Diary of Musician David Lane, October 3, 1862

October 3d, 1862.

We have moved camp three miles, and are now five miles above Harper's Ferry, on the banks of the Potomac. The days are extremely hot; the evenings deliciously cool, and mornings cold. We had a grand division review this morning, in honor of the President, who favored us with his presence. My curiosity was gratified by seeing a "live President," and, above all, "Old Abe." He looks much better than the likenesses we see of him—younger, and not so long and lank.

Strange rumors have been in circulation for several days—rumors of compromise; of almost unconditional surrender. What does it all mean? Is there a bare possibility the Rebels have had enough of it? That "chivalry" will acknowledge itself whipped by "mudsills," and ask for peace, while they have six hundred thousand men in the field? As far as the rank and file of this army is concerned, we would like to see them "line up" in front of us and fight it out, and have done with it.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 14-5

Senatorial Canvass in Illinois, August 27, 1858

LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS AT OTTAWA.

[FROM OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.]

CHICAGO, August 27, 1858.

After Mr. Douglas spoke at Peoria on the 8th, he proceeded to Lacon, where, on the next day, he made the discovery that all the Presidents, naming them in order from Washington to Buchanan, had endorsed the principles of the Dred Scott Decision by refusing to grant passports to negroes to travel in foreign countries. After which, he reposed his wearied virtue for one day, to prepare for the extreme of mendacity, which he reached on Saturday at Ottawa. There, most aptly, he illustrated the Latin proverb— “Andas omnia perpeti, ruat per retitum nefas”¹ — and there he strode so deeply into the mire of falsification that extrication is impossible. But more of this further on.

At Lewiston, in Fulton county, on the 17th, Mr. Lincoln held one of his largest meetings and spoke for two hours and a half. At this place he tore from Douglas the mantle of Henry Clay, under which the senator had been strutting and hoping to hide the wickedness of his pretenses. Mr. Lincoln read largely from Clay’s writings and speeches, wherein he contends for the ultimate emancipation of the slave, and said that he would claim no support from the old line Whigs unless he could show that he stood upon the ground occupied by that great statesman. He further said that he believed Mr. Douglas was the only man of prominence before the country who had never declared, to friend or enemy, whether he believed slavery to be right or wrong. His speeches, to be sure, leave the hearer to infer that he did not desire slavery to be introduced into Illinois, but he indicates that no moral consideration would prevail with him against the exercise of slave-ownership, provided there was more money in working a negro that in working a horse. It was in this speech that Mr. Lincoln uttered an eloquent and impressive apostrophe into the Declaration of Independence, which ranks him at once among the foremost orators of the land. I give you a brief extract from the correspondent of the Press and Tribune:

“These communities, the thirteen colonies, by their representatives in old Independence Hall, said to the whole world of men; ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’” This was their majestic interpretation of the economy of the Universe. This was their lofty, and wise, and noble understanding of the justice of the Creator to His creatures.  Applause.  Yes, gentlemen, to all His creatures, to the whole great family of man. In their enlightened belief, nothing stamped with the Devine image and likeness was sent into the world to be trodden on, and degraded, and imbruted by its fellows. They grasped not only the whole race of man then living, but they reached forward and seized upon the farthest posterity. They erected a beacon to guide their children and their children's children, and the countless myriads who should inhabit the earth in other ages. Wise statesmen as they were, they knew the tendency of prosperity to breed tyrants, and so they established these great self-evident truths, that when in the distant future some man, some faction, some interest, should set up the doctrine that none but rich men, or none but white men, were entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, their posterity might look up again to the Declaration of Independence and take courage to renew the battle which their fathers began—so that truth, and justice, and mercy, and all the humane and Christian virtues might not be extinguished from the land; so that no man would hereafter dare to limit and circumscribe the great principles on which the temple of liberty was being built. Loud cheers.

“Now, my countrymen (Mr. Lincoln continued with great earnestness,) if you have been taught doctrines conflicting with the great landmarks of the Declaration of Independence; if you have listened to suggestions which would take away from its grandeur, and mutilate the fair symmetry of its proportions; if you have been inclined to believe that all men are not created equal in those inalienable rights enumerated by our charter of liberty, let me entreat you to come back. Return to the fountain whose waters spring close by the blood of the Revolution. Think nothing of me—take no thought for the political fate of any man whomsoever—but come back to the truths that are in the Declaration of Independence. You may do anything with me you choose, if you will but heed these sacred principles. You may not only defeat me for the Senate, but you may take me and put me to death. While pretending no indifference to earthly honors, I do claim to be actuated in this contest by something higher than an anxiety for office. I charge you to drop every paltry and insignificant thought for any man's success. It is nothing; I am nothing; Judge Douglas is nothing. But do not destroy that immortal emblem of Humanity—the Declaration of American Independence.”

