Major Wilder Dwight: February 28, 1862

Charlestown, VirgiNia, February 28, 1862.

A story to tell, and no time to tell it in. That is my record. After tedious waiting in Frederick, with constant threatenings of movement, at last, in the pouring rain of Wednesday night, came the order to be at the depot in Frederick at daylight, to take the cars for Harper's Ferry. So, in the dark, damp fog of Thursday morning, the line was formed, and on we splashed and paddled to the turnpike. Just at sunrise we entered Frederick. The band played, “The girl I left behind me,” and tearful maidens looked a sad farewell. When we got to the depot, we found no cars. At twelve, M., we got off.

Only six hours' delay, caused by the crowding of troops on the road coming from Poolesville. The day broke clear and cold. Our Frederick friends saw the last of us, and we were off. At four o'clock we reached Sandy Hook, and were soon crossing the bridge to Harper's Ferry. As we entered the town the music swelled out, the men closed up, and on we went, by the Shenandoah road, to the upper part of the town. We crowded into a few buildings. An old negro woman gave the Colonel and myself shelter, and we spent the night. This old woman gave us her political sentiments briefly, thus: “De Union is broderly love. Dat's what de Union is. Dese yere secesshnists ain't got no sich principle. In de Union dey do good to one another; but dese yere secesshnists dey don't do no good to you. Dey won't help yer out when yer's in trouble. Lord bress yer! dey can't help derselves out, let alone other folks. I's for de Union and love; dat's what I's for.”

At three in the morning we were roused up by an order for the regiment to move, “soon after sunrise,” in a reconnoissance to Charlestown. In the sharp, windy morning we took up the march. At Bolivar Heights the force assembled. It consisted of four squadrons of cavalry, two sections of artillery, our regiment, and the Third Wisconsin.

Colonel Gordon, as the ranking colonel, was in command. Colonel Andrews had been detailed as Provost Marshal of Harper's Ferry. This left me in immediate command of the regiment. We moved on, over the road by which we had eight months before advanced (!) to Harper's Ferry.

When we got near Charlestown, Colonel Gordon hurried on with his cavalry, and all four squadrons whirled down the main street rattlingly. Half a dozen cavalry scampered out at the other end of the town, on the road to Winchester, and the place was in our grasp.

The artillery was posted, commanding the two roads toward Winchester, and our regiment was drawn up in support; the Third Wisconsin in rear. We had been there half an hour. The cavalry had divided itself, and gone out over the various roads. We then heard that McClellan was coming. So I drew up the regiment, and he rode the length of it with his staff. I then joined them, for a moment, to answer General Banks's inquiries, and those of General McClellan. Colonel Gordon soon came back. After a consultation, it was determined to remain in the town and hold it. Our reconnoissance changed to an advance. I put the bulk of the regiment in the courthouse,— John Brown's court-house. I was immediately appointed Acting Provost Marshal, and had my hands full all day, attending to the quartering of troops, feeding them (for we were without rations), preventing marauding, posting pickets, &c., &c. It was an awful blustering day. At evening General Hamilton came in and took command. I was in the saddle the first part of the night, on duty, but had comfortable quarters for sleeping.

At two in the morning, however, there was an alarm. I had to go and get the regiment under arms, also to organize a party for the purpose of obstructing the railway.

And now, this bright morning (March 1; I wrote only a few lines last night), we are busy with a thousand and one affairs. How soon we shall advance I do not know. We are in large force, and shall take no steps backwards.

McClellan has gone back to Washington, we hear. We know little of our future. The force at Harper's Ferry is increasing. A permanent bridge is going up.

It takes a little time to organize supplies, but, as the men are fond of singing, “we are marching on.” The regiment is in fine condition.

To-day the rest of our brigade, from which we have been detached since the reconnoissance, has marched up.

We have been mustering the regiment; and used, for that purpose, the court-room. It was an odd capsize of events that brought about the muster of a Yankee regiment in Charlestown court-house.

The newspapers, I see, are silent about our movements, or nearly so. I suppose this is under the order of the President checking the telegraph and mail. This order is a sound and healthy one.

I have had several amusing experiences in this hot secession town in my provost-marshalship. One good lady told me this morning, “Well! I hope you'll be beaten in your next battle; but you can have the rooms, and I’ll have a fire built directly, as they are rather damp for you.” I thought this charming feminine consistency.

I think we under-estimate the strength of the secession sentiment and overestimate the Union feeling. Still, I may speak from the fresh impressions of my recent experience. At any rate, there is a long battle to come after the bayonet has done its work. Troops have been coming in all day.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 199-202

Major Wilder Dwight: February 9, 1862

Cantonment Hicks, February 9, 1862, near Frederick.

If I could take the wings of this brisk, sunny morning, I would certainly fold them on our front-door steps in Brookline. Nor would I then proceed to hide my head under the wings, but, having flapped them cheerfully, I would thereupon crow!

But, as the wings and a furlough are both wanting, I must content myself with a web-footed, amphibious existence in the mud of Maryland.

There is a secession song which enjoys a surreptitious parlor popularity here. It is called, “Maryland, — my Maryland!” and rehearses, among other things, that “the despot's heel is on thy breast!” If that be so, all I have got to say is, that, just now, the heel has the worst of it. Yet there is a just satisfaction in this morning's inspection of men, tents, and kitchens, — to see how, by discipline, method, and fidelity, there is a successful contest maintained with all the elements. The neatness and order of our camp, in spite of mud, is a “volunteer miracle.”

You will be glad to know that the regiment is now in fine health. We already begin to count the days till spring. Of course, it is unsafe to predict the climate. I remember very well, however, that last February was quite dry, and that early in March dust, and not mud, was the enemy I found in Washington. It may well be, therefore, that there is a good time coming.

Indeed, has it not, in one sense, already come? Can you blind yourself to the omens and the tendencies? What shall we say of those statesmen of a budding empire, a new State, which is to give the law to the commerce and industry of the world through a single monopoly? What shall we say of the statesmen (Cobb, Toombs, etc.) who counsel their happy and chivalrous people to a general bonfire of house, home, and product? There's a new industry for a new State. King Cotton is a rare potentate. He proposes to be, himself, his own circulating medium, among other eccentricities.

