George S. Denison to Salmon P. Chase, January 2, 1863

(Private)

New Orleans, January 2nd, 1863.

Dear Sir: Everything remains nearly as when I last wrote. Troops have been moving up to Baton Rouge, and the whole army and navy here, are occupied in preparations for advancing on Port Hudson. It will certainly be captured when attacked, and according to the best information I can collect, the attack will be made in about twelve days. Gen. Banks seems disposed to occupy himself more with military and less with civil and commercial affairs than Gen. Butler did. He does not yet communicate his intentions to me so freely as Gen. Butler did.

Two regiments of infantry and a battery have gone to Galveston, to occupy that Island. I have laid before Gen. Banks a plan for the capture of Brownsville, opposite Matamoras on the Rio Grande. The occupation of this place is becoming of great consequence, on account of the great trade at that point with the Rebel states. Gen. Hamilton urges the project, and Gen. Banks seems to regard it favorable.

Gen. Hamilton asks for five thousand men. The 1st. Texas regiment (only 200 or 300 in number) accompanied the other two regiments to Galveston. Gen. Hamilton is still here and will probably remain until the expedition goes to Brownsville. I suppose great complaints will be made of Gen. Butler when he gets North. You may be sure that Gen. Butler deserves well of the country and Government — and I believe he did no bad thing, except permitting his brother and other friends to make large sums of money — dishonorably, as I think. All the other accusations against him, which I have seen, are not true.

I do not think Gen. Butler sent to Washington the evidence respecting the schooner which run into Pontchitoula. He said the testimony would be presented to the witnesses for signature, but this has not been done.

Statements are in circulation here that you and Mr. Seward have resigned. In respect to yourself, I can truly say that the report is received by all with regret. When I say by all, I mean the public generally.

I have sent to you to-day a bill of lading for $195,000.00 shipped to John J. Cisco, in accordance with your instructions.

SOURCE: Diary and correspondence of Salmon P. Chase, Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 344-5

Diary of John Hay: September 10, 1863

. . . I dined to-night at Wormley’s with Hooker, Butterfield, Fox, Wise , and Col. Rush of Philad^a . . . . Hooker says: — “Our war has developed no great cavalry officer. Stoneman  has good points, but does not fulfil his early promise. Pleasanton is splendid, enterprising and brave, but full of mannerisms and weaknesses. Buford is far superior to any others in all the qualities of a great rider. But none of them approach the ideal.”

Speaking of Lee, he expressed himself slightingly of Lee’s abilities. He says he was never much respected in the army. In Mexico he was surpassed by all his lieutenants. In the cavalry he was held in no esteem. He was regarded very highly by Gen^l Scott. He was a courtier, and readily recommended himself by his insinuating manner to the General, whose petulant and arrogant temper has driven of late years all officers of spirit and self-respect away from him.

“Look at all his staff-officers! sleek and comfortable and respectable and obsequious: Townsend, Cullum, Hamilton, Wright, etc.”

“The strength of the rebel army rests on the broad shoulders of Longstreet. He is the brain of Lee as Stonewall Jackson was his right arm. Before every battle he has been advised with. After every battle Lee may be found in his tent. He is a weak man and little of a soldier. He naturally rests on Longstreet, who is a soldier, born.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 99-100; For the whole diary entry see Tyler Dennett, Editor, Lincoln and the Civil War in the Diaries and letters of John Hay, p. 86-9.

Major Wilder Dwight: March 15, 1862

camp Near Winchester, March 15, 1862.

Of all the platitudes and jingles that ever amused and deluded a chivalrous people, the assertion, “You can't subjugate a State,” is the wildest. These people were first subjugated to secession, and now they are rapidly being subjugated back to loyalty. Subjection is what vast numbers of them sigh for. If only they were sure that the Union authority would last. Therein lies McClellan's wisdom. No step backward, is his motto. With such tactics, and with a bold and confident advance, I care not whether we fight battles or follow retreats, though the former is far better, we restore the Union.

I fear the people will regard the retreat from Manassas as a disappointment to our arms, and almost a Rebel success. I fear that they will think McClellan's preparation and generalship wasted. A little patience, however, may show that they are wrong. We have gained an immense moral victory over the Rebellion, and a short time hence we shall begin to see palpable material results. Only let us not, by a sudden and rash revulsion, begin at once to undervalue our foe. Nothing but the presence everywhere, in the seceded States, of Union bayonets will accomplish the Union's restoration. That is a work of some time and struggle, yet it must be done. The most dangerous heresy seems to me to be the suggestion that the States, having gone out, are to be governed as Territories. This involves the admission of the theory we went to war against. Martial law may be necessary within the States for a time; but the State, as well as the national government, is to be restored, or our contest is fruitless. Changes, rapid and unexpected, are the order of the day. Heintzelman's promotion to a corps d’armée leaves open his division. Yesterday, when I went to town, I found that General Hamilton was promoted to the command of that division. He went off yesterday afternoon, regret following him from every one. He is a great loss to us. His departure leaves a brigade vacant; accordingly our regiment is to-day transferred to Hamilton's old brigade, and Colonel Gordon, as senior Colonel, assigned to its command, as Acting Brigadier. This is a pleasing change, and it gives the Colonel room to show himself. It probably, for the present, may find me in command of the regiment, as Colonel Andrews is still on detached duty; but I shall make every exertion to have him returned to the regiment, in justice to him. He has fairly earned the right to the command, and I should not feel content to have him or the regiment deprived of it, though my own personal ambition might be gratified by so desirable a command. I hope I can sink myself in seeking always the welfare of the regiment, and the interest of so faithful an officer and friend as Colonel Andrews. I think more and more, though I am unwilling to write about it, that we missed the cleverest chance at cutting off and bagging Jackson and his force that ever fell in one's way. Caution is the sin of our generals, I am afraid; but military criticism is not graceful, and I will waive it for the present. Yet if you knew how we ache for a chance at fighting, how we feel that our little army corps out in this valley has no hope of it, you would not wonder that a leaden depression rests heavily upon us, as we think of our hesitating and peaceful advent to Winchester. And now why we do not push on upon Jackson at Strasburg passes my limited conjectural capacity to guess. I presume the reason to be that his evanescent tactics would be sure to result in his evaporation before we got there.