Reports from various localities indicate that the Fillmore Americans and Old Lane Whigs are coming to the support of Mr. Lincoln, to put down the agitator and demagogue, who, on the other hand, is appealing to them for their votes. It is not to be disguised that Mr. Douglas has the [illegible] faith of the masses of the democratic party; whether it be abiding is another question. Once he had the ear of the federal administration; now he has lost it, and it is the object of unceasing opposition from that quarter. Then he could rally his lieges and hold them because he had rewards to bestow; now his promises are beggarly and unproductive. Thrift no longer follows fawning upon him. The Buchanan men do not warm towards him yet, and they are not likely to although it is said a joint and special commission has gone to Washington to plead with the unrelenting Executive.

Saturday, the 21st, was the day of the first discussion between Lincoln and Douglas. It was held at Ottawa, a city of about 9,000 inhabitants, on the line of the Chicago and Rock Island Railroad and the Illinois canal, and the junction of the Fox and Illinois rivers. I arrived late the night before at Ottawa, and was accommodated with a sofa at the hotel. The city was already even full. Saturday was a pleasant, but warm day, and Ottawa was deluged in dust. By wagon, by rail, by canal, the people poured in, till Ottawa was one mass of active life. Men, women and children, old and young, the dwellers on the broad prairies, had turned their backs upon the plough, and had come to listen to these champions of the two parties. Military companies were out; martial music sounded, and salutes of artillery thundered in the air. [Eager] marshals in partisan sashes rode furiously about the streets. Peddlers were crying their wares at the corners, and excited groups of politicians were canvassing and quarrelling everywhere. And still they came, the crowd swelling constantly in its proportions and growing more eager and more hungry, perhaps more thirsty. Though every precaution was taken against this latter evil. About noon the rival processions were formed, and paraded the streets amid the cheers of the people. Mr. Lincoln was met at the depot by an immense crowd, who escorted him to the residence of the mayor, with banners flying and mottoes waving their unfaltering attachment to him and to his cause. The Douglas turnout, though plentifully interspersed with the Hibernian element, was less noisy, and thus matters were arranged for the after-dinner demonstration in the Court House square, where the stand was erected, and where, under the blazing sun unprotected by shade trees, and unprovided with seats, the audience was expected to congregate and listen to the champions.

Two men presenting wider contrasts could hardly be found as the representatives of the two great parties. Everybody knows Douglas, a short, thickset, burly man, with large round head, heavy hair, dark complexion, and fierce bull-dog bark. Strong in his own real power, and skilled by a thousand conflicts in all the strategy of a hand-to-hand or a general fight. Of towering ambition, restless in his determined desire for notoriety, proud, defiant, arrogant, audacious, unscrupulous, “Little Dug” ascended the platform and looked out imprudently and carelessly on the immense throng which surged and struggled before him. A native of Vermont, reared on a soil where no slave ever stood, trained to hard manual labor and schooled in early hardships, he came to Illinois a teacher, and from one post to another had risen to his present eminence. Forgetful of the ancestral hatred of slavery to which he was the heir, he had come to be a holder of slaves and to owe much of his fame to his continued subservience to southern influence.

