July 18, 1861

After breakfast. Leaving head-quarters, I went across to General Mansfield's, and was going up-stairs, when the General* himself, a white-headed, gray-bearded, and rather soldierly-looking man, dashed out of his room in some excitement, and exclaimed, “Mr. Russell, I fear there is bad news from the front.” “Are they fighting, General?” “Yes, sir. That fellow Tyler has been engaged, and we are whipped.” Again I went off to the horse-dealer; but this time the price of the steed had been raised to £220; “for,” says he, “I don't want my animals to be ripped up by them cannon and them musketry, and those who wish to be guilty of such cruelty must pay for it.” At the War-Office, at the Department of State, at the Senate, and at the White House, messengers and orderlies running in and out, military aides, and civilians with anxious faces, betokened the activity and perturbation which reigned within. I met Senator Sumner radiant with joy. “We have obtained a great success; the rebels are falling back in all directions. General Scott says we ought to be in Richmond by Saturday night.” Soon afterwards a United States officer, who had visited me in company with General Meigs, riding rapidly past, called out, “You have heard we are whipped; these confounded volunteers have run away.” I drove to the Capitol, where people said one could actually see the smoke of the cannon; but, on arriving there, it was evident that the fire from some burning houses, and from wood cut down for cooking purposes, had been mistaken for tokens of the fight.

It was strange to stand outside the walls of the Senate whilst legislators were debating inside respecting the best means of punishing the rebels and traitors; and to think that, amidst the dim horizon of woods which bounded the west towards the plains of Manassas, the army of the United States was then contending, at least with doubtful fortune, against the forces of the desperate and hopeless outlaws whose fate these United States senators pretended to hold in the hollow of their hands. Nor was it unworthy of note that many of the tradespeople along Pennsylvania Avenue, and the ladies whom one saw sauntering in the streets, were exchanging significant nods and smiles, and rubbing their hands with satisfaction. I entered one shop, where the proprietor and his wife ran forward to meet me. . . “Have you heard the news? Beauregard has knocked them into a cooked hat.” “Believe me,” said the good lady, “it is the finger of the Almighty is in it. Didn't he curse the niggers, and why should he take their part now with these Yankee Abolitionists, against true white men?” “But how do you know this?” said I. “Why, it's all true enough, depend upon it, no matter how we know it. We've got our underground railway as well as the Abolitionists.”

On my way to dinner at the Legation I met the President crossing Pennsylvania Avenue, striding like a crane in a bulrush swamp among the great blocks of marble, dressed in an oddly cut suit of gray, with a felt hat on the back of his head, wiping his face with a red pocket-handkerchief. He was evidently in a hurry, on his way to the White House, where I believe a telegraph has been established in communication with McDowell's head-quarters. I may mention, by the by in illustration of the extreme ignorance and arrogance which characterize the low Yankee, that a man in the uniform of a colonel said to me to-day, as I was leaving the War Department, “They have just got a telegraph from McDowell. Would it not astonish you Britishers to hear that, as our General moves on towards the enemy, he trails a telegraph wire behind him, just to let them know in Washington which foot he is putting first?” I was imprudent enough to say, “I assure you the use of the telegraph is not such a novelty in Europe or even in India. When Lord Clyde made his campaign, the telegraph was laid in his track as fast as he advanced.” “Oh, well, come now,” quoth the Colonel, “that's pretty good, that is; I believe you'll say next, your General Clyde and our Benjamin Franklin discovered lightning simultaneously.”

The calm of a Legation contrasts wonderfully in troubled times with the excitement and storm of the world outside. M. Mercier perhaps is moved to a vivacious interest in events. M. Stoeckl becomes more animated as the time approaches when he sees the fulfilment of his prophecies at hand. M. Tassara cannot be indifferent to occurrences which bear so directly on the future of Spain in Western seas; but all these diplomatists can discuss the most engrossing and portentous incidents of political and military life, with a sense of calm and indifference which was felt by the gentleman who resented being called out of his sleep to get up out of a burning house because he was only a lodger.

There is no Minister of the European Powers in Washington who watches with so much interest the march of events as Lord Lyons, or who feels as much sympathy perhaps in the Federal Government as the constituted Executive of the country to which he is accredited; but in virtue of his position he knows little or nothing officially of what passes around him, and may be regarded as a medium for the communication of despatches to Mr. Seward, and for the discharge of a great deal of most causeless and unmeaning vituperation from the conductors of the New York press against England.

On my return to Captain Johnson's lodgings I received a note from the head-quarters of the Federals, stating that the serious action between the two armies would probably be postponed for some days. McDowell's original idea was to avoid forcing the enemy's position directly in front, which was defended by movable batteries commanding the fords over a stream called “Bull's Run.” He therefore proposed to make a demonstration on some point near the centre of their line, and at the same time throw the mass of his force below their extreme right, so as to turn it and get possession of the Manassas Railway in their rear; a movement which would separate him, by the by, from his own communications, and enable any General worth his salt to make a magnificent counter by marching on Washington, only 27 miles away, which he could take with the greatest ease, and leave the enemy in the rear to march 120 miles to Richmond, if they dared, or to make a hasty retreat upon the higher Potomac, and to cross into the hostile country of Maryland.