Then, too, what admirable inferiority of fortification they succeed in erecting! Will our fleet of gunboats have as easy victories over all their river defences? and, if so, how far are we from Memphis? and where is Porter going with his “Mortar Fleet.” Among the ablest of our naval commanders, he is not bent on a fool's errand. When Jeff Davis sleeps o’ nights, does he dream of power?

But I've given you too many questions. In the midst of all this jubilant interrogatory, when will our time come? Just as soon as the mud dries, without a doubt.

Our life jogs on here without variety. For the most part, we spend our time in reading military books and talking military talk.

I am just now a good deal disturbed by the prospect of disbanding the bands. A greater mistake could not be made. The man with so little music in his soul as to vote for it is fit for — a Secessionist. Marshal Saxe, in introducing the cadenced step in the French infantry, says, “Music exerts a great and secret power over us. It disposes ‘nos organes aux exercises du corps, les soulagent dans ces exercises. On danse toute une nuit au son des instruments mais personne ne resterait à danser pendant un quart d’heure, seulement, sans musique.’” I have seen many a practical verification of this in the gathering freshness and quickness with which jaded men went on their march when the music called and cheered them.

Besides, we want the Star Spangled Banner, and its melody, as allies against the Rebel seductions.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 194-6

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: April 10, 1864

TULLAHOMA, TENN., April 10, 1864.

The Twelfth Corps has officially ceased to exist, and General Slocum has issued his farewell order, a copy of which I enclose.*

Last Thursday the officers of our regiment, accompanied by those stationed at this post, brought the band over and paid their respects to the General. Colonel Coggswell made a very good speech; General Slocum tried to reply, but was so affected he could hardly speak, the tears running down his cheeks, but he finally managed to get through, and invited the officers to come in and spend the evening with him. There was plenty inside to eat and drink, and with the playing of the band and singing by a choir of officers of our regiment, a very pleasant evening was spent. The General was very much pleased with the whole affair, and will carry with him some very pleasant associations connected with our regiment.

I think I was mistaken, when writing my last letter, about the extent of the command at Vicksburg. From what I have heard since, I judge that it is quite an important district, though it may not be considered as important a command as a corps.

Well, the old institutions are broken up, and we must bear it as philosophically as possible.

_______________

* The Eleventh and Twelfth Corps were consolidated into the Twentieth Corps, under command of General Hooker.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 163

Major Wilder Dwight: January 28, 1862

Cantonment Hicks, Near Frederick, January 28, 1862.

If I write you from my experience, I shall have little to tell of a soldier's life. It is one of the disadvantages of this detached duty that it separates one from the life of the regiment. This I could find more disposition to regret, if I saw much life now in the regiment; but, in truth, we are devoting ourselves to keeping warm and dry under every assault of heaven and earth, rain and mud. . . . .

Yesterday we had a new excitement and amusement. Colonel Geary got up a party to Point of Rocks, by special train, in the evening, to witness his private theatricals. We had a gay excursion. A crowded car of young ladies and old generals; off we went at about six o'clock. When we reached Point of Rocks, we emerged from the car; and, amid the clanging, brazen music of the band, piled ourselves into army-wagons, whose sternness was soothed with a little straw. On we went, jolting and laughing, to the camp. There we found an out-door stage, bright with hanging Chinese lanterns; and, in the chilly night, well wrapped up, we shiveringly admired the “Geary Thespian Corps.” Toodles was very well played; and, indeed, the acting was successful. We came back by the cars at midnight. Our moving train at the unusual hour, so near the enemy's lines on the other side of the Potomac, set their signal-lights playing, and, undoubtedly, they failed to explain the activity in Colonel Geary's camp by its true cause. In truth, it is an experience, — an open-air theatrical display in January, within reach of Rebel guns, and in sight of Rebel signal-fires.

General Banks went off to Washington yesterday. Rumor gives him various errands. We only hope that he goes to hear of some movement that he may share or inaugurate. I do not even guess a motive, for my guesses come back on me dishonored so often that I weary of conjecture.

If the history of the volunteer force for this great war of ours shall ever be written, I can certainly give some very amusing episodes of appointments of officers, and their character and capacity. Our Board continues its weeding ruthlessly. To-day, under the terror even of our presence, were two resignations, — one of a colonel.

I enclose for you a very unfair photograph of my friend General Hamilton. It does not do him justice; yet it is, of course, a likeness. Place it in my album, if you please. Colonel Geary promises to exchange with me also, so that I shall have the whole Board in my book.

The association has been such a pleasant one that I shall like to have you keep a souvenir of it. . . . .

To one who believes in omens, as I do, who hails the crescent with a right-shouldered glance, the battle of Mill Spring is something more than a victory. It is an augury, and it fills me with hope.

I am scribbling the close of this letter in the rooms of the Examining Board, interrupted by a chat with General Hamilton.

I give you all joy of Kentucky. Will not father allow his forebodings to be corrected a little? Love to all.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 191-3

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: November 28, 1863

Tullahoma, Tenn., November 28, 1863.

We are in the midst of exciting news from the front, yet we have had no particulars. It is evident, however, that we have taken several thousand prisoners and a large quantity of artillery.*

Since the fight at Wauhatchie, there has been no slurring of the Army of the Potomac men. That little affair was a great thing for us. By our own and rebel accounts, there is no doubt that our men fought most gallantly there against superior numbers of their old antagonists.

Every train that comes from the South brings a load of prisoners or wounded men, and rumors that fighting is still going on at the front. It seems to me, now, for the first time since the war began, that the rebellion is nearly crushed. They have not met with any very decisive success for nearly six months, and are now contracted into the smallest territory they have ever occupied.

Atlanta is our important point now; get that, and we have again cut the Confederacy in two, and in a vital place What a glorious thing it would be if we could wind up this rebellion before our original three years are out! It would exceed all my expectations to do this.

