John Lothrop Motley to Mary Benjamin Motley, Monday, July 28, 1861

Nahant, July 28, 1861.

My Dearest Mary: I have not written to Forster, because I have taken it for granted that he sees my letters to you, and I could only write the same facts and the same conclusions to other correspondents. Nevertheless, I wish very much to write a line to him and to Milnes, and especially to Lord de Grey, and shall certainly do so within a very short time. I was delighted to hear of young Ridley's triumphs, and sincerely sympathize in the joy of Lord and Lady Wensleydale, to whom pray give my kindest remembrance and congratulations. I am very much obliged to Lord John Russell for his kindness in sending me a copy of his note to Mr. Everett. I have thought very often of writing myself to Lord John, and have abstained because I knew that his time was so thoroughly occupied as to leave him little leisure for unofficial correspondence, and because I knew also that his despatches from Washington and his conversations with Mr. Adams must place him entirely in possession of all the facts of this great argument, and I have not the vanity to suppose that any commentary which I could make would alter the conclusion of a mind so powerful and experienced as his.

“If on the 4th of March,” he says to Mr. Everett, “you had allowed the Confederate States to go out from among you, you could have prevented the extension of slavery and confined it to the slave-holding States.” But, unfortunately, had this permission been given, there would have been no “you” left. The existence of this government consists in its unity. Once admit the principle of secession, and it has ceased to be; there is no authority then left either to prevent the extension of slavery, or to protect the life or property of a single individual on our share of the continent. Permit the destruction of the great law which has been supreme ever since we were a nation, and any other law may be violated at will. We have no government but this one, since we were dependent and then insurgent colonies. Take away that, and you take away our all. This is not merely the most logical of theories, but the most unquestionable of facts. This great struggle is one between law and anarchy. The slaveholders mutiny against all government on this continent, because it has been irrevocably decided no further to extend slavery. Peaceful acquiescence in the withdrawal of the seven cotton States would have been followed by the secession of the remaining eight slave States, and probably by the border free States. Pennsylvania would have set up for itself. There would probably have been an attempt at a Western Confederacy, and the city of New York had already announced its intention of organizing itself into a free town, and was studying the constitutions of Frankfort and Hamburg.

In short, we had our choice to submit at once to dismemberment and national extinction at the command of the slavery oligarchy which has governed us for forty years, or to fight for our life. The war forced upon us by the slaveholders has at last been accepted, and it is amazing to me that its inevitable character and the absolute justice of our cause do not carry conviction to every unprejudiced mind. Those, of course, who believe with the Confederates that slavery is a blessing, and the most fitting corner-stone of a political edifice, will sympathize with their cause. But those who believe it to be a curse should, I think, sympathize with us, who, while circumscribing its limits and dethroning it as a political power, are endeavoring to maintain the empire of the American Constitution and the English common law over this great continent. This movement in which we now engage, and which Jefferson Davis thinks so ridiculous, is to me one of the most noble spectacles which I remember in history. Twenty millions of people have turned out as a great posse comitatus to enforce the laws over a mob of two or three millions, — not more, — led on by two or three dozen accomplished, daring, and reckless desperados. This is the way history will record this transaction, be the issue what it may; and if we had been so base as to consent to our national death without striking a blow, our epitaph would have been more inglorious than I hope it may prove to be.

Don't be too much cast down about Bull Run. In a military point of view it is of no very great significance. We have lost, perhaps, at the utmost, 1000 men, 2000 muskets, and a dozen cannon or so. There was a panic, it is true, and we feel ashamed, awfully mortified; but our men had fought four or five hours without flinching, against concealed batteries, at the cannon's mouth, under a blazing July Virginia sun, taking battery after battery, till they were exhausted with thirst, and their tongues were hanging out of their mouths. It was physically impossible for these advanced troops to fight longer, and the reserves were never brought up. So far I only say what is undisputed. The blame for the transaction cannot be fairly assigned till we get official accounts. As for the affair itself, the defeat was a foregone conclusion. If you read again the earlier part of my last letter, you will see that I anticipated, as did we all, that the grand attack on Manassas was to be made with McClellan's column, Patterson's and McDowell's combined. This would have given about 125,000 men. Instead of this, McDowell's advance with some 50,000 men, not onethird part of which were engaged, while the rebels had 100,000 within immediate reach of the scene of action. You will also see by the revelations made in Congress and in the New York “Times” that this has been purely a politician's battle. It is in a political point of view, not a military, that the recent disaster is most deplorable. The rebellion has of course gained credit by this repulse of our troops.

As for the Civil War, nothing could have averted it. It is the result of the forty years' aggression of the slavery power. Lincoln's election was a vote by a majority of every free State that slavery should go no further, and then the South dissolved the Union. Suppose we had acknowledged the Confederacy, there would have been war all the same. Whether we are called two confederacies or one, the question of slavery in the Territories has got to be settled by war, and so has the possession of the Mississippi and the Gulf of Mexico. Even on the impossible theory that the United States continued to exist as a government after submitting without a struggle to dismemberment, still it would be obliged to fight for the rights of its four or five million of tonnage to navigate American waters.

In brief, the period has arrived for us, as it has often arrived for other commonwealths in history, when we must fight for national existence, or agree to be extinguished peaceably. I am not very desponding, although the present is gloomy. Perhaps the day will come ere long when we shall all of us, not absolutely incapacitated by age or sickness, be obliged to shoulder our rifles as privates in the ranks. At present there seems no lack of men. The reverse of last Sunday has excited the enthusiasm afresh, and the government receives new regiments faster than it can provide for them. As I am not fit to be an officer, being utterly without military talent or training, and as it is now decided that such responsible offices shall not be conferred except upon those who can bear an examination by competent military authorities, I am obliged to regret my want of early education in the only pursuit which is now useful. As to going abroad and immersing myself again in the sixteenth century, it is simply an impossibility. I can think of nothing but American affairs, and should be almost ashamed if it were otherwise.

A grim winter is before us. Gather your rosebuds while you may, is my advice to you, and engage your passages not before October. But having said this, I give you carte blanche, and let me know your decision when made. The war is to be a long one. We have no idea of giving in, and no doubt of ultimate triumph. Our disaster is nothing; our disgrace is great, and it must be long before it can be retrieved, because General Scott will now be free to pursue the deliberate plan which he had marked out when he was compelled by outside pressure to precipitate his raw levies against an overwhelming superiority of rebels in a fortified position.

A few days ago I went over to Quincy by appointment to dine with old Mr. Quincy. The dinner was very pleasant. Edmund was there, and very agreeable, with Professor Gould, and Mr. Waterston, and the ladies. The old gentleman, now in his ninetieth year, is straight as an arrow, with thirty-two beautiful teeth, every one his own, and was as genial and cordial as possible. He talked most agreeably on all the topics of the day, and after dinner discussed the political question in all its bearings with much acumen and with plenty of interesting historical reminiscences. He was much pleased with the messages I delivered to him from Lord Lyndhurst, and desired in return that I should transmit his most cordial and respectful regards. Please add mine to his, as well as to Lady Lyndhurst. when you have the privilege of seeing them. I was very sorry not to be able to accept young Mr. Adams's offered hospitality, but I had made arrangements to return to Nahant that night. Pray give my best regards to Mr. and Mrs. Adams. Last Saturday I went to Cambridge and visited Longfellow. He was in bed, with both hands tied up; but his burns are recovering, and his face will not be scarred, and he will not lose the use of either hand. He was serene and resigned, but dreaded going down-stairs into the desolate house. His children were going in and out of the room. He spoke of his wife, and narrated the whole tragedy very gently, and without any paroxysms of grief, although it was obvious that he felt himself a changed man. Holmes came in. We talked of general matters, and Longfellow was interested to listen to and speak of the news of the day and of the all-absorbing topic of the war.

The weather has been almost cloudless for the seven weeks that I have been at home — one blaze of sunshine. But the drought is getting to be alarming. It has hardly rained a drop since the first week in June. Fortunately, the charm seems now broken, and to-day there have been some refreshing showers, with a prospect of more. I dined on Saturday with Holmes. He is as charming, witty, and sympathetic as ever. I wish I could send you something better than this, but unless I should go to Washington again I don't see what I can write now that is worth reading. To-morrow I dine here with Wharton, who is unchanged, and desires his remembrances to you; and next day I dine with Lowell at Cambridge, where I hope to find Hawthorne, Holmes, and others. . . .