The other—Lincoln—is a native of Kentucky, and of poor white parentage; and from his cradle has felt the blighting influence of the dark and cruel shadow which rendered labor dishonorable, and kept the poor in poverty, while it advanced the rich in their possessions. Reared in poverty and the humblest aspirations, he left his native state, crossed the line into Illinois, and began his career of honorable toil. At first a laborer, splitting rails for a living—deficient in education, and applying himself even to the rudiments of knowledge—he, too, felt the expanding power of his American manhood, and began to  achieve the greatness to which he has succeeded, With great difficulty struggling through the tedious formularies of legal lore, he was admitted to the bar and rapidly made his way to the front ranks of his profession. Honored by the people with office, he is still the same honest and reliable man. He volunteers in the Black Hawk war, and does the state good service in its sorest need. In every relation of his life, socially and to the state, Mr. Lincoln has been always the pure and honest man. In physique he is the opposite to Douglas. Built on the Kentucky type, he is very tall, slender and angular, awkward even, in gate and attitude. His face is sharp, large-featured and unprepossessing. His eyes are deep set, under heavy brows; his forehead is high and retreating, and his hair is dark and heavy. In repose, I must confess that “Long Abe’s” appearance is not comely. But stir him up, and the fire of his genius plays on every feature. His eye glows and sparkles, every lineament, now so ill-formed, grows brilliant and expressive, and you have before you a man of rare power and of strong magnetic influence. He takes the people every time, and there is no getting away from his sturdy good sense, his unaffected sincerity, and the unceasing play of his good humor, which accompanies his close logic and smoothes the way to conviction. Listening to him on Saturday, calmly and unprejudiced, I was convinced that he has no superior as a stump speaker. He is clear, concise and logical; his language is eloquent and at perfect command. He is altogether a more fluent speaker than Douglas, and in all the arts of debate fully his equal. The Republicans of Illinois have chosen a champion worthy of their heartiest support and fully equipped for the conflict with the great “squatter Sovereign.”

By previous arrangement, Mr. Douglas was to open in a speech of one hour, Mr. Lincoln was to respond in a speech of an hour and a half, and Mr. Douglas was to conclude in another half hour. The square was filled with people, and when the cannon and the music had been quieted, Mr. Douglas commenced. He began by referring to the attitude of the Whig and Democratic parties prior to the spring of 1854, claiming that up to that time they stood on the same platform with regard to the Slavery question. He said that in the session of 1853-4 he introduced the Kansas bill, in accordance with the principles of the compromise of 1850, and endorsed by the Wig and Democratic National Conventions of 1852. In 1854, after the passage of this bill, he said that Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Trumbull entered into a league to deliver up, bound hand and foot to the Abolitionists, the old Whigs and the old Democrats—in consideration whereof, Mr. Lincoln was to have Shield’s place, and Mr. Trumbull was to have his own. (A screw subsequently became loose, and the programme of substitution was changed.) In pursuance of this plan, the parties met at Springfield in 1854, to perfect arrangements. There they, Mr. Lincoln included, passed a certain series of abominable resolutions, one of which he would read, and to which Mr. Lincoln, and his party were [committed]. He then proceeded to discuss Mr. Lincoln’s position in regard to negro equality, to the evident satisfaction of the Hibernian body guard, who were made to believe that Mr. Lincoln was aching to place the African in high places of the land, and to fold him to his arms in a fraternal embrace. Recurring them to his doctrine of popular sovereignty, he lauded it as the great element of our growth and prosperity, and closed with a spread-eagle eulogium upon the democratic party. Mr. Douglas was often interrupted with light applause, but, on the hole, it was not a very enthusiastic demonstration.

Then the tall form of “Long Abe” loomed above the heads on the stage, the signal for a fanatic expression of applause. Mr. Lincoln replied seriatim to Mr. Douglas’s charges, denying the conspiracy with Trumbull entirely, stating that at that time he was opposed to the formation of a new party, and that he had no hand in the preparation of the Springfield resolutions. On the subject of negro equality, he read from a speech of his in 1854, and which he said Mr. Douglas heard, and on that record he was prepared to stand.

Mr. Lincoln closed, and Douglas came forward, evidently under much excitement. He took advantage of his last half hour, and rose to such a pitch of arrogance and audacity as is seldom witnessed. With brazen front and lungs of iron, with a recklessness peculiarly his own, he launched forth a bold and defiant speech, which his retainers applauded to the echo. The charges of his first speech he re-affirmed with an unblushing effrontery, denounced Trumbull and Lincoln in unstinted terms, passed the lie around the circle, shook his long locks, grew red in the face, stentorian in voice, declared that Buchanan was a most excellent man, and scouted at the idea of Mr. Lincoln’s having any reputation for veracity. When he concluded, he was followed to his quarters by part of the crowd. The rest gathered about the stand, cheering Lincoln, and when he descended, he was seized by his enthusiastic friends, and in spite of his struggles, borne in triumph to the hotel, on the shoulders of half a dozen men, at once a novel exhibition of the freedom of western politics and the exuberance of western feeling.