Thanksgiving Day was a very pleasant one, warm and bright as May. I took an escort of half a dozen cavalry and rode down to the regiment, which is about ten miles from here. I found them camped very comfortably just outside strong earthworks built to command the railroad bridge over the Elk river. Colonel Coggswell is in command of the post and has a battery in addition to his regiment. lie has made himself very strong, and could defend the place against a large force.

I took a very quiet dinner with the field and staff. Of course we could not help thinking of our other Thanksgiving Days in the regiment, and it brought up many sad memories. At our first dinner at Seneca, Maryland, all our old officers were present; last year there had been many changes, but there were still left a goodly number of the old stock, and we were knit closer together by our losses. This year I couldn't help a feeling of desolation as I remembered that, of all my friends in the regiment, very few were left. How little I thought, when we left Camp Andrews, that we should have such a sad experience!

In looking over his trunks for a photograph, Colonel Coggswell found a letter that had come for me while I was in Massachusetts; he gave it to me, and I found the address was in Bob Shaw's writing. You can imagine how glad I was to get it. I always thought it a little strange that he had not answered my last letter. I opened it the first chance I got. It was mostly a description of his movements to Darien and other places; but at the close he spoke in a very feeling way of our friendship and intimacy, and of his happiness since his marriage. It was written on the 3rd of July; in it he asked to be remembered to Robeson, Mudge, and Tom Fox; little did he think that, at the moment he wrote, one of them was lying dead on the field of battle, and the other two suffering with mortal wounds.

The men of the regiment had a very pleasant day; they had plenty of geese and turkeys for dinner, and in the evening the brigade band came down from Tullahoma, and gave them some music. I am glad that our men have each been able to keep this day somewhat as if they had been at home.

I stayed next morning and saw guard mounting done as it is done nowhere else, and then rode back here again.

_______________

* The battles of Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 158-60

Major Wilder Dwight: January 13, 1862

cantonment Hicks, Near Frederick, January 13, 1861.

“Si le combat est prévu, la troupe se met en grande tenue; elle doit cette politesse a un ennemi qu’elle estime.”

Dufour gives this among the rules for combats of infantry against infantry.

What a charming courtesy! what French politeness! Full uniform is the proper compliment to be paid to an enemy that you esteem. After all, none but a Frenchman could have hit upon that rule, or its reason.

But I have news for you. Was it not Sunday when I wrote? And I forgot to mention that our band was to give a grand concert on Monday evening. Spiegel, our bandleader, had been ambitious, and the Colonel encouraged him in his scheme. The result was even better than our hope. The hall was crowded. All the beauty and fashion of Frederick were there. Our band showed finely. Altogether, there was éclat in the concert. The whole closed with Hail Columbia and the Star Spangled Banner. You would be surprised to see with what hungry ears they listen to Yankee Doodle in this country. Those short-sighted persons who advise disbanding the bands would disarm our army of a great strength.

I have found to-day that Frederick is echoing the praises of the Massachusetts Second. We even think of a Promenade Concert next week. So do not turn your thoughts in regarding us to the discords of war, but rather to the mellowest harmonies of peace.

Again, art is giving us repute in another direction. Private D'Avignon, of Company I (a reduced artist, and too good for a soldier), is to have the honor to draw a picture of General Banks. So you see that we are not occupied as your fancy would have us.

I have a very pleasant letter from you to-day. I think the question, whether I have found a profession, or only lost one, is premature. I want no unripe fruit, and I think I must possess my soul in patience and in hope.

I trust father is not much dispirited. Let him wait a little longer, and perhaps we shall see something done.

I enclose you Colonel Andrews's artistic plan of our house. He made it at my request. The dimensions are twenty-four feet by eighteen feet. It is a wonderful house, and a great comfort this cold and snowy night.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 187-8

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, Sunday Night, March 30, 1862

Raleigh, March 30, 1862. Sunday night.

Dearest: — I received your good letters tonight. I will recollect Will De Charmes and do what I can properly, and more too. I wish you and the boys and Grandma were here tonight to enjoy the sacred music of our band. They are now full (eighteen) and better than ever. The regiment is also strong and looks big and effective. Eight companies on dress parade looked bigger than the regiment has ever seemed since we left Camp Chase. The service performed the last ten days, breaking up bushwhackers and Governor Letcher's militia musters, is prodigious. They have marched in snow four to six inches deep on the mountains sixty-five miles in three days, and look all the better for it. — Much love to Grandma and the dear boys.

Ever so lovingly yours,

R.

I hear of Lippett's arrest and Whitcomb's death; both sad for families, but Lippett better have gone into the army and been killed.

Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 219-20

Major Wilder Dwight: December 25, 1861

camp Hicks, December 25, 1861, Christmas Morning.

Dear Mother, —  “A merry Christmas,” said I to myself, for want of a larger family-circle, as I put my head out into the morning while reveillé was rousing the camp. And into a brisk, crisp morning did I walk as I stepped from my tent. The moon had not yet lost its flame, though the east was warming to receive the coming sun. A light fall of snow, sent by Heaven to gladden the day, had whitened tents and ground alike. Soon the sun kindled it into a Christmas glisten and sparkle. Yes, the scene was the traditional holiday dress of the season. And now, as I sit and write, my ears are full of the mellow music of Auld Lang Syne from the band at guard-mounting. I believe I am somewhat sensitive to the aspects and influences of air and sky and landscape. This out-door life serves only to quicken and confirm such tendency. I am always apt to thank God for a fine day, through which everything is bright and promising. And Nature having put on her gayest winter merriment, I share her gladness. So I give you all at home a Merry Christmas in this missive, and here's a health to next Christmas with the war over.

Yet, even on this merry morning, I have a shadow, which, I hope, is a mere distemper of the fancy. It comes from the sullen aspect of the English news. I start with the faith which I cherish, that there can be no war with England unless she is obstinately bent thereon. There is no adequate cause. But all this preparation, all this arming and bluster, really gives an air of probability to the suggestion that she madly desires to seize the pretext and provoke a contest. I do hope not; for, with fair play, we are sure, in the opening spring, of rapid, inspiriting, honorable success. Witness McCall's cleverly managed affair at Drainsville. Its conception and execution alike skilful. It contains proof, too, that our superior armament and equipment will tell on every fair field

The incidents of the last year have frightened me out of what little tendency to prophecy I may have had; but nothing save this cloud from England could dispirit the hope with which I look forward to our coming contest with the Rebellion

Will not our day come for a chance at the enemy? Again I hope. There is no news. I am busy about the Examining Board; I am assailed by several perplexities within the regiment; I am ennuied with inaction. But I am well, and, on the whole, content. I am glad you should have a visit from Colonel William.

