Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Sunday, June 28, 1863

No officer or soldier under the rank of a general is allowed into Chambersburg without a special order from General Lee, which he is very chary of giving; and I hear of officers of rank being refused this pass.

Moses proceeded into town at 11 A.M., with an official requisition for three days' rations for the whole army in this neighbourhood. These rations he is to seize by force, if not voluntarily supplied.

I was introduced to General Hood this morning; he is a tall, thin, wiry-looking man, with a grave face and a light-coloured beard, thirty-three years old, and is accounted one of the best and most promising officers in the army. By his Texan and Alabamian troops he is adored; he formerly commanded the Texan Brigade, but has now been promoted to the command of a division. His troops are accused of being a wild set, and difficult to manage; and it is the great object of the chiefs to check their innate plundering propensities by every means in their power.

I went into Chambersburg at noon, and found Lawley ensconced in the Franklin Hotel. Both he and I had much difficulty in getting into that establishment — the doors being locked, and only opened with the greatest caution. Lawley had had a most painful journey in the ambulance yesterday, and was much exhausted. No one in the hotel would take the slightest notice of him, and all scowled at me in a most disagreeable manner. Half-a-dozen Pennsylvanian viragos surrounded and assailed me with their united tongues to a deafening degree. Nor would they believe me when I told them I was an English spectator and a noncombatant: they said I must be either a Rebel or a Yankee — by which expression I learned for the first time that the term Yankee is as much used as a reproach in Pennsylvania as in the South. The sight of gold, which I exchanged for their greenbacks, brought about a change, and by degrees they became quite affable. They seemed very ignorant, and confused Texans with Mexicans.

After leaving Lawley pretty comfortable, I walked about the town and witnessed the pressing operations of Moses and his myrmidons. Neither the Mayor nor the corporation were to be found anywhere, nor were the keys of the principal stores forthcoming until Moses began to apply the axe. The citizens were lolling about the streets in a listless manner, and showing no great signs of discontent. They had left to their women the task of resisting the commissaries — a duty which they were fully competent to perform. No soldiers but those on duty were visible in the streets.

In the evening I called again to see Lawley, and found in his room an Austrian officer, in the full uniform of the Hungarian hussars. He had got a year's leave of absence, and has just succeeded in crossing the Potomac, though not without much trouble and difficulty. When he stated his intention of wearing his uniform, I explained to him the invariable custom of the Confederate soldiers, of never allowing the smallest peculiarity of dress or appearance to pass without a torrent of jokes, which, however good-humoured, ended in becoming rather monotonous.

I returned to camp at 6 P.M. Major Moses did not get back till very late, much depressed at the illsuccess of his mission. He had searched all day most indefatigably, and had endured much contumely from the Union ladies, who called him “a thievish little rebel scoundrel,” and other opprobrious epithets. But this did not annoy him so much as the manner in which everything he wanted had been sent away or hidden in private houses, which he was not allowed by General Lee's order to search. He had only managed to secure a quantity of molasses, sugar, and whisky. Poor Moses was thoroughly exhausted; but he endured the chaff of his brother officers with much good-humour, and they made him continually repeat the different names he had been called. He said that at first the women refused his Confederate “trash” with great scorn, but they ended in being very particular about the odd cents.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 247-50

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Friday, June 26, 1863

I got up a little before daylight, and, notwithstanding the drenching rain, I secured our horses, which, to my intense relief, were present. But my horse showed a back rapidly getting worse, and both looked “mean” to a degree. Lawley being ill, he declined starting in the rain, and our host became more and more surly when we stated our intention of remaining with him. However, the sight of real gold instead of Confederate paper, or even greenbacks, soothed him wonderfully, and he furnished us with some breakfast. All this time M'Laws's division was passing the door; but so strict was the discipline, that the only man who loafed in was immediately pounced upon and carried away captive. At 2 P.M., the weather having become a little clearer, we made a start, but under very unpromising circumstances. Lawley was so ill that he could hardly ride; his horse was most unsafe, and had cast a shoe; — my animal was in such a miserable state that I had not the inhumanity to ride him; — but, by the assistance of his tail, I managed to struggle through the deep mud and wet. We soon became entangled with M'Laws's division, and reached the Potomac, a distance of nine miles and a half, at 5 P.M.; the river is both wide and deep, and in fording it (for which purpose I was obliged to mount) we couldn't keep our legs out of the water. The little town of Williamsport is on the opposite bank of the river, and we were now in Maryland. We had the mortification to learn that Generals Lee and Longstreet had quitted Williamsport this morning at 11 o'clock, and were therefore obliged to toil on to Hagerstown, six miles farther. This latter place is evidently by no means Rebel in its sentiments, for all the houses were shut up, and many apparently abandoned. The few natives that were about stared at the troops with sulky indifference.

After passing through Hagerstown, we could obtain no certain information of the whereabouts of the two generals, nor could we get any willing hospitality from any one; but at 9 P.M., our horses being quite exhausted, we forced ourselves into the house of a Dutchman, who became a little more civil at the sight of gold, although the assurance that we were English travellers, and not Rebels, had produced no effect. I had walked to-day, in mud and rain, seventeen miles, and I dared not take off my solitary pair of boots, because I knew I should never get them on again.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 239-41

Salmon P. Chase to William Cullen Bryant, December 13, 1862

washington, December 13, 1862

The kind and liberal appreciation which my public conduct has always received from the “Evening Post” makes me more than ordinarily solicitous to avoid its just censure. Of course, I was not a little pained to read the article entitled “The Financial Views of Mr. Chase.”

A public man, in times of terrible trial, must often adopt expedients, not inherently immoral, which he would, in a normal condition of things, avoid. This would, I think, justify my support of a national system of banking associations, even were the plan intrinsically defective. The support of the demand, which will be created by the enactment of the plan, for bonds, will enable the Government to borrow at reasonable rates. Without that support, I confess I see nothing less than the Serbonian bog before me for our finances. In the conflict of opinions concerning it, I almost despair.

The choice is narrow. National credit supported by the organization of capital under national law, or limitless issues of notes, and — what beyond? I don't wish to look at it, or to administer the finances with no other road than that open before me.

Is it quite right, when I am struggling with almost overwhelming difficulties; when — shall I be bold to say it? — after having achieved results which, at the outset, I thought impossible, I just reach the point where not to be sustained is, perhaps, to be utterly defeated; is it quite right to say of my “central idea” that it is impossible because gold is not of uniform value at Chicago and at New York? Who ever thought of value not being uniform because not capable of sustaining such a test? Why not take my language in its common-sense acceptation, that uniform value means that value which is practically uniform — paying travelling bills everywhere, and debts everywhere in the country, having everywhere substantially equal credit founded on equal security?

Again, is it quite right to say that no aid to the Treasury is to be expected from the plan when, in the very same article, a like plan in New York is said to have advanced the bonds of New York some ten per cent above other bonds? In the report I admit frankly that I do not expect from it direct aid in money; that is, no such direct aid as is afforded by issues of circulation, or by loans. Such aid can only come when bonds are paid for in coin or notes, and no necessity exists for retiring the notes to prevent inflation. But indirect aid is not less valuable than direct, and the indirect will be immediate and immense; and it will be derived from the imparting of that strength to national bonds which the similar New York plan imparts to New York bonds. It will facilitate immediate and future loans, and be of vast advantage to every interest.