McDowell, however, has found the country on his left densely wooded and difficult. It is as new to him as it was to Braddock, when he cut his wreary way through forest and swamp in this very district to reach, hundreds of miles away, the scene of his fatal repulse at Fort Du Quesne. And so, having moved his whole army, McDowell finds himself obliged to form a new plan of attack, and, prudently fearful of pushing his underdone and over-praised levies into a river in face of an enemy, is endeavoring to ascertain with what chance of success he can attack and turn their left.

Whilst he was engaged in a reconnoissance to-day, General Tyler did one of those things which must be expected from ambitious officers, without any fear of punishment, in countries where military discipline is scarcely known. Ordered to reconnoitre the position of the enemy on the left front, when the army moved from Fairfax to Centreville this morning, General Tyler thrust forward some 3000 or 4000 men of his division down to the very banks of “Bull's Run,” which was said to be thickly wooded, and there brought up his men under a heavy fire of artillery and musketry, from which they retired in confusion.

The papers from New York to-night are more than usually impudent and amusing. The retreat of the Confederate outposts from Fairfax Court House is represented as a most extraordinary success; at best it was an affair of outposts; but one would really think that it was a victory of no small magnitude. I learn that the Federal troops behaved in a most ruffianly and lawless manner at Fairfax Court House. It is but a bad beginning of a campaign for the restoration of the Union, to rob, burn, and destroy the property and houses of the people in the State of Virginia. The enemy are described as running in all directions, but it is evident they did not intend to defend the advanced works, which were merely constructed to prevent surprise or cavalry inroads.

I went to Willard's, where the news of the battle, as it was called, was eagerly discussed. One little man in front of the cigar-stand declared it was all an affair of cavalry. “But how could that be among the piney woods and with a river in front, major?” “Our boys, sir, left their horses, crossed the water at a run, and went right away through them with their swords and six-shooters.” “I tell you what it is, Mr. Russell,” said a man who followed me out of the crowd and placed his hand on my shoulder, “they were whipped like curs, and they ran like curs, and I know it.” “How?” “Well, I’d rather be excused telling you.”

_______________

* Since killed in action.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, Vol. 1, p. 427-31

Diary of William Howard Russell: July 17, 1861

I went up to General Scott's quarters, and saw some of his staff — young men, some of whom knew nothing of soldiers, not even the enforcing of drill — and found them reflecting, doubtless, the shades which cross the mind of the old chief, who was now seeking repose. McDowell is to advance to-morrow from Fairfax Court House, and will march some eight or ten miles to Centreyille, directly in front of which, at a place called Manassas, stands the army of the Southern enemy. I look around me for a staff, and look in vain. There are a few plodding old pedants, with map and rules and compasses, who sit in small rooms and write memoranda; and there are some ignorant and not very active young men, who loiter about the head-quarters' halls, and strut up the street with brass spurs on their heels and kepis raked over their eyes as though they were soldiers, but I see no system, no order, no knowledge, no dash!

The worst-served English General has always a young fellow or two about him who can fly across country, draw a rough sketch map, ride like a fox-hunter, and find something out about the enemy and their position, understand and convey orders, and obey them. I look about for the types of these in vain. McDowell can find out nothing about the enemy; he has not a trustworthy map of the country; no knowledge of their position, force, or numbers. All the people, he says, are against the Government. Fairfax Court House was abandoned as he approached, the enemy in their retreat being followed by the inhabitants. “Where were the Confederate entrenchments?” “Only in the imagination of those New York newspapers; when they want to fill up a column they write a full account of the enemy's fortifications. No one can contradict them at the time, and it's a good joke when it's found out to be a lie.” Colonel Cullum went over the maps with me at General Scott's, and spoke with some greater confidence of McDowell's prospects of success. There is a considerable force of Confederates at a place called Winchester, which is connected with Manassas by rail, and this force could be thrown on the right of the Federals as they advanced, but that another corps, under Patterson, is in observation, with orders to engage them if they attempt to move eastwards.

The batteries for which General McDowell was looking last night have arrived, and were sent on this morning. One is under Barry, of the United States regular artillery, whom I met at Fort Pickens. The other is a volunteer battery. The onward movement of the army has been productive of a great improvement in the streets of Washington, which are no longer crowded with turbulent and disorderly volunteers, or by soldiers disgracing the name, who accost you in the by-ways for money. There are comparatively few to-day; small shoals, which have escaped the meshes of the net, are endeavoring to make the most of their time before they cross the river to face the enemy.