P. S.  Tell Tom Brown, with my kindest regards, that every one is reading him here with delight, and the dedication is especially grateful to our feelings. The Boston edition (I wish he had the copyright) has an uncommonly good likeness of him.

As for Wadsworth, I heard from several sources of his energy and pluck. Wharton has been in my room since I began this note. He had a letter from his sister, in which she says John Vennes, a servant (an Englishman) of theirs, who enlisted in the Sixty-ninth New York, had written to say that his master was the bravest of the brave, and that he was very proud of him as he saw him without his hat, and revolver in hand, riding about and encouraging the troops at the last moment to make a stand. I had a letter from Colonel Gordon the other day. He is at Harper's Ferry, and not at all discouraged by the results of the battle, in which of course he had no part. He says: “Our late check, it seems to me, is almost a victory. From seven to four did our brave troops face that deadly fire of artillery and infantry delivered from breastworks and hidden embrasures. Over and over again did they roll back the greatly outnumbering columns of the enemy, until at last, when a foolish panic seized them, they left the enemy in such a condition that he could not pursue them more than a mile and a half; so that one entire battery, which they might have had for the taking, was left all night on the field and finally returned to us again. Many such victories would depopulate the South, and from the victors there is no sound of joy. In Charleston, Virginia, at Harper's Ferry, and at Martinsburg they mourn the loss of many of their sons. Fewer in numbers, we were more than their match, and will meet them again.'”

In estimating the importance of this affair as to its bearings on the future, it should, I think, be never forgotten that the panic, whatever was its mysterious cause, was not the result of any overpowering onset of the enemy. It did not begin with the troops engaged.

Here we are not discouraged. The three months' men are nearly all of them going back again. Congress has voted 500,000 men and 5,000,000 of dollars; has put on an income tax of three per cent., besides raising twenty or thirty millions extra on tea, coffee, sugar, and other hitherto untaxed articles; and government securities are now as high in the market as they were before the late battle. . . .

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 191-8

Diary of William Howard Russell: Monday, April 2, 1861

The following day I started early, and performed my pilgrimage to “the shrine of St. Washington,” at Mount Vernon, as a foreigner on board called the place. Mr. Bancroft has in his possession a letter of the General's mother, in which she expresses her gratification at his leaving the British army in a manner which implies that he had been either extravagant in his expenses or wild in his manner of living. But if he had any human frailties in after life, they neither offended the morality of his age, nor shocked the susceptibility of his countrymen; and from the time that the much maligned and unfortunate Braddock gave scope to his ability, down to his retirement into private life, after a career of singular trials and extraordinary successes, his character acquired each day greater altitude, strength, and lustre. Had his work failed, had the Republic broken up into small anarchical states, we should hear now little of Washington. But the principles of liberty founded in the original Constitution of the colonies themselves, and in no degree derived from or dependent on the Revolution, combined with the sufferings of the Old and the bounty of nature in the New World to carry to an unprecedented degree the material prosperity, which Americans have mistaken for good government, and the physical comforts which have made some States in the Union the nearest approach to Utopia. The Federal Government hitherto “let the people alone” and they went on their way singing and praising their Washington as the author of so much greatness and happiness. To doubt his superiority to any man of woman born, is to insult the American people. They are not content with his being great — or even greater than the great: he must be greatest of all; — “first in peace, and first in war.” The rest of the world cannot find fault with the assertion, that he is “first in the hearts of his countrymen.” But he was not possessed of the highest military qualities, if we are to judge from most of the regular actions, in which the British had the best of it; and the final blow, when Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown, was struck by the arm of France, by Rochambeau and the French fleet, rather than by Washington and his Americans. He had all the qualities for the work for which he was designed, and is fairly entitled to the position his countrymen have given him as the immortal czar of the United States. His pictures are visible everywhere — in the humblest inn, in the Minister's bureau, in the millionnaire's gallery. There are far more engravings of Washington in America than there are of Napoleon in France, and that is saying a good deal.

What have we here? The steamer which has been paddling down the gentle current of the Potomac, here a mile and more in breadth, banked in by forest, through which can be seen homesteads and white farm-houses, in the midst of large clearings and corn-fields — has moved in towards a high bluff, covered with trees, on the summit of which is visible the trace of some sort of building — a ruined summer-house, rustic temple — whatever it may be; and the bell on deck begins to toll solemnly, and some of the pilgrims uncover their heads for a moment. The boat stops at a rotten, tumbledown little pier, which leads to a waste of mud, and a path rudely cut through the wilderness of briers on the hill-side. The pilgrims, of whom there are some thirty or forty, of both sexes, mostly belonging to the lower classes of citizens, and comprising a few foreigners like myself, proceed to climb this steep, which seemed in a state of nature covered with primeval forest, and tangled weeds and briers, till the plateau, on which stands the house of Washington and the domestic offices around it, is reached. It is an oblong wooden house, of two stories in height, with a colonnade towards the river face, and a small balcony on the top and on the level of the roof, over which rises a little paltry gazebo. There are two windows, a glass door at one end of the oblong, and a wooden alcove extending towards the slave quarters, which are very small sentry-box huts, that have been recently painted, and stand at right angles to the end of the house, with dog-houses and poultry-hutches attached to them. There is no attempt at neatness or order about the place; though the exterior of the house is undergoing repair, the grass is unkempt, the shrubs untrimmed, — neglect, squalor, and chicken feathers have marked the lawn for their own. The house is in keeping, and threatens to fall to ruin. I entered the door, and found myself in a small hall, stained with tobacco juice. An iron railing ran across the entrance to the stairs. Here stood a man at a gate, who presented a book to the visitors, and pointed out the notice therein, that “no person is permitted to inscribe his name in this book who does not contribute to the Washington Fund, and that any name put down without money would be erased.” Notwithstanding the warning, some patriots succeeded in recording their names without any pecuniary mulct, and others did so at a most reasonable rate. When I had contributed in a manner which must have represented an immense amount of Washingtoniolatry, estimated by the standard of the day, I was informed I could not go up-stairs as the rooms above were closed to the public, and thus the most interesting portion of the house was shut from the strangers. The lower rooms presented nothing worthy of notice —some lumbering, dusty, decayed furniture; a broken harpsichord, dust, cobwebs — no remnant of the man himself. But over the door of one room hung the key of the Bastille.*  The gardens, too, were tabooed; but through the gate I could see a wilderness of neglected trees and shrubs, not unmingled with a suspicion of a present kitchen-ground. Let us pass to the Tomb, which is some distance from the house, beneath the shade of some fine trees. It is a plain brick mausoleum, with a pointed arch, barred by an iron grating, through which the light penetrates a chamber or small room containing two sarcophagi of stone. Over the arch, on a slab let into the brick, are the words: “Within this enclosure rest the remains of Gen. George Washington.” The fallen leaves which had drifted into the chamber rested thickly on the floor, and were piled up on the sarcophagi, and it was difficult to determine which was the hero's grave without the aid of an expert, but there was neither guide nor guardian on the spot. Some four or five gravestones, of various members of the family, stand in the ground outside the little mausoleum. The place was most depressing. One felt angry with a people whose lip service was accompanied by so little of actual respect. The owner of this property, inherited from the “Pater Patriӕ,” has been abused in good set terms because he asked its value from the country which has been so very mindful of the services of his ancestor, and which is now erecting by slow stages the overgrown Cleopatra's needle that is to be a Washington Monument when it is finished. Mr. Everett has been lecturing, the Ladies' Mount Vernon Association has been working, and every one has been adjuring everybody else to give liberally; but the result so lately achieved is by no means worthy of the object. Perhaps the Americans think it is enough to say — “Si monumentum quӕris, circumspice" But, at all events, there is a St. Paul's round those words.

