Diary of 4th Corporal Bartlett Yancey Malone: September 16, 1862

we started to Harpersferry and we got as far as Berryville the first day and then taken the left hand road and got as far as Charlestown the 17 day

SOURCE: Bartlett Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 25

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Saturday, March 8, 1862

Remained in camp near Charlestown, and received new Sibly tents to-day.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 34

William A. Gorton to John W. Garret, November 30, 1859—5.40 p.m.

Martinsburg, November 30, 1859-5.40 P. M.

J. W. Garrett.

The officer in command here has sent a special messenger to General Taliaferro, at Charlestown, in regard to the passengers under arrest here. The messenger will return some time during the night. There is nothing further can be done until orders are received from Charlestown.

W. A. GORTON.

SOURCE: B. H. Richardson, Annapolis, Maryland, Publisher, Correspondence Relating to the Insurrection at Harper's Ferry, 17th October, 1859, p. 67

A. P. Shutt to Oliver Hoblitzell, November 30, 1859–11.39 p.m.

Harper's Ferry, November 30th, 1859–11.39 P. M.

O. Hoblitzell.

Please say to Mr. Garrett, that I have made arrangements with Captain Moore of the command here, to have a guard stationed hereafter, and no one but passengers getting off and on the trains, will be allowed on the Trestle. Captain Moore will inform the commander at Charlestown of the visit here of the wife and friends of Brown, and whatever arrangements they make will be done by his authority.

A. P. SHUTT.

SOURCE: B. H. Richardson, Annapolis, Maryland, Publisher, Correspondence Relating to the Insurrection at Harper's Ferry, 17th October, 1859, p. 68-9

A. P. Shutt to William Preston Smith, December 1, 1859—2 p.m.

December 1—2. P. M.

To W. P. Smith.

Several passengers for this station, on Mail East. They were refused to be taken on the Winchester Road, whose train was sent down in charge of a guard, by order of the commander at Charlestown.

It will be impossible for strangers to go on that road; and I would suggest keeping back all, unless they come vouched for. Col. Lee had a guard of seven men on the Bridge, at the Maryland end, last night, and it will be kept up to aid our own watchman Mrs. Brown has been permitted to go to see her husband alone, after delay. Your editorial friend from Cincinnati, will go over to Charlestown with Mr. Barbour.

A. P. SHUTT.

SOURCE: B. H. Richardson, Annapolis, Maryland, Publisher, Correspondence Relating to the Insurrection at Harper's Ferry, 17th October, 1859, p. 70

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, September 24, 1862

Charlestown, Jefferson County, W. Va.,        

September 24, 1862.

I have not written to you in three or four weeks, because there has been no mail between us and Richmond. I have seen sights since then, I assure you. If I should tell you what our army has endured recently you could hardly believe it. Thousands of the men now have almost no clothes and no sign of a blanket nor any prospect of getting one, either. Thousands have had no shoes at all, and their feet are now entirely bare. Most of our marches were on graveled turnpike roads, which were very severe on the barefooted men and cut up their feet horribly. When the poor fellows could get rags they would tie them around their feet for protection. I have seen the men rob the dead of their shoes and clothing, but I cannot blame a man for doing a thing which is almost necessary in order to preserve his own life. I passed Goggans' body two days after he was killed at Manassas, and there the poor fellow lay, robbed like all the others. (Do not say anything about this, for his family might hear of it.)

I was sick for one week at a private house, and did not catch up with our regiment until the day after the battle at Sharpsburg, Maryland. Doubtless you have learned how our regiment suffered in the battle, and it is useless for me to tell you of the shocking scenes I have witnessed. Billie was in the battle at Shepherdstown. Our men put it right into the Yankees there when they had them in the river.

I do not know where our regiment is at present, but have heard that it is near Martinsburg. My brother was well when I last saw him. He and I have three flannel shirts between us, and I have some other very good clothes. I have but one pair of socks, and they are nearly worn out. I had a good pair, but some one stole them.