Still horse-hunting, but in vain — Gregson, Wroe — et hoc genus omne. Nothing to sell except at unheard-of rates; tripeds, and the like, much the worse for wear, and yet possessed of some occult virtues, in right of which the owners demanded egregious sums. Everywhere I am offered a gig or a vehicle of some kind or another, as if the example of General Scott had rendered such a mode of campaigning the correct thing. I saw many officers driving over the Long Bridge with large stores of provisions, either unable to procure horses or satisfied that a wagon was the chariot of Mars. It is not fair to ridicule either officers or men of this army, and if they were not so inflated by a pestilent vanity, no one would dream of doing so; but the excessive bragging and boasting in which the volunteers and the press indulge really provoke criticism and tax patience and forbearance overmuch. Even the regular officers, who have some idea of military efficiency, rather derived from education and foreign travels than from actual experience, bristle up and talk proudly of the patriotism of the army, and challenge the world to show such another, although in their hearts, and more, with their lips, they own they do not depend on them. The white heat of patriotism has cooled down to a dull black; and I am told that the gallant volunteers, who are to conquer the world when they “have got through with their present little job,” are counting up the days to the end of their service, and openly declare they will not stay a day longer. This is pleasant, inasmuch as the end of the term of many of McDowell's, and most of Patterson's, three months' men, is near at hand. They have been faring luxuriously at the expense of the Government — they have had nothing to do — they have had enormous pay — they knew nothing, and were worthless as to soldiering when they were enrolled. Now, having gained all these advantages, and being likely to be of use for the first time, they very quietly declare they are going to sit under their fig-trees, crowned with civic laurels and myrtles, and all that sort of thing. But who dare say they are not splendid fellows — full-blooded heroes, patriots, and warriors — men before whose majestic presence all Europe pales and faints away?

In the evening I received a message to say that the advance of the army would take place to-morrow as soon as General McDowell had satisfied himself by a reconnoissance that he could carry out his plan of turning the right of the enemy by passing Occaguna Creek. Along Pennsylvania Avenue, along the various shops, hotels, and drinking-bars, groups of people were collected, listening to the most exaggerated accounts of desperate fighting, and of the utter demoralization of the rebels. I was rather amused by hearing the florid accounts which were given in the hall of Willard's by various inebriated officers, who were drawing upon their imagination for their facts, knowing, as I did, that the entrenchments at Fairfax had been abandoned without a shot on the advance of the Federal troops. The New York papers came in with glowing descriptions of the magnificent march of the grand army of the Potomac, which was stated to consist of upwards of 70,000 men; whereas I knew not half that number were actually on the field. Multitudes of people believe General Winfield Scott, who was now fast asleep in his modest bed in Pennsylvania Avenue, is about to take the field in person. The horse-dealers are still utterly impracticable. A citizen who owned a dark bay, spavined and ring-boned, asked me one thousand dollars for the right of possession; I ventured to suggest that it was not worth the money. “Well,” said he, “take it or leave it. If you want to see this fight, a thousand dollars is cheap. I guess there were chaps paid more than that to see Jenny Lind on her first night; and this battle is not going to be repeated, I can tell you. The price of horses will rise when the chaps out there have had themselves pretty well used up with bowie-knives and six-shooters."

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, Vol. 1, p. 425-7

George L. Stearns, about July 22, 1861

It is the first step toward the emancipation. If we had won a decisive victory, in less than six months the rebellious states would be back in the Union, the government would be out-voted in Congress, and we should have all our work to do over again.

SOURCE: Preston Stearns, The Life and Public Services of George Luther Stearns, p. 254

Diary of Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: September 21, 1863

P. M. — “Rosecrans [at Chickamauga] has been badly beaten”! Such is the shock the dispatch gives us this evening. After months of success one of our great armies is defeated. A concentration of Rebel armies has overwhelmed our noble Army of the Cumberland. How these blows strike my heart! I had just read a joyous dispatch from “L. W. H.”, “Billy Rogers has a baby.” But nerve ourselves, we must. We shall recover from the blow.

I have thought over it and feel easier. I suffer from these blows more than I did from the loss of my sweet little boy. But I suffer less now than I did from Bull Run, or even Fredericksburg. Can Rosecrans hold Chattanooga? Has he lost his army? Will he be driven across the Tennessee? He ought to have stopped his campaign with the capture of Chattanooga, fortified the place, and awaited events. Easy to say so now, but impossible before, I suppose. Jim McKell, Lieutenant Nelson, Colonel Mitchell (Laura's husband), all with Resecrans. Anxious hearts at home.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 436

Captain Charles Wright Wills: May 28, 1864

May 28, 1864, 9 a. m.

Still in rifle pits. We have been treated to a terrific storm of shells, spherical case, and solid shot. The batteries are in plain sight of each other, and the gunners call it a thousand yards between them. I don't think either battery does very fine work, but they make it more than interesting for us. A conical shell from a 12 pound gun passed through a log and struck a Company C man on the leg, only bruising him. Two solid shot fell in my company works, but hurt no one.