I said, near the commencement of this letter, that Mr. Douglas waded very deeply into the mire of mendacity at Ottawa. The full vindication of this charge, and the proof of his singular madness, is furnished in the Chicago Press and Tribune of this morning, to whose excellent phonographic report of the Ottawa meeting. I have been indebted for the completion of the brief notes which I took at the time. I can do no better than give you the proof, in the words of the journal to which I refer. “At the meeting in Ottawa, on Saturday, the senator read a series of radical resolutions, which he assured his hearers were passed by a Republican State Convention in 1854, at Springfield; that the constituted the platform of the party at that day, and that they represented the views of his distinguished competitor, who, he said, took part in the proceedings of which the resolutions were a share. The resolutions were frauds and forgeries from first to last. No such series was ever presented to, hence never adopted by, any State Republican Convention in Illinois! And in making the assertion Mr. Douglas knee that he basely, maliciously and willfully LIED. He not only lied circumstantially and wickedly; but be spent the first part of his speech in elaborating the lie with which he set out, and the entire latter part, in giving the lie application and effect. The resolutions which he read were adopted by one house meeting at Aurora, in Kane county, with which Mr. Lincoln had nothing to do, which he was not near, which he possibly never heard of except though the public prints.”

There the senator stands, branded and convicted of a deliberate fraud, gibbeted before the public. I confess I was prepared for this exhibition. I knew that Douglas’s life as a politician was one great [illegible] vocation, that he had experienced incessant “changes of heart,” and that his position in [illegible] campaign was only a trap and a lure to another and falser position in the next. But I could hardly expect that he would coolly stand up and read a printed resolution as genuine, where he must have known that he was deliberately submitting a false and fraudulent record. Yet, he it is that goes over the states saying “you lie,” and infamous liar,” to Trumbull and Lincoln. This exposure of the Press and Tribune takes the very heart and core out of Douglas’s Ottawa speech. It to the very bone, and leaves only a hollow and baseless frame behind, “were words, “mouthfuls of spoken wind,” a figure with swollen features, and windmill arms beating the air, with violent but [imbecile] gesticulation. The very audacity of this charge gave Douglas this seeming advantage; that it put Lincoln on the explanatory and defensive, in regard to a series of resolutions which, whether passed at a one horse meeting in Kane county” or at Springfield, he could know nothing about it, as he had no hand in making them, and it is asking too much, to require a politician to have at his tongue’s end all the resolutions of four year old conventions. Lincoln will overhaul Douglas for this cheat, at Freeport, on Friday, when they meet again. The senator’s friends came home in jubilant spirits on Saturday, but they are crest fallen to-day, and doubtful of the implicit faith they have heretofore reposed in him. Douglas is unchanged. Perhaps the wise men of the East, that counseled the Republicans of Illinois to sustain him, are still regretful that their arrangements were not carried out.

After the Ottawa meeting was concluded on Saturday, Hon. Owen Lovejoy addressed the Republicans in the evening. Thrusting aside the assaults in his own party, he dashed headlong at the enemy and carried the war into the democratic party. “from grave to gay, from lively to severe,” he proceeded boldly and eloquently to arraign that party at the popular bar, and to convict it of its errors, crimes and inconsistencies. It was a great speech, and finished up admirably the performances of the day. There was then a torchlight procession. By the moonlight thousands wended their way home, and quiet began to reign in Ottawa.

Senator Trumbull is on the stump in the central and southern part of the state. He speaks at Alton on Wednesday, and at Springfield on Saturday. Douglas speaks at Galena on Wednesday and meets Lincoln at Freeport of Friday.

Douglas is in a quandary in regard to popular sovereignty and Dred Scott. At some places he tells his audiences that the decision is not binding where it conflicts with his specific. His reporter for he carries one about with him—omits this part of the performance from the bills.

Yours, &c.,

BAYOU.

_______________

¹ This was in italicized and hard to make out, but I believe I got it right as when I put in into Google Translate I got the translation as: “You go through everything, rush through the net of evil”

SOURCE,  The New York Eveing Post, New York, New York, Friday August 27, 1858, p. 1

Diary of William Howard Russell: July 18, 1861

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

* Since killed in action.

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

Gerrit Smith, 1864

The President of the United States is both a great and a good man. But neither greatness nor goodness would be manifest in consenting to a peace, which, however admirable in other respects, failed nevertheless to secure the ballot to the black man, and left him therefore, at the mercy of his enemy and ours — of his and our demonized enemy. Happily, among the highest proofs that the President is both great and good, is his willingness to grow and change. Such willingness is not found in little and mean men.

