Stone River, S. C,
Wednesday, April 8,
1863.
MY DEAB NICO:
I arrived here to-night at the General's headquarters and
was very pleasantly received by both him and Halpine. They are both in fine
health and spirits. Halpine is looking better than I ever saw him before. They
asked after you. On the way down I had for compagnons de voyage Generals
Vogdes and Gordon; Gordon on sick leave and Vogdes to report for duty.
I hear nothing but encouraging accounts of the fight of yesterday
in Charleston harbor. General Seymour, chief of staff, says we are sure to whip
them; much surer than we were before the attack. The monitors behaved
splendidly. The Keokuk was sunk and the Patapsco somewhat damaged, but as a
whole they encountered the furious and concentrated fire of the enemy in a
style for which even our own officers had scarcely dared to hope. The attack
will soon be resumed with greater confidence and greater certainty of what they
are able to do than before. An expedition is on for the army from which they
hope important results. The force of the enemy is much larger than ours, but
not so well posted, and as they are entirely ignorant of our plans they are
forced to scatter and distribute their strength so as greatly to diminish its
efficiency. Our troops are in good order and fine spirits apparently. I think
highly of Seymour from the way he talks; like a firm, quick and cool-headed
man. On the whole, things look well, if not very brilliant.
The General says he is going to announce me to-morrow as a
volunteer Aide without rank. I am glad of it as the thing stands. If I had not
been published as having accepted, hesitated and rejected such an appointment,
I would not now have it. But I want my abolition record clearly defined, and
that will do it better than anything else in my mind and the minds of the few
dozen people who know me. . . .
I wish you could be down here. You would enjoy it beyond
measure. The air is like June at noon and like May at morning and evening. The
scenery is tropical. The sunsets unlike anything I ever saw before. They are
not gorgeous like ours, but singularly quiet and solemn. The sun goes down over
the pines through a sky like ashes-of-roses, and hangs for an instant on the
horizon like a bubble of blood. Then there is twilight such as you dream about.
. . .
SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and
Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 72-4; Michael Burlingame,
Editor, At Lincoln’s Side: John Hay’s Civil War Correspondence and
Selected Writings, p. 32-3 where the entire letter appears.