Seven p. m.—Talk about fighting, etc., we've seen it this p. m. sure, of all the interesting and exciting times on record this must take the palm. At about 3:45 p. m., a heavy column of Rebels rose from a brush with a yell the devil ought to copyright, broke for and took three guns of the 1st Iowa Battery which were in front of the works (they never should have been placed there); the 6th Iowa boys, without orders, charged the Rebels, retook the battery and drove them back. They came down on our whole line, both ours and the 16th A. C, and for two hours attempted to drive us out. We repulsed them at every point without serious loss to us, but I believe they are at least 3,000 men short. In our brigade Colonel Dickerman, Lieutenant Colonel 6th Iowa commanding, and Major Gilsey, commanding 46th Ohio, are wounded. Besides these I don't think our brigade lost over So. It was a grand thing. I did not lose a man and only three companies of our regiment lost any. When the musketry was playing the hottest, Logan came dashing up along our line, waved his hat and told the boys to “give them hell, boys.” You should have heard them cheer him. It is Hardee's Corps fighting us, and he promised his men a “Chickamauga,” but it turned out a “Bull Run” on their part. It is the same corps our regiment fought at Mission Ridge. Our line is very thin along here, but guess we can save it now. I heard a 40th boy get off an oddity this evening, he said: “If they come again, I am going to yell if there's any danger of their taking us.” “Worlds by Nation Right into line Wheel!” and “if that don't scare them, I propose going.”

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 250-1

Brigadier-General Daniel Tyler, about August 1863

I ask the acceptance of this resignation. Capt. Lusk has been in most of the battles including the First Bull Run, from Beaufort to the death of Major-Gen. Stevens, whose Staff he was on from the date of Gen. Stevens's promotion to his death. Capt. Lusk, so soon as he heard of the occupation of Maryland Heights, left New-York City, came to Point of Rocks, and walked to Harper's Ferry, and volunteered for duty at a moment when I was much in need of his services, and to make him available I recommended him for the appointment of Asst. Adjt.Genl. and he was appointed accordingly, with the expectation that when the prospect of fighting at that point was over, his resignation would be accepted. Under the circumstances, as Capt. Lusk is on the point of commencing a professional life in the City of New-York, I ask the acceptance of his resignation, knowing that there never will be an emergency like that at Gettysburg and Maryland Heights, that Capt. Lusk will not be found at the front.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 294

Lieutenant-Colonel William T. Lusk to Lou Thompson, July 7, 1863

Headquarters Delaware Department,

Wilmington, Del., July 7th, 1863.

Dear, dear Cousin Lou:

I said I would write you so soon as the full purport of the good news was ascertained. And now that it has all broken upon us, although my heels are where my head ought to be, I will try and fulfil my engagement as coherently as possible. We have had the dark hour. The dawn has broken, and the collapsed confederacy has no place where it can hide its head. Bells are ringing wildly all over the city. Citizens grin at one another with fairly idiotic delight. One is on the top of his house frantically swinging a dinner bell, contributing thus his share of patriotic clamor to the general ding-dong. Bully for him! How I envy the heroes of Meade's Army. It would be worth while to die, in order that one's friends might say, “He died at Gettysburg.” But to live to hear all the good news, and now to learn that Vicksburg has surrendered, is a little too much happiness for poor mortal men. I can laugh, I can cry with joy. All hysterical nonsense is pardonable now. Manassas, twice repeated, Fredericksburg and Chickahominy! Bless them as the cruel training that has made us learn our duties to our country. Slavery has fallen, and I believe Heaven as well as earth rejoices. Providence has tenderly removed that grand old hero, Jackson, before the blow came, that the one good, earnest, misguided man might be spared the sight of the downfall of a cause fanaticism led him to believe was right. Slink away ye copperheads to your native slime, and there await until in Hell is ready the place your master has prepared for you! There, Oh Fernando, go reign in torment to all eternity! These enthusiastic citizens of Wilmington, not content with bell-ringing, have taken to firing cannon, and the boys, to help matters, are discharging pistols into empty barrels. The people in a little semi-slaveholding State, when not downright traitors, are noisily, obstreperously loyal, to a degree that New England can hardly conceive of. My letter must be short and jubilant, I cannot do anything long to-day.

Just dance through the house for me, and kiss every one you meet. So I feel now. Good-bye.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 284-5

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 5, 1863

More unofficial dispatches from the Mississippi. It is said Kirby Smith has defeated the enemy at Port Hudson; but how could his army get over the river? It is also stated that Grant's losses have been 40,000, and ours 5000. Who could have computed them? But they go on to say nothing has been heard from Vicksburg since Sunday, four days previously; and that heavy firing was heard still on Thursday.

Lee's army is in motion — that means something; and it is generally believed that Stuart is out on a raid into the enemy's country.