My sergeant says : “I saw your brother, Colonel Dwight, at the office, sir! He's a splendid officer, sir!” So echo I. Love and good wishes to all.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 180-1

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Sunday, March 6, 1864

A beautiful day, no wind and quite warm. General W. H. Morris has had lady visitors form New York City. Our band has been playing for him. There were services to-day in the chapel; several ladies were present; good dress parade this evening; cheering news from Kilpatrick's cavalry.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 24

Major Wilder Dwight: December 15, 1861

camp Hicks, Near Frederick, December 15, 1861.

Another bright, sunny Sunday; the regiment growing in grace, favor, and winter quarters. The band has got its new instruments, and has been piping melodiously in the moonlight this evening. The instruments are very fine indeed. . . . .

To-morrow morning our brigade is to be reviewed by General –––. Napoleon, as the newspapers are fond of saying, used to precede his great battles and important movements by grand reviews. General ––– is not Napoleon. Voilà tout.

The Colonel, since we got into this new camp, has been doing a good deal of “rampaging,” and with excellent effect. I think I never saw the regiment in better condition. The relaxed discipline consequent on sickness and the march has recovered its tone completely. We have had a court-martial sitting for several days, and the men have been very generally and impartially punished in their pay. This is good economy for the government, and a sharp lesson for the men. Each of the divisional departments — the commissary, the quartermaster, the medical — are lame and impotent.

What do you say to the fact that, but for the activity and outside zeal of our quartermaster, we should be in rags?

The division takes no care of us; we go to head-quarters at Washington, and take care of ourselves. We go to Washington; but the theory and duty is, that everything comes to us through the division department here.

This has never been true, and, as I said, but for our irregular and enterprising expeditions to Washington, there is little we could get for ourselves. Again, what do you say to the fact that to-day, but for the activity of officers outside of the medical department, and but for their spending money saved from other sources, our hospital tent would be floorless, storeless, and flung to the breeze? Now, however, it has a nice floor, good bunks, and a warm, cheerful stove; and, yesterday morning, at inspection, looked as neat and comfortable as your parlor. No thanks, however, to the medical men. The division medical director don't know to-day that our typhoid-fever patients are not basking in precarious sunshine on the bosom — the cold, chaste bosom — of unnatural Mother Earth, after a sleepless night in the pale shadows of the moon!! To be sure, he guesses that the Second Massachusetts Regiment will take care of itself; but while they are issuing stoves, &c., at Washington, we are buying them for ourselves here.

Again, a brisk little stove is humming in almost every tent of the companies; many of the tents are floored: all this, however, with our own money, — individual, regimental enterprise, not divisional or departmental care. Such is the picture we present. Add to this that all this outlay and endeavor is adventured by us in the face of a blank uncertainty of the future, an utter darkness, an outer darkness, as to whether we are here for a day or for all time, and you have a position that would arouse complaint, if we allowed ourselves to grumble. We have no hint from head-quarters to guide us. We have been here nearly two weeks: perhaps we shall get advice when we have finished our action. Advice to act on is what we want. Head, control, direction, will, organization, is what we miss. I speak only of the sphere in which we move, of this department. It is a part of McClellan's army, however, and, as such, is entitled to better guidance. I do not put the fault on General Banks, but on the crippled condition in which his staff and departments are kept. Of this, however, I am not in a position to be an observer or a judge. I can speak only of the results which I see. There is no reason why I should harp on this theme, however. We get on finely, only I like to make it understood that we do so over obstacles. This is natural, I suppose.

When I hear, too, all this talk about a “grand army,” “the splendid spectacle our country presents,” &c., &c. “what a terror we should be to England,” “how ready we are for war,” I know that it is the nonsense of ignorance that men are talking. “Clear your mind of cant,” says Dr. Johnson.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 172-4

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Wednesday, March 12, 1862

A bright warm day. I go to Raleigh, bidding good-bye to Fayetteville. We entered Fayetteville either the 13th or 14th of November; four months in one home, not unpleasant months, considering the winter weather of this region. Rode to Fayetteville [slip of pen for Raleigh] on my new bright bay — a good ride. Reached Fayetteville [Raleigh] just as our regiment was forming for dress parade. Eight companies in line looked large. Was greeted warmly. I gave them the news of the evacuation of Manassas and the victory in Arkansas. Three cheers given for the news; three more for General Curtis, and three for the colonel! All seemed pleased to be again together. How well they looked. The band is in capital condition. How I love the Twenty-third. I would rather command it as lieutenant-colonel than to command another regiment as colonel.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 205-6

Major Wilder Dwight: Thursday Morning, September 12, 1861

pleasant Hill, September 12, 1861,

Thursday Morning.