This morning a few companies of cavalry, four pieces of artillery, and five companies of infantry, Massachusetts Thirteenth, went out on an armed reconnoissance, and chased Colonel Ashby's cavalry several miles. The cavalry were too quick for them, and our own cavalry has no more chance of catching them than the wagon train has. They are admirably mounted and thoroughly trained. Where our men have to dismount and take down the bars, they fly over fences and across country like birds.

General Banks has just gone off to Washington. Conjecture is busy, again, with “why”? My guess is, that we have outlived our usefulness in the Shenandoah Valley, and that we shall make a cut through the gap into the path of the Grand Army. At any rate, nothing more can happen this side the mountains, and I certainly hope we shall not be absorbed into any force that is to be handled by General Fremont.

Our little town of Berryville is also called, as you may see on some of the maps, Battletown, probably with prescient sarcasm on –––'s anticipated cannonade of that peaceful agricultural implement, the threshing-machine. Who shall say that we are not engaged in the noble task of fulfilling prophecy and making history!

It is now Sunday morning. After two days' cloud and rain, we have bright sunshine. Colonel Andrews comes back to the regiment, and Colonel Gordon assumes his slippery honors as provisional brigadier.

I should like to go to church with you this morning, even in an east wind. Instead of it, however, I must content myself with thinking of you in my wind-swept camp near Winchester. I see that Governor Letcher appoints Winchester as a place of rendezvous for his new levy of militia. I only wish they would obey his order.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 211-3

Major Wilder Dwight: March 13, 1862

Camp Near Winchester, March 13, 1862.

At last! My prophecy of yesterday found its fulfilment rapidly enough. Half an hour after my letter went on its way, Colonel Andrews brought the news that Hamilton's and Williams's brigades were in Winchester, as quietly and easily as if no hostile force had ever held it. Jackson left the night before, having held Hamilton and us in check all the previous day by slight demonstrations of cavalry. It is as I have always supposed, though this general exodus from Manassas and the whole line is more sudden than I believed possible. It gives us a stern chase, perhaps a long chase. After lunch the Colonel and I determined to gallop down from Berryville to Winchester to call on Hamilton and see the place, — a pleasant ride of ten miles. We approached the town from the east. The only symptom of fortification was a long rifle-pit, with a few platforms for guns, and one broken gun “truck,” or ship carriage. We found General Hamilton in command, and in tranquil possession. Jackson cleverly slipped away, carrying with him everything, — guns, stores, men. He had been moving for a fortnight, and has gone to the railway at Strasburg. I think we have lost time uselessly in our over-caution. Our own twenty-four hours' delay at Berryville is inexplicable to me. The effort, I think, should have been made by a movement to Millwood, and so across to the Strasburg pike, to cut off Jackson. A bold game would, perhaps, have bagged him. Still, while the position at Manassas was held, a bold game was too full of hazard. After the broad hint furnished us by the evacuation of Leesburg, however, I think we might have pushed on our intercepting column fearlessly. At any rate, the movement is without brilliancy or effectiveness or fruit, and only postpones and unsettles the time of our success. We got into the saddle again at half past five to return.

Just at dusk we came near Berryville. Whom should we meet but General Abercrombie. “The whole brigade is moving,” said he. “I have a telegraphic despatch from General Banks, that Hamilton is engaged with the enemy at Winchester. Shields has been taken prisoner, and the loss, on our part, is very heavy. We are ordered to march at once to his support.” “But it's all a mistake,” said we. “We just left General Hamilton safe and happy at Winchester, and no enemy within twenty miles.” “Never mind,” said the General; “I have my orders.” It was no use; he would not let us turn the regiment back, as we desired. There was nothing for it but to yield. We stopped and got some supper, and then followed the regiment, overtaking it at about eight o'clock, as it was crossing a stream. At about ten o'clock, wet and cold, we turned into a field near Winchester to bivouac for the night. A cold time we had of it. To-day we have got into camp near the town. I rode out this afternoon to see their vaunted fort on the road toward Bunker Hill; a poor affair enough. Everything tells me that if Patterson had had courage instead of caution, an army instead of a mob, we should have walked into Winchester last July as we have to-day. But we needed the lessons of that campaign to prepare for this.

I must not omit to mention the arrival of the boxes of clothing, from Mrs. Ticknor, on Saturday last at Charlestown. They came, like their predecessors, most opportunely. It was the morning after our night march over rough and muddy roads. Our camp was scourged by a blustering and piercing March wind. The boxes opened their warmth upon men who longed for it. Give our cordial thanks to all the ladies whose kindness has done so much for us.

Great news from Arkansas! Howard is in luck.

My last night's bivouac, after so many previous sleepless nights, has made me rather sleepy. Our regiment turned into a thick pine wood. Colonel Hackleman's Indiana regiment was just in our rear. They brought along with them the hens and chickens of the neighboring farms, and the feathers flew briskly about their beds. Old Hackleman calls them his “boys,” and they, in turn, call him “pap”; and he has a happy, noisy family about him. As they lay by our side last night, I was led to the remark, that Hackleman's babes were in the wood, and Robbin Henroosts had covered them with softer covering than leaves. Our regiment is in perfect condition, and the men have really become practised and expert soldiers. Our train came up this morning, and at about one o'clock we went into camp. Before sunset ovens were built, and we had a perfectly organized camp. We may not stay here a day, but everything takes shape at once. The men march easily and rapidly, and I am more than ever pleased and contented with the Second Regiment.