SOURCES: Octavius Brooks Frothingham, Gerrit Smith: A Biography, p. 260

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Monday, April 25, 1864

It has been a pleasant spring day; reported to General Silas Casey this morning; will be examined tomorrow; sat at Bradey's this afternoon for pictures. The streets are thronged with moving bodies of troops. General Burnside's Corps passed through the city this afternoon. President Lincoln reviewed it from the balcony over the ladies' entrance of Willard's Hotel on Fourteenth street. This is my first sight of President Lincoln and probably as good as I shall ever have. I was just across the street opposite on the curb and not crowded. He looked pale, very sad and greatly careworn. It depressed me to look at him. The remembrance will ever be vivid. Burnside's Corps has encamped near Alexandria for the night; saw Othello played at Grover's Theatre tonight (now the New National).

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 39-40

Abraham Lincoln to Jesse W. Fell, December 20, 1859

Springfield, Dec: 20. 1859

W. Fell Esq.

My dear Sir:

Herewith is a little sketch, as you requested– There is not much of it, for the reason, I suppose, that there is not much of me– If anything is made out of it, I wish it to be modest, and not to go beyond the materials– If it were thought necessary to incorporate any thing from any of my speeches, I suppose there would be no objection– Of course it must not appear to have been written by myself—

Yours very truly

A. Lincoln

_______________

[ Enclosure:]

I was born Feb. 12, 1809, in Hardin County, Kentucky. My parents were both born in Virginia, of undistinguished families – second families, perhaps I should say– My Mother, who died in my ninth tenth year, was of a family of the name of Hanks, some of whom now reside in Adams, and others in Macon counties, Illinois— My paternal grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, emigrated from Rockingham County, Virginia, to Kentucky, about 1781 or 2, when, a year or two later, he was killed by indians, not in battle, but by stealth, when he was laboring to open a farm in the forest– His ancestors, who were quakers, went to Virginia from Berks County, Pennsylvania– An effort to identify them with the New-England family of the same name ended in nothing more definite, than a similarity of Christian names in both families, such as Enoch, Levi, Mordecai, Solomon, Abraham, and the like—

My father, at the death of his father, was but six years of age; and he grew up, litterally without education— He removed from Kentucky to what is now Spencer county, Indiana, in my eighth year— We reached our new home about the time the State came into the Union— It was a wild region, with many bears and other wild animals still in the woods— There I grew up— There were some schools, so called; but no qualification was ever required of a teacher, beyond the reading, writing, and Arithmetic “readin, writin, and cipherin” to the Rule of Three— If a straggler supposed to understand latin, happened to sojourn in the neighborhood, he was looked upon as a wizzard— There was absolutely nothing to excite ambition for education. Of course when I came of age I did not know much— Still somehow, I could read, write, and cipher to the Rule of Three, but that was all— I have not been to school since— The little advance I now have upon this store of education, I have have picked up from time to time under the pressure of necessity—

I was raised to farm work, which I continued till I was twenty two— At twenty one I came to Illinois, and passed the first year in Illinois — Macon County — Then I got to New-Salem ( then at that time in Sangamon, now in Menard County, where I remained a year as a sort of Clerk in a store— then came the Black-Hawk war; and I was elected a Captain of Volunteers — a success which gave me more pleasure than any I have had since— I went the campaign, was elated, ran for the Legislature the same year (1832) and was beaten — the only time I ever have been beaten by the people— The next, and three succeeding biennial elections, I was elected to the Legislature— I was not a candidate afterwards. During this Legislative period I had studied law, and removed to Springfield to make practice it— In 1846 I was once elected to the lower House of Congress— Was not a candidate for re-election— From 1849 to 1854, both inclusive, practiced law more assiduously than ever before— Always a whig in politics, and generally on the whig electoral tickets, making active canvasses— I was losing interest in politics, when the repeal of the Missouri Compromise aroused me again— What I have done since then is pretty well known–

If any personal description of me is thought desired desirable, it may be said, I am, in height, six feet, four inches, nearly; lean in flesh, weighing, on an average, one hundred and eighty pounds; dark complexion, with coarse black hair, and grey eyes — no other marks or brands recollected—