On the return of the steamer I visited Fort Washington, which is situated on the left bank of the Potomac. I found everything in a state of neglect — gun-carriages rotten, shot piles rusty, furnaces tumbling to pieces. The place might be made strong enough on the river front, but the rear is weak, though there is low marshy land at the back. A company of regulars were on duty. The sentries took no precautions against surprise. Twenty determined men, armed with revolvers, could have taken the whole work; and, for all the authorities knew, we might have had that number of Virginians and the famous Ben McCullough himself on board. Afterwards, when I ventured to make a remark to General Scott as to the carelessness of the garrison, he said: “A few weeks ago it might have been taken by a bottle of whiskey. The whole garrison consisted of an old Irish pensioner.” Now at this very moment Washington is full of rumors of desperate descents on the capital, and an attack on the President and his Cabinet. The long bridge across the Potomac into Virginia is guarded, and the militia and volunteers of the District of Columbia are to be called out to resist McCullough and his Richmond desperadoes.

_______________

* Since borrowed, it is supposed, by Mr. Seward, and handed over by him to Mr. Stanton. Lafayette gave it to Washington; he also gave his name to the Fort which has played so conspicuous a part in the war for liberty — “La liberté des deux mondes,” might well sigh if he could see his work, and what it has led to.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 55-9

John Lothrop Motley to Mary Benjamin Motley, July 21, 1861

Woodland Hill, Sunday, July 21, 1861.

My Dearest Mary: I have not the time nor the matter for anything but a hasty line. I am obliged to write two days before the packet day, as I must go to Nahant to-morrow, Monday, and the next day I have promised to dine with old Mr. Quincy, at Quincy. I came up yesterday to dine with Mr. George Curtis and his wife, Ticknor, Everett, and Felton. You will see in the “Daily Advertiser” the proceedings of one or two public bodies by whom respectful tribute has been paid to Mr. Appleton's character. His mind was singularly calm and lucid to the last. On Wednesday I went to Cambridge, by invitation, to hear the exercises of commencement and to be present at the dinner. The performances were very creditable indeed, and I found at the dinner, at which there were some three hundred of the alumni present, several members of my class, and passed a very pleasant hour, the more so as Felton had faithfully promised me that I should not be called out for a speech. As I had received an LL. D. at the previous commencement in my absence, I could hardly refuse the invitation to the dinner. But two degrees of LL. D. were conferred on this occasion — one on Governor Andrew, and the other on General Scott. The announcement, which was made on the platform in the church, after the conclusion of the college exercises, of the governor's name was very well received, and there was much well-deserved cheering, for he has been most efficient and intelligent in his exertions ever since this damnable mutiny broke out, and it is much owing to his energy that Massachusetts has taken the noble stand which she now occupies in defense of the Constitution and the country.

But when the name of Winfield Scott was announced, there arose a tempest of cheers such as I am sure was never heard before at any academic celebration in Cambridge. I thought the church would have split to pieces like a bombshell, so irrepressible was the explosion of enthusiasm. ’T is a pity the old man couldn't have heard it with his own ears. He is used to huzzas from soldiers and politicians; but here were grave professors and clergymen, judges, young undergraduates and octogenarians, all hallooing like lunatics. And the same thing was repeated at the dinner when his health was drunk. You will see an account of the proceedings in the “Daily Advertiser” of the 18th of July.  . . . You will also observe that I was startled from my repose at the table, not by Felton, but by Everett, who made a most complimentary allusion to me far beyond my deserts, in his after-dinner speech. They insisted on my getting up and saying a few words of acknowledgment; but I was too much moved to make a speech, and they received my thanks with much cordiality.

Nothing can be better than Everett's speech at New York, — one of the most powerful commentaries on this rebellion that has ever been spoken or written, — and he has made several other addresses equally strong in tone. We are now in an era of good feeling throughout the North, and we no longer ask what position any man may have occupied, but where he stands now, and I am glad that we shall henceforth have the benefit of Everett's genius and eloquence on the right side.

Since I wrote last nothing very important has occurred; but now important events are fast approaching. I don't use this expression in the stereotype phraseology of the newspapers, because you must have perceived from all my letters that I did not in the least share the impatience of many people here.

The skirmish of the 18th was by detachments, only 800 men in all, of Tyler's brigade, commanded by him in person, and they are said to have behaved with great skill and gallantry. It is your old friend Daniel Tyler of Norwich, who, you know, was for a considerable part of his life in the army and was educated at West Point. He is now a brigadier-general, and, as you see, commands under McDowell, whom I described to you in my last. Montgomery Ritchie, by the way, is aide to a Colonel Blenker, who has a regiment in Tyler's brigade, and James Wadsworth is aide to McDowell. The affair at Bull Run is of no special importance; of course we don't know what losses the rebels sustained, nor is it material. These skirmishes must occur daily, until it appears whether the enemy mean to risk a pitched battle now, or whether they mean to continue to retire, as they have hitherto been steadily doing, before the advance of the Union forces. The question now is, Will they make a stand at Manassas, or will they retreat to Richmond? Beauregard, who commands at Manassas, is supposed to have at least 60,000 men, and Johnston, who was until two days ago at Winchester, is thought to be falling back to join him. On the other hand, while McDowell is advancing toward Manassas, Patterson, with 35,000 men (with whom is Gordon's regiment, Massachusetts Second), has moved from Martinsburg to Charlestown, and, as I thought, will soon make a junction with him, and McClellan is expected daily out of West Virginia. Thus some 120,000 Union troops are converging at Manassas, and if the rebels have sufficient appetite, there will soon be a great stand-up fight.

If they retreat, however, there will be more delays and more impatience, for it is obvious that the Union troops can gain no great victory until the rebels face them in the field. This has not yet been the case, but they have fired from behind batteries occasionally while our men were in the open. Hitherto nothing of importance has occurred except the slow advance of the Union and the slow retreat of the rebellion. Perhaps before this letter is posted, two days hence, something definite may have occurred in the neighborhood of Manassas. Day before yesterday I saw the Webster regiment reviewed on the Common. On the previous afternoon Governor Andrew had invited me to come to his room at the State House. I did so at the time appointed, and found no one there but the governor, his aides, Colonel Harrison Ritchie, Wetherell and Harry Lee, and Mr. Everett, who was to make a speech on presenting the colors to the regiment. I saw them march along Beacon Street in front of the State House, and thought they had a very knowing, soldierly look. They had been drilling for months down at Fort Independence, and are off for the seat of war to-morrow.

When the regiment had arrived on the Common and was drawn up in the Lower Mall, we proceeded to review them. Governor Andrew, in his cocked hat and general's uniform, took possession of Mr. Everett, and the two were flanked by four aides-de-camp, effulgent in what the newspapers call the “gorgeous panoply of war,” while I was collared by the adjutant-general and the stray colonel, and made to march solemnly between them. What the populace thought of me, I don't know, but I believe that I was generally supposed to be a captured secessionist, brought along to grace the triumph of the governor. Well, we marched on, followed by a battalion of escort guards and preceded by a band of music, to the Mall, and then the Webster regiment went through its manœuvers for our benefit, and that of some thousands of enthusiastic spectators besides.

Of course I am no judge of military matters, but they seemed to be admirably drilled, and one or two army officers with whom I spoke were of the same opinion, — one of these, by the way, was a Virginian, Marshall by name, a stanch Union man and nephew of the General Lee of Arlington, who so recently abandoned the side of General Scott for a high post in the rebel army, — but I am at least a judge of men's appearance, and it would be difficult to find a thousand better-looking men with more determined and resolute faces. They wear the uniform of the regular army, and their officers are nearly all young, vigorous men, of good education and social position. I had a little talk with Fletcher Webster, who seemed delighted to see me. Everett made a magnificent little speech on presenting the standard, and Webster a very manly and simple reply. The standard bears for inscription the motto from Webster's (the father's) famous speech, “Not a single stripe polluted, not a single star effaced,” together with the motto of Massachusetts, "Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem,” i. e., “With the sword she seeks tranquillity under the protection of liberty.” This has been the device of the Massachusetts seal for more than a century, I believe; but it is originally a plagiarism from Algernon Sydney.

I am delighted with all that you tell me of the Duke and Duchess of Argyll and their warm and friendly sympathy; of Lord Granville; of Lord de Grey; of Milnes and Forster and Stirling. I haven't time to mention all the names of those whom you speak of as being stanch in our cause — the great cause of humanity and civilization. To check and circumscribe African slavery, and at the same time to uphold free constitutional government, is a noble task. If the great Republic perishes in the effort, it dies in a good cause. But it isn't dying yet; never had so much blood in it. Qui vivra verra.