Have we not a Monitor afloat? Was not her providential arrival at Norfolk an effective admonition to the Rebels? Check to their king. Private enterprise has done what our Navy Department could not. What a glorious trial trip!

Just beyond the field in which we are encamped are the remains of the camp of the Second Virginia. An omen, perhaps; but this peaceable succession to vacant camps has in it little of the element that feeds martial ardor or rewards the ecstasy of strife! But how silently and surely we are dealing with slavery. The post at which I placed my grand guard yesterday was near a fine old farm-house. Its Rebel owner left with haste, as threw his shells with brilliant courage at four men and a threshing-machine which his distempered fancy had imagined and exaggerated into some new engine of destruction. All the negro servants were left in charge of the other property. This leaving one kind of property in possession of another kind of property hath in it a certain logical and natural inconsistency, which doth not fail to show itself in the practical result. “Massa's gone to Winchester. He in a big hurry. Yer's welcome to the hams and the other fixins. Massa very hospitable man.” So the negro makes free with his fellow-property with every right of succession and enjoyment that belongs to a next of kin. Why will he not also learn to make free with himself?

If he fails to do so, it will not be for the want of a good deal of rough but sage counsel from the “boys” of the Sixteenth Indiana Regiment, who were posted there. The Hoosiers have very vague notions of property and Rebel ownership at the best. They have not the capacity to rise to the height of contemplating human ownership. A long row of beehives were humming their peaceful labors in the front-yard. I hear that they soon fell into disorder, and that the Hoosiers had a ration of honey! Sic vos non vobis mellificatis apes! My Latin may be lame, but the sense is clear.

I send you a Richmond Enquirer, from the Winchester mail, seized yesterday; I send you also a paper published by the Twelfth Indiana on their advent to town. It is dull enough, but an odd institution, — a sort of turning of the Rebel batteries against themselves

The origin of General Banks's error about a battle at Winchester, which gave us our night stampede, is supposed to have been in the signal corps. Some one blundered a signal or forged one, we have not yet learned which; an investigation is going on.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 206-10

Major Wilder Dwight: March 9, 1862

Camp Near Charlestown, Virginia, March 9, 1862.

After finishing my letter to you yesterday, as I came out of the Provost Marshal's office, I saw a sight that I would gladly photograph for you. A large wagon full of negro men, women, and children, overrunning like the old woman's shoe. It had come in from the farm, near town, of some disloyal Rebel. There stood the load of helpless and deserted contrabands; an embarrassment and a question typifying the status of the slave everywhere, as the army marches on.

“You see that wagon,” said my friend and quondam enemy, the secession postmaster. “Well, that is an answer to all your talk of protection and good government.” “No,” said I; “under the government, and with the peace you then enjoyed, there were no such wagons. You had better hasten back under the government, or all your negroes will be in wagons or on foot, whither they choose. War is a rough master, but it has no rules or processes for the enforcement of the slave code.”

The question meets you at every turn. At the tavern where we stopped for a few days after coming to town were two slaves, — an Aunt Chloe, whose bread and pastry and cake realized Mrs. Stowe's fiction; her son George, eighteen years old, who waited on table, and whose free father is a carpenter in Charlestown. Day before yesterday, on going to town, I found “aunty” in great affliction. Her only boy, George, had “run away.” When General Hamilton went on to Smithfield, George went too.

He wanted to be free, instead of following longer the apron-string and status of his mother. Either his free father or our servants or the change of air had “poisoned” his mind, as our host, his “owner,” phrased it. I might add case after case. The leaven is working; there is no stopping it.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 205-6

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: 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 Wilder Dwight: January 17, 1862

Cantonment Hicks (so called), January 17, 1862.

I had a corpulent little letter from you, — one actually swelling with agreeable importance. I hope Mrs. Ticknor's surprise at my acknowledging the present of the stockings was not displeasure. I thought so long a pair of stockings would bear a short note; and I really wanted the opportunity to express my gratitude for the service she had done us. You see a letter from no less an authority than George Washington suggests exactly the counterpart of the scheme of benevolence of her association, — an extra shirt for the soldier.

Life lags along with us. It has its family cares and its family jars; but, on the whole, all is well; and the lengthening days already begin to promise the coming spring. —— is not right in his idea that I do not want to come home; but I have never seen the time when I could properly do so, and am quite content to wait till such a time. I should prefer to have activity and success precede my visit. I am quite busy with my duties on the Examining Board, and there seems no limit to the amount of work provided for us. The army certainly needs a great deal of weeding out among its officers.

I find General Hamilton and Colonel Geary very agreeable associates. The former is really a splendid man, and a fine officer, — educated, self-reliant, brave. I have great confidence in him, and wish our regiment were in his brigade. General Hamilton is from Wisconsin, where he went a few years ago on resigning from the army. . . . .

I hope father is regaining his confidence in McClellan. You see the telegraph says that he has persuaded the Congressional Committee into content, after spending the day with them. I think father ought to grant him another lease of hope and confidence; but for these rascally contractors, swindlers, defaulters, and other leeches I have only hatred and contempt. A vigorous and lively gallows is what this country wants now.

Any change in the War Department is a change for the better. I should have been glad to see General Banks there, however. I have great faith in his ability and statesmanship, and in his thorough comprehension of this Rebellion. But as a general in the field he has not fair scope for his powers yet. Perhaps it may come, however.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 188-9

Major Wilder Dwight: December 20, 1861

camp Hicks, near Frederick, December 20, 1861.