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

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, March 26, 1865

March 26, 1865

My letter of yesterday only gave a part of the day's work. Our train went briskly up to the front and stopped not far from the little rustic chapel you saw; for there was General Parke with his Staff, waiting to receive the General and report the morning's work.  . . . Brevet Brigadier McLaughlen got taken in trying to maintain his line — a good officer. He was the one who had been five days in Boston and told me he was so tired that he thought he should go right back. A certain Major Miller was captured and sent, with a guard of four men, a little to the rear. They sat in a bomb-proof for protection and Miller did so describe the glories of Yankeedom to his captors, that, when we retook the work, they all deserted and came over with him! Then we kept on and got out at our own domus, where General Meade (it being then about 11.30 A.M.) telegraphed sundry orders to his generals; wherefrom resulted, at 12.15, the greatest bang, bang, whang, from good Duke Humphrey, who, spectacles on nose, rushed violently at the entrenched skirmish line of the enemy and captured the same, with the double view of making a reconnaissance and a diversion, and furthermore of showing the Johns that we were not going to be pitched into without hitting back.

Then there was a lull, filled by the arrival of a long grey procession of some 1500 prisoners from the 9th Corps. Really these men possess a capacity for looking “rough” beyond any people I ever saw, except the townsmen of Signor Fra Diavolo. They grew rougher and rougher. These looked brown and athletic, but had the most matted hair, tangled beards, and slouched hats, and the most astounding carpets, horse-sheets and transmogrified shelter-tents for blankets, that you ever imagined. One grim gentleman, of forbidding aspect, had tempered his ferocity by a black, broad-brimmed straw hat, such as country ministers sometimes wear — a head-dress which, as Whittier remarked, “rather forced the season!” Singularly enough, the train just then came up and the President and General Grant, followed by a small party, rode over to the Headquarters. “I have just now a despatch from General Parke to show you,” said General Meade. “Ah,” quoth the ready Abraham, pointing to the parade-ground of the Provost-Marshal, “there is the best despatch you can show me from General Parke!” The President is, I think, the ugliest man I ever put my eyes on; there is also an expression of plebeian vulgarity in his face that is offensive (you recognize the recounter of coarse stories). On the other hand, he has the look of sense and wonderful shrewdness, while the heavy eyelids give him a mark almost of genius. He strikes me, too, as a very honest and kindly man; and, with all his vulgarity, I see no trace of low passions in his face. On the whole, he is such a mixture of all sorts, as only America brings forth. He is as much like a highly intellectual and benevolent Satyr as anything I can think of. I never wish to see him again, but, as humanity runs, I am well content to have him at the head of affairs.  . . . After which digression I will remark that the President (who looks very fairly on a horse) reviewed the 3d division, 5th Corps, which had marched up there to support the line, and were turned into a review. As the Chief Magistrate rode down the ranks, plucking off his hat gracefully by the hinder part of the brim, the troops cheered quite loudly. Scarcely was the review done when, by way of salute, all those guns you saw by Fort Fisher opened with shells on the enemy's picket line, which you could see, entrenched, from where you stood. Part of the 6th Corps then advanced and, after a sharp fight, which lasted, with heavy skirmishing, till sunset, drove off the Rebels and occupied their position, driving them towards their main line. At four and at seven P.M. the enemy charged furiously on Humphreys, to recover their picket line, but were repulsed with great loss; our men never behaved better. Both Wright and Humphreys took several hundred prisoners, swelling the total for the day to 2700, more than we have had since the noted 12th of May. Our total loss is from 1800 to 2000; while that of the enemy must be from 4000 to 5000 plus a great discouragement. Isn't it funny for you to think of the polite Humphreys riding round in an ambulance with you Friday, and, the next day, smashing fiercely about in a fight?

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 323-6

Diary of William Howard Russell: March 27, 1861

This morning, after breakfast, Mr. Sanford called, according to promise, and took me to the State department. It is a very humble — in fact, dingy — mansion, two stories high, and situated at the end of the magnificent line of colonnade in white marble, called the Treasury, which is hereafter to do duty as the head-quarters of nearly all the public departments. People familiar with Downing Street, however, cannot object to the dinginess of the bureaux in which the foreign and state affairs of the American Republic are transacted. A flight of steps leads to the hall-door, on which an announcement in writing is affixed, to indicate the days of reception for the various classes of persons who have business with the Secretary of State; in the hall, on the right and left, are small rooms, with the names of the different officers on the doors — most of them persons of importance; half-way in the hall a flight of stairs conducts us to a similar corridor, rather dark, with doors on each side opening into the bureaux of the chief clerks. All the appointments were very quiet, and one would see much more bustle in the passages of a Poor Law Board or a parish vestry.