You say that I have not mentioned Sumner in my letters. I thought that I had. I saw him two or three times before I went to Washington. He is very well in health and unchanged in opinions or expectations, except that, like all of us, he has been made far more sanguine than ever before as to the issue of the struggle. He came to Washington before I left it, but we did not go together. He has of course remained there for the session. I have heard from him twice or thrice; but as I now write from America, I never quote any one's opinions, but send you my own for what they are worth. In this letter there is little of consequence.

I am delighted with what you say about the sea-coast arrangement with the Hugheses, and trust sincerely that it may be made. You cannot but be happy with such charming, sincere, and noble characters, and I envy you the privilege of their society. Pray thank Hughes for that most sympathetic dedication to Lowell.

I am glad that the book is finished, that I may now read it with the same delight which the first one gave me. I saw Lowell commencement day, and promised to go out and dine with him some day next week. He is going to send for Hawthorne. Alas! he meant to have had Longfellow. We shall have Holmes, Agassiz, and others, and shall drink Hughes's health. I forgot to say that I saw at Felton's house young Brownell of the Ellsworth Zouaves. He, you may remember, was at Ellsworth's side as he came down-stairs at the Marshall House, Alexandria, and was shot dead by Jackson. Brownell, who was a corporal in the regiment, immediately shot Jackson through the head. He has since been made a lieutenant in the army, and is here on recruiting service. He is a very quiet, good-looking youth of about twenty-two. The deed has no especial claim to distinction, except its promptness. You remember that it was at the very first occupation of Alexandria, and Jackson supposed, when he came out of a dark closet and fired at Ellsworth, that secession was still triumphant in the town. Brownell took out of his pocket a fragment of the secession flagstaff which Ellsworth had just taken from the housetop, and gave me a bit of it as a relic. The reason why Ellsworth was so anxious to pull down the flag was that it was visible at the White House of Washington, and therefore an eyesore to the President.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 181-7

Major-General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Meade, December 3, 1864

Headquarters Army Of The Potomac, December 3, 1864.

I received the two volumes of the Army and Navy Review (British) and have read with great interest Captain Chesney's critique of the battle of Gettysburg. It is decidedly the most impartial account of this battle that I have read, and I think does more justice to my acts and motives than any account by my countrymen, including the grand address of Mr. Everett. What has struck me with surprise is the intimate knowledge of many facts not made very public at the time, such as Slocum's hesitation about reinforcing Howard, Butterfield's drawing up an order to withdraw, and other circumstances of a like nature. This familiarity with details evidences access to some source of information on our side, other than official reports or newspaper accounts. Captain Chesney's facts are singularly accurate, though he has fallen into one or two errors. I was never alarmed about my small arm ammunition, and after Hancock's repulsing the enemy on the 3d, I rode to the left, gave orders for an immediate advance, and used every exertion to have an attack made; but before the troops could be got ready, it became dark. There is no doubt the fatigue and other results of the three days' fighting had produced its effect on the troops and their movements were not as prompt as they would otherwise have been. I have no doubt all his statements about Lee, and his having been overruled, are true. Lee never before or since has exhibited such audacity. I am glad this impartial account by a foreign military critic has been written.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 2, p. 248-9

Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes to John Lothrop Motley

Boston, February 16th, 1861.

My Dear Motley,—It is a pleasing coincidence for me that the same papers which are just announcing your great work are telling our little world that it can also purchase, if so disposed, my modest two volume story. You must be having a respite from labour. You will smile when I tell you that I have my first vacation since you were with us — when was it? in ’57? — but so it is. It scares me to look on your labours, when I remember that I have thought it something to write an article once a month for the Atlantic Monthly; that is all I have to show, or nearly all, for three and a half years, and in the meantime you have erected your monument more perennial than bronze in these two volumes of alto relievo. I will not be envious, but I must wonder — wonder at the mighty toils undergone to quarry the ore before the mould could be shaped and the metal cast. I know you must meet your signal and unchallenged success with little excitement, for you know too well the price that has been paid for it. A man does not give away the best years of a manhood like yours without knowing that his planet has got to pay for his outlay. You have won the name and fame you must have foreseen were to be the accidents of your career. I hope, as you partake the gale with your illustrious brethren, you are well ballasted with those other accidents of successful authorship.

I am thankful for your sake that you are out of this wretched country. There was never anything in our experience that gave any idea of it before. Not that we have had any material suffering as yet. Our factories have been at work, and our dividends have been paid. Society — in Boston, at least — has been nearly as gay as usual. I had a few thousand dollars to raise to pay for my house in Charles Street, and sold my stocks for more than they cost me. We have had predictions, to be sure, that New England was to be left out in the cold if a new confederacy was formed, and that the grass was to grow in the streets of Boston. But prophets are at a terrible discount in these times, and, in spite of their predictions, Merrimac sells at 1125. It is the terrible uncertainty of everything — most of all the uncertainty of opinion of men. I had almost said of principles. From the impracticable Abolitionist, as bent on total separation from the South as Carolina is on secession from the North, to the Hunker, or Submissionist, or whatever you choose to call the wretch who would sacrifice everything and beg the South's pardon for offending it, you find all shades of opinion in our streets. If Mr. Seward or Mr. Adams moves in favour of compromise, the whole Republican party sways like a field of grain before the breath of either of them. If Mr. Lincoln says he shall execute the laws and collect the revenue though the heavens cave in, the backs of the Republicans stiffen again, and they take down the old revolutionary king's arms, and begin to ask whether they can be altered to carry minie bullets.

In the meantime, as you know very well, a monstrous conspiracy has been hatching for nobody knows how long, barely defeated in its first great move by two occurrences — Major Anderson's retreat to Fort Sumter, and the exposure of the great defalcations. The expressions of popular opinion in Virginia and Tennessee have encouraged greatly those who hope for union on the basis of a compromise; but this evening's news seems to throw doubt on the possibility of the North and the Border States ever coming to terms; and I see in this same evening's paper the threat thrown out that if the Southern ports are blockaded, fifty regiments will be set in motion for Washington! Nobody knows, everybody guesses. Seward seems to be hopeful. I had a long talk with Banks; he fears the formation of a powerful Southern military empire, which will give us trouble. Mr. Adams predicts that the Southern Confederacy will be an ignominious failure.

A Cincinnati pamphleteer, very sharp and knowing, shows how pretty a quarrel they will soon get up among themselves. There is no end to the shades of opinion. Nobody knows where he stands but Wendell Phillips and his out-and-outers. Before this political cataclysm we were all sailing on as quietly and harmoniously as a crew of your good Dutchmen in a treckschuyt. The Club has flourished greatly, and proved to all of us a source of the greatest delight. I do not believe there ever were such agreeable periodical meetings in Boston as these we have had at Parker's. We have missed you, of course, but your memory and your reputation were with us. The magazine which you helped to give a start to has prospered since its transfer to Ticknor and Fields. I suppose they may make something directly by it, and as an advertising medium it is a source of great indirect benefit to them. No doubt you will like to hear in a few words about its small affairs. I don't believe that all the Oxfords and Institutes can get the local recollections out of you. I suppose I have made more money and reputation out of it than anybody else, on the whole. I have written more than anybody else, at any rate. Miss Prescott's stories have made her quite a name. Wentworth Higginson's articles have also been very popular. Lowell's critical articles and political ones are always full of point, but he has been too busy as editor to write a great deal. As for the reputations that were toutes faites, I don't know that they have gained or lost a great deal by what their owners have done for the Atlantic. But oh! such a belabouring as I have had from the so-called “Evangelical” press for the last two or three years, almost without intermission! There must be a great deal of weakness and rottenness when such extreme bitterness is called out by such a good-natured person as I can claim to be in print. It is a new experience to me, but is made up by a great amount of sympathy from men and women, old and young, and such confidences and such sentimental épanchements, that if my private correspondence is ever aired, I shall pass for a more questionable personage than my domestic record can show me to have been.