Mr. M. A. Malsby, a Georgian, disabled by a wound in the first battle of Manassas, has published one-half of my new “Wild Western Scenes;” the balance to appear when he can get paper. He publishes 5000 copies of about 130 pages. The paper costs nearly one dollar per pound, over $40 per ream. The printing costs $2 per 1000 ems. But then he retails the pamphlet at $1.25, and pays me 12½ cents copyright on each number sold.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 341

Diary of John Hay: [April 27, 1864]

On the evening of the 25th Fox, who had been frequently telegraphed by Butler to come down to Fort Monroe, determined to go, and asked me to go with him. We started for the Navy Yard at 5.30, passing Willard’s while Burnside’s splendid column was moving down 14th Street across the Long Bridge into Virginia. This is the finest looking and best appointed force I have ever yet seen. A little gorgeous and showy, reminding one of the early regiments who went shining down to Bull Run and the Peninsula as if to a picnic. The 3d N. J. Cavalry looked fine and yellow in their new cloaks and gold-braided breasts. The officers looked so superbly outlandish that it surprised one to hear them speaking in a Yankee accent, pure American as Cash Clay calls it. The black regiments looked well, and marched better than others — as in fact they always do.

We went down the river among the twilight “shadders” and got some fish and dined off shad roe and shad. Fox had brought with him some of his choice Oolong tea. . . . We got to Fortress Monroe in the morning, and Welles and I visited the “Iroquois,” Capt. Raymond Rogers, while Fox went to see the General. Coming ashore we skirmished for some time about the walls of the Fortress before we could find the right entrance. We went in; saw Schaffer and Kent who was lounging round with an air intensely ennuyeé, and who said: — “There are plenty of indications here which to a green hand would presage an early movement; but we blasé fellows don't seem to see it; we are familiar with large promise and scanty performance.”

Joined Butler and Fox on the ramparts. Butler said he was walking there for the first time in several months; preferring to take necessary exercise on horseback. He spoke highly of the negro troops — especially of their walking powers. They start off and trot slouchingly without wasting any muscle in grace of action, he said, illustrating the shuffling step, on the ramparts, bending his knees, and dragging his feet over the oniony grass. He spoke of the delight with which Bob Ould ate the good dinners he got while at the Fort — saying that one breakfast he got at Shaffers would have cost $2,000 in Richmond. . . . . I had a good deal of a talk with Shaffer, one of “the best staff a man was ever blessed with, — Strong Turner Shaffer and Weitzell” as Butler says. Shaffer is sanguine about the coming movement. “We will fasten our teeth,” he says, “on his line of supplies, and he must leave his positions to come and beat us off;” — relying on Grant’s not being the man to let that be done quietly. . . .

Fox seemed troubled sorely by the prospect. He fears the details have not been sufficiently studied; that the forces are to bulge ahead and get badly handled; that they rely on help from the navy in places where the navy cannot possibly help, — but rather “will be useless as an elephant with his trunk unscrewed and his tusks unshipped;” that going up the James between the precipitous banks, a few riflemen on the banks will produce a panic that nothing can remedy. He seemed surprised that the navy should not have been informed of the intended movement until to-day; or that Grant should have sanctioned, and concluded that G. must be letting the thing slide on without suggestion from him, to squelch it before it was consummated, or, relying upon his other plans, might have given this column up to the fate of a reconnoissance in force which will have accomplished its object if it diverts from his front a force large enough to destroy it. . . . .

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 183-6; See Michael Burlingame and John R. Turner Ettlinger, Editors, Inside Lincoln’s White House,: the complete Civil War Diary of John Hay, p. 189-91 for the full entry.

Lieutant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes: September 1, 1862 - Evening

September 1. Evening. — About five o'clock this P. M. heavy firing began in the old place — said to be near Centreville or at Bull Run. A fierce rain-storm with thunder set in soon after, and for the last ten hours there has been a roaring rivalry between the artillery of earth and heaven. It is now dark, but an occasional gun can still be heard. The air trembles when the great guns roar. The place of the firing indicates that our forces still hold the same ground or nearly the same as before. It is queer. We really know but little more of the fights of two or three days ago than you do; in the way of accurate knowledge, perhaps less, for the telegraph may give you official bulletins. We have seen some, a great many, of our wounded; some five or six hundred of the enemy taken prisoners, and a few of our men paroled. Some think we got the best of it, some otherwise. As yet I call it a tie.

I am very glad to be here. The scenes around us are interesting, the events happening are most important. You can hardly imagine the relief I feel on getting away from the petty warfare of western Virginia. Four forts or field works are in sight, and many camps. The spire of Fairfax Seminary (now a hospital), the flags on distant hills whose works are not distinguishable, the white dome of the capitol, visible from the higher elevations, many fine residences in sight — all make this seem a realization of “the pride and pomp of glorious war.” The roar of heavy artillery, the moving of army waggons, carriages, and ambulances with the wounded, marching troops, and couriers hastening to and fro, fill up the scene. Don't think I am led to forget the sad side of it, or the good cause at the foundation. I am thinking now of the contrast between what is here and what I have looked on for fifteen months past.