It was only the immediate pressure of another topic that crowded out the mention of the arrival of the box of shirts and drawers, &c., from Mrs. Ticknor. They were equally distributed among the men needing them most. They were most gladly welcomed. In size, shape, and substance, they are all we could desire. The gay-colored handkerchiefs warmed the fancy of the men, and were eagerly snatched at. The mittens, too, notwithstanding the finger deformity, were grasped by eager hands. I think it would reward the effort of our friends if they could have seen the opening of the box, and the scattering of the clothing to the companies. The eyes of the men chosen for the gifts glistened, and the eyes of the others fell, as those of children. Indeed, in many respects, soldiers are like children; and the idea that there is a box from home with a present in it is, you know, the crowning joy of childhood. There is a certain flavor to these arrivals, of warmth and comfort, that seems to dwell with peculiar relish on the mind. They make a day glad and cheerful. But I must protest against this form of “soldier’s mitten.” Make a good, honest mitten, in which there shall be no aristocracy or seclusion among the fingers, but where they may dwell together in unity. When the man is to use his gun he won't wear a mitten. At other times he wants the old, warm mitten, not this eccentric innovation. By this criticism I do not wish to discourage the sending of mittens of this or any other shape. We want those of any shape. I speak only in the interests of science and truth.

I wish you could have seen the regiment this evening at parade. We got fresh white gloves for the men to-day; and the steady line, with its regular and precise movement, the shining brass of the equipments, and general neatness, was a fine sight. Our old uniforms, after all their service, look better than most new ones. General Banks was present, and afterwards came up and admired my tent-house.

My friend Colonel Geary has gone back to Point of Rocks. General Hamilton is off to Williamsport, and the Board will meet again “some day next week.”

I enjoyed Colonel Geary's talk very much. He has seen a good deal of rough life; was a colonel during the Mexican War, then a Californian, and the last alcalde of San Francisco, then a governor of Kansas. He speaks of events of which he was himself no small part.

Colonel ——, of the Sixteenth Indiana, is a character, — a tall, gaunt Western lawyer turned colonel. He has just returned from a visit to Washington and his home. Speaking of the crowds of officers and soldiers who throng Pennsylvania Avenue, he said, “I told my friends if we could only get the Confederates into Pennsylvania Avenue, we could give them an awful thrashing. I never saw so many officers in my life. We could thrash ’em to death, sir.”

I was glad to receive news from Howard. Glad, too, to find him in service and promoted. His success is certain, if he holds on. I shall write to him not to be discouraged, and not to regret being in Missouri. Halleck will reorganize, correct, discipline the force; and he will belong to a grand army, and perhaps share in glorious achievement. . . . .

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 176-8

Major Wilder Dwight: December 16, 1861, Evening

There is something gay, inspiriting, exciting, in a fine review. The brigade burnishes its equipments and perfects its uniform. It also puts on its pride and its peacock feathers. All is elation and glorification. Now, though humility is at once a grace and a virtue, its modest worth has no place here. Humility never “prepares for review,” or “parades for inspection.” But a regiment does both. So we put on our gayest plumage of pride, with our hats and feathers and epaulettes: the band shone with its new instruments; the sun vied with their splendor, perhaps aided it. The drum-major's silver globe rivalled the orb that it multiplied. Officers and men were ambitious, confident, elate. We were the first brigade to be reviewed, after the others who disported themselves last week, — of course to surpass them. I need not describe the ceremony. Everything went well, except that my horse gave a plunge opposite the General, and slightly disconcerted my salute; but, as I say, pride was at the helm, and on we went. The Second did itself proud. I never saw it march with more steadiness, or keep its line better. After the review a drill was ordered; and here our regiment proceeded to distinguish and emphasize itself. We had a brisk, rattling, double-quick drill, and were the observed of all observers, and the praised of all praisers; so that when we came home to read our newspapers, and found that England was going to demand satisfaction and compel the surrender of the ambassadors, we felt all ready for war with England. Still, I cannot believe in all this bluster.

The right of search and seizure is, on the weight of authority, in our favor. But it is just one of those nice and delicate questions that will affect the mind of the seizor differently from the seizee; and, on the whole, seems to me a right that ought not to be exercised except in a very tempting case like this one. We must stand to our guns, and England will back down. I hope Charleston has been burnt by its own negroes. That would be a felicity of Divine wrath that could not be surpassed.

I have received notice from General Hamilton to begin work on the Examining Board to-morrow (Tuesday), the 17th. This will keep me busy for the present; but I expect quite an amusing time, though perhaps a little monotonously so. I found your letters on my return from review; one from you, and one from Colonel Andrews We want him back; and the officers and men constantly ask for him, and when he is coming.

I have only time, this Tuesday morning, before going into Frederick, to bid you good by. Love to all at home. I wish I could hear from Howard.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 175-6

Major Wilder Dwight: Saturday Evening, November 23, 1861

Head-quarters Second Massachusetts Regiment,

Camp near Seneca, Nov. 23, 1861, Saturday Evening.

Yours of the 19th is in my pocket. The evening has passed pleasantly under its influence. The camp is fast falling asleep.