Yes! There they go again! Home, sweet home! And then the maddening suggestion of pleasures and palaces! If our band were malicious and impish, could they insist upon a more discontenting theme? Yet, as sure as there comes a chill, cloudy, morose morning, the band come out to guard-mounting, and fill the air with sighings after home, &c. Now they change; it is Hail Columbia, happy land! Is there not a bitterness of satire in that, even, which alloys the patriotic associations of the melody? Columbia seems anything but a happy land just now, in the midst of rebellion and treason. But the music kindles one, after all. It is the morning that is out of tune, or myself, perhaps. A raw and bitter night, — rainy and chill. The tents blowing down, the rain blowing in, dripping visitors in india-rubber garments sitting down on your bed, a spluttering candle flickering out, and leaving you hopelessly in the dark, a new pool surprising your slipper, a sudden freshet carrying away your dressing-case, the quick, sharp rattle and tattoo of the raindrops, and the tent fluttering with every gusty squall, sleep precarious and uncertain. At last reveillé, and a hoarse, damp “Good morning” from the Doctor, who speculates grimly, in the next tent, upon the folly of getting up. Yet we do get up, and after breakfast I sit down to write to the tune of home. “Sich,” as the Doctor is fond of saying, “is life; and, more particularly, camp life.” I happen to have a delicious bit of romance for you to-day; and as the sun is getting warmer, and the rain is drying up, I may get cheerful by telling it. The Chaplain appeared yesterday with the confidential narrative that he had been performing an uncommon ceremony. In a word, he had married a couple! “Who was the bridegroom?” asks Colonel Andrews, who is still in command. “Sergeant .” It then appeared that the bride came out from Massachusetts to be married, and it had all been “fixed,” as they phrase it, in a house near the camp that morning, a few hours after her arrival. The Sergeant was to remain true to his duty, and the new wife was to return by the next day's stage. But the romance goes further. The true love had met other ripples in its flow. Malice traduced the Sergeant last spring to his enslaver. She gave him up, and “he went, and in despair enlisted for a soldier.” The truth came at last to the maiden's mind, and her meditations were no longer “fancy free.” She loved her lost Sergeant more than ever, and so out she came, and said so plump and fairly, once for all, to the parson, and they were a happy pair again. The Colonel expressed some doubt to the Chaplain, whether it was precisely according to military discipline to get married in camp, but did not take a rigid view of it. Soon after, the Sergeant appeared at the Colonel's tent. “I should like a leave of absence for three hours, sir.” “What for, Sergeant?” “To see a friend, sir.” “Can't your friend come here?” “No, sir, not very well.” “Do you want to be away as long as that?” (severely). “Yes, sir, I should like two or three hours” (timidly). “Sergeant,” said the Colonel, with a twinkle — a benevolent twinkle —in his eye, “I think I know who your friend is. Wouldn't you like to be gone till to-morrow morning?” “Yes, sir, I should, sir.” “Well, you've been a faithful man, and you may.” Sich, again, is life, but not often camp life.

I am busy on court-martial, having been appointed President of the General Court-Martial of this division, — that is, having been designated as senior officer. We sit in the morning, and I am amused to see how kindly I take to the forms of law again. I am getting quite well again of my bruise, but it is good easy work for a lame man. We do not know when we may move, but I am getting to think that orders must come pretty soon now.

We had a visit from General Banks yesterday before the rain began. The General visited our kitchens, and tasted, with apparent approval, my doughnuts. I say mine, because I regard as, perhaps, the most successful endeavor of my military life, the general introduction of doughnuts into the regiment. It you could have seen the helplessness in which the flour ration left us, and the stupidity of the men in its use, you would hail, as the dawn, the busy frying of doughnuts which goes on here now. Two barrels is a small allowance for a company. They are good to carry in the haversack, and 'stick by a feller on the march.' And when the men have not time to build an oven, as often they have not, the idea is invaluable. Pots of beans baked in holes in the ground, with a pan of brown bread on top, is also a recent achievement, worthy of Sunday morning at an old Exeter boarding-house. The band produced that agreeable concord yesterday, and contributed from their success to my breakfast. Our triumphs, just now, are chiefly culinary; but an achievement of that kind is not to be despised. “A soldier's courage lies in his stomach,” said Frederick the Great. And I mean that the commissary of our division and the commissary of our regiment, and the captains and the cooks, shall accept the doctrine and apply its lessons, if I can make them. . . . .

By the way, do you know that I have grown the most alarming beard of modern times? I am inclined to think it must be so. It has the true glare of Mars, and is, I flatter myself, warlike, though not becoming. I have forborne allusion to it in the tenderness of its youth and the uncertainty of its hue, but now that it has taken on full proportions and color, I announce it to you as a decided feature.

Dr. ––– may be a good reasoner, but he can't reason the Secession army into winter-quarters in Philadelphia. There is no real cause for depression. Subduing rebellion, conquering traitors, in short, war, is the work of soldiers. Soldiers are a product of time, and so it comes that our mad impatience of delay is chastised by disaster. In the fulness of time, we shall wipe out this Southern army, as surely as the time passes. But we have got to work for it instead of talking about it. That is all. Between the beginning of this letter and the end is a course of the sun. It has been scratched at intervals, and now I look out of my tent on a glorious sunset, and the music is just beginning for parade.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 99-102

Major Wilder Dwight: September 4, 1861

pleasant Hill, Camp Near Darnestown,

September 4, 1861.

A picture! Life is but a series of them. Stand on a hill just above the creek. Let Major-General Banks, with all his unwon, untried, not to say uncomfortable or unfit, glories, be by your side. It is evening; you are at headquarters. The General will say, in full, deep tones, “A fine sight, Madam.” You will have anticipated his platitude; for you will find your eye filled with blazing camp-fires and bright-lighted tents, on every hillside within the circle of which you are a centre. Your ear will listen to the bands playing in every camp. The distance softens and harmonizes their discords. You have seen the camps at evening.

A night's rest under the tent, with two blankets and a bundle of straw extemporized into a bed, is a second picture. Your dream is interrupted by a clang of kettle and bass drums. It is the infernal reveillé of the Indiana Twelfth. Presently you hear a clear rattle and shrill fife, and recognize the reveillé of the drum-major of the Massachusetts Second. Follow it with your ear. You will see how it is measured. A little practice teaches the soldier at what point to open his eyes, when to throw back his blanket, and, at the moment, he is in ranks at the last ruffle of the drum. Regiments are known by their reveillés, you may say. But if you have obeyed the call, you will be looking upon the camps in the first glimmering of sunrise. You will glance at the old moon, in its second childhood almost as graceful as its first. You will see the men swarming from their tents into ranks. In half an hour the hills are alive with moving columns, and you are watching the morning drill.

It is afternoon. You have come to visit the camp of the Massachusetts Second. The General had at once pointed it out last evening. You then admired the regularity of its form. You now admire the neatness and order that you find within.