I am now here at a hospital with our wounded, and will remain until they are well enough to be moved away. The Yankees came near enough the other day to throw several shells into the town, but they did no harm except to wound a little boy. They are certainly fanatical. As much as we whip them, they are not disposed to give up. The people here especially the women-hate them bitterly.

I am boarding with the widow of the late Judge Douglass of Virginia, and as I have plenty of everything which is good to eat I am beginning to fatten, but will soon lose it when I start on the march again. The people are overwhelming in their kindness to our wounded, and bring them every dainty.

I could write you some interesting letters now, but I have very little hope of this one getting through to you. I do wish so much I could hear from you and George; that worries me more than everything else put together, although I have seen so much recently which was shocking and horrible that I am hard to worry about anything. If I am spared to get home I shall be a wiser, if not a better, man. So goodby for the present, my dear wife.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 31-3

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, October 8, 1862

Berkeley County, Va.,        

October 8, 1862.

When I left Charlestown yesterday morning the weather was delightful and I felt so buoyant and fresh that it caused me to walk too fast, and to-day I am very sore and stiff. I found four letters from you, and they were a treat, for I had had no intelligence from you since July. I never get homesick in camp when I hear that you and George are well.

Our army has been here for three weeks. We are fourteen miles from Charlestown and ten miles northeast of Winchester. There is smallpox in Winchester, and General Lee has ordered the entire army vaccinated.

The weather is dry and pleasant and the men are in better health than I have ever seen them. This rich valley is full of provisions and the army is well fed. It is said that vast quantities of provisions of every kind are being sent from this valley into the interior to prevent the Yankees from getting them, and that when we have eaten out everything in this region we shall retire toward the interior. We have at present no prospect whatever of a fight. If our victory at Sharpsburg had been complete, doubtless we should now be in Pennsylvania.

Dr. Chapman got sick at Richmond, and we have heard nothing from him since. He had become so disagreeable that we had enough of him.

I have tried to be very faithful to my duty since I have been in the army, and I get along finely with the other doctors.

I will close this letter, so good-by, my dear wife and little boy.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 33-5

Official Reports: Skirmishes near Charlestown and at Kabletown, W. Va., March 10, 1864 No. 3.—Report of Lieut. Col. John S. Mosby, Forty-third Virginia Cavalry Battalion, including operations to May 1.

No. 3.

Report of Lieut. Col. John S. Mosby, Forty-third Virginia Cavalry Battalion,

including operations to May 1.

SEPTEMBER 11, 1864.

COLONEL; I have the honor to submit, for the information of the commanding general, the following brief report of the operations of this command since the 1st day March last.

On March 10,¹ with a detachment of about 40 men, I defeated a superior force of the enemy's cavalry near Greenwich, severely wounding 3, and capturing 9 prisoners, 10 horses, arms, &c. On the same day Lieut. A. E. Richards, with another detachment of about 30 men, surprised an outpost of the enemy near Charlestown, killed the major commanding and a lieutenant, several privates, and brought off 21 prisoners with their horses, arms, &c. In neither engagement did my command sustain any loss.

During the months of March and April but few opportunities were offered for making any successful attacks on the enemy, the continual annoyances to which they had been subjected during the winter causing them to exert great vigilance in guarding against surprises and interruptions of their communications. During most of these months I was myself engaged in scouting in the enemy's rear for Major-General Stuart and collecting information, which was regularly transmitted to his headquarters, concerning the movements, numbers, and distribution of the enemy's forces both east and west of the Blue Ridge. During this time my men were mostly employed in collecting forage from the country bordering on the Potomac.

About April 15 Captain Richards routed a marauding party of the enemy's cavalry at Waterford, killing and wounding 5 or 6, and bringing off 6 or 8 prisoners, 15 horses, arms, &c.

About April 25 I attacked an outpost near Hunter's Mills, in Fairfax, capturing 5 prisoners and 18 horses. The prisoners and horses were sent back under charge of Lieutenant Hunter, while I went off on a scout in another direction. The enemy pursued and captured the lieutenant and 6 of the horses.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

JNO. S. MOSBY,        

Lieutenant-Colonel, Commanding.