I last wrote you just after dinner on Thanksgiving day. The rest of the day went glibly enough. In the evening the men had a brisk dance to the music of the band, and the next morning there were fewer sick men than for two weeks before. Gladness and gayety are good medicines. Friday was a very busy day with me. Among its morning incidents was a visit to Generals Hamilton and Williams. General Williams quite won my affection by saying, apropos of the review, “The Massachusetts Second is the best volunteer regiment in the service.” “A man of sense,” was my echo. Our two new lieutenants, Grafton and Shelton, appeared yesterday, and were assigned to duty the next day. They were eager for duty, and promise well. Give Charley the stockings for his men by all means. I rejoice in his effort and success. I am amused to see that the London Times compares Ball's Bluff to Braddock's defeat. That was my first exclamation. A regular Braddock's defeat! Who was the Braddock? . . . .

I do not expect to come home at all. While there is anything to do here, I certainly shall not come. Indeed, I do not think I desire it. Three years or the war, was my enlistment; and I am willing to stay with my regiment while it lasts. . . . .

This morning's inspection took about two hours. It was a thorough one and satisfactory. We have church this afternoon, unless it rains, as it threatens to do.

For one, I have no sympathy with the prisoners at Fort Warren. I desire that all benevolence and sympathy may flow to our loyal soldiers, whose hardship is quite as great. As for Mason and Slidell, the joke is so good, so practical, so retributive. I admire the calm irony with which Mr. Everett wishes them a short residence at Fort Warren. That is clever and bright, and politely severe

I predicted church when I was writing this morning. Lo it is evening, and the ground white with snow! So winter steals upon us, and we have a snow-storm instead of divine service. Well, camp life has its variety, and is not always same. I confess, as I look out through the flapping door of my tent, I think it looks as little like invading the South as any scene I ever looked on. White and heavy falls the snow, — I hope on the unjust as well as the just, on both sides the Potomac! Now's the time for mittens with no holes in the thumbs I have quite a long letter from ——. She is full of the glory and spectacle aspect of the army and the war, her visit to Washington having taught her all about armies. I could give her a few practical lessons that would unidealize her abruptly. Never mind, to be illusionée is to be happy.

I hope, in view of the dread you express of my going to Charleston, where they fight “without giving quarter,” you will be pleased at the imminent prospect there seems to be that we shall be snowed into Maryland till spring. However, the weather is so fickle, we may have bright sunshine to-morrow.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 155-7

Major Wilder Dwight: Saturday Night, October 26, 1861

Camp Near The Little Seneca, Saturday Night,

9 o'clock, P. M.

He who predicts the morrow in this life has his labor for his pains. The morrow takes care of itself. Here we are, and tattoo is just beating again, and we are twelve miles from our last night's camp. I will go on with my story. When I got to the river, I began to carry out my instructions from General Hamilton. They were, to visit Harrison's Island, which was abandoned by our troops on Tuesday night, and bring off some government stores. I found that, owing to the stupidity of the officer whom I had left in charge at the point of crossing opposite the island, one of the ropes had been cut, and there was only one rope left stretching across the river on which I could ferry my men over. I got my men ready, took the two leaky flatboats and moored them well, and waited for darkness. The night was very cold. In its cover we started with one boat, leaving directions for the other to follow after we got across and got things secure. We pulled across silently on the rope which came up out of the water, and sagged a good deal with the stream. Just as we got within the shadows of the opposite bank, the Sergeant whispered, “Hold on, the rope has broken.” The men held on by the end, and, sure enough, it had parted, and we were swinging off down stream away from the island. There was something laughable in the mischance. We had nothing for it but to return, which we did, coiling the rope in our boat as we went back. So ended all visits, for the present, by our troops to Harrison's Island. I was kept on the alert all night by firing up the river, and got no sleep of any consequence, — sending and receiving despatches from General Hamilton. At light, — a bright, golden, October morning, ice an inch thick, — I visited all the outlooks, and then went back to camp to report to General Hamilton. After breakfast, on Friday morning, the Colonel suggested that we should ride to the Fifteenth and Twentieth.

I went to see Lieutenant-Colonel Ward. He has lost his leg, below the knee. Said he, “Major, I am not as I was in Washington.” “No,” said I, “you should have accepted my invitation, and ridden up with me on Monday.” We were together last Saturday night at Willard's, and I begged him to wait till Monday and go up with me. He said, “No, I shall be needed in camp.”

We then went to the Twentieth. I wish all the friends of the young wounded officers could see them; it was a pleasant picture. In the first tent I visited I found Captain John Putnam. He was bright and in good spirits. I shook his left hand. His right arm is gone at the shoulder. Turning to the other bed, I met the pleasant smile of Lieutenant Holmes. He greeted me as cordially as if we had met at home, talked gayly of soon getting well again. His wound is through the body sideways, just missing the lungs, and following the ribs. Young Lieutenant Lowell, too, in the next tent, was making light of only a flesh wound in the thigh. Caspar Crowninshield, whom I found helping Colonel Palfrey, and acting as Major, was as calm as possible. He gave a very good account of the fight; he evidently did gloriously. Only once, when he spoke of the terrible scene in the river after they got in swimming, did he seem to think of the horrors of the scene. Young Harry Sturgis was also bright. He said that Lieutenant Putnam, who was wounded in the bowels, wished to be left, as he said, to die on the field. “That is the fit place to die,” he said. But Harry took him in his arms and brought him to the river. Young Abbott looked well. Lieutenant Perry is a prisoner, but I think safe, without doubt. So of Major Revere and Colonel Lee. When we got back to camp I got a report from the river that the enemy were quite numerous on the opposite bluff, and that they were putting a field-piece in position there. Though I did not credit it, down I went, and spent the afternoon. We found they had occupied, or rather visited, the island. My glass let me see them plainly in many places, and in others they were within familiar conversational distance. I found they were re-establishing their pickets strongly. I left Captain Curtis in charge, and returned to camp. I found that I was detailed as one of the Examining Board for our division. The Board consists of General Hamilton, Colonel Halleck, and myself. We are to examine the officers as to their qualifications, &c. I cannot approve of my appointment, but as it emanates from the Head-quarters of the Army of the Potomac, I suppose it is all right.