You go out in front and look over at the opposite hill, where the Regiment is in camp. The officer of the day in our camp is administering a punishment. The court-martial had sentenced a

drunken and insubordinate fellow to be tied to a tree for one hour three successive days. There he is tied. The Regiment catch sight of him. At once, in a disorderly mob, they rush to the edge of their hill. They cry, “Cut him down!” they groan and yell against us. Our guard is called out. Their officers cannot restore order, though they succeed in keeping their men within their lines. The punishment is concluded. Not a man in our lines stirs or speaks. You have contrasted the discipline of the two regiments. You have seen pictures enough, because you want to hear more of this one. Colonel Gordon, as Acting Brigadier, directs the arrest of the ringleaders of the Regiment, and of their officer of the day. The next morning, to wit, yesterday, the 3d September, Colonel comes to ask that the man may be tied somewhere where the regiment which he is commanded by cannot see him. Colonel Gordon says, No. General Banks, on being consulted by Colonel Gordon, directs him to go on. “Discipline must be maintained,” says the General. Colonel then goes to General Banks, and, by what persuasion we know not, wheedles out of him a recommendation to Colonel Gordon that the punishment be inflicted with less “publicity.” This recommendation comes just before the time for the punishment. General Banks cannot be found in season to give any explanation of his written recommendation. Colonel Gordon makes up his mind to tie the man in the same place and in the same way, come what may. It is done without trouble. But the recommendation from head-quarters has shaken our confidence. This illustrates the difficulties under which discipline is maintained. We are the only regiment that attempts it, and even the officers among our neighbors discountenance the severity which alone insures our discipline. But our men are getting, every day, a better tone. They pride themselves on the obvious contrast between their regiment and the others. They submit to the rules out of which this contrast comes. But the fact that the other regiments do as they please aggravates our difficulties and endangers our success. We are beginning to long for the direct command of McClellan, who would sustain our system without fear, favor, or affection. A political education does not favor the direct disregard of consequences which belongs to military command. Yet I do not wish to complain of General Banks. I think he means well, but I fear that he lacks a little either of education or confidence to push things through.

I have been working away at the deficiencies of our commissariat. I do not hesitate to say that its condition is disgraceful. No organization, and not even accidental and disproportioned abundance, in any direction. A general short commons. This we hope to remedy. But I do not make much progress. In fact, General Banks's division is not officered in the Quartermaster and Subsistence Departments as it should be. But enough of this. We are getting on well, and I only grumble because we might do so much better. To-day, again, the man shall be tied to the tree.

Yesterday morning we had a visit from General Reed, Albert Brown, the Governor's Secretary, and Mr. Dalton, the Massachusetts Agent. They seemed pleased with what they saw. But they only made a flying visit. They brought no news from home, but they brought the tale of Butler's achievement. “That's the talk,” say I. “Give ’em unexpected droppings in all along shore. Scatter them with vague dread. Make 'em constantly ask, ‘What’ll come next ?’” General Butler is in luck. He hasn't got a big lamp, but he brings it out after dark. In the night that surrounded Washington in April, he appeared with his farthing candle: men thought it a sun! Now, again, when the public longs for a glimmer of achievement, he strikes a light, and men are dazzled by even so small a blaze. Verily, opportunity has served him. But the move is in the right direction, and I applaud vehemently. I am just informed that the mail goes immediately, and must close my letter. We hear of a large mail on its way from Washington, and hope to get it to-morrow. It is nearly a week since I had a letter; but if men will go to Darnestown they must take the consequences. Love to all.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 92-5

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, September 5, 1864 – 6 a.m.

6 A. M., September 5, 1864.

I stopped here because supper was ready, and then it was dark and the band played. Now I'm going to say Good morning,— it isn't real Good morning nor even a fresh one, it's a limp Good morning — five interruptions last night before one o'clock, and then a line from the General that he anticipated an offensive movement this A. M. from the enemy, and that we must be saddled, &c., at 3 A. M., So I had to order myself to be called at half past two, and after all had to wake the sentry, instead of his waking me. The consciousness that this would be the case cost me several wakes in between, — and that's the reason I'm not fresh, though I have been duly shaving and washing and brushing. Nothing “offensive” yet, — but I expect a fight during the day, as the two armies are face to face in sight of each other. It will be an affair of the infantry, however; the cavalry ended their work yesterday, when they got the Rebs into position and reported them there.

And now good-bye. I'm going to move my camp about half a mile, so as to make closer connection towards the left, — and it's raining, so I shan't be able to write there probably. This, is writ in a barn which is my Headquarters, — Headquarters Third Brigade, First Cavalry Division, — that's the official name of the barn.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 334-5

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Wednesday, December 25, 1861

A beautiful Christmas morning — clear, cool, and crisp (K. K. K.), bright and lovely. The band waked me with a serenade. How they improve! A fine band and what a life in a regiment! Their music is better than food and clothing to give spirit to the men. . . .

Dined with McIlrath's company — sergeants' mess; an eighteen-pound turkey, chickens, pies, pudding, doughnuts, cake, cheese, butter, coffee, and milk, all abundant and of good quality. Poor soldiers! A quiet orderly company under good discipline; speaks well for its captain.

In the evening met at the adjutant's office the commissioned officers of the regiment. Much feeling against the promotion from third sergeant to captain of Company G of Sergeant Haven, Company A. It was an ill-advised act. I think highly of Sergeant Haven. He will, I think, make a good officer. But the regular line of promotion should [be departed from] only in extraordinary cases, and then the promotion should be limited to the merits of the case. The lieutenants passed over — all the first and second-lieutenants — are much dissatisfied and the captains who are not yet reconciled to the major are again excited. They have a story that the colonel recommended Sergeant McKinley for promotion to a first lieutenancy. It can't be possible, and if not, the other case will lead, I think, [to] no unpleasant action.