Dearest, what are you doing tonight? Thinking of me as you put to sleep the pretty little favorite? Yes, that is it. And my thought in the midst of all this is of you and the dear ones.

I just got an order that I must be “especially vigilant tonight to guard against surprise, or confusion in case of alarm.” I don't know what it indicates, but that I have done so often in the mountains that it is no great trouble. So I go to warn the captains. — Good night, darling.

Ever yours most lovingly,

R.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 337-8

Diary of Private Charles Wright Wills: 9 p.m., July 27, 1861

Tattoo 9 p. m. — They are really expecting an attack on Bird's Point, and we will all be kept close in quarters evenings after sunset till the scare dies away. One of our boys that stood guard at the hospital this morning says the surgeon told him that the sick would be brought from the Point, to Cairo to-day. Don't know whether they did it or not.

We were coming on the cars when we heard of the Manassas rout. The boys gave three cheers, for they imagined it would bring us marching orders. I would like very much to hear such orders, but would a devilish sight rather march with men that have had three months' drill than with these new recruits. You can't imagine what a difference there is in one's confidence in a drilled and undrilled company of men. Don't say anything about our expectations of an attack here for there has been a great deal too much said already on going-to-be attacks on this Point

We pay five cents a pint here for milk, and I found a wiggler in a pint this morning. Don't you think they ought to mix clean water with the cow juice?

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 22-3

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Monday, June 2, 1862

Flat Top Mountain. — A clear, hot, healthy summer day. General McClellan telegraphs that he has had a “desperate battle”; a part of his army across the Chickahominy, is attacked “by superior numbers”; they “unaccountably break”; our loss heavy, the enemy's “must be enormous”; enemy “took advantage of the terrible storm.” All this is not very satisfactory. General McClellan's right wing is caught on the wrong side of a creek raised by the rains, loses its “guns and baggage.” A great disaster is prevented; this is all, but it will demonstrate that the days of Bull Run are past.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 284

Diary of John Hay: October 10, 1861

To-night I went over to McClellan’s quarters with the Tycoon and Seward. Lander was with us part of the way. Lander was gasconading a little. He said he would like a good place to die in with a corporal's guard, to set the nation right in the face of the world after the cowardly shame of Bull Run. The President, as Lander walked off, said: — “If he really wanted a job like that, I could give it to him. Let him take his squad and go down behind Manassas and break up their railroad.” Seward said he disbelieved in personal courage as a civilised institution. He had always acted on the opposite principle, — admitting you are scared, and assuming that the enemy is. If this matter had been managed on his basis, it would have been arranged satisfactorily before now.

We came to McClellan’s quarters and met in the telegraph office a long and awkward youth who spoke in a high-pitched and rapid tone to Seward, “We are just in from a ride of all day.” Seward introduced him to me as Capt. Orleans. He went up-stairs to call McClellan, and the President said quietly: “One doesn't like to make a messenger of the King of France, as that youth, the Count of Paris, would be, if his family had kept the throne.”

McClellan came hurriedly in and began to talk with the President. They discussed the events of to-day and yesterday. McClellan was much pleased at the conduct of his men — no rowdyism or plundering to-day. He was merely to-day finishing yesterday's work. The rest of this week will be used in the same way. Says the President: —“We have gained a day on our sea expedition. The vessels will leave on the 14th, it is thought, instead of the 15th.”

As we left, McClellan said: — “I think we shall have our arrangements made for a strong reconnoissance about Monday, to feel the strength of the army. I intend to be careful and do as well as possible. Don't let them hurry me is all I ask.” “You shall have your own way in the matter, I assure you,” said the President, and went home.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 40-2; Tyler Dennett, Lincoln and the Civil War in the Diaries and Letters of John Hay, p. 26-7.

Captain Joseph E. Hamblin, July 25, 1861

Headquarters 5TH Regiment, N.Y. S. Vols.,

July 25, 1861.

We received marching orders about one o'clock this A.M. Will leave camp in about an hour. Have been busy packing up and doing up unfinished business, and snatch a moment from the confusion to assure you of my love and that you are ever present in my memory.

We do not know in what direction the column is to move. Four regiments are under marching orders. We are in excellent spirits.

The news this morning shows the late retreat to have been a dearly bought victory to our enemies, and shows such contrast with the terrible disaster we first learned of that we are quite exultant. . .

SOURCE: Deborah Hamblin, Brevet Major-General Joseph Eldridge Hamblin, 1861-65, p. 9

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, March 31, 1862

Headquarters 2d Brigade, S. C.