I am obliged to prepare this letter very hurriedly, but you will get my ideas.

My country engages all my best earthly thoughts and affections. Most willingly will I sacrifice all for her. To serve her, my labors have been incessant. Must I fail for the want of concord among her most devoted lovers?

Most truly yours,

S. P. Chase.

SOURCE: Parke Godwin, A Biography of William Cullen Bryant, Volume 1, p. 185-6

Diary of William Howard Russell: June 1, 1861

The respectable people of the city are menaced with two internal evils in consequence of the destitution caused by the stoppage of trade with the North and with Europe. The municipal authorities, for want of funds, threaten to close the city schools, and to disband the police; at the same time employers refuse to pay their workmen on the ground of inability. The British Consulate was thronged to-day by Irish, English, and Scotch, entreating to be sent North or to Europe. The stories told by some of these poor fellows were most pitiable, and were vouched for by facts and papers; but Mr. Mure has no funds at his disposal to enable him to comply with their prayers. Nothing remains for them but to enlist. For the third or fourth time I heard cases of British subjects being forcibly carried off to fill the ranks of so-called volunteer companies and regiments. In some instances they have been knocked down, bound, and confined in barracks, till in despair they consented to serve. Those who have friends aware of their condition were relieved by the interference of the Consul; but there are many, no doubt, thus coerced and placed in involuntary servitude without his knowledge. Mr. Mure has acted with energy, judgment, and success on these occasions; but I much wish he could have, from national sources, assisted the many distressed English subjects who thronged his office.

The great commercial community of New Orleans, which now feels the pressure of the blockade, depends on the interference of the European Powers next October. They have among them men who refuse to pay their debts to Northern houses, but they deny that they intend to repudiate, and promise to pay all who are not Black Republicans when the war is over. Repudiation is a word out of favor, as they feel the character of the Southern States and of Mr. Jefferson Davis himself has been much injured in Europe by the breach of honesty and honor of which they have been guilty; but I am assured on all sides that every State will eventually redeem all its obligations. Meantime, money here is fast vanishing. Bills on New York are worth nothing, and bills on England are at 18 per cent, discount from the par value of gold; but the people of this city will endure all this and much more to escape from the hated rule of the Yankees.

Through the present gloom come the rays of a glorious future, which shall see a grand slave confederacy enclosing the Gulf in its arms, and swelling to the shores of the Potomac and Chesapeake, with the entire control of the Mississippi and a monopoly of the great staples on which so much of the manufactures and commerce of England and France depend. They believe themselves, in fact, to be masters of the destiny of the world. Cotton is king — not alone king but czar; and coupled with the gratification and profit to be derived from this mighty agency, they look forward with intense satisfaction to the complete humiliation of their hated enemies in the New England States, to the destruction of their usurious rival New York, and to the impoverishment and ruin of the States which have excited their enmity by personal liberty bills, and have outraged and insulted them by harboring abolitionists and an anti-slavery press.

The abolitionists have said, “We will never rest till every slave is free in the United States.” Men of larger views than those have declared, “They will never rest from agitation until a man may as freely express his opinions, be they what they may, on slavery, or anything else, in the streets of Charleston or of New Orleans as in those of Boston or New York.” “Our rights are guaranteed by the Constitution,” exclaim the South. “The Constitution,” retorts Wendell Phillips, “is a league with the devil, — a covenant with hell.”

The doctrine of State Rights has been consistently advocated not only by Southern statesmen, but by the great party who have ever maintained there was danger to liberty in the establishment of a strong central Government; but the contending interests and opinions on both sides had hitherto been kept from open collision by artful compromises and by ingenious contrivances, which ceased with the election of Mr. Lincoln.

There was in the very corner-stone of the republican edifice a small fissure, which has been widening as the grand structure increased in height and weight. The early statesmen and authors of the Republic knew of its existence, but left to posterity the duty of dealing with it and guarding against its consequences. Washington himself was perfectly aware of the danger; and he looked forward to a duration of some sixty or seventy years only for the great fabric he contributed to erect. He was satisfied a crisis must come, when the States whom in his farewell address he warned against rivalry and faction would be unable to overcome the animosities excited by different interests, and the passions arising out of adverse institutions; and now that the separation has come, there is not, in the Constitution, or out of it, power to cement the broken fragments together.

It is remarkable that in New Orleans, as in New York, the opinion of the most wealthy and intelligent men in the community, so far as I can judge, regards universal suffrage as organized confiscation, legalized violence and corruption, a mortal disease in the body politic. The other night, as I sat in the club-house, I heard a discussion in reference to the operations, of the Thugs in this city, a band of native-born Americans, who at election times were wont deliberately to shoot down Irish and German voters occupying positions as leaders of their mobs. These Thugs were only suppressed by an armed vigilance committee, of which a physician who sat at table was one of the members.

Having made some purchases, and paid all my visits, I returned to prepare for my voyage up the Mississippi and visits to several planters on its banks — my first being to Governor Roman.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 249-52

Diary of Gideon Welles: Saturday, October 18, 1862

The ravages by the roving steamer 290, alias Alabama, are enormous. England should be held accountable for these outrages. The vessel was built in England and has never been in the ports of any other nation. British authorities were warned of her true character repeatedly before she left. Seward called on me in some excitement this p.m., and wished me to meet the President, himself, Stanton, and Halleck at the War Department relative to important dispatches just received. As we walked over together, he said we had been very successful in getting a dispatch, which opened up the whole Rebel proceedings, — disclosed their plans and enabled us to prepare for them; that it was evident there was a design to make an immediate attack on Washington by water, and it would be well to buy vessels forthwith if we had not a sufficient number ready for the purpose. When we entered Stanton's room, General Halleck was reading the document alluded to and examining the maps. No one else was present. Stanton had left the Department. The President was in the room of the telegraph operator. The document purported to be a dispatch from General Cooper, Assistant Secretary of War of the Confederates, to one of the Rebel agents in England. A question arose as to the authenticity of the dispatch. Halleck, who is familiar with Cooper's signature, doubted after examining the paper if this was genuine. Adjutant-General Thomas was sent for and requested to bring Cooper's signature for comparison. Seward then took the papers and commenced reading aloud. The writer spoke of “the mountains of Arlington,” “the fleet of the Potomac,” “the fleet of the North,” etc. I interrupted Seward, and said it was a clumsy manufacture; that the dispatch could have been written by no American, certainly not by General Cooper, or any person conversant with our affairs or the topography of the country; that there were no mountains of Arlington, no fleet of the Potomac, or fleet of the North. General Halleck mentioned one or two other points which impressed him that the dispatch was bogus. The President came in while we were criticizing the document, the reading of which was concluded by Seward, when the President took the papers and map to examine them. General Thomas soon brought a number of Cooper's signatures, and all were satisfied at a glance that the purported signature was fictitious.