Lieutenant-Colonel TAYLOR,
        Assistant Adjutant-General.

[Indorsement.]

HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA,        

September 19, 1864.

Respectfully forwarded to the Adjutant and Inspector General, for the information of the Department.

Attention is invited to the activity and skill of Colonel Mosby, and the intelligence and courage of the officers and men of his command, as displayed in this report. With the loss of little more than 20 men, he has killed, wounded, and captured during the period embraced in the report about 1,200 of the enemy, and taken more than 1,600 horses and mules, 230 beef-cattle, and 85 wagons and ambulances, without counting many smaller operations. The services rendered by Colonel Mosby and his command in watching and reporting the enemy's movements have also been of great value. His operations have been highly creditable to himself and his command.

R. E. LEE,        

General.

_______________

* March 9, See p. 236.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 33(Serial No. 60), p. 248-9

Dr. Joseph T. Webb, August 30, 1864

Camp Charlestown, August 30, 1864

This is the place the chivalry hung old John Brown some four years since. It has been a beautiful place, many elegant residences, fine stores, printing press, and public halls. Now how changed! Not a store in the place, in fact nothing but the women and children and a few old men live here; a few of the fine residences look as though they were kept up, but everything around is sad and gloomy, and then to add to all, the Sixth Corps (some fifteen or twenty thousand troops) as they passed through the place, had all their bands, some twenty, play “John Brown.”

I met an old man the other day in the street, and said to him, “This is the place you hung old John Brown.”  “Yes,” he replied. “How long since?” said I. “Four years since and,” added he, “never had no peace since.”

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 500-1

Diary of Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Monday, August 29, 1864

In camp, five miles to south of Charlestown, lazily listening to heavy firing on our right. McClellan probably nominated. I suspect he will be elected. Not so bad a thing if he is. Reading “Harry Lorrequer.”

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 499

Diary of Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: July 17—20, 1864

[The Diary for the last few months of 1864 is for the most part hardly more than a line a day, entered in a pocket memorandum book, "The Southern Almanac for 1864," which Hayes's orderly, William Crump, had got hold of at Middlebrook, Virginia, early in June. Many of the entries were originally made with a pencil and subsequently inked over. Usually the entries give only a bald statement of the movement of the day. In some cases entries are omitted here entirely; in other cases several are combined in a single paragraph.]

                                

Sunday afternoon, July 17, [the] Fifth [Virginia] and Twenty-third [Ohio] [marched from Martinsburg] to near Charlestown. Slept in a farmyard. Twelve miles. The next day, march toward Harpers Ferry and [the] Shenandoah at Keys Ferry. Whole brigade together. Fine river and valley. Skirmish all P. M. Heavy cannonading at Snickers Ford. Twenty-three miles. Spent Tuesday (19th) skirmishing with Bradley Johnson's Cavalry between camp on Bull Skin and Kabletown. Rodes' Division try to take us in and fail after a brisk fight. Six miles. Wednesday (20th), back to Keys Ferry and Harpers Ferry [and] thence to Charlestown; ordered to join General Crook. Ten miles.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 483-4

Major-General Philip H. Sheridan to Lieutenant-General Ulysses S. Gant, August 19, 1864 – 10:30 p.m.

CHARLESTOWN, August 19, 1864—10.30 p.m.

Lieutenant-General GRANT:

All the information received to-day shows a large concentration of the enemy at Winchester. I receive constant reports of the passage of troops across to this Valley from Culpeper. I have taken the defensive until their strength is more fully developed. They have made no attempt to pass down the Valley to Martinsburg, which I hold with a small force of cavalry. If they cross the Potomac they expose their rear and I will pitch into them. I destroyed everything that was eatable south of Winchester, and they will have to haul supplies from well up toward Staunton. Our loss at Winchester will be about 200. Guerrillas give me great annoyance, but I am quietly disposing of numbers of them. The enemy appears to be uncertain as to what course to pursue. The intention so far as I can learn was to send a column direct from Culpeper to the Potomac and Early to advance at the same time from Martinsburg. This was frustrated by Early being compelled to fall back and your operations on the north side of the James. I still think that two divisions of infantry have come here and Fitz Lee's cavalry. My force will have to be weakened to supply the place of the 100-days' men serving at Harper's Ferry and in West Virginia. Grover has joined me. I now can calculate on bringing into action about 22,000 or 23,000 infantry and about 8,000 cavalry.