Beaufort, S. C. March 31st, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I hear the “Atlantic,” which has just arrived, will return at once, so I do not feel willing to lie down without writing a few lines, though it is full bedtime now. Gen. Hunter was here this afternoon. I saw too little of him, however, to form any judgment with regard to him, as his visit was brief. Poor Sherman must betake himself to the Mississippi, and forego for the future the sweets of unrestrained authority. Sherman has doubtless done a good work down here, though he has gained no glorious victories. This, however, was not expected by Government which never once thought of supplying him with the force requisite to active operation. To be sure his force comprises nearly 20,000 men, but it must be remembered this is not a great force when the line extends from Dan to Beersheba. I am no special admirer of Sherman, but still do not think it worth while to join in abusing him as bitterly as most do, for not attempting what did not lie in his power. Perhaps I am mistaken, but I hardly think it probable Gen. Hunter will do much better than his predecessor unless properly reinforced. Few Generals, I find, have that taste for fruitless slaughter common to civilians, and most shrink from sacrificing life where nothing definite can be gained. My friends frequently write, asking me if I am not disgusted at the utter inactivity of the Command, and at times I have written strongly, still I could not but know that we were so from necessity. We were sent here by Government simply to defend a Harbor where our blockading squadron could ride in safety. This object has been accomplished, and not only this, but the whole remaining coast as far as the Gulf of Mexico is occupied by our troops. More than this has been done, but I pause, for there will be much to tell when the war is over, which one may not mention now. I do not wish you to understand that Savannah and Charleston might not have been ours had our leader been a greater man than is generally vouchsafed to armies, but we must give him credit for accomplishing reasonable possibilities. Stevens, I think, would have accomplished impossibilities, but quien sabe.

We have all been much amused in reading the papers brought by the last mail, at the editorials of Bennett on “Our Only Son.” It is necessary to see “Our Only Son” to appreciate the feeling remarks of the tender parent.

Do not suppose that, because I felt some little amusement at the early experience of the “Brethren” down here, I am in any wise inclined to join in the vulgar abuse so common with the multitude. I sincerely trust, indeed, their efforts may be attended with success, and certainly know some extremely pleasant people among them. I do not like Mr. ——— though, and am inclined to doubt the sincerity of a few.

Had I been up North I should have tried to have got Gen. Tyler to make me his Adjutant-General, being able, I believe, to give satisfactory testimonials of capacity for the detail office-work of a Brigade, but I am too far away to heat my own irons, and, indeed, I suppose it is much better to wait down here, until something has been done by our Command. Write me if Frank Bend is to occupy the position I have mentioned. He could fill it well.

I have got quite well acquainted with two of General Tyler's old Aides now on Gen. Sherman's Staff and both fine fellows. I give the names, O'Rourke and Merrill, as Mrs. T. may have been acquainted with them.

Well, my dear mother, I write a deal that I would not like to have repeated.

My clothes, though quite lately new (December), are beginning to grow rusty. I think it would be a good plan to have a new suit made for me. I shall need it before it reaches me. I am greatly in need of shirts (3 will do me). You know I left home with a small valise. My wardrobe has since been diminished by Bull Run, by washerwomen, by thieves, and by natural wear and tear, so that I have become almost as much an object of charity as the contrabands. I have been under the hallucination ever since leaving home, that a good time would come when I would be able to return again, and fit myself out properly for a campaign. Not having seen the time yet, it was lucky that the box you sent me supplied me with the means of sustaining myself to say the least.

Now, my dear mother, fearing that you may exaggerate my needs, I will confess candidly that all I want are 3 or 4 shirts and a few pairs of stockings. Handkerchiefs and towels I have in abundance. I would like everything as plain as possible, for anything that has a tinge of red, or yellow or blue, it is impossible to prevent the negroes from appropriating to their own uses.

Before two months are over, the time for military operation down here will have passed, so we have every reason to suppose that the time has come when our Command will commence a victorious career. When the summer heats shall prevent any further movement, I trust, dear mother, I may be allowed to spend a few days with you. That would be so delightful. Good-bye, kiss all around, sisters, little ones and all. Love to Aunt Maria and Uncle Phelps. Tell the latter I will send him a check by the earliest opportunity.

Yours affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 132-5

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, March 24, 1862

Headquarters 2d Brigade, S. C.