Seward came readily to the opinion that the papers were bogus and that the consul, or minister, — he did not say which, — had been sadly imposed upon, — sold. The dispatch had, he said, cost a good deal of money. It was a palpable cheat. It may be a question whether the British authorities have not connived at it, to punish our inquisitive countrymen for trying to pry into their secrets. It is just five weeks since the Battle of Antietam, and the army is quiet, reposing in camp. The country groans, but nothing is done. Certainly the confidence of the people must give way under this fatuous inaction. We have sinister rumors of peace intrigues and strange management. I cannot give them credit, yet I know little of what is being done. The Secretary of War is reticent, vexed, disappointed, and communicates nothing. Neither he nor McClellan will inspire or aid the other.

Chase is pursuing a financial policy which I fear will prove disastrous, perhaps ruinous. His theories in regard to gold and currency appear to me puerile. General Dix is pressing schemes in regard to the blockade and trade at Norfolk which are corrupt and demoralizing. Dix himself is not selling licenses, but the scoundrels who surround him are, and he can hardly be ignorant of the fact. The gang of rotten officers on his staff have sent him here. One of the worst has his special confidence, and Dix is under the influence of this cunning, bad man. He has plundering thieves about him, — some, I fear, as destitute of position as honesty. McClellan is not accused of corruption, but of criminal inaction. His inertness makes the assertions of his opponents prophetic. He is sadly afflicted with what the President calls the “slows.” Many believe him to be acting on the army programme avowed by Key

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 175-7

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 14, 1862

Congress adjourned yesterday at five o'clock P.M. I have heard nothing of Mr. Brooks and the Passport Bill I drafted. The truth is that, with few exceptions, the members of this Congress are very weak, and very subservient to the heads of departments.

Congress has given him (the President) power to suspend the writ of habeas corpus anywhere, until thirty days after the reassembling of Congress — and they have failed to pass the joint resolution declaring no power exists under the Constitution to institute martial law. They voted it separately, but flinched when put to the test to act conjointly; and martial law still exists in this city.

We have Northern accounts of a dash into Pennsylvania by Gen. Stuart and 1500 of his cavalry. He went as far as Chambersburg, which surrendered; and he was gathering horses, etc., for the use of the army, paying for them in Confederate notes. They say he did not disturb any other description of private property without paying for it. I hope he is safely back again by this time. The Northern papers claim a victory in Kentucky — but I shall wait until we hear from Bragg.

Gen. Magruder has been assigned to duty in Texas. What Genl. Johnston is to do, does not yet appear. A great many new assistant adjutants and inspector-generals are to be appointed for the generals, lieutenant-generals, majors, and brigadier-generals, having rank and pay of colonels, majors, captains, and lieutenants of cavalry. Like the Russian, perhaps, we shall have a purely military government; and it may be as good as any other.

Gold, in the North, is selling at 23 per cent, premium; and Exchange on England at $1.40. This is an indication that the Abolitionists are bringing distress upon their own country.

The financial bill did not pass — so there is to be no forced loan. Neither did a bill, making Confederate notes a legal tender — so there will be a still greater depreciation.

Gen. Hardee is a lieutenant-general.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 169-70

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 21, 1862

Gen. Beauregard is doubly doomed. A few weeks ago, when the blackness of midnight brooded over our cause, there were some intimations, I know not whether they were well founded, that Certain high functionaries were making arrangements for a flight to France; and Gen. Beauregard getting intimation of an order to move certain sums in bullion in the custody of an Assistant Treasurer in his military department, forbid its departure until he could be certain that it was not destined to leave the Confederacy. I have not learned its ultimate destination; but the victory of the Seven Pines intervening, Gen. Beauregard has been relieved of his command, “on sick leave.” But I know his army is to be commanded permanently by Gen. Bragg. There are charges against Beauregard. It is said the Yankee army might have been annihilated at Shiloh, if Beauregard had fought a little longer.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 134-5

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: May 4, 1865

Home again at Bloomsbury. From Chester to Winnsboro we did not see one living thing, man, woman, or animal, except poor William trudging home after his sad disaster. The blooming of the gardens had a funereal effect.

Nature is so luxuriant here, she soon covers the ravages of savages. No frost has occurred since the seventh of March, which accounts for the wonderful advance in vegetation. This seems providential to these starving people. In this climate so much that is edible can be grown in two months.

At Winnsboro we stayed at Mr. Robertson's. There we left the wagon train. Only Mr. Brisbane, one of the general's couriers, came with us on escort duty. The Robertsons were very kind and hospitable, brimful of Yankee anecdotes. To my amazement the young people of Winnsboro had a May-day celebration amid the smoking ruins. Irrepressible is youth.

The fidelity of the negroes is the principal topic. There seems to be not a single case of a negro who betrayed his master, and yet they showed a natural and exultant joy at being free. After we left Winnsboro negroes were seen in the fields plowing and hoeing corn, just as in antebellum times. The fields in that respect looked quite cheerful. We did not pass in the line of Sherman's savages, and so saw some houses standing.

Mary Kirkland has had experience with the Yankees. She has been pronounced the most beautiful woman on this side of the Atlantic, and has been spoiled accordingly in all society. When the Yankees came, Monroe, their negro manservant, told her to stand up and hold two of her children in her arms, with the other two pressed as close against her knees as they could get. Mammy Selina and Lizzie then stood grimly on each side of their young missis and her children. For four mortal hours the soldiers surged through the rooms of the house. Sometimes Mary and her children were roughly jostled against the wall, but Mammy and Lizzie were stanch supporters. The Yankee soldiers taunted the negro women for their foolishness in standing by their cruel slave-owners, and taunted Mary with being glad of the protection of her poor ill-used slaves. Monroe meanwhile had one leg bandaged and pretended to be lame, so that he might not be enlisted as a soldier, and kept making pathetic appeals to Mary.

“Don't answer them back, Miss Mary,” said he. “Let ’em say what dey want to; don't answer 'em back. Don't give ’em any chance to say you are impudent to ’em.”

One man said to her: “Why do you shrink from us and avoid us so? We did not come here to fight for negroes; we hate them. At Port Royal I saw a beautiful white woman driving in a wagon with a coal-black negro man. If she had been anything to me I would have shot her through the heart.” “Oh, oh!” said Lizzie, “that's the way you talk in here. I'll remember that when you begin outside to beg me to run away with you.”

Finally poor Aunt Betsy, Mary's mother, fainted from pure fright and exhaustion. Mary put down her baby and sprang to her mother, who was lying limp in a chair, and fiercely called out, “Leave this room, you wretches! Do you mean to kill my mother? She is ill; I must put her to bed.” Without a word they all slunk out ashamed. “If I had only tried that hours ago,” she now said. Outside they remarked that she was “an insolent rebel huzzy, who thinks herself too good to speak to a soldier of the United States,” and one of them said: “Let us go in and break her mouth.” But the better ones held the more outrageous back. Monroe slipped in again and said: “Missy, for God's sake, when dey come in be sociable with 'em. Dey will kill you.”

“Then let me die.”

The negro soldiers were far worse than the white ones.

Mrs. Bartow drove with me to Mulberry. On one side of the house we found every window had been broken, every bell torn down, every piece of furniture destroyed, and every door smashed in. But the other side was intact. Maria Whitaker and her mother, who had been left in charge, explained this odd state of things. The Yankees were busy as beavers, working like regular carpenters, destroying everything when their general came in and stopped them, He told them it was a sin to destroy a fine old house like that, whose owner was over ninety years old. He would not have had it done for the world. It was wanton mischief. He explained to Maria that soldiers at such times were excited, wild, and unruly. They carried off sacks full of our books, since unfortunately they found a pile of empty sacks in the garret. Our books, our letters, our papers were afterward strewn along the Charleston road. Somebody found things of ours as far away as Vance's Ferry.