Respectfully,

P. H. SHERIDAN,                

Major-General.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 43, Part 1 (Serial No. 90), p. 841

Victor Hugo: June 18, I860

Grand are the liberators of mankind! Let them hear the grateful applanse of the nations, whatever their fortune! Yesterday we gave our tears; to-day our hosannas are heard. Providence deals in these compensations. John Brown failed in America, but Garibaldi has triumphed in Europe. Mankind, shuddering at the infamous gallows of Charlestown, takes courage once more at the flashing sword of Catalafimi.¹

_______________

¹ Victor Hugo's “Actes et Paroles pendant l'Exil” (1859-60). In the édition Definitive of his complete works, which was still going through the press at his death, in 1885, the author added this note to the passages cited above: "Victor Hugo avait, à propos de John Brown, prédit la guerre civile à l’Amérique, et, a propos de Garibaldi, prédit 1'unité à l’ltalie. Ces dcux prédictions se réalisèrent.” He had a right to claim this.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 631

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Wednesday, August 10, 1864

Marched this morning at 5 o'clock about fifteen miles to Charlestown, West Virginia, and camped about three miles from Berryville at Clifton; very warm; many fell out from sunstroke and heat; rained this evening; no signs of the enemy.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 131

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: January 1, 1865

Camp at Halltown, where we are going through life doing the duty of a soldier, in winter quarters. Many new recruits are being added to our company, and the regiment. The sick and wounded who have recovered are also coming back. All returning members and recruits are greeted as fresh fish. Our camp being on high ground, none can enter without being seen. At the call of “Fresh fish,” the boys turn out and welcome all who come. Many questions are asked about home, as most of the recruits have friends in the regiment. Some have relations. With the returning members and the recruits gives us more men for duty, which helps to make duty more easy for the men, while the sergeants and corporals must be on picket duty every other night. Religious service is conducted every Sunday, and evenings, by our Chaplain. The chapel is also used for a reading room. Tables, pen, ink, and paper for the boys who wish to use it for writing letters. We are the only regiment in this vicinity. Others are at Harper's Ferry and Charlestown.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 138

Major Wilder Dwight: March 4, 1862

Charlestown, March 4, 1862.

The extent to which our regiment has followed the path of John Brown is somewhat curious. The last coincidence of occupation occurred on Sunday, when the men were assembled in the court-room of the court-house, and listened to our chaplain, who preached from the judges' bench! This morning Colonel Gordon and I went in to see the cell of Brown in the jail, and also went out in the open field, where, upon a knoll, can be seen the holes in which the gallows was set up. “This is a fine country,” said Brown, as he came out into the field which commands a view of this grand country. “I have not had an opportunity of observing it before.” . . . .

This country has been the paradise of debtors, and creditors have seen their mortgages and notes melt away into Confederate bonds, payable “six months after the ratification of a treaty of peace between the Confederate States and the United States.” Money has been the one thing in excess, and delusion or terror have made this currency pass readily in payment of debts. An element which will have some weight when you talk of conciliation is this same currency question.

Before our arrival, every one had money. The night before we came to town the bank migrated suddenly to Stanton, and to-day the people are refusing their own money.

“Pretty conciliation you bring us,” says one man; “why, you won't even take our money.” This consequence of the “invasion” cannot fail to supply an argument to the Rebels, which they will adroitly use.

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

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

Charles Eliot Norton to George William Curtis, March 8, 1862

Shady Hill, 8 March, I862.