We adjourned to my quarters. I sent for oysters to the sutler's; got four dollars and fifty cents' worth and crackers. They were cooked by Lieutenants Warren and Bottsford. A good time; Bottsford, a little merry and noisy. Present, Major Comly, Captains Canby and Moore, First-Lieutenants Warren, Hood, and Rice and Naughton, Second-Lieutenants Bottsford, Hastings, Ellen, Adjutant Kennedy, Stevens. Retired at 11 P. M.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 168

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Wednesday, January 20, 1864

Quite a fine moon to-night — a little cloudy but no wind; froze quite hard last night; have had so much company all day it has been impossible to do anything but visit; band is serenading General W. H. Morris; are proud of our band, it being one of best regimental bands in the army. Lieut. Stetson has not come tonight; got no letter from home, but received a good one from Carl Wilson. To-night they have the Universalist festival at Barre, Vt.; would like to be there, but my festival will be with tactics.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 9-10

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Monday, June 7, 1864 – Second Entry

A courier has brought in the intelligence that Averill's force is at Jordan's Furnace, between 20 and 30 miles from this, and advancing this way. That the force engaged with Jones was not Averill's: probably Crooke's. People are more certain to-day of "the Yankees coming" than they have been at all yet, because there is not a soldier between them and us, and if they chose to ride into Lexington to-night, there is not a thing to hinder them, all the Confederates having passed on to Staunton or its neighborhood. Mr. P. is as busy as he can be, getting things at the V. M. I. moved away. The library has been carried to the College. As the Institute is Government property, they will most likely burn it; that, at all events, is what we apprehend. We have hidden our own valuables to some extent; and Mr. P. is having his bacon hauled into the mountains. Yet the enemy may not come; we have expected them so often when they didn't come, that we may be delivered again. Gen. Elzey has passed on to Lynchburg to-day.

Later: At half past four o'clock we went to the daily prayer-meeting. Dr. White gave us what information he had been able to collect; told us that the enemy was certainly on his way hither; but inculcated calm reliance upon God; said the force advancing would not reach us today; and appointed the meeting for to-morrow, saying that we should come, unless it was dangerous for ladies to be upon the street. As we went from the Lecture Room, three couriers rode up, and the street was crowded from one pavement to the other. We found that Imboden, Jackson, and McCausland are all with their small forces falling back; that the enemy took possession of Staunton yesterday at one o'clock; burnt a large factory and the railroad Depot; and it is said the Virginia Hotel; and were advancing this way. All was such commotion as I have never seen in Lexington; people moving flour, goods, &c.; driving out their cow ; ladies flying about in a high state of excitement. A little while after I reached home, in came E. and Mr. W. from Brownsburg, fugitives from the enemy. E.'s carriage was broken, so he could not bring his wife and children to us; but he took them and the servants over to Mrs. W.'s; moved out his bacon, and what flour he had, shut up his house, and left it to its fate. At his church on Sunday, a courier arrived, and demanded in the name of Gen. McC. that the citizens should turn out en masse and blockade two of the mountain passes. E. went with them; spent all Sunday night cutting down trees, and was near enough to Crooke's camp to hear the band; almost to distinguish the tunes; heard ten reveilles, which would indicate ten regiments; saw the camp fires. When he left home, McC. had passed his house coming this way; the enemy was several miles above Brownsburg. Agnes is pretty brave; she was willing to be left alone in the house, the only white person, with her little children. All her anxiety was to get E. off. I was busy until ten o'clock getting off our bacon and flour, which E. tells me the enemy is taking all along the route.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 184-6

Major Wilder Dwight: August 24, 1861

Rockville, Maryland, August 24, 1861.

Here I turn up this evening, as much to my own surprise as yours. I got a short note on its way to you from Buckeyestown, just before we were off. Friday morning at twelve “the general” was beaten, and at the signal every tent fell as by a single will. Then the “assembly” sounded, and the regiment formed into line. The ceremony of starting was for the first time performed with promptness and accuracy. We marched without knapsacks. The men were all paid, and we rattled along briskly. Our wagons were hardly as lucky, and, though the regiment got on to its camping-ground soon after four, the wagons dragged slowly in until nine. This made us late in camping, and late in supper. We were camped by the river-side, and the evening had an autumn chill and a heavy dew. I know of nothing more cheerless than the getting late into camp after a march. Every one is tired; every one is hungry; every one is cross. Everything seems to be going wrong. Yet at last all the men get their supper, or go without their supper. The last camp-fire falls down into sullen coals. The last tent-light fades out, and the chilly whiteness of the camp throws back the paleness of the moon. As the dawn reddens, reveillé comes fresh as the lark, and soon the sunshine lights up a busy scene. The men are rested, and have forgotten their hunger in a good breakfast. The band plays gayly at guard-mounting, and a fresh life begins for the day again. Such was our experience of camp last night and this morning. I was just composing myself to camp-life. We were encamped with our brigade. The New York Ninth was on our left. The two Wisconsin regiments were on the hill above us. Webster's regiment was just beyond them. I had listened to four reveillés in the morning, and soon after breakfast the hills were alive with skirmishers at drill. I was sitting in my tent when the Colonel called out, “Major, you must go to Washington.” “What!” said I, “to Washington?” “Yes. You are ordered to go in command of an escort of a large wagon-train, and are to report for instructions immediately at head-quarters.”

I found that two parts of the train, consisting of one hundred wagons each, had already gone on. The third was expected from Frederick to-day. Captain Mudge's company were ordered to escort that train when it arrived, and I was directed to choose my own time, but to proceed to Washington, and see the wagons turned over to the Quartermaster, and take care of the battalion of three companies while it remained in Washington, and march it back to Hyattstown. The wagons to remain in Washington. “The train may be interrupted by Rebel cavalry,” said Colonel Cromman, the Quartermaster, “so it needs an escort.” I got everything in readiness, gave Captain Mudge his instructions, and directed him to “wait for the wagons.” And at three o'clock this afternoon was in the saddle on my way in pursuit of the other companies and trains. I had a charming ride, — a little warm at first, — through a beautiful country, and animated by just the least uncertainty as to the path. But I met nothing but respect for my uniform. After a ride of eighteen miles I stopped at this town of Rockville, the “county seat,” as they say in this country. I selected a tavern that had a Union flag flying, and rejoiced in the safe name of “the Washington House.” This is a secession town of the worst kind, but they have not confidence enough yet to do anything more than look cross. At the tea-table we were protected from the flies by a series of fans worked by a rope and pulleys, and at the end of the rope was a little negro girl who swung back and forth and kept the fans moving indefatigably. It was an odd picture, worthy of Eastman Johnson's pencil. I shall be in the saddle again at five to-morrow morning, and in Washington before eight.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 82-4