This was Potter's raid.¹ Sherman took only our horses. Potter's raid came after Johnston's surrender, and ruined us finally, burning our mills and gins and a hundred bales of cotton. Indeed, nothing is left to us now but the bare land, and the debts contracted for the support of hundreds of negroes during the war.

[A]. H. Boykin was at home at the time to look after his own interests, and he, with John de Saussure, has saved the cotton on their estates, with the mules and farming utensils and plenty of cotton as capital to begin on again. The negroes would be a good riddance. A hired man would be a good deal cheaper than a man whose father and mother, wife and twelve children have to be fed, clothed, housed, and nursed, their taxes paid, and their doctor's bills, all for his half-done, slovenly, lazy work. For years we have thought negroes a nuisance that did not pay. They pretend exuberant loyalty to us now. Only one man of Mr. Chest nut's left the plantation with the Yankees.

When the Yankees found the Western troops were not at Camden, but down below Swift Creek, like sensible folk they came up the other way, and while we waited at Chester for marching orders we were quickly ruined after the surrender. With our cotton saved, and cotton at a dollar a pound, we might be in comparatively easy circumstances. But now it is the devil to pay, and no pitch hot. Well, all this was to be.

Godard Bailey, editor, whose prejudices are all against us, described the raids to me in this wise: They were regularly organized. First came squads who demanded arms and whisky. Then came the rascals who hunted for silver, ransacked the ladies' wardrobes and scared women and children into fits — at least those who could be scared. Some of these women could not be scared. Then came some smiling, suave, well-dressed officers, who " regretted it all so much." Outside the gate officers, men, and bummers divided even, share and share alike, the piles of plunder.

When we crossed the river coming home, the ferry man at Chesnut's Ferry asked for his fee. Among us all we could not muster the small silver coin he demanded. There was poverty for you. Nor did a stiver appear among us until Molly was hauled home from Columbia, where she was waging war with Sheriff Dent's family. As soon as her foot touched her native heath, she sent to hunt up the cattle. Many of our cows were found in the swamp; like Marion's men they had escaped the enemy. Molly sells butter for us now on shares.

Old Cuffey, head gardener at Mulberry, and Yellow Abram, his assistant, have gone on in the even tenor of their way. Men may come and men may go, but they dig on forever. And they say they mean to “as long as old master is alive.” We have green peas, asparagus, lettuce, spinach, new potatoes, and strawberries in abundance — enough for ourselves and plenty to give away to refugees. It is early in May and yet two months since frost. Surely the wind was tempered to the shorn lamb in our case.

Johnny went over to see Hampton. His cavalry are ordered to reassemble on the 20th — a little farce to let themselves down easily; they know it is all over. Johnny, smiling serenely, said, “The thing is up and forever.”

Godard Bailey has presence of mind. Anne Sabb left a gold card-case, which was a terrible oversight, among the cards on the drawing-room table. When the Yankee raiders saw it their eyes glistened. Godard whispered to her: “Let them have that gilt thing and slip away and hide the silver.” “No!” shouted a Yank, “you don't fool me that way; here's your old brass thing; don't you stir; fork over that silver.'” And so they deposited the gold card-case in Godard's hands, and stole plated spoons and forks, which had been left out because they were plated. Mrs. Beach says two officers slept at her house. Each had a pillow-case crammed with silver and jewelry—" spoils of war,” they called it.

Floride Cantey heard an old negro say to his master: “When you all had de power you was good to me, and I 'll protect you now. No niggers nor Yankees shall tech you. If you want anything call for Sambo. I mean, call for Mr. Samuel; dat my name now.”

_______________

¹ The reference appears to. be to General Edward E. Potter, a native of New York City, who died in 1889. General Potter entered the Federal service early in the war. He recruited a regiment of North Carolina troops and engaged in operations in North and South Carolina and Eastern Tennessee.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 384-9

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 21, 1865

CHESTER, S. C. – Another flitting has occurred. Captain Ogden came for me; the splendid Childs was true as steel to the last. Surely he is the kindest of men. Captain Ogden was slightly incredulous when I depicted the wonders of Colonel Childs's generosity. So I skilfully led out the good gentleman for inspection, and he walked to the train with us. He offered me Confederate money, silver, and gold; and finally offered to buy our cotton and pay us now in gold. Of course, I laughed at his overflowing bounty, and accepted nothing; but I begged him to come down to Chester or Camden and buy our cotton of General Chesnut there.

On the train after leaving Lincolnton, as Captain Ogden is a refugee, has had no means of communicating with his home since New Orleans fell, and was sure to know how refugees contrive to live, I beguiled the time acquiring information from him. “When people are without a cent, how do they live?” I asked. “I am about to enter the noble band of homeless, houseless refugees, and Confederate pay does not buy one's shoe-strings.” To which he replied, “Sponge, Sponge. Why did you not let Colonel Childs pay your bills?” “I have no bills,” said I. “We have never made bills anywhere, not even at home, where they would trust us, and nobody would trust me in Lincolnton.” “Why did you not borrow his money? General Chesnut could pay him at his leisure?” “I am by no means sure General Chesnut will ever again have any money,” said I.

As the train rattled and banged along, and I waved my handkerchief in farewell to Miss Middleton, Isabella, and other devoted friends, I could only wonder if fate would ever throw me again with such kind, clever, agreeable, congenial companions? The McLeans refused to be paid for their rooms. No plummet can sound the depths of the hospitality and kindness of the North Carolina people.

Misfortune dogged us from the outset. Everything went wrong with the train. We broke down within two miles of Charlotte, and had to walk that distance; which was pretty rough on an invalid barely out of a fever. My spirit was further broken by losing an invaluable lace veil, which was worn because I was too poor to buy a cheaper one—that is, if there were any veils at all for sale in our region.

My husband had ordered me to a house in Charlotte kept by some great friends of his. They established me in the drawing-room, a really handsome apartment; they made up a bed there and put in a washstand and plenty of water, with everything refreshingly clean and nice. But it continued to be a public drawing-room, open to all, so that I was half dead at night and wanted to go to bed. The piano was there and the company played it.

The landlady announced, proudly, that for supper there were nine kinds of custard. Custard sounded nice and light, so I sent for some, but found it heavy potato pie. I said: “Ellen, this may kill me, though Dover's powder did not.” “Don't you believe dat, Missis; try.” We barricaded ourselves in the drawing-room that night and left the next day at dawn. Arrived at the station, we had another disappointment; the train was behind time. There we sat on our boxes nine long hours; for the cars might come at any moment, and we dared not move an inch from the spot.

Finally the train rolled in overloaded with paroled prisoners, but heaven helped us: a kind mail agent invited us, with two other forlorn women, into his comfortable and clean mail-car. Ogden, true to his theory, did not stay at the boarding-house as we did. Some Christian acquaintances took him in for the night. This he explained with a grin.