This morning I was sitting at breakfast, when up rode General Hamilton's aide. “Major,” said he, “General Hamilton says you will move your detachment at once.” “What detachment?” said I. “The advanced guard and pioneers,” said he. “I have no orders,” said I, “and no guard.” “There is some mistake,” said he. Then up came a lieutenant from an Indiana regiment. “I am ordered to report to you,” said he. “Very well,” said I. I went over to General Hamilton, and found the whole brigade was under marching orders. By inadvertence we had not received ours. All the rest of the brigade were ready to start, and our tents were all standing. I went off at once, with my pioneers, and put the road in condition. Here we are in camp. Our regiment was, of course, the last to start. All the others were in motion before our tents were struck. But our regiment passed all the others on the way, and was first in camp to-night. We can march. Our night march to the Ferry was perfect. Life is brisk with us, you see.

I have father's letter about the stockings. After our wretched wet marching, the stockings will be a mercy, I think. Please to tell Mrs. Ticknor that towels, one apiece, will be good for us. I did not think of mentioning them, as, in the seriousness of actual business, the luxuries are lost sight of. The regiment will move to-morrow to the neighborhood of the mouth of the Muddy Branch, near the Potomac. There we are to go into camp for the present. So ends our week's work. Hard and busy, but not without its use. This morning, as our company on picket-duty came along the canal to rejoin the regiment, the Rebels from the island fired on them several times. They were also busy diving and fishing for the guns which the men threw away in their flight.

The rascals are very saucy over their victory. I think they have the advantage of our men in the chaffing which goes on across the river, though one of our corporals told the sentry opposite him, who was washing his feet, to take his feet out of his (the corporal's) river, or he would shoot him.

“Reveillé” will sound at five o'clock to-morrow morning, and at seven we shall be off and away. We are within three miles of our old camp. To-morrow we go somewhat nearer Washington.

No paper that I have yet seen gives any idea of the fight, as I glean it from various sources. No generalship seems to have been used in the matter. Not a military glance seems to have swept the field, not a military suggestion seems to have planned the enterprise. The men crossed at the worst point of the river; they had only two small scows to cross with; retreat was impossible.

If you could see how completely this rocky, wooded bluff (of which I have attempted a sketch on the opposite page) overhangs the island and the opposite shore, you would realize what a mad place it was to cross at. If you could see the scows, you would see what means they had to cross.

Again, the disposition of the troops was wretched. The formation close upon the bluff, and with their rear right upon the river, gave no chance to repair mischance. Also, the thick wood which surrounded them gave the enemy every opportunity to outflank them. If they had meant to fight, they should have rested one of their flanks on the river, and have protected the other by artillery. This would have made their line perpendicular to the river. Their retreat might have been up or down stream. But they could, probably, have prolonged the fight till night, and then run for luck in crossing. Such a position would have been stronger, and retreat would have been less fatal. But they thought apparently the two scows their line of retreat, while, in fact, they were as bad as nothing. There does not seem to be a single redeeming feature in the whole business. They went on a fool's errand, — went without means, and then persisted in their folly after it became clear

It is useless to talk of what might have been; but if you had walked, as I have done, for the past three days on that canal tow-path opposite the bluff on whose crest our brave men formed for a desperate struggle, you could not help discoursing upon the military grotesqueness of the whole action. I have said there is no redeeming feature in the whole case. I am wrong. The determined courage of Massachusetts officers and soldiers is a cheering gleam through the gloom. But Heaven save us from any more such tests of valor. “The officer who brought you here ought to be hung,” said a Rebel officer to the burial party who went over with a flag of truce on Tuesday to bury our dead. I am afraid that is too true.

The Rebels, on the other hand, managed finely. They seem to have waited till they had caught a goodly number, and then to have sprung their trap ruthlessly. McClellan's first question was, “How did our men fight?” The answer is plain, — like heroes. If the men were properly officered, they would be the best troops in the world

The blunder and its consequences are of the past. The future must be freighted with better hopes. As far as our military position is concerned, except for the loss of life, and perhaps of time, all is as well to-day as a week ago.

We cannot be thankful enough for the mercy which spared our regiment from having any other share in the movement than to aid in repairing its disasters. I shall not soon forget that night's march, and that gloomy morning. God bless you all at home! We can trust, and must trust, in that Power which will overrule everything for good. Good night. I must get some sleep for to-morrow's march.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 125-30

Major Wilder Dwight: Thursday Morning, October 24, 1861

Camp Near Conrad's Ferry, October 24, 1861,

Thursday Morning.

The violation of every rule and maxim of military law, the exaction of the extreme penalty therefor. Such is the summing up of the massacre near Leesburg. Does it awaken you to the fact that politicians are not generals?

But how shall I tell you the story of these trying days? I wrote a hasty word as our line was forming on Monday night. We marched gayly and willingly off in the moonlight towards Poolesville, at nine o'clock in the evening.