Beaufort, S. C., March 24th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

The steamer arrived last night, bringing a long letter from you, one from Horace and one from Walter, affording of course much pleasure, but the tone of all occasioning much surprise. Indeed, in the midst of all our victories and astonishing successes, it is to me inexplicable why McClellan should be attacked with such a savage spirit! I had no idea that the spirit of malevolence could carry men so far, but I am confident that McClellan will stand justified on the pages of history for preferring to ensure victory where reverses would have been well nigh fatal. The plan of the present grand campaign may not entirely have originated with McClellan, but undoubtedly he had the total arrangement of it. It seems to me to be as wise and perfect a one as was possible, considering the magnificence of its proportions. Of course, people will cry: “Why was not all that has been done, done long ago?” But I honor him the more that he had the moral courage to wait. It is well enough to talk about the immense army at his disposal, but if the army is a mere mob without cohesive power, a Napoleon might lead them, and see them fly from earthworks that would excite a soldier's derision. I believe now we have an army of soldiers, and believe we will win victories at every turn. I do not forget though the lesson of Bull Run, and more than that, it is not many months ago I can remember that our army, despite every effort of its commanders, was a poor, cowed, spiritless thing — a good army to get killed in, but a poor one to look for the crown of laurel. I say McClellan has done a glorious thing, and shame on his detractors! A few short weeks ago when Elliott was off recruiting, he met with few recruits, but many a coward tongue eloquently detailing our reverses. And now I suppose they would rob those who have borne the burden and heat of day, of the poor praise which they had hoped for when the fruit of their labors had ripened, and the reapers were ready to gather a harvest of glory. I have heard many say that they do not pretend to have any military knowledge, but they do pretend to be governed by a little common sense, and common sense teaches them so-and-so. Now, dear mother, be sure, when you hear men talk thus, that common sense means simply pure ignorance. It was this common sense, alias ignorance, that forced the battle of Bull Run. It was a little military knowledge that has made the opening of the year 1862 a glorious one for our Union Army. Enough! I have had my say — have expressed my disgust — and may now change the subject.

My dearest Mother, it will be a sweet thing for us all to see peace once more restored, and I do not doubt that no one prays more earnestly for it than yourself. I cannot but feel that a Higher Power has guided us of late to victory and do not fear for the result, yet bloody battles must be fought in which we must all partake, before the olive-branch is possible. I hardly think that the impatient ones at home, who are clamorous as to the inactivity and want of efficiency of our army, will have in the end any reason to complain that blood enough has not been shed to compensate them for the millions they have expended on it.

Many think that before July the war will be ended. How pleasant a time it will be when I can honorably return home. There is no sweeter anticipation than the joy I know my return would bring to your heart. I have been called away to attend to some business. Very much love to my dear sisters and the little ones.

Affec'y.,

Will.

I wrote the above shortly after reading my letters. Since then I have been diligently reading the papers, and perhaps must modify my opinions somewhat, but as the mail leaves in a few moments, you must take the first outburst, or none. You offer me a flag; send it, dear mother, by all means. It shall be carried when we advance.

Lovingly,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 129-31

Horace Greeley to Abraham Lincoln, July 29, 1861

New York, Monday, July 29, 1861.

Midnight.

Dear Sir:

This is my seventh sleepless night – yours too, doubtless – yet I think I shall not die, because I have no right to die. I must struggle to live , however, bitterly. But to business.

You are not considered a great man, and I am a hopelessly broken one. You are now undergoing a terrible ordeal, and God has thrown the gravest responsibility upon you. Do not fear to meet them.

Can the Rebels be beaten after all that has occurred, and in view of the actual disaster state of feeling caused by our late awful disaster? If they can – and it is your business to ascertain and decide – write me that such is your judgment, so that I may know and do my duty.

And if they cannot be beaten – if our recent disaster is fatal – do not fear to sacrifice yourself to your country. If the Rebels are not to be beaten – if that is your judgment in view of all the light you can get – then every drop of blood henceforth shed in this quarrel will be wantonly, wickedly shed, and the guilt will rest heavily on the soul of every promoter of the crime. I pray you to decide quickly, and let me know my duty.

If the Union is irrevocably gone, an Armistice for thirty, sixty, ninety, 120 days – better still, for a year – ought at once to be proposed with a view to a peaceful adjustment. Then Congress should call a National convention to meet at the earliest possible day. And there should be an immediate and mutual exchange or release of prisoners and a disbandment of forces.

I do not consider myself at present a judge of any thing but the public sentiment. That seems to me every where gathering and deepening against a prosecution of the war. The gloom in this city is funereal for our dead at Bull Run were many, and they lie unburied yet. On every brow sits sullen, scowling, black despair.

It would be easy to have Mr. Crittenden move any proposition that ought to be adopted, or to have it come from any proper quarter. The first point is to ascertain what is best that can be done – which is the measure of our duty – and do that very thing at the earliest moment.

This letter is written in the strictest confidence, and is for your eye alone. But you are at liberty to say to members of your Cabinet that you know I will second any move you may see fit to make. But do nothing timidly nor by halves.

Send me word what to do. I will live till I can hear it at all events. If it is best for the country and for mankind that we make peace with the Rebels at once and on their own terms, do not shrink even from that. But bear in mind the greatest truth – “Whoso would lose his life for my sake shall save it,” do the thing that is the highest right, and tell me how I am to second you.

Yours, in the depths of bitterness,

Horace Greeley

SOURCE: The Abraham Lincoln Papers at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.