My husband was at the Chester station with a carriage. We drove at once to Mrs. Da Vega's.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 367-9

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: January 16, 1865

My husband is at home once more — for how long, I do not know. His aides fill the house, and a group of hopelessly wounded haunt the place. The drilling and the marching go on outside. It rains a flood, with freshet after freshet. The forces of nature are befriending us, for our enemies have to make their way through swamps.

A month ago my husband wrote me a letter which I promptly suppressed after showing it to Mrs. McCord. He warned us to make ready, for the end had come. Our resources were exhausted, and the means of resistance could not be found. We could not bring ourselves to believe it, and now, he thinks, with the railroad all blown up, the swamps made impassable by the freshets, which have no time to subside, so constant is the rain, and the negroes utterly apathetic (would they be so if they saw us triumphant?), if we had but an army to seize the opportunity we might do something; but there are no troops; that is the real trouble.

To-day Mrs. McCord exchanged $16,000 in Confederate bills for $300 in gold — sixteen thousand for three hundred.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 341-2

Diary of Salmon P. Chase: Tuesday, September 30, 1862

The papers this morning confirm the news of Nelson's death. He died as the fool dieth. How sad! His early services to the Union cause in Kentucky — his generous and manly nature—his fine talents and great energy — compelled my admiration and esteem; while his cruelty and passion and tyranny, especially when excited by drink, often excited my indignation. Nothing from any quarter of much importance in a military point of view.

Genl. Garfield, at breakfast, related this: When Genl. Buell's army was on the march to Nashville, a regiment passed in front of the house of Genl. Pillow's brother, where was a spring of good water and a little stream issuing from it. As the soldiers quenched their thirst and filled their canteens and watered their horses at the stream, Pillow came out and cursed the men, forbidding them to take water and saying that if he were younger he would fight against the Yankees until the last man of them was killed or driven home. A Lieutenant commanding the Company then having expostulated with him without effect and finding the army likely to be delayed by his interference, directed him to be put under arrest, and sent him to the Colonel. It happened that this Colonel was an admirer of Miss Stevenson — a young lady of Nashville, a niece of Pillow and a violent Secessionist — and had been in the habit of sending the Regimental Band to serenade her with “Dixie” and the like, not playing any National airs. As soon as he understood who Pillow was, therefore, he discharged him from arrest and apologized for it; and at the same time arrested the young Lieutenant. Pillow returned to his house, mounted his horse and rode to Genl. Buell's Headquarters and complained that a slave of his had escaped and was somewhere in the army. Buell gave him leave to hunt for him and with this warrant he rode where he pleased. After fully satisfying himself he went on to Corinth and gave Beauregard a full account of Buell's force and rate of advance. This information led to an attack on Grant's division, which Beauregard hoped to destroy before Buell should come—and he almost succeeded in doing it.

At Department received a note from Seward, with memorandum by Stuart, Acting British Minister, of conversations with Seward about cotton. From this memorandum, it appears that Butler's order of August, authorizing free purchases even from Slidell, and Grant's order annulling Sherman's prohibition of payments in Gold, were, if not motived by Seward, fully approved by him and made the basis of assurances that no hindrance to purchase and payment on cotton for rebels would be interposed by this government. Afterwards, or about the time of these orders, Seward proposed the same policy of substantially unrestricted purchase for money, to me; and I was at first, in view of the importance of a supply of cotton, inclined to adopt it; but reflection and information from Special Agents in the Mississippi Valley changed my views. The subject was also brought up in Cabinet, and Seward proposed liberty to purchase 500,000 bales. Stanton and I opposed this, and the President sided with us and the subject was dropped. I then proposed to frame Regulations for trade to and from Insurrectionary Districts, in which was included prohibitions of payments in gold.

To this prohibition Stuart now objects as in contravention to Seward's assurances connected with Butler's and Grant's orders.

After considering the whole subject, I addressed a letter to Seward declining to change the existing Regulation as to payments in gold.

Received letter from himself, stating difficulty between himself and Agent Gallagher as to Confiscation. — Mellen thinking that antecedents of cotton, as to liability to confiscation in prior hands and notice to present holders, should not be investigated; Gallagher contra. Wrote Mellen that his view is approved — thinking this may relieve Seward.

SOURCE: Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 98-100

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: May 8, 1864

CAMDEN, S.C., May 8, 1864. – My friends crowded around me so in those last days in Richmond, I forgot the affairs of this nation utterly; though I did show faith in my Confederate country by buying poor Bones's (my English maid's) Confederate bonds. I gave her gold thimbles, bracelets; whatever was gold and would sell in New York or London, I gave.

My friends in Richmond grieved that I had to leave them—not half so much, however, as I did that I must come away. Those last weeks were so pleasant. No battle, no murder, no sudden death, all went merry as a marriage bell. Clever, cordial, kind, brave friends rallied around me.

Maggie Howell and I went down the river to see an exchange of prisoners. Our party were the Lees, Mallorys, Mrs. Buck Allan, Mrs. Ould. We picked up Judge Ould and Buck Allan at Curl's Neck. I had seen no genuine Yankees before; prisoners, well or wounded, had been German, Scotch, or Irish. Among our men coming ashore was an officer, who had charge of some letters for a friend of mine whose fiancé had died; I gave him her address. One other man showed me some wonderfully ingenious things he had made while a prisoner. One said they gave him rations for a week; he always devoured them in three days, he could not help it; and then he had to bear the inevitable agony of those four remaining days! Many were wounded, some were maimed for life. They were very cheerful. We had supper — or some nondescript meal — with ice-cream on board. The band played Home, Sweet Home.

One man tapped another on the shoulder: '”Well, how do you feel, old fellow?” “Never was so near crying in my life — for very comfort.”

Governor Cummings, a Georgian, late Governor of Utah, was among the returned prisoners. He had been in prison two years. His wife was with him. He was a striking-looking person, huge in size, and with snow-white hair, fat as a prize ox, with no sign of Yankee barbarity or starvation about him.

That evening, as we walked up to Mrs. Davis's carriage, which was waiting for us at the landing, Dr. Garnett with Maggie Howell, Major Hall with me, suddenly I heard her scream, and some one stepped back in the dark and said in a whisper. “Little Joe! he has killed himself!” I felt reeling, faint, bewildered. A chattering woman clutched my arm: “Mrs. Davis's son? Impossible. Whom did you say? Was he an interesting child? How old was he?” The shock was terrible, and unnerved as I was I cried, “For God's sake take her away!”

Then Maggie and I drove two long miles in silence except for Maggie's hysterical sobs. She was wild with terror. The news was broken to her in that abrupt way at the carriage door so that at first she thought it had all happened there, and that poor little Joe was in the carriage.

Mr. Burton Harrison met us at the door of the Executive Mansion. Mrs. Semmes and Mrs. Barksdale were there, too. Every window and door of the house seemed wide open, and the wind was blowing the curtains. It was lighted, even in the third story. As I sat in the drawing-room, I could hear the tramp of Mr. Davis's step as he walked up and down the room above. Not another sound. The whole house as silent as death. It was then twelve o'clock; so I went home and waked General Chesnut, who had gone to bed. We went immediately back to the President's, found Mrs. Semmes still there, but saw no one but her. We thought some friends of the family ought to be in the house.

Mrs. Semmes said when she got there that little Jeff was kneeling down by his brother, and he called out to her in great distress: “Mrs. Semmes, I have said all the prayers I know how, but God will not wake Joe.'”