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Sunday, January 10, 1864

A beautiful morning. Dan Bancroft came in to see me this forenoon, a private in the Vermont Cavalry; had inspection at 11 a. m. and dress parade this evening. Quite a number of recruits came this evening, but only one for Company B. Col. A. B. Jewett and Lieut.-Colonel W. W. Henry also returned from Vermont to-night. The band has been serenading Colonel Jewett. It is cold and frosty with a little snow still on the ground.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 5-6

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, April 9, 1865

April 9, 1865

We all were up, according to habit, about daylight, with horses saddled, having staid near Stute's house for the night. In reply to a summons from Grant, Lee has sent in a note to say that he would meet Grant at ten A.M. to confer on measures for peace. The Lieutenant-General answered that he had no authority in the premises and refused the interview; but repeated his offer to accept the army's surrender on parole. Indeed, we suspected his affairs were from bad to worse, for last night we could hear, just at sunset, the distant cannon of Sheridan. He, with his cavalry, had made a forced march on Appomattox Station, where he encountered the head of the Rebel column (consisting, apparently, for the most part of artillery), charged furiously on it, and took twenty cannon and 1000 prisoners; and checked its progress for that night, during which time the 24th and 5th Corps, by strenuous marching, came up and formed line of battle quite across the Lynchburg road, west of Appomattox C.H. Betimes this morning, the enemy, thinking that nothing but cavalry was in their front, advanced to cut their way through, and were met by the artillery and musketry of two corps in position — (Ah! there goes a band playing "Dixie" in mockery. It is a real carnival!) This seems to have struck them with despair. Their only road blocked in front, and Humphreys's skirmishers dogging their footsteps! Well, we laid the General in his ambulance (he has been sick during the whole week, though now much better) and at 6.30 A.M. the whole Staff was off, at a round trot — (90 miles have I trotted and galloped after that Lee, and worn holes in my pantaloons, before I could get him to surrender!). An hour after, we came on the 6th Corps streaming into the main road from the upper one. A little ahead of this we halted to talk with General Wright. At 10.30 came, one after the other, two negroes, who said that some of our troops entered Lynchburg yesterday; and that Lee was now cut off near Appomattox Court House. This gave us new wings! An aide-de-camp galloped on, to urge Humphreys to press the pursuit, and all waggons were ordered out of the road, that the 6th Corps might close in immediately on his rear. Away went the General again, full tilt, along the road crowded by the infantry, every man of whom was footing it, as if a lottery prize lay just ahead! A bugler trotted ahead, blowing to call the attention of the troops, while General Webb followed, crying, “Give way to the right! Give way to the right!” Thus we ingeniously worked our way, amid much pleasantry. “Fish for sale!” roared one doughboy. “Yes,” joined in a pithy comrade, “and a tarnation big one, too!” The comments on the General were endless. “That's Meade.” “Yes, that's him.” “Is he sick?” “I expect he is; he looks kinder wild!” “Guess the old man hain't had much sleep lately.” The heavy artillery firing we had earlier heard, now had suddenly ceased, and there was a perfect stillness — a suspicious circumstance that gave us new hope. Somewhat before noon we got to General Humphreys, some five miles east of the Court House and at the very head of his men. He reported that he had just struck the enemy's skirmish line, and was preparing to drive them back. At that moment an officer rode up and said the enemy were out with a white flag. “They shan't stop me!” retorted the fiery H.; “receive the message but push on the skirmishers!” Back came the officer speedily, with a note. General Lee stated that General Ord had agreed to a suspension of hostilities, and he should ask for the same on this end, of the line. “Hey! what!” cried General Meade, in his harsh, suspicious voice, “I have no sort of authority to grant such suspension. General Lee has already refused the terms of General Grant. Advance your skirmishers, Humphreys, and bring up your troops. We will pitch into them at once!” But lo! here comes now General Forsyth, who had ridden through the Rebel army, from General Sheridan (under a flag), and who now urged a brief suspension. “Well,” said the General, “in order that you may get back to Sheridan, I will wait till two o'clock, and then, if I get no communication from General Lee, I shall attack!” So back went Forsyth, with a variety of notes and despatches. We waited, not without excitement, for the appointed hour. Meantime, negroes came in and said the Rebel pickets had thrown down their muskets and gone leisurely to their main body; also that the Rebels were “done gone give up.” Presently, the General pulled out his watch and said: “Two o'clock — no answer — go forward.” But they had not advanced far, before we saw a Rebel and a Union officer coming in. They bore an order from General Grant to halt the troops. Major Wingate, of General Lee's Staff, was a military-looking man, dressed in a handsome grey suit with gold lace, and a gold star upon the collar. He was courageous, but plainly mortified to the heart. “We had done better to have burnt our whole train three days ago”; he said bitterly. “In trying to save a train, we have lost an army!” And there he struck the pith of the thing. And so we continued to wait till about five, during which time General Humphreys amused us with presents of Confederate notes, of which we found a barrel full (!) in the Rebel waggons. It was a strange spectacle, to see the officers laughing and giving each other $500 notes of a government that has been considered as firmly established by our English friends!

About five came Major Pease. “The Army of Northern Virginia has surrendered!” Headed by General Webb, we gave three cheers, and three more for General Meade. Then he mounted and rode through the 2d and 6th Corps. Such a scene followed as I can never see again. The soldiers rushed, perfectly crazy, to the roadside, and there crowding in dense masses, shouted, screamed, yelled, threw up their hats and hopped madly up and down! The batteries were run out and began firing, the bands played, the flags waved. The noise of the cheering was such that my very ears rang. And there was General Meade galloping about and waving his cap with the best of them! Poor old Robert Lee! His punishment is too heavy — to hear those cheers, and to remember what he once was! My little share of this work is done. God willing, before many weeks, or even days, I shall be at home, to campaign no more!

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 355-8