Come now, why should I talk to you of anything but yourself and that wonderful career of well-deserved and hardly-won success which you have been passing through since I waved my handkerchief to you as you slid away from the wharf at East Boston? When you write to me, as you will one of these days, I want to know how you feel about your new possession, a European name. I should like very much, too, to hear something of your everyday experiences of English life, — how you like the different classes of English people you meet—the scholars, the upper class, and the average folk that you may have to deal with. You know that, to a Bostonian, there is nothing like a Bostonian's impression of a new people or mode of life. We all carry the Common in our heads as the unit of space, the State House as the standard of architecture, and measure off men in Edward Everetts as with a yard-stick. I am ashamed to remember how many scrolls of half-an-hour's scribblings we might have exchanged with pleasure on one side, and very possibly with something of it on the other. I have heard so much of Miss Lily's praises, that I should be almost afraid of her if I did not feel sure that she would inherit a kindly feeling to her father and mother's old friend. Do remember me to your children; and as for your wife, who used to be Mary once, and I have always found it terribly hard work to make anything else of, tell her how we all long to see her good, kind face again. Give me some stray half-hour, and believe me always your friend,

O. W. Holmes

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Volume 1, p. 359-62

Charles Eliot Norton to James Russell Lowell, June 3, 1860

Newport, 3 June, 1860.

. . . Are you pleased that Mr. Everett has consented to take the nomination for the Vice Presidency? His letter reminds me of the advertisement of “the retired Doctor whose sands of life have nearly run out.” We have patriots left. In the view of the Union party it would seem that the Union itself were in a similar condition to the English gunboats, planks rotted, sham copper bolts not driven half through, and a general condition of unsoundness making them wholly unsafe in a sea.

Yet if the Vengeur should go down under the waves, Bell and Everett will be seen upon the upper deck waving their hands in a graceful oratorical way, and crying with melancholy voice, Vive la République....

SOURCE: Sara Norton and  M. A. DeWolfe Howe, Letters of Charles Eliot Norton, Volume 1, p. 208-9

Commodore Andrew H. Foote to Lieutenant Henry Augustus Wise, June 19, 1862

Cleveland, June 19, 1862.

My Dear Wise: I have written six letters in my bed this morning, and am exhausted; but you have been so kind to me, and so accommodating to our flotilla in its darkest days, that I must say a word in acknowledgment.

Mr. Everett called on me, and I told him how much the country owed you for invaluable services in the Ordnance Bureau, etc, which elicited the remark that he was happy to hear such testimony from me. Your brother is a noble fellow, and stood up to his arduous duties in a way that should insure him any berth he wants in case the flotilla, as it should be, is turned over to the Navy Department.

Do thank Mr. Grimes from me for his resolution to stop the grog-ration, and keep the ardents out of our ships. It will even add to his reputation as the true friend to the Navy. I am proud that he who advocated my vote of thanks should also have introduced the resolution to banish liquor from our ships.

Your faithful friend,

A. H. Foote.

SOURCE: William Salter, The Life of James W. Grimes, p. 197

1860 Presidential Election: The Candidates

	Party	Home State	Running Mate
Abraham Lincoln	Republican	Illinois	Hannibal Hamlin
Stephen A. Douglas	Northern Democratic	Illinois	Joseph Lane
John C. Breckinridge	Southern Democratic	Kentucky	Edward Everett
John Bell	Constitutional Union	Tennessee	Herschel V. Johnson

Everett Peabody

Colonel 13th (afterwards 25th) Missouri Vols. (Infantry), September 1, 1861; killed at Pittsburg Landing, Tenn., April 6, 1862.

______

THE Rev. William B. 0. Peabody, D. D., of Springfield, Massachusetts, was the son of Judge Oliver Peabody of Exeter, New Hampshire, and was born July 7, 1799. He married Eliza Amelia White, daughter of Major Moses White, who served in the army through the Revolution. Rev. Dr. Peabody was settled in Springfield, Massachusetts, in October, 1820, and remained with the same parish until his death, which took place in 1847. He was well known as a preacher, essayist, naturalist, and poet, and was universally respected for the pure and elevated character of his daily life. Those who remember the Springfield of forty years ago speak of Mrs. Peabody as lovely in person and manners, full of energy and public spirit, and taking a leading part in all the schemes for doing good which were in vogue at that day.

Their eldest son, Howard, died in infancy. The rest of the family consisted of one daughter and four sons, of whom Everett was the oldest. He was born in Springfield, June 13, 1830. There is little to be told about his childhood. He was a tall, athletic boy, fond of outdoor sports, and excelling in them. He was particularly skilful as a swimmer. Once, while swimming across the Connecticut, at Springfield, he was taken with the cramp when half-way across. One of his schoolmates swam out to him with a plank, by the aid of which Everett reached the shore. It is a curious circumstance that this schoolmate (since dead) was in the Rebel army at Shiloh, and afterwards said that as he was marching into the Federal camp he saw Everett's body on the field, and recognized it at once.

Everett was remarkably quick to learn, and was regarded as the most gifted boy of the family. He was fond of poetry, and would repeat page after page of Scott's poems, which were great favorites with the household. His father had a strong desire to send him to college, but had not the means to do so. Assistance was at last volunteered in such a manner that he could not refuse; and in 1845 Everett entered as Freshman in Burlington College, Vermont. He remained there but a year, and in 1846 entered Harvard as Sophomore.

At first his standing was very high, — so that one of his letters expresses the hope that he shall prove to be among the first eight scholars; and although he afterward seemed to care less about his rank, he had a part at Commencement when he graduated. He was fond of fun and frolic, and was rusticated, in 1847, for helping to make a bonfire on University steps. He was sent home to study with his father, and was at home when his father died, — his mother and only sister having died three years before. He finished the term of his suspension in the family of Rev. Rufus Ellis, then of Northampton.

While in college he never was a plodding student, but learned with singular ease and facility. I remember his asking me once to hear him recite a lesson of several pages, which he had been studying for half an hour; and I was surprised to hear him give the substance of page after page, having evidently fixed in his mind every point of importance in the lesson clearly and distinctly, while he troubled himself little about the precise phraseology. He had at this time acquired a good deal of facility in French and German, and had a great deal of miscellaneous information. His wit and love of fun made him a favorite companion at social entertainments; and he enjoyed such things himself, although not to excess.

During his last winter vacation, he made a visit to Philadelphia and Washington, and in the latter place gained an acquaintance who seemed to fascinate him a good deal, — Colonel Baker, then in Congress, and subsequently killed at Ball's Bluff. Colonel Baker confided to the young man a project of taking a party of fifty or a hundred men to California, for two years' service in the mines. Everett was delighted with the prospect of adventure involved in such an enterprise, and wrote home to his friends for aid and advice; but the project ultimately failed.

He graduated in 1849, and at once found employment at engineering on the Boston Water-Works, under Mr. Chesborough. Soon afterwards, he obtained a leveller's place on the Cleveland, Columbus, and Ashtabula Railroad. He thus describes his first experience of outdoor life: —

"February 3, 1850.

"Thank Heaven, I can support myself now; and if it is a pittance I live on, it is at least earned by my own right arm, which does not snarl and tell me I am extravagant, whenever I ask it therefor. And so au diable with money matters. Well, it's glorious, after all, going about in these old woods, with trees which seem to have borne the brunt of the tempests for a thousand years. Huge shafts, with buttress-like roots, and a flowering of Nature's own mosaic. Though our feet are wet and our hands cold, though we anticipate the sun and work like hodmen, there 's a luxury in it which I can feel, but not analyze. You might not think it poetry, but it is, — this wading through the swamps watching the clouds. We have nothing at the East to compare with these glorious clouds. We left off work last night about a mile and a half from the tavern where we now are. I started, along with about six of the party, and trudged through the swamp for a mile and a half or two miles, and then found ourselves four miles from the tavern, in a driving snow-storm, dark, and the walking not fit to be called walking. We came home very much fatigued."

This was the beginning of a Western residence of more than ten years, with but a few short visits to the home of his youth. He was successively employed on the Pacific Railroad (St. Louis), the Maysville and Lexington, Kentucky, the Maysville and Big Sandy, the Louisville and Frankfort, — always as assistant or resident engineer, but with always increasing salary and responsibilities.