In a moderately sized, but very comfortable, apartment, surrounded with book-shelves, and ornamented with a few engravings, we found the Secretary of State seated at his table, and enjoying a cigar; he received me with great courtesy and kindness, and after a time said he would take occasion to present me to the President, who was to give audience that day to the minister of the new kingdom of Italy, who had hitherto only represented the kingdom of Sardinia.

I have already described Mr. Seward's personal appearance; his son, to whom he introduced me, is the Assistant-Secretary of State, and is editor or proprietor of a journal in the State of New York, which has a reputation for ability and fairness. Mr. Frederick Seward is a slight delicate-looking man, with a high forehead, thoughtful brow, dark eyes, and amiable expression; his manner is very placid and modest, and, if not reserved, he is by no means loquacious. As we were speaking, a carriage drove up to the door, and Mr. Seward exclaimed to his father, with something like dismay in his voice, “Here comes the Chevalier in full uniform!” — and in a few seconds in effect the Chevalier Bertinatti made his appearance, in cocked hat, white gloves, diplomatic suit of blue and silver lace, sword, sash, and ribbon of the cross of Savoy. I thought there was a quiet smile on Mr. Seward's face as he saw his brilliant companion, who contrasted so strongly with the more than republican simplicity of his own attire. “Fred., do you take Mr. Russell round to the President's, whilst I go with the Chevalier. We will meet at the White House.” We accordingly set out through a private door leading to the grounds, and within a few seconds entered the hall of the moderate mansion, White House, which has very much the air of a portion of a bank or public office, being provided with glass doors and plain heavy chairs and forms. The domestic who was in attendance was dressed like any ordinary citizen, and seemed perfectly indifferent to the high position of the great personage with whom he conversed, when Mr. Seward asked him, “Where is the President?” Passing through one of the doors on the left, we entered a handsome spacious room, richly and rather gorgeously furnished, and rejoicing in a kind of “demi-jour,” which gave increased effect to the gilt chairs and ormolu ornaments. Mr. Seward and the Chevalier stood in the centre of the room, whilst his son and I remained a little on one side: “For,” said Mr. Seward, “you are not to be supposed to be here.”

Soon afterwards there entered, with a shambling, loose, irregular, almost unsteady gait, a tall, lank, lean man, considerably over six feet in height, with stooping shoulders, long pendulous arms, terminating in hands of extraordinary dimensions, which, however, were far exceeded in proportion by his feet. He was dressed in an ill-fitting, wrinkled suit of black, which put one in mind of an undertaker's uniform at a funeral; round his neck a rope of black silk was knotted in a large bulb, with flying ends projecting beyond the collar of his coat; his turned-down shirt-collar disclosed a sinewy muscular yellow neck, and above that, nestling in a great black mass of hair, bristling and compact like a ruff of mourning pins, rose the strange quaint face and head, covered with its thatch of wild republican hair, of President Lincoln. The impression produced by the size of his extremities, and by his flapping and wide projecting ears, may be removed by the appearance of kindliness, sagacity, and the awkward bonhommie of his face; the mouth is absolutely prodigious; the lips, straggling and extending almost from one line of black beard to the other, are only kept in order by two deep furrows from the nostril to the chin; the nose itself—a prominent organ — stands out from the face, with an inquiring, anxious air, as though it were sniffing for some good thing in the wind; the eyes dark, full, and deeply set, are penetrating, but full of an expression which almost amounts to tenderness; and above them projects the shaggy brow, running into the small hard frontal space, the development of which can scarcely be estimated accurately, owing to the irregular flocks of thick hair carelessly brushed across it. One would say that, although the mouth was made to enjoy a joke, it could also utter the severest sentence which the head could dictate, but that Mr. Lincoln would be ever more willing to temper justice with mercy, and to enjoy what he considers the amenities of life, than to take a harsh view of men's nature and of the world, and to estimate things in an ascetic or puritan spirit. A person who met Mr. Lincoln in the street would not take him to be what — according to the usages of European society — is called a “gentleman;” and, indeed, since I came to the United States, I have heard more disparaging allusions made by Americans to him on that account than I could have expected among simple republicans, where all should be equals; but, at the same time, it would not be possible for the most indifferent observer to pass him in the street without notice.