Poor little Joe, the good child of the family, was so gentle and affectionate. He used to run in to say his prayers at his father's knee. Now he was laid out somewhere above us, crushed and killed. Mrs. Semmes, describing the accident, said he fell from the high north piazza upon a brick pavement. Before I left the house I saw him lying there, white and beautiful as an angel, covered with flowers; Catherine, his nurse, flat on the floor by his side, was weeping and wailing as only an Irishwoman can.

Immense crowds came to the funeral, everybody sympathetic, but some shoving and pushing rudely. There were thousands of children, and each child had a green bough or a bunch of flowers to throw on little Joe's grave, which was already a mass of white flowers, crosses, and evergreens. The morning I came away from Mrs. Davis's, early as it was, I met a little child with a handful of snow drops. “Put these on little Joe,” she said; “I knew him so well.” and then she turned and fled without another word. I did not know who she was then or now.

As I walked home I met Mr. Reagan, then Wade Hampton. But I could see nothing but little Joe and his brokenhearted mother. And Mr. Davis's step still sounded in my ears as he walked that floor the livelong night.

General Lee was to have a grand review the very day we left Richmond. Great numbers of people were to go up by rail to see it. Miss Turner McFarland writes: “They did go, but they came back faster than they went. They found the army drawn up in battle array.” Many of the brave and gay spirits that we saw so lately have taken flight, the only flight they know, and their bodies are left dead upon the battle-field. Poor old Edward Johnston is wounded again, and a prisoner. Jones's brigade broke first; he was wounded the day before.

At Wilmington we met General Whiting. He sent us to the station in his carriage, and bestowed upon us a bottle of brandy, which had run the blockade. They say Beauregard has taken his sword from Whiting. Never! I will not believe it. At the capture of Fort Sumter they said Whiting was the brains, Beauregard only the hand. Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou fallen! That they should even say such a thing!

My husband and Mr. Covey got out at Florence to procure for Mrs. Miles a cup of coffee. They were slow about it and they got left. I did not mind this so very much, for I remembered that we were to remain all day at Kingsville, and that my husband could overtake me there by the next train. My maid belonged to the Prestons. She was only traveling home with me, and would go straight on to Columbia. So without fear I stepped off at Kingsville. My old Confederate silk, like most Confederate dresses, had seen better days, and I noticed that, like Oliver Wendell Holmes's famous “one-hoss shay,” it had gone to pieces suddenly, and all over. It was literally in strips. I became painfully aware of my forlorn aspect when I asked the telegraph man the way to the hotel, and he was by no means respectful to me. I was, indeed, alone — an old and not too respectable-looking woman. It was my first appearance in the character, and I laughed aloud.

A very haughty and highly painted dame greeted me at the hotel. “No room,” said she. “Who are you?” I gave my name. “Try something else,” said she. "Mrs. Chesnut don't travel round by herself with no servants and no nothing.” I looked down. There I was, dirty, tired, tattered, and torn. “Where do you come from?” said she. “My home is in Camden.” “Come, now, I know everybody in Camden.” I sat down meekly on a bench in the piazza, that was free to all wayfarers.

“Which Mrs. Chesnut?” said she (sharply). “I know both.” “I am now the only one. And now what is the matter with you? Do you take me for a spy? I know you perfectly well. I went to school with you at Miss Henrietta de Leon's, and my name was Mary Miller.” “The Lord sakes alive! and to think you are her! Now I see. Dear! dear me! Heaven sakes, woman, but you are broke!” “And tore,” I added, holding up my dress. “But I had had no idea it was so difficult to effect an entry into a railroad wayside hotel.” I picked up a long strip of my old black dress, torn off by a man's spur as I passed him getting off the train.

It is sad enough at Mulberry without old Mrs. Chesnut, who was the good genius of the place. It is so lovely here in spring. The giants of the forest — the primeval oaks, water-oaks, live-oaks, willow-oaks, such as I have not seen since I left here — with opopanax, violets, roses, and yellow jessamine, the air is laden with perfume. Araby the Blest was never sweeter.

Inside, are creature comforts of all kinds — green peas, strawberries, asparagus, spring lamb, spring chicken, fresh eggs, rich, yellow butter, clean white linen for one's beds, dazzling white damask for one's table. It is such a contrast to Richmond, where I wish I were.

Fighting is going on. Hampton is frantic, for his laggard new regiments fall in slowly; no fault of the soldiers; they are as disgusted as he is. Bragg, Bragg, the head of the War Office, can not organize in time.

John Boykin has died in a Yankee prison. He had on a heavy flannel shirt when lying in an open platform car on the way to a cold prison on the lakes. A Federal soldier wanted John's shirt. Prisoners have no rights; so John had to strip off and hand his shirt to him. That caused his death. In two days he was dead of pneumonia — may be frozen to death. One man said: “They are taking us there to freeze.” But then their men will find our hot sun in August and July as deadly as our men find their cold Decembers. Their snow and ice finish our prisoners at a rapid rate, they say. Napoleon's soldiers found out all that in the Russian campaign.

Have brought my houseless, homeless friends, refugees here, to luxuriate in Mulberry's plenty. I can but remember the lavish kindness of the Virginia people when I was there and in a similar condition. The Virginia people do the rarest acts of hospitality and never seem to know it is not in the ordinary course of events.

The President's man, Stephen, bringing his master's Arabian to Mulberry for safe-keeping, said: “Why, Missis, your niggers down here are well off. I call this Mulberry place heaven, with plenty to eat, little to do, warm house to sleep in, a good church.”

John L. Miller, my cousin, has been killed at the head of his regiment. The blows now fall so fast on our heads they are bewildering. The Secretary of War authorizes General Chesnut to reorganize the men who have been hitherto detailed for special duty, and also those who have been exempt. He says General Chesnut originated the plan and organized the corps of clerks which saved Richmond in the Dahlgren raid.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 304-9

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: February 12, 1863

We have lately had a little fight on the Blackwater. The Yankees intended to take General Pryor by surprise, but he was wide awake, and ready to receive and repulse them handsomely. The late democratic majorities at the North seem to have given the people courage; denunciations are heard against the despotism of the Government. Gold has gone up to 160, causing a ferment. Oh that they would “bite and devour one another!” Since I have been so occupied in nursing B. I have not had as much time for the hospital, but go when I can. A few days ago, on going there in the morning, I found Miss T. deeply interested about a soldier who had been brought in the evening before. The gentleman who accompanied him had found him in the pouring rain, wandering about the streets, shivering with cold, and utterly unable to tell his own story. The attendants quickly replaced his wet clothes by dry ones, and put him into a warm bed; rubbing and warm applications were resorted to, and a surgeon administered restoratives. Physical reaction took place, but no clearing of the mind. When soothingly asked about his name, his home, and his regiment, he would look up and speak incoherently, but no light was thrown on the questions. He was watched and nursed during the night. His pulse gradually weakened, and by the break of day he was no more. That morning I found the nameless, homeless boy on the couch which I had so often seen similarly occupied. The wind had raised one corner of the sheet, and as I approached to replace it a face was revealed which riveted me to the spot. It was young, almost boyish, and though disease and death had made sad ravages, they could not conceal delicately-carved features, a high, fair forehead, and light hair, which had been well cared for. He looked like one of gentle blood. All seemed so mysterious, my heart yearned over him, and my tears fell fast. Father, mother, sisters, brothers — where are they? The morning papers represented the case, and called for information. He may have escaped in delirium from one of the hospitals! That evening, kind, gentle hands placed him in his soldier's coffin, and he had Christian burial at “Hollywood,” with the lonely word “Stranger” carved upon the headboard. We trust that the sad story in the papers may meet some eye of which he had once been the light, for he was surely “Somebody's Darling.” Sweet lines have been written, of which this sad case reminds me:—

Into a ward of the whitewashed walls,

      Where the dead and dying lay—

Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls—

      Somebody's darling was borne one day:—

Somebody's darling I so young and brave,

      Wearing yet on his sweet, pale face—

Soon to be hid in the dust of the grave—

      The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.