At this time he was in splendid physical condition. His frame was large and powerful, his health was always good, and he was almost always very light-hearted and careless about the future. Except that he had a very strong ambition to rise in his profession, I never saw a man who troubled himself less about what the morrow might bring forth. At this time, the Hon. James Guthrie told the Hon. Edward Everett, if I remember his words correctly, that he thought Everett Peabody was "the best field engineer in the West." He was soon after appointed Chief Engineer of the Memphis and Ohio Railroad, with a salary of three thousand dollars. At a later period, — for everything connected with Western railroads was then fluctuating and uncertain, — he was employed as engineer of the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad, and then of the Hannibal and St. Joseph's (Missouri) Railroad. Here he remained for three years.

Up to this time his letters to his brothers, which were numerous, showed simply the professional enthusiasm which might have been expected from his energetic and buoyant nature. As he grew older, however, the wearying effects of rough border life began to tell upon him, and the desire for home and for cultivated society became stronger and stronger. One of his brothers was married about this time; and his many letters to his new sister-in-law showed a tenderer side of his nature, and exhibited a plaintive longing that was almost pathetic. For a man of education and cultivated tastes to find himself at twenty-seven the permanent resident of a "boarding car" at the unfinished extremity of a new railway track, in the midst of an unbroken wilderness, in the dead of winter, was rather a dismal experience. The following letters speak for themselves.

"Boarding Cars, February 20, 1858.

"This Sunday evening, wearied out by a day of the most listless laziness, I can think of nothing to do, unless it be to write to you, my dear The heading of this letter may puzzle you. As it is well to have the snow off the track before we pull the engine wide open, I will explain.

"A train of cars is kept at the end of the track, and pushed forward as the track progresses. These migratory dwellings contain cars for the accommodation of the men who work, — a car for cooking and one for eating, and at the end of the train, a blue car, with a peaked roof, contains my office, one end of which is decorated with bunks and shelves, which serve as sleeping apartments. An I were skilful, I would delineate, in a few rapid strokes of the pen, the inside hereof; but the gift of sketching is denied me, and the mere statement that it contains a drawing-table, a stove, a desk, and the aforesaid shelves, would seem to go as far as words can do in describing.

"The aforesaid cars are now on an embankment about forty feet high, and the snow stretches away to the north and south. The trees are black and dreary-looking, and the wind goes howling by. Bitter cold it is, too, outside. But I have finished my frugal repast of bread and butter, and do not purpose exposing my cherished nose to the night air again. Mr. Kirby, one of my assistants, is reading the 'Autocrat' by my side . . .

"What a great thing a locomotive is, — a sort of Daniel Webster reproduced in iron. I always feel like taking off my hat, when I see one come elbowing up. During the past week I have been renewing my acquaintance with the levers, and getting able to ride the beast again. It gives one a singular consciousness of power to feel the machinery, and to know that the whole thing is under your control; that you can say to it, Thus far, or, Do this, or, Do that,— and it is done.

"But after all, vague reminiscences come back to me of ancient sleigh-rides, of pretty faces snuggling close to your side, of muffs held up before faces to keep off the wind, and gentle words. A good dash across the Neck would be glorious now. It seems to me the only case where our stiff Puritanic rigidity is overcome, — possibly by the still stiffer rigidity of the weather, — and where people seem 'to let themselves out' for fun and frolic generally, in our old home-land.

"Naught of that in this Western land. The fun and frolic is almost entirely men's fun; and, heavens! how much we would give for one good romp in the old land! There is fun enough, and wit and nonsense enough, out here; but, after all, it is hard and angular, and lacks entirely the refining influence which womankind infuses into man's life. But the weird sisters weave, and Atropos sits ready. Let her sit. I mean to get back before she takes the final suit, and see if I can't find youth and life again in the 'auld countree.'"

"April 18,1858.

"Why do you attack me so ferociously about a mild remark, that you Eastern people don't know how to love? You don't.

"I have no doubt you think you do. I have no doubt you think that this love — which, as you yourself say, becomes such a part of your nature that you don't show it, and, you might add (if it were not doggerel), know it — is strong passion and devotion; but it isn't. So far as it has any character, it is more habit than anything else. You lead — not you particularly, but all the Eastern people — two lives: one, the outside life of society (which is hypocrisy); the other, the life of love, family, or otherwise, which is real: and you have plenty of support for both, and very little care for either. But wait until you only have support for one, the outer, and none at all for the other, the inner. Wait till you have to treasure up memories of each little act of affection, in place of having the realities about you daily, and you knowing all the time that these very realities exist, and you can't get at them. Did you ever read of Tantalus, of Ixion, and the other reprobates? Wait till distance blinds you to the faults, and exalts the virtues, of your friends, and you love them with a love the more absorbing and complete because it finds no response in daily life, and because it is all your inner and real life. Then, my dear, you won't call me a truculent border ruffian.

"Pshaw! what nonsense for me to write this stuff for you to laugh at! I love my friends, and that, you know full well, that gave me leave or (if I might correct Shakespeare) provoked me to speak of it."

"Bloomington, Mo., December 16,1858.

"I have returned from a scouting expedition after game, cold, angry, and generally ill-humored. A 'Merry Christmas' to you all at home there.

"I send you a song which we shall sing to the tune of 'Benny Haven's, Oh!' at our Christmas supper.

'Our fires are blazing cheerily,

Our loaded tables groan,

The wine is circling merrily

Among us here alone.

But our thoughts are wandering sadly

To the days of long ago, —

To the days when we so gladly

Saw Christmas wassail flow.

'And the long years, whose passing

Hath left its many stings;

And the young hopes, whose glassing

Mirrored such noble things;

And the struggles we have fought through,

The sorrows we have borne,

And the objects we have sought, too,

All to our minds return.

'Our weary exile bearing

Far from those loved before,

Our hearts shall still be sharing

Their pleasures as of yore.

Then fill up bumpers, brothers;

As Christmas takes its flight,

We drink this toast together

To those at home to-night.'

"(A poor song, but mine own.)"

Early in 1859 Everett became partner in a firm organized for the purpose of building the Platte County Railroad, in Missouri, and he was appointed Chief Engineer, with complete control of the work and a salary of $3,000 per annum. He expected to make an independent fortune out of the contract, and would undoubtedly have done so, had he lived. His residence now became St. Joseph, Missouri. His employment involved a good deal of travelling, through a beautiful country, and an occasional attendance on the Legislature, as lobby-member, which he found less agreeable than instructive. His worldly prospects were bright. "I should not be surprised," he wrote, "if in two or three years each of us (there are three) should have an annual income of $20,000 or $25,000 from the road." His health and strength were in admirable condition; he described himself as "strong as an ox, and with vitality enough for a dozen of our young men of Boston." When, in the following summer (1860), he made his long-desired two months' visit at home, I noticed that, wherever we went, his commanding physique always attracted attention. He was six feet and one inch in height, and weighed two hundred and forty pounds. His motions were slow and steady, and his manners quiet and grave.

Such were his condition and prospects at the outbreak of the Rebellion. The following letter is the first record of his views upon the subject.

"St. Joseph, March 24, 1861.

"I received yours this morning. It will always be better to direct letters here than to any place whence I may happen to write you

"We have been fighting a gallant battle here for the Union, and have whipped our opponents at every point. We had a convention, called by the Legislature, for the purpose of carrying us out of the Union, filled with men who declared 'that the present grievances did not justify secession'; and we carried the State on that basis by a vote of sixty thousand majority. That convention has decided in favor of a national convention; and if one is held, we shall send the right kind of men, — men ready to compromise on some basis of settlement which will, in time, bring back the seceding States, and restore the Union. See that you do the same thing. If you drive the Border Slave States from you, and crush out us Union men who are fighting the battles here, there will be separation, and undoubtedly, sooner or later, war. We are satisfied here with Lincoln's Inaugural and Cabinet; but we have very little respect for a party which places him there to settle matters, and then ties his hands by passing no bills to give him the necessary power; which passes a high-tariff bill (to which we have no objections), and then provokes the violation of it by neither closing the Southern ports nor giving power to collect revenue outside of them.

"I am growing terribly bored with having nothing to do, and growing rusty. I shall have to pitch out somewhere before long. I shall probably make a trip out as far as Laramie this summer, in case nothing happens to prevent; and if I could get a good opening in any part of the world, I would wind up affairs here and start. Love to all.

"Yours, truly,

"EVERETT."