As he advanced through the room, he evidently controlled a desire to shake hands all round with everybody, and smiled good-humoredly till he was suddenly brought up by the staid deportment of Mr. Seward, and by the profound diplomatic bows of the Chevalier Bertinatti. Then, indeed, he suddenly jerked himself back, and stood in front of the two ministers, with his body slightly drooped forward, and his hands behind his back, his knees touching, and his feet apart. Mr. Seward formally presented the minister, whereupon the President made a prodigiously violent demonstration of his body in a bow which had almost the effect of a smack in its rapidity and abruptness, and, recovering himself, proceeded to give his utmost attention, whilst the Chevalier, with another bow, read from a paper a long address in presenting the royal letter accrediting him as “minister resident;” and when he said that “the king desired to give, under your enlightened administration, all possible strength and extent to those sentiments of frank sympathy which do not cease to be exhibited every moment between the two peoples, and whose origin dates back as far as the exertions which have presided over their common destiny as self-governing and free nations,” the President gave another bow still more violent, as much as to accept the allusion.

The minister forthwith handed his letter to the President, who gave it into the custody of Mr. Seward, and then, dipping his hand into his coat-pocket, Mr. Lincoln drew out a sheet of paper, from which he read his reply, the most remarkable part of which was his doctrine “that the United States were bound by duty not to interfere with the differences of foreign governments and countries.” After some words of compliment, the President shook hands with the minister, who soon afterwards retired. Mr. Seward then took me by the hand and said — “Mr. President, allow me to present to you Mr. Russell, of the London ‘Times.’” On which Mr. Lincoln put out his hand in a very friendly manner, and said, “Mr. Russell, I am very glad to make your acquaintance, and to see you in this country. The London ‘Times’ is one of the greatest powers in the world, — in fact, I don't know anything which has much more power, — except perhaps the Mississippi. I am glad to know you as its minister.” Conversation ensued for some minutes, which the President enlivened by two or three peculiar little sallies, and I left agreeably impressed with his shrewdness, humor, and natural sagacity.

In the evening I dined with Mr. Seward, in company with his son, Mr. Seward, junior, Mr. Sanford, and a quaint, natural specimen of an American rustic lawyer, who was going to Brussels as Secretary of Legation. His chief, Mr. Sanford, did not appear altogether happy when introduced to his secretary, for he found that he had a very limited knowledge (if any) of French, and of other things which it is generally considered desirable that secretaries should know.

Very naturally, conversation turned on politics. Although no man can foresee the nature of the crisis which is coming, nor the mode in which it is to be encountered, the faith of men like Mr. Sanford and Mr. Seward in the ultimate success of their principles, and in the integrity of the Republic, is very remark able; and the boldness of their language in reference to foreign powers almost amounts to arrogance and menace, if not to temerity. Mr. Seward asserted that the Ministers of England or of France had no right to make any allusion to the civil war which appeared imminent; and that the Southern Commissioners who had been sent abroad could not be received by the Government of any foreign power, officially or otherwise, even to hand in a document or to make a representation, without incurring the risk of breaking off relations with the Government of the United States. As regards the great object of public curiosity, the relief of Fort Sumter, Mr. Seward maintains a profound silence, beyond the mere declaration, made with a pleasant twinkle of the eye, that “the whole policy of the Government, on that and other questions, is put forth in the President's inaugural, from which there will be no deviation. Turning to the inaugural message, however, there is no such very certain indication, as Mr. Seward pretends to discover, of the course to be pursued by Mr. Lincoln and the cabinet. To an outside observer, like myself, it seems as if they were waiting for events to develop themselves, and rested their policy rather upon acts that had occurred, than upon any definite principle designed to control or direct the future.

I should here add that Mr. Seward spoke in high terms of the ability, dexterity, and personal qualities of Mr. Jefferson Davis, and declared his belief that but for him the Secession movement never could have succeeded as far as it has gone, and would, in all probability, indeed, have never taken place at all. After dinner cigars were introduced, and a quiet little rubber of whist followed. The Secretary is given to expatiate at large, and told us many anecdotes of foreign travel; — it I am not doing him injustice, I would say further, that he remembers his visit to England, and the attention he received there, with peculiar satisfaction. He cannot be found fault with because he has formed a most exalted notion of the superior intelligence, virtue, happiness, and prosperity of his own people. He said that it would not be proper for him to hold any communication with the Southern Commissioners then in Washington; which rather surprised me, after what I had heard from their friend, Mr. Banks. On returning to my hotel, I found a card from the President, inviting me to dinner the following day.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 36-40