We supposod we were to cross at Edward's Ferry, to aid in a victorious advance upon Leesburg. The men marched splendidly. At Poolesville we first met the faint shadows of the coming gloom, — a few stragglers of the Fifteenth Massachusetts. “Our companies are all cut to pieces. Our captain is shot; our lieutenant-colonel has lost his leg; we have all been cut up,” &c. On we went, more earnestly, and took the road to Conrad's Ferry. Then we began to meet the flying and scattered soldiers. One with only an overcoat, another with only a blanket, another with even less. They all told one story, of flight and death and despair. Still we pressed on. Our men were eager to reach the Ferry. We got there at about three o'clock in the morning. Eighteen miles in between six and seven hours. Then came the rain, and then came the order to stay where we were. The morning broke, — a wild, gusty, rainy morning, — upon our shelterless and weary regiment. The only house near where the regiment stopped was filled with the wounded. As soon as I could get away, I galloped down to the place of crossing. I saw them letting down a wounded man on a stretcher into the canal-boat. It was Captain John Putnam, a clever fellow, of the New England Guards. I turned and went down to the river, meeting on my way a dead one, and, as I passed, one of the soldiers who carried him turned up the face, and said, “Yes, this is one of the Tammany boys.” I went to the river, to a flat-boat full of wounded; found Dr. Hay ward, of the Twentieth. He said that Lieutenant Putnam, Mrs. Sam Putnam's son, was in the boat, badly wounded. I spoke to him; he was bright, but evidently sinking. I asked him if I could do anything for him, telling him who I was. He said, eagerly, “I should like to see Lieutenant Higginson.” I said I would bring him. Then I asked about Caspar Crowninshield, Abbott, Lowell, Holmes. Caspar, they thought, was wounded. Abbott, safe. Lowell and Holmes, both wounded. A little while after Caspar turned up. Ho was in the primitive costume of his overcoat and drawers, but full of cheery pluck, calm, clear, and a young hero in bearing and aspect. He gave a clear account of himself. I was compelled to go back to the regiment. I sent Lieutenant Higginson down, and did what I could for the men.

I had been in the saddle about twenty-four hours, and without sleep, and I got into the house among the wounded, and fell asleep on a camp-stool. Soon we were off again to put the regiment in camp under cover of a wood. Just as we got in camp, General Hamilton ordered five companies to go on picket along the river-bank The next morning at daylight, still raining, we were ordered to strike our tents, and move back out of cannon range from the river. We came to our present camp. General Hamilton then ordered me to take three companies to the river, and post pickets and keep a lookout. I started. At about three o'clock I returned to report to the General the position of things on the river, when I found General Banks and General McClellan in his quarters. I enjoyed hearing McClellan talk for half an hour. One good remark of his I recall. “Well,” said he, “so far we seem to have applied a new maxim of war, always to meet the enemy with an inferior force at the point of attack.” General Hamilton then ordered me to return, and cross to the island at night, and remove some stores which had been left there. I started off again. I got my preparations all made, when an order came, at about eight, P. M., “Take your companies at once to Edward's Ferry to cross. The enemy is in force there.” I drew in my pickets, and got ready to move promptly, when I was met, just as I started, by a mounted orderly, with a note addressed to the officer in command moving towards Edward's Ferry. “Return to your camp, and await further orders.” I turned back. The orderly had orders for General Hamilton, and did not know how to find him. It was dark, and I took my horse and rode with him to General Hamilton's quarters. Our regiment had started for Edward's Ferry before the orderly arrived. When they got there, they were ordered to return, and did so. This made the third night of fatiguing marching or guard duty, and to-day they are just done up. My three companies got their rest, however, at the river. It turns out that we were to support Stone, but McClellan suddenly determined to withdraw him, and so the countermanding order. To-night I go back to the river, and go over to the island to remove the government stores. That will give me a lively night again. I ought to be very tired, but excitement makes me feel the fatigue very little. . . . .

Providence seems to have watched over the Massachusetts Second, does it not? It has saved us from Bull Run, and now, from a worse blunder. For what has it reserved us? I hope and pray for the guidance of a good general, unhampered. I must go back to the Ferry. Good by. Love to all. God bless you.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 120-2

Major Wilder Dwight: October 21, 1861 – 7 p.m.

pleasant Hill, October 21, 1861, 7 o'clock, p. m.

Camp near Darnestown, for the last time!

I have just time to write you a word. I galloped up here this morning in three hours. Then had a brisk battalion drill. Then — came the news that Stone was crossing the river at Edward's Ferry. We were ordered to report to General Hamilton, changing our brigade again. That led me off to the General's head-quarters, whence I have just returned with marching orders. We go to Poolesville tonight, and cross, I suppose, to-morrow. I am no believer in a fight; but movement is life, and it seems quite like old times to be in the saddle all day, and then all night again.

My little gray mustang, which William got for me, took me to Washington briskly. I came back at a loose, free gallop. The whole division is now on the move. The men seem happy as larks. I am in the midst of questioning and orders and bustle. I cannot write any more. The Colonel calls for me. I shall give this letter to Mr. Mudge, who will tell you all about us. The Adjutant wants to pack his pen and ink, with which I am writing. Mine is all packed. Good by. Love to all."

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 119

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, March 2, 1862

Headquarters Co. B, 2d Mass. Reg't,

Charlestown, Va., March 2, 1862.

I wrote in my last that we had received marching orders and were liable to be off at any moment. We remained in a state of uncertainty till Wednesday afternoon, when we had the following order: “Reveille at four Thursday morning; march at five; take cars from Frederick at seven.”

These orders were complied with on a dark, cloudy, muddy morning, except that we had to wait till half-past seven on the railroad track before we started for Sandy Hook. Our whole brigade went on this train. After a hard ride of about four hours, we arrived at Sandy Hook. We disembarked as soon as possible, and formed line along the canal. Everything looked as natural as if we had only left the day before, except the lower part of Harper's Ferry, which, you know, Colonel Geary destroyed by burning. We marched down to the ferry, across which there had been a pontoon bridge constructed. We had to cross this in single file to avoid much jarring. It is a beautiful bridge, built in this manner: at intervals of every twenty feet are the pontoons, which look like common flat-bottomed scows, and are connected together by planking about eight feet wide. The whole arrangement is connected to the shore by a system of ropes. The bridge must be at least eight hundred and sixty feet long.