This letter shows that his residence of twelve years in the Border States had exerted the natural effect on his views, and that he looked on national affairs with the eyes of a Missouri Unionist, not of a New England man. The next letter shows him carried already far on by the enthusiasm of the war.

"St. Joseph, May 16,1861.

"Dear —, — Yours received this morning. The reason of my long silence is, that I made a trip — starting about April 10th — up to Fort Randal, a thousand miles up the Missouri River, and only returned about ten days ago.

"Everything has been in a state of excitement here, and about ten days ago was drifting toward thorough anarchy. I think the operations in St. Louis did no particular harm, and Harney's proclamation does a wondrous deal of good. He is a citizen of Missouri, and has the power to do what he says he will; and it is well known here that when he undertakes to do a thing he is apt to do it very roughly. Everybody knows him to be a pro-slavery man, and this takes, to a certain extent, the sting away from any exercise of authority he may make. Altogether an excellent appointment.

"Of course all business is dead. If I can get into the Regular service, in a high position, I shall join the army. I cannot yet tell whether I can muster influence enough to command a majority or a captaincy, but shall probably try and see what can be done.

"We apprehend, at present, no difficulty; and if we have one, it will not, I think, be lasting. I trust not.

"There is little to write about, except politics. The real issue in this State is between our damnable secession State government and old Harney; and as the Union men and Disunion men are each afraid of the other, and our State government is powerless, both from lack of money and of arms, I think that Missouri will be apt to be quiet, Harney's sword being thrown into that scale.

"I shall look to you presently, perhaps, to help me in my military views."

The following letter shows his first summons to military service. The volunteer corps here indicated was subsequently organized, and he was appointed its Major. It became the nucleus of the Thirteenth Missouri, and he was commissioned as its Colonel, to rank as such from September 1, 1861. After the capture of the regiment at Lexington, its number was given to another corps, and it was ultimately reorganized as the Twenty-fifth Missouri.

"HEAD-QUARTERS, DEPARTMENT WEST,

ST. LOUIS ARSENAL, May 31, 1861.

"SIR, — I am directed by Brigadier-General Lyon, commanding, to request you to repair at once to Fort Leavenworth, to confer with the commanding officer there in regard to the organization and equipment of a reserve corps in your city.

"I am, sir, very respectfully,

"Your obedient servant,

"CHESTER HARDING, JR.,

"A. A. G., 1st Brig. Mo. Vols.

“To E. PEABODY, Esq., St. Joseph, Missouri."

Major Champion Vaughan wrote soon after to General J. H. Lane: "There is no man in Northern Missouri so well calculated to give you all useful information as Major Everett Peabody, to whom I would urge upon you 'an attentive ear' in all matters he has to communicate. In the great crisis now upon Missouri, I believe no man is so likely to take hold of the helm with a manly resolution as Major Peabody, who combines in a happy degree those qualities which the occasion and the times demand."

Major Peabody's own letters now afford almost a continuous narrative:—

"CAMP LANDER, August 27, 1861.

“Dear —, — I am ordered to Kansas City, and expect roughness.

"I shall send home, in the course of a day or two, my contract with the Platte Railroad Company; and in case I go up, which is very likely, I want to have the rest of you take what I have made, and use it to the best advantage for all three.

"Good by, old fellow. I have a sort of presentiment that I shall go under. If I do, it shall be in a manner that the old family shall feel proud of it.

"Yours,

"EVERETT."

"LEXINGTON, September 24, 1861.

"Dear —, — Finding nothing to do at Kansas City, I moved down about eight hundred and fifty men to this place, on the 4th. On the 7th I started southward with Colonel Marshall (First Illinois Cavalry) in command, towards Warrensburg. After progressing, in his fashion, eighteen miles in two days, he returned here, leaving me in command of about nine hundred infantry and three hundred and fifty cavalry, with two six-pounders, and directed me to make a reconnoissance toward Warrensburg. I marched seventeen miles, and reached there at five in the evening.

"The rumors I had been hearing were, before twelve o'clock at night, reduced to certainty, — that the main body of the Missouri forces, under Price, Jackson, and Raines, were upon us, some twelve thousand strong. They were within five miles when I commenced my retreat, burning bridges, and delaying them as far as possible. I was none too quick; for, two hours after I arrived here, our pickets were driven in, and skirmishing began, and was continued during the night; they (mostly mounted) having made a forced march of thirty-five miles by a circuit, to cut us off.

"The next day (12th) we were attacked, first having severe skirmishing with their van, and afterwards a three and a half hours' cannonading, — we behind some hasty intrenchments; at evening they retired. We lost four killed and twenty-five wounded; they, about fifteen killed and thirty-five or forty wounded.

"From this time we worked assiduously at the trenches, which, however, were unfortunately situated, being below the top of the hill, so that the inside could be only partially protected by traverses from the cannonading and sharpshooting, and having no water inside the lines. Still we did the best we could. Colonel Mulligan, of Chicago, was in command (a good officer and a brave one), with a total of two thousand seven hundred men and about one thousand head of mules and horses; but seven hundred of our men were armed only with horse-pistols and sabres.

"On Wednesday last (18th), after constant skirmishing in the interval, the main attack commenced, and continued without intermission until five o'clock Friday evening, when Colonel Mulligan surrendered. During all that time our men had not in all a full meal of food or a pint of water to the man; of course there was no sleep. The enemy were receiving large reinforcements, and at the time of attack claimed to be thirty thousand strong, and were, I think, fully twenty thousand. Still we should have held out two or three hours longer, had it not been for cowardice or treason on the part of one of the Home Guards officers, (a butcher or stage-driver, I believe,) who, after one charge had been repulsed, and just as another was coming on, put out the white flag. Colonel Mulligan supposed it to be hoisted by the opposite side, and sent to General Price to know the meaning; and vice versa. Meanwhile they had surrounded us in enormous quantities, and were even in our ditches. The surrender was unconditional, and as the place had been kept eight days (ample time for reinforcements), and as, owing to the exhausted state of the men, we could not have held out over night, I am not certain that we could have done better. The loss is about equal, —between forty and fifty killed. We have one hundred and five wounded.

"On the second day of the three days' fight, toward evening, I had had some hot words, about a company of mine, with an officer of the Irish Brigade, and we had drawn our sabres, but postponed it at Colonel Mulligan's request; and I went off to look after the company, which had just charged a building outside the intrenchmcnts, occupied by their sharpshooters, and had taken it. I went through a very cross-fire from their sharpshooters, down to the building, just in time to find the building recharged by the enemy in overwhelming force. I brought up the retreat, and I tell you it was hot; but I got into the intrenchments safe, and was passing along, giving directions, when I was struck with a spent ball in the breast, which knocked me down, and seemed to deprive me of any power to move. I waited about half an hour, but did not recover, and the boys then undertook to carry me to the hospital. We had gone about ten yards when one was struck in the thigh, and dropped. Another came, and about five yards farther along I was struck by a slug, which went in behind the ankle, and passed round, lodging in the middle of the foot, about three fourths of an inch below the surface. It has been extracted, and I am doing well; although from the muscles and nerves concentrated in that place, and the lack of attention, it has proved a most painful wound.

"My men have been released, and sent home; some one hundred and thirty officers still here. If released on parole, I shall probably visit you, as I can do nothing in any way for three or four months to come.

"Fremont's proclamation has destroyed the chance of Missouri's remaining in the Union. Men are flocking in here by thousands. You will have to look to Virginia for success.

"Yours,

"EVERETT.

"The enemy had twelve or fifteen pieces of artillery; we had four. I have been highly complimented by both sides."

“ST. LOUIS, October 20, 1861.

"Dear —, — I am at last able to sit up and move about a little on crutches. The swelling is almost out of the foot, and the wound nearly healed up. I shall be able, in five or six weeks, to walk about freely, I think. Of course it is a great bore, but one must bear it.

"I ought to have written to you before, but I have had my room full of visitors, from the time I waked up in the morning till midnight; and as I knew others were writing, I neglected it.

"I have sent my officers up to St. Joseph, where I shall go when I have recovered sufficiently to move about. Those not on parole, and my friends in St. Joseph, are taking measures to reorganize the regiment; and there is, I believe, every prospect of my being released (or rather exchanged), being well, and being in command of fifteen hundred men in six weeks or two months, which will not be unsatisfactory. So you see the prospect is not gloomy.