As I sit down to thank you for the note that came to me this morning, Jane is reading it aloud to Longfellow, and interrupts me to ask explanations. All you say is very interesting. But can I quite agree with you in confidence in Mr. Lincoln's instincts? His message on Emancipation¹ is a most important step; but could anything be more feebly put, or more inefficiently written? His style is worse than ever; and though a bad style is not always a mark of bad thought, — it is at least a proof that thought is not as clear as it ought to be.

How time brings about its revenges! I think the most striking incident of the war is the march of our men into Charlestown singing the John Brown psalm, "His soul is marching on."

As for Lincoln's suggestions, I am sure that good will come of them. They will at least serve to divide opinion in the Border States. But I see many practical objections to his plan; and I doubt if any State meets his propositions with corresponding action.

The “Tribune” is politic in its burst of ardour. Let us make out the message to be more than it is, — and bring the President up to our view of it. . . .

_______________

¹ The special message urging "gradual abolishment of slavery" was sent to Congress March 6.

SOURCE: Sara Norton and  M. A. DeWolfe Howe, Letters of Charles Eliot Norton, Volume 1, p. 252-3

Major John T. L. Preston to Margaret Junkin Preston, December 2, 1859

Charlestown, December 2, 1859.

. . . The execution is over. We have just returned from the field, and I sit down to give you some account of it. The weather was very favorable: the sky was a little overcast, with a little haze in the atmosphere that softened without obscuring the magnificent prospect afforded here. Between eight and nine o'clock the troops began to put themselves in motion to occupy the positions assigned to them on the field, as designated on the plan I send you. To Colonel Smith had been assigned the superintendence of the execution, and he and his staff were the only mounted officers on the ground, until the major-general and his staff appeared. By ten o'clock all was arrayed. The general effect was most imposing, and at the same time picturesque. The Cadets were immediately in rear of the gallows, with a howitzer on the right and left, a little behind, so as to sweep the field. They were uniformed in red flannel shirts, which gave them a gay, dashing, Zouave look, exceedingly becoming, especially at the Battery. They were flanked obliquely by two corps, the Richmond Greys and Company F, which, if inferior in appearance to the Cadets, were superior to any other company I ever saw outside the regular army. Other companies were distributed over the field, amounting in all to perhaps 800 men. The military force was about 1500.

The whole enclosure was lined by cavalry troops, posted as sentinels, with their officers — one on a peerless black horse, and another on a remarkable looking white horse — continually dashing around the enclosure. Outside this enclosure were other companies acting as rangers and scouts. The jail was guarded by several companies of infantry, and pieces of artillery were put in position for defense.

Shortly before eleven o'clock, the prisoner was taken from the jail and the funeral cortege was put in motion. First came three companies — then the criminal's wagon, drawn by two large white horses. John Brown was seated on his coffin, accompanied by the sheriff and two other persons. The wagon drove to the foot of the gallows, and Brown descended with alacrity, and without assistance, and ascended the steep steps to the platform. His demeanor was intrepid, without being braggart. He made no speech: whether he desired to make one or not I do not know. Had he desired it, it would not have been permitted. Any speech of his must of necessity have been unlawful, as being directed against the peace and dignity of the Commonwealth, and, as such, could not be allowed by those who were then engaged in the most solemn and extreme vindication of Law. His manner was free from trepidation, but his countenance was not without concern, and it seemed to me to have a little cast of wildness. He stood upon the scaffold but a short time, giving brief adieus to those about him, when he was properly pinioned, the white cap drawn over his face, the noose adjusted and attached to the hook above, and he was moved blindfold a few steps forward. It was curious to note how the instincts of nature operated to make him careful in putting out his feet, as if afraid he would walk off the scaffold. The man who stood unblenched on the brink of eternity was afraid of falling a few feet to the ground!