Matted and damp are the curls of gold,

      Kissing the snow of that fair young brow;

Pale are the lips of delicate mould—

      Somebody's darling is dying now.

Back from the beautiful, blue-veined brow,

      Brush his wandering waves of gold;

Cross his hand on his bosom now—

      Somebody's darling is still and cold.

Kiss him once for somebody's sake;

      Murmur a prayer soft and low;

One bright curl from its fair mates take,—

      They were somebody's pride, you know

Somebody's hand hath rested there;

      Was it a mother's, soft and white?

Or have the lips of a sister fair

      Been baptized in their waves of light?

God knows best! He has somebody's love .

      Somebody's heart enshrined him there;

Somebody wafted his name above,

      Night and morn, on wings of prayer.

Somebody wept when he marched away,

      Looking so handsome, brave, and grand

Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay;

      Somebody clung to his parting hand.

Somebody's watching and waiting for him,

      Yearning to hold him again to her heart;

And there he lies with his blue eyes dim,

      And the smiling, childlike lips apart.

Tenderly bury the fair young dead,

      Pausing to drop on his grave a tear;

Carve on a wooden slab o'er his head—

      “Somebody's darling slumbers here!”

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 188-91

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: September 6, 1861

We are not increasing our forces as rapidly as might be desired, for the want of arms. We had some 150,000 stand of small arms, at the beginning of the war, taken from the arsenals; and the States owned probably 100,000 more. Half of these were flint-locks, which are being altered. None have been imported yet. Occasionally a letter reaches the department from Nashville, offering improved arms at a high price, for gold. These are Yankees. I am instructed by the Secretary to say they will be paid for in gold on delivery to an agent in Nashville. The number likely to be obtained in this manner, however, must be small; for the Yankee Government is exercising much vigilance. Is not this a fair specimen of Yankee cupidity and character? The New England manufacturers are furnishing us, with whom they are at war, with arms to fight with, provided we agree to pay them a higher price than is offered by their own Government! The philosophical conclusion is, that this war will end when it ceases to be a pecuniary speculation.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 78

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 2, 1861

My wife had a little gold among her straightened finances; and having occasion to purchase some article of dress, she obtained seven and a half per cent, premium. The goods began to go up in price, as paper money fell in value. At Montgomery I bought a pair of fine French boots for $10 in gold — but packed my old ones in the top of my trunk. I was under the necessity, likewise, of buying a linen coat, which cost only $3.50. What will be the price of such commodities a year hence if the blockade continues? It is fearful to contemplate! And yet it ought to be considered. Boarding is rising rapidly, and so are the bloodthirsty insects at the Carleton House.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 47

Lieutenant-General James Longstreet to General Robert E. Lee, March 7, 1865

HEADQUARTERS FIRST ARMY CORPS,

March 7, 1865.

General R. E. LEE, Commanding:

GENERAL: I received a letter yesterday from a friend in the interior of North Carolina assuring me that there are large quantities of provisions in the State; that many have two and three years' supply on hand; and that gold will bring anything that we need to our armies. The gold is in the country, and most of it is lying idle. Let us take it at once, and [use] it to save Richmond and end the war. If we hold Richmond and save our cotton, the war cannot last more than a year longer. If we give up Richmond we shall never be recognized by foreign powers until the Government of the United States sees fit to recognize us. If we hold Richmond and let the enemy have our cotton, it seems to me that we shall furnish him the means to carry on the war against us. It looks to me as though the enemy had found that our policy of destroying the cotton rather than let it fall into their hands would break them down, and that it has forced them to the policy of sending on here to make a contract to feed and clothe our armies, in order that they may get the means of carrying on the war of subjugation. If we will keep our cotton and use our gold our work will be comparatively easy.

I remain, respectfully, your obedient servant,

J. LONGSTREET,

Lieutenant-General.

SOURCES: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 46, Part 2 (Serial No. 96), p. 1289; James Longstreet, From Manassas to Appomattox, p. 649-50

Lieutenant-General James Longstreet to General Robert E. Lee, February 25, 1865

HEADQUARTERS FIRST CORPS,

February 25, 1865.

General R. E. LEE,

Commanding:

GENERAL: I have just heard from General Ewell indirectly that he can raise force enough at Richmond to hold the lines on this side, so that my corps may be withdrawn temporarily to your right – that is, if you can put a part of the Second Corps in place of Pickett's division. This arrangement will give you force enough to meet any move that the enemy may make upon your right. If he makes no move, then you can, when the proper moment arrives, detach a force to the aid of General Beauregard; and if the enemy should then press you, you can abandon Petersburg and hold your line here and take up the line of the Appomattox. But I think that the enemy will be forced to move a force south the moment that he finds that you are re-enforcing against Sherman, else he will encounter the risk of losing Sherman as well as Richmond. There is some hazard in the plan, but nothing can be accomplished in war without risk. The other important question is provisions. We are doing tolerably well by hauling from the country and paying market prices in Confederate money. If you would give us gold, I have reason to believe that we could get an abundant supply for four months, and by that time we ought to be able to reopen our communication with the south. The gold is here, and we should take it. We have been impressing food and all the necessaries of life from women and children, and have been the means of driving thousands from their homes in destitute condition. Should we hesitate, then, about putting a few who have made immense fortunes at our expense to a little inconvenience by impressing their gold? It is necessary for us, and I do not think that we should let our capital fall into, the enemy's hands for fear of injuring the feelings or interests of a few individuals. We have expended too much of blood and treasure in holding it for the last four years to allow it to go now by default. I think that it may be saved. If it can we should not leave any possible contingency unimproved I think, however, that the enemy's positions are so well selected and fortified that we must either wait for an opportunity to draw him off from here or await his attack, for even a successful assault would probably cripple us so much that we could get no advantage commensurate with our loss.

I remain, with respect, and truly your obedient servant,

 J. LONGSTREET,

Lieutenant-General.

SOURCES: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 46, Part 2 (Serial No. 96), p. 1259; James Longstreet, From Manassas to Appomattox, p. 646-7 which dates this letter as February 26, 1865.

General Robert E. Lee to Lieutenant General James Longstreet, February 25, 1865

HEAD-QUARTERS, February 25, 1865.