"I have heard, comparatively, little of home affairs. Frank Huntington, who is here, tells me that the last time he saw you he thought you were looking quite unwell; and I have been fearful lest your infernal city life was gradually sapping your strength. I trust you are better now, and only urge care.

"As to affairs here, I place little confidence in General Fremont's catching Price. I think the object of Price's movement is to draw from St. Louis the whole strength of the Union forces, and entice them as far away as possible, so as to prevent reinforcements to the scattered squads of men at Ironton, Cape Girardeau, Bird's Point, Cairo, and Paducah.

"It is impossible to look into the future; but I augur little success here, unless Price gives Fremont battle, and that, as I have said before, I do not believe he will do. But we have been grossly and shamefully neglected. My men — four months or more in the service — have not received any clothing or pay, nothing but arms and ammunition; and my case is the rule rather than the exception.

"We are looking to Virginia now, with great anxiety and hope mingled. If a big blow is struck there shortly, it will simplify our task amazingly.

"Kindest love to all at home. Write constantly, and believe me,

"Yours, as ever."

"ST. LOUIS, November 26, 1861.

"Dear —, — I returned yesterday from St. Joseph, where I have been reorganizing my regiment, and received all your letters in a bunch. I cannot tell you how thankful I feel for the evidence of sympathy shown by you at home, for my poor boys, who have done more arduous service, fought better and suffered more than any other men in the service.

"Fortunately now everything is changed. We have received the only complete outfit for a regiment and for four companies of cavalry ever issued from the Western Department, and my boys are rallying back with a cordiality and kindness that make me feel proud of myself.

"The regiment was thoroughly disorganized and demoralized by the delays of the department in regard to payment. The recruiting officers flocked to St. Joseph like crows to the carrion, and induced about a hundred of my boys to join other regiments.

"About two weeks ago I went to St. Joseph, and all these boys applied to come back. The present prospect is that I shall rendezvous here. I have now about five hundred men, and we only commenced recruiting ten days ago.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *

"l am a nondescript animal, which I call a triped, as yet, but I trust in a short time to be on foot once more.

"Give my very best thanks for the presents you have sent me to the kind ladies who wrought them. Tell them that these evidences of kindness are intensely felt by those who receive them in the far West. You in Massachusetts, who see your men going off thoroughly equipped and prepared for the service, can hardly conceive the destitution and ragged condition of the Missouri volunteers in past time. If I had a whole pair of breeches in my regiment at Lexington, I don't know it; but I learned there that bravery did not depend on good clothes.

"I am sorry I have not written to you before, but I have been so busy I have not thought of it. Best love to all, and believe me,

"Yours, as ever."

"ARMY OF WEST TENNESSEE,

12 miles southwest Savannah, and 18 from Corinth, Miss.,

March 31, 1862.

"DEAR FRANK, — In camp again, with a good regiment and well equipped. We are in General Prentiss's Division (twelve regiments), and I command the leading brigade. As we are the left centre division, we expect rough work. I have a fine brigade; my own regiment at the right, the Twelfth Michigan, Sixteenth Wisconsin, and Eighteenth Missouri forming the balance. We arrived here on the 28th, and have a very pleasant camp, — the boys as lively as crickets, and everything working smoothly. It is funny to be called General; but the boys are all delighted, and I think will do good service at the proper time. The enemy is supposed to be about eighteen miles from us. We have an immense army, — how large we have no means of knowing; they say, however, one hundred and twenty odd regiments, and they are arriving at the rate of two or three a day.

"As I wrote you before leaving, I have left my contract with Judge Krum of St. Louis. In case I go under, my old assistants, Kilby and John Severance, can give you all the necessary information in regard to the property involved. Say to them all at home, that if we have good luck I shall win my spurs. Love to all.

"Yours,

"Ev."

This was the last letter received from him. Shortly after the battle of Pittsburg Landing, he was reported to be severely wounded, and one of his brothers set out to go for him. He heard of Everett's death at Cairo, but went on to the battle-field, to make arrangements for bringing the body home.

The newspaper narratives of the battle are very contradictory; but after careful study, the facts appear to be as follows. Everett felt that the army was in great danger of a surprise, and sent to General Prentiss on Saturday afternoon for permission to send out a scouting party. Receiving no answer, he sent it out without permission, on Sunday morning, between three and four o'clock. This party met the Rebel column advancing, and fell back, skirmishing.

Everett had his brigade in line before the attack in force came; this was distinctly stated to his brother by officers of the brigade. The Twenty-fifth Missouri mustered six hundred on the day after the battle, which it certainly could not have done, unless the retreat had been made in good order.

While the brigade was forming, General Prentiss rode up to Everett, and reprimanded him as follows: "You have brought on an attack for which I am unprepared, and I shall hold you responsible." He replied, "General, you will soon see that I was not mistaken." As a reply to the reprimand, the remark seems not precisely appropriate, and appears rather intended to remind General Prentiss of some previous conversation, in which Everett had in vain endeavored to induce the General to prepare for an attack like this. Viewed in this light, the answer seems decisive, and is another proof that, if he had been in higher command, the attack would have been differently received.

The right of the division, under General Prentiss, was captured en masse. Colonel Peabody's brigade received an attack which it could not support; and when he found it was giving ground, he rode to the front, and exposed himself recklessly, to keep the men from retreating. His Major, an old Texan ranger, did the same, and was also killed, receiving eleven wounds; while Everett received five, namely, in the hand, thigh, neck, body, and head.

He was apparently killed about fifteen minutes after the attack struck his line. The Colonel commanding the left regiment of the brigade has since testified that an orderly came from Everett to ask him if he thought he could hold his position. He replied that he thought he could. The orderly returned to his post, but presently came back once more with the statement that Colonel Peabody was killed. He was placed in a position where a chivalrous officer was devoted to almost certain death, and he behaved just as his friends would have predicted in such an emergency.

The following letter brought the announcement of his death.

"CAMP PRENTISS, IN THE FIELD,

NEAR PITTSBUBG, TENNESSEE, April 8, 1862.

"FRANK PEABODY, Boston.

"DEAR SIR, — I have but a few minutes to write, and will devote them to performing one of the most painful duties that have devolved on me during this war.

"Your brother, Everett Peabody, Acting Brigadier-General, and commanding the First Brigade of General Prentiss's division, was killed on the morning of the 6th of April, while gallantly urging forward the men of his brigade. The ball that killed him entered the upper lip, and passed out of the back of the head. A more gallant officer or truer gentleman has not laid down his life for his coon try.

"General Prentiss's division was the first in the fight, and it sustained severe repeated shocks during the day. The men fought with desperation, but were overpowered on the first day, and had to yield some ground to vastly superior numbers.

"Yesterday, the 7th, the enemy gave way, and General Grant, being reinforced by General Buell, has routed the enemy completely. The enemy, however, in the retreat, took all the effects of officers and soldiers. They have not left anything of the General's (E. Peabody) that I can find that I could send to you as a memento, — his sword, pistols, saddle, everything, gone. We will bury him this evening in his own camp, and will mark the place."I was his aid until after he fell. In haste,

"I have the honor to be, very respectfully,

"GEORGE K. DONNELLY,

Captain Co. I, 25th Mo. Vols."

His officers buried him in a gun-box, placing at his head a board with his name, and below it the couplet: —

"A braver man ne'er died upon the field;

A warmer heart never to death did yield."

His body was afterwards carried to Boston, where the funeral arrangements were taken in charge by the Governor of Massachusetts, May 16, 1861 [sic]. It was conveyed thence to Springfield, where, on the following day, in presence of an immense concourse, it was laid beside the remains of his mother, in the beautiful cemetery which his father had designed and planned.

His strong, simple, generous, manly nature reveals itself perfectly in his letters. He died under circumstances where continued life would have been certain to bring further distinction and usefulness; and he singularly fulfilled the prediction contained in a song which he had written, years before, for an anniversary of the Boston Cadets: —

"And if the army of a foe invade our native land,

Or rank disunion gather up its lawless, faithless band,

Then the arm upon our ancient shield shall wield his blade of might,

And we '11 show our worthy brethren that gentlemen can fight."

SOURCE: Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Harvard Memorial Biographies, Volume 1 p. 161-78