He was now all ready. The sheriff asked him if he should give him a private signal, before the fatal moment. He replied in a voice that sounded to me unnaturally natural — so composed was its tone and so distinct its articulation — that “it did not matter to him, if only they would not keep him too long waiting.” He was kept waiting, however. The troops that had formed his escort had to be put in their proper position, and while this was going on, he stood for ten or fifteen minutes blindfold, the rope around his neck, and his feet on the treacherous platform, expecting instantly the fatal act. But he stood for this comparatively long time up right as a soldier in position, and motionless. I was close to him, and watched him narrowly, to see if I could perceive any signs of shrinking or trembling in his person. Once I thought I saw his knees tremble, but it was only the wind blowing his loose trousers. His firmness was subjected to still further trial by hearing Colonel Smith announce to the sheriff, “We are all ready, Mr. Campbell.” The sheriff did not hear, or did not comprehend, and in a louder tone the announcement was made. But the culprit still stood steady, until the sheriff, descending the flight of steps, with a well-directed blow of a sharp hatchet, severed the rope that held up the trap-door, which instantly sank sheer beneath him, and he fell about three feet. And the man of strong and bloody hand, of fierce passions, of iron will, of wonderful vicissitudes, — the terrible partisan of Kansas — the capturer of the United States Arsenal at Harper's Ferry — the would-be Catiline of the South — the demigod of the Abolitionists — the man execrated and lauded — damned arid prayed for — the man who in his motives, his means, his plans, and his successes must ever be a wonder, a puzzle, and a mystery — John Brown was hanging between heaven and earth.

There was profoundest stillness during the time his struggles continued, growing feebler and feebler at each abortive attempt to breathe. His knees were scarcely bent, his arms were drawn up to a right angle at the elbow, with the hands clinched; but there was no writhing of the body, no violent heaving of the chest. At each feebler effort at respiration, the arms sank lower, and his legs hung more relaxed, until at last, straight and lank he dangled, swayed slightly to and fro by the wind.

It was a moment of deep solemnity, and suggestive of thoughts that make the bosom swell. The field of execution was a rising ground that commanded the outstretching valley from mountain to mountain, and their still grandeur gave sublimity to the outline, while it so chanced that white clouds resting upon them gave them the appearance that reminded more than one of us of the snow peaks of the Alps. Before us was the greatest array of disciplined forces ever seen in Virginia, infantry, cavalry, and artillery combined, composed of the old Commonwealth's choicest sons, and commanded by her best officers, and the great canopy of the sky, overarching all, came to add its sublimity — ever present, but only realized when great things are occurring beneath it.

But the moral of the scene was the great point. A sovereign State had been assailed, and she had uttered but a hint, and her sons had hastened to show that they were ready to defend her. Law had been violated by actual murder and attempted treason, and that gibbet was erected by Law, and to uphold Law was this military force assembled. But greater still, God's holy law and righteous will was vindicated. “Thou shalt not kill.” “Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.” And here the gray-haired man of violence meets his fate, after he has seen his two sons cut down before him earlier in the same career of violence into which he had introduced them. So perish all such enemies of Virginia! all such enemies of the Union! all such foes of the human race! So I felt, and so I said, without a shade of animosity, as I turned to break the silence, to those around me. Yet the mystery was awful — to see the human form thus treated by men — to see life suddenly stopped in its current, and to ask one's self the question without answer, “And what then?”

In all that array there was not, I suppose, one throb of sympathy for the offender. All felt in the depths of their hearts that it was right. On the other hand there was not one word of exultation or insult. From the beginning to the end, all was marked by the most absolute decorum and solemnity. There was no military music, no saluting of troops as they passed one another, nor anything done for show. The criminal hung upon the gallows for nearly forty minutes, and after being examined by a whole staff of surgeons, was deposited in a neat coffin, to be delivered to his friends, and transported to Harper's Ferry, where his wife awaited it. She came in company with two persons to see her husband last night, and returned to Harper's Ferry this morning. She is described by those who saw her as a very large masculine woman, of absolute composure of manner. The officers who witnessed their meeting in the jail, said they met as if nothing unusual had taken place, and had a comfortable supper together.