After crossing, we marched through Harper's Ferry, which seemed perfectly full of troops; we went down the Shenandoah road about a mile and quartered the regiment in some empty houses we found. The weather had changed since morning, and the night was very cold, with a perfect gale of wind. Captain Williams, Lieutenant Oakey and myself, found a very good room which we occupied together. At four o'clock next morning, we were awakened by the “officer of the day” ordering us to have our men get their breakfasts. As the regiment was going to move in light marching order at daylight, I got up and hunted for some coffee. I was lucky enough to find one house pretty well supplied, and engaged them to make me ten gallons for our company. We were very fortunate in getting this, as it enabled the men to start off feeling warm and comfortable, which is a great thing.

At seven, our line was formed, and then we learned that we were to form part of a reconnoitering force, to consist of four squadrons of cavalry, four pieces of artillery and two regiments of infantry, the whole under command of Colonel Gordon. As this was a very good specimen of a reconnoissance in force, perhaps you would like to know how it was conducted.

First, a few cavalry skirmishers to scour the roads and fields; then the main body of cavalry; then two pieces of artillery supported by a company of infantry, followed by two more supported similarly; then on each side of the road, a platoon of skirmishers covering near a third of a mile each way; these protect the advance of the main body of infantry; the flanks are protected by skirmishers deployed as flankers. I had the second platoon of our company deployed on the left of the road to drive in any pickets that might be out, or obtain other information; every house we came to, I had a man search from top to bottom, for arms or anything else that might be hidden in them.

Our cavalry skirmishers met those of the enemy just this side of Charlestown, and drove them into their main body; our cavalry then came up at the gallop and sent the enemy flying out of town and a couple of miles into the countiy, many of them throwing away their arms in their hurry. We followed along and took quiet possession of the town, probably as thoroughly secesh a place as any in Virginia. People scowled at us from their windows, but did not venture much into the streets; those who did seemed almost frightened to death, every one thinking we were going to burn the town. The guns were put in position at once, commanding the Winchester roads. The cry was suddenly set up, “The General is coming!” Ranks were formed and dressed. Presently, Generals McClellan, Banks, and Hamilton, with their staffs and guards, rode by; we saluted, and the General took off his cap to us; he is a splendid looking man, though not much like his pictures. They rode out about two miles and returned. He was so well satisfied with the movement that he decided to have our force remain and occupy the town. Most of our regiment are quartered at the Court House; our company occupies the toll-house of the Charlestown, Berryville and Winchester turnpike, a short distance from the town, supporting a section of Hampton's battery; very comfortable quarters.

We were reinforced, Friday night, by two regiments and a regular battery. That night, our cavalry was several times driven in by the enemy's cavalry; we lost four horses and three men by these attacks, and captured one of the enemy. One of the sentinels of our company shot a cavalry horse through the neck while on picket last night, about a half a mile from our house; the picket fired three times and drove them back.

The only currency here in town is the Southern shinplaster, dreadful mean looking stuff; I will send you a five cent bank bill in a day or two. Coffee costs four dollars a pound here and hard to be had at that. We shall be off from here in a day or two for Winchester, but I do not believe we shall have to fire a gun to take it; then for Richmond via Manassas. This is a little better than sticking in the mud at Frederick. Direct to General Banks' Division, War Department, Washington.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 36-9

Abraham Lincoln to Major General George B. McClellan, May 9, 1862

FORT MONROE, VA., May 9, 1862.

Major-General McCLELLAN:

MY DEAR SIR: I have just assisted the Secretary of War in framing the part of a dispatch to you relating to army corps, which dispatch of course will have reached you long before this will.

I wish to say a few words to you privately on this subject. I ordered the army corps organization not only on the unanimous opinion of the twelve generals whom you had selected and assigned as generals of divisions, but also on the unanimous opinion of every military man I could get an opinion from, and every modern military book, yourself only excepted. Of course I did not on my own judgment pretend to understand the subject. I now think it indispensable for you to know how your struggle against it is received in quarters which we cannot entirely disregard. It is looked upon as merely all effort to pamper one or two pets and to persecute and degrade their supposed rivals. I have had no word from Sumner, Heintzelman, or Keyes. The commanders of these corps are of course the three highest officers with you, but I am constantly told that you have no consultation or communication with them; that you consult and communicate with nobody but General Fitz John Porter and perhaps General Franklin. I do not say these complaints are true or just, but at all events it is proper you should know of their existence. Do the commanders of corps disobey your orders in anything?

When you relieved General Hamilton of his command the other day you thereby lost the confidence of at least one of your best friends in the Senate. And here let me say, not as applicable to you personally, that Senators and Representatives speak of me in their places as they please without question, and that officers of the Army must cease addressing insulting letters to them for taking no greater liberty with them.

But to return: Are you strong enough – are you strong enough, even with my help – to set your foot upon the necks of Sumner, Heintzelman, and Keyes all at once? This is a practical and very serious question for you.

The success of your army and the cause of the country are the same, and of course I only desire the good of the cause.

Yours, truly,

 A. LINCOLN.

SOURCES: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 11, Part 3 (Serial No. 14), p. 154-5

Gen. Banks Reinforced

NEW YORK, May 28. – The Baltimore American of the 27^th says Gen. Banks has already received a reinforcement of at least 13,000 well disciplined troops at Harper’s Ferry.  Several car loads of siege guns weighing about six tons, have also been sent up from the Washington Navy Yard.

In one of the trains for Harper’s Ferry was the Assistant Secretary of War Watson and Gen. Hamilton and Staff, of the regular army.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, May 31, 1862, p. 3