GENERAL, — I have received your letters of the 23d and 24th insts. I fear I did not entirely comprehend your views expressed in your letter of the 14th. I think, however, my reply meets your supposition, in the event of concentration by the enemy. I shall in that case unite all the forces possible. I think you are misinformed as to the number of men in Lynchburg. At my last call upon General Colston, commissary there, he said he had not one hundred men, and they were unarmed. I am very glad to hear that General Ewell can get force enough from Richmond to man the lines north of James River. I know him to be a brave old soldier, ready to attempt anything, but I do not know where he will find the men. Please see him and get a definite statement, for if that can be done it will lighten our labor considerably. You cannot afford to keep your wagons by you. They will have to be kept collecting provisions, forage, etc., or you will starve. I am making great efforts to gather supplies, and send you some documents which will show what the commissary-general is doing in addition to the operations of the officers of his department. It will be a grievous thing to be obliged to abandon our position, and I hope the necessity will never arise, but it would be more grievous to lose our army. I am fully alive to the benefits of procuring gold, but fear it cannot be obtained in the way you suggest; still, I will try. I am much gratified by the earnestness and zeal you display in our operations; and were our whole population animated by the same spirit, we should be invincible. The last reports from S. C. indicated that Sherman was turning eastward. It may be to reach the Pedee in search of supplies.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

R. E. LEE,

General.

GENERAL LONGSTREET,

Commanding, etc.

SOURCE:  James Longstreet, From Manassas to Appomattox, p. 645-6

Lieutenant-General James Longstreet to General Robert E. Lee, February 23, 1865

[CONFIDENTIAL.]

HEADQUARTERS FIRST ARMY CORPS,

February 23, 1865.

General R. E. LEE,

Commanding, &c.:

GENERAL: Your letter of yesterday is received. I think you did not understand my letter of the 14th instant. My effort was to express my conviction that Sherman's move was aimed at Richmond, and that Grant's concentration here would force us to do the same thing, and that we might be able to do so it was necessary that we should get gold by impressment to purchase our provisions with. I think that it is not too late yet. We can surely get the gold by sending the impressing officers with guards to the vaults in which it is stored.

I understand that there are 1,200 men in Lynchburg – locals and detailed men – already organized, and that we may get 8,000 or 10,000 men from Richmond by taking everybody who is able to bear arms. The staff officers about Richmond would be nearly enough to officer this force. If such a force can be raised and put in my lines it can hold them, I think, and my corps can run down to the relief of General Beauregard, or it may be moved over to our right, and hold Grant in check, so that Sherman will be obliged to unite with him, or seek a base at New Berne or Wilmington. This would give Beauregard and Bragg time to unite their forces to meet Sherman and Schofield here, or wherever they may appear. I am of the opinion that there is not much fight in Grant's army, and there can't be a great deal in Sherman's after his long march. I believe, therefore, that we can beat either back, by a little skillful handling of our men. We shall lose more men by a move than by a battle. It is true that we might be compelled to move after the battle, but I think not. If we fight Sherman as I suggest, we shall surely drive him to the water for fresh supplies, even if we are not otherwise successful. Then we shall have time to concentrate as soon as Grant, and to reopen our line of communication with the south.

The local and other troops that we may get from Richmond and Lynchburg will have tolerably comfortable huts, and there will be enough old soldiers amongst them to teach them picket duty. There are also some cavalrymen who can aid them.

I should think that Grant, if he moves, can only make a partial move, Similar to his last, and that would not injure us very materially.

In preparing to take the field, in view of the abandonment of Richmond, is it your desire to keep our wagons about our camps, that we may move at once? Our wagons are out all the time gathering supplies, and at times at some distance, so that a very sudden move would leave them behind. Shall we continue to send them, or keep them with us?

My ideas are given rather hastily upon so grave a matter, as I only received your letter this afternoon. I will write again to-morrow, if I find that I can give you any aid. I am firm in the belief that if Sherman is trying to reach the Roanoke, at Weldon, and then get around our right, he cannot hurt us greatly, if we can get Beauregard's army up.

I remain very respectfully, your obedient servant,

 J. LONGSTREET,

Lieutenant-General.

SOURCES: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 46, Part 2 (Serial No. 96), p. 1253-4; James Longstreet, From Manassas to Appomattox, p. 644-5

General Robert E. Lee to Lieutenant-General James Longstreet, February 22, 1865

HEADQUARTERS ARMIES OF THE CONFEDERATE STATES,

February 22, 1865.

Lieut. Gen. J. LONGSTREET,

Commanding, &c.:

GENERAL: Your letter of the 14th instant is received. It arrived during my absence in Richmond, and has not been overlooked. I agree with you entirely in believing that if we had gold we could get sufficient supplies for our army, but the great difficulty is to obtain the gold. It is not in the coffers of the Government or the banks, but in principally hoarded by individuals throughout the country, and is inaccessible to us. I hope under the reorganization of the Commissary Department, if we can maintain possession of our communications, that the army will be better supplied than heretofore, and that we can accumulate some provisions ahead. As regards the concentration of our troops near the capital, the effect would be to produce a like concentration of the enemy, and an increase of our difficulties in obtaining food and forage. But this, whether for good or evil, is now being accomplished by the enemy, who seems to be forcing Generals Beauregard and Bragg in this direction. If Sherman marches his army to Richmond, as General Beauregard reports it is his intention to do, and General Schofield is able to unite with him, we shall have to abandon our position on the James River, as lamentable as it is on every account. The want of supplies alone would force us to withdraw when the enemy reaches the Roanoke. Our line is so long, extending nearly from the Chickahominy to the Nottoway, and the enemy is so clone upon us that if we are obliged to withdraw, we cannot concentrate all our troops nearer than some point on the line of railroad between Richmond and Danville. Should a necessity therefore arise I propose to concentrate at or near Burkeville. The route for the troops north of James River would have to be through Richmond, on the road to Amelia Court-House, the cavalry passing up the north branch of the river and crossing at some point above Richmond. Pickett's division would take the route through Chesterfield Court-House, crossing the Appomattox at Goode's Bridge. With the army concentrated at or near Burkeville, our communications north and south would be by that railroad and west by the South Side Railroad. We might also seize the opportunity of striking at Grant, should he pursue us rapidly, or at Sherman, before they could unite.

I wish you to consider this subject, and give me your views. I desire you also to make every preparation to take the field at a moment's notice, and to accumulate all the supplies you can. General Grant seems to be preparing to move out by his left flank. He is accumulating near Hatcher's Run depots of supplies, and apparently concentrating a strong force in that quarter. Yesterday and to-day trains have passed from his right to his left loaded with troops, which may be the body of 8,000 which you report having left Signal Hill yesterday. I cannot tell whether it is his intention to maintain his position until his other columns approach nearer, or to anticipate any movement by us which he might suppose would then become necessary. I wish you would watch closely his movements on the north side of the river, and try and ascertain whether he is diminishing his force. If he makes the move which appearances now indicate he may draw out his whole force, abandoning his lines of defense, or hold them partially and move with the remainder of his troops.

I should like very much to confer with you on these subjects, but I fear it will be impossible for me to go north of James River, and I do not know that it will be convenient for you to come here.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

R. E. LEE,

General.

P. S. – Can you not return Pickett's brigade to him in order that I may withdraw Grimes' brigade from his line, its division having been ordered to our right.

R. E. L.

SOURCES: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 46, Part 2 (Serial No. 96), p. 1250-1; James Longstreet, From Manassas to Appomattox, p. 643-4