Brown would not have the assistance of any minister in the jail, during his last days, nor their presence with him on the scaffold. In going from prison to the place of execution, he said very little, only assuring those who were with him that he had no fear, nor had he at any time of his life known what fear was. When he entered the gate of the enclosure, he expressed his admiration of the beauty of the surrounding country, and pointing to different residences, asked who were the owners of them.

There was a very small crowd to witness the execution. Governor Wise and General Taliaferro both issued proclamations exhorting the citizens to remain at home and guard their property, and warning them of possible danger. The train on the Winchester railroad had been stopped from carrying passengers; and even passengers on the Baltimore railroad were subjected to examination and detention. An arrangement was made to divide the expected crowd into recognized citizens and those not recognized; to require the former to go to the right, and the latter to the left. Of the latter there was not a single one. It was told that last night there were not in Charlestown ten persons besides citizens and military.

There is but one opinion as to the completeness of the arrangements made on the occasion, and the absolute success with which they were carried out. I have said something of the striking effect of the pageant, as a pageant; but the excellence of it is that everything was arranged solely with a view to efficiency, and not for the effect upon the eye. Had it been intended for a mere spectacle, it could not have been more imposing: had actual need occurred, it was the best possible arrangement.

You may be inclined to ask, Was all this necessary? I have not time to enter upon that question now. Governor Wise thought it necessary, and he said he had reliable information. The responsibility of calling out the force rests with him. It only remained for those under him to dispose the force in the best manner. That this was done is unquestionable, and whatever credit is due for it may be fairly claimed by those who accomplished it.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 111-7

Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, Saturday, July 18, 1861

charlestown, Va., July 18, 1861.

From Bunker Hill to Charlestown may not seem a long way to a Massachusetts man, but in Virginia it is a hard day's work. Our regiment slept on its arms at Bunker Hill Tuesday night. We thought the forward movement was to be on Winchester. A feint was made that way. The enemy had obstructed the main road. We held Johnston's men, expecting attack. By our sudden flank movement we have got him. If McDowell has done rightly by Manassas, we will put Johnston in a tight place. Yesterday we were ready to start at three, A. M. Twenty thousand men move slowly. It took till nine in the evening to get the regiment into position at Charlestown, twelve miles off. We were in the reserve, fifteen hours in the saddle. When the men were drawn up, and had stacked their arms, they fell right down to sleep as they stood. The day was bitterly hot; the march terribly tedious, but glorious. Twenty-five thousand men occupy the town where John Brown was hung. We are the first Massachusetts regiment which has defiantly, and without interruption, stalked through Virginia. In the afternoon we entered a small village on our route. The band played first the Star Spangled Banner, then Hail Columbia, then Yankee Doodle. Our horses arched their necks and moved to the music. The men moved with fresh life and spirit. Our splendid banner, not a star dimmed, flaunted in the faces of the sulky Virginians.

The country is splendid; but, as the hymn-book says, “Only man is vile!” My cook came to me on the route, after vainly endeavoring to forage for our dinner, and said, “I tout Virginny was a perducing country, but I don't see nothin' growin' fit to eat nohow.” The negroes sat on the fences along the route, and wondered. Our march means freedom to them. It means, too, the restoration of the Union line wherever we move. The-American flag sprouts in the furrow of our ploughshare. It is hard work, slow work, new work; but it has its compensations, this military occupation of a country. “Southern blood has been boiling all day,” said a woman standing on the door of a farm-house on our line of march. Just at dusk, as we neared Charlestown, there was a cannonading in front. We threw out skirmishers and drew up the battalion, but have not yet learned the cause of the alarm. This is not a very coherent epistle. It exhibits only an echo of the tone of feeling which animates one on an expedition like ours. You would have wondered to see our jaded men prick up their ears, and stand alive again, when they thought a brush was at hand. The Indiana regiment in our rear yelled like wild Indians. I think Johnston will retire without much of a fight. But here we know nothing except the movements of our own brigade. Half of our force goes out of service tomorrow. This will hamper our movements.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 51-2