Private John C. West to Mary Stark West, June 8, 1863

CAMP NEAR CULPEPPER,        

JUNE 8TH, 1863.

MY PRECIOUS WIFE:

I have determined to write you another letter, although I cannot do so with the satisfaction it usually affords me, for I feel so uncertain whether you will ever read what I write.

In this I shall attempt a hurried sketch of the past ten days, unless I am interrupted by an order to leave before I get through. Already, since I have commenced this, we have received notice to be ready to march at the sound of the bugle, which may mean in ten minutes, or ten hours, so you see under what difficulties I write to my sweetheart. On yesterday week we left our camp on the Rapidan, from which I last wrote you, and took a hot and dusty march of sixteen miles towards Fredericksburg, and on the next morning were ordered to retrace our steps and took the same wearisome march and camped near our old ground, where we remained until Thursday morning at daylight, and then proceeded to this place, making another hot and toilsome march of sixteen miles. We remained here until Saturday at 12 o'clock m., when we started and marched towards the Rappahannock until 10 o'clock at night. This was a severe march. It rained for two hours in the afternoon and I was completely soaked. It kept drizzling on until daylight. About 10 o'clock at night we were ordered to halt and camp, "without fires," as the Yanks were not far off. It was a novel sight to me to see or rather to hear 20,000 or 30,000 men rushing into the woods on the side of the road to (here comes orders to march at 12 o'clock) secure a place to lie down. We all laid down on "the cold ground" like tired hounds after a chase.

Jim Manahan, Tom Selman and myself laid down together. I was very wet, but very weary. I spent a few minutes listening to the hum of 10,000 tongues cursing the Yankees, talking of home and thinking of how pleasant it would be to take a bath and a toddy, and how sad my wife would feel if she knew all that I was undergoing. I was glad that she did not know it for I did not suffer when I called to mind that these hardships were for the good of my country and the cause of liberty. Amid all this I could not suppress a laugh to hear the expressions of some wayworn chap as a straggler would creep into the bushes and grope about for a place to spread his blanket. I could hear, "get off my hand," "now you are on my foot," "for heaven's sake," (or something worse), "keep your feet out of my face," "Oh, my back, you are right on top of me," "you weigh six hundred pounds," etc., etc.

In the course of an hour all was quiet save the riding back and forth of couriers, which I could hear all night as our "bed" was not more than a foot from the ruts in the road. I could put my hand out in the mud three or four inches deep, but I slept pretty well, and waked at daylight well and heard the order to retrace our steps to our camp near Culpepper. We formed and started back. It was my turn to stand guard, so I was put as part of the rear guard for our regiment, and marched back to this place, which we reached about 2 o'clock yesterday afternoon. I remained on guard until 8 o'clock this morning. I got by the fire a while last night and looked at your daguerreotype by the light of it, and felt happy in the thought of once more meeting you and talking over the dangers which I am now passing through. I feel sure that we shall meet the Yanks in the course of three weeks, but cannot tell when.

All of our movements are inexplicable to me. We never know anything. Even a colonel cannot tell until he starts from camp in which direction he is going, whether North or South. This secrecy is the secret of the success of this army. I forgot to say above, that, as a matter of amusement, and to keep us from getting stiff, we were marched on last Friday six miles off to witness a review of Stuart's cavalry; it was a grand display; 10,000 or 12,000 mounted men is more than I expected to see at one sight. I saw Wat Taylor, but Lamar Stark was off on duty across the river. We returned to camp at night, making twelve miles "for fun" and left the next day at 1 o'clock, as I stated above, so you will see that we have been on the wing for nearly ten days. This marching and countermarching is what they call "Demonstrations," and if they accomplish the objects for which I left my friends I am perfectly satisfied. The marching is no great trouble to me, but twenty or thirty pounds of baggage gets heavy before night, especially in wet weather, on a slippery hillside—when one is so much fatigued that to sneeze or blow his nose jostles him from one side of the road to the other. I saw a great many poor fellows barefooted in the marches of which I have written, but we got some shoes this morning, and I hope we will get on better. Don't forget Stark's lessons and Mary's letters. Kiss them for me and tell the servants howdy. I must stop now and get ready to leave. I hope to hear from you some of these days. I have not received a line yet.

Your husband, faithfully ever,

JOHN C. WEST.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 69-73

Private John C. West to Miss Decca Stark, June 23, 1863

CAMP NEAR MILLWOOD, TWENTY MILES                

WEST OF HARPER'S FERRY        ,

JUNE 23RD, 1863.

To Miss Decca Stark, Columbia, South Carolina:

DEAR DECCA: Yours of the 6th inst., with one from Miss Nannie Norton of the same date reached me about eight days ago, and I have not had a moment since to answer you, and even now cannot tell whether I shall be interrupted before I am half done this. I am writing on my knee, with everything packed ready to move at the sound of the bugle. I wrote you last on the 6th of June from near Culpepper Court House. On that day we took a hard march of eighteen miles through the rain, and on very muddy roads. We halted about 10 o'clock at night. I was wet and very tired.

There was an order against making fires, as we were near the enemy, being on the same ground on which Stuart fought them a few days afterwards. Of course I slept; a soldier, if he knows his own interest, will sleep whenever opportunity offers, but there were 10,000 or 12,000 men huddled on the side of the road in a promiscuous mass, just as you have seen cattle about a barn lot; no one knowing how much mud or filth he reposed in until the generous light of day revealed it. It rained a good deal during the night and kept me thoroughly soaked. The next morning we were ordered back to the camp near Culpepper, and marched over the same road by 1 o'clock and remained there until the 9th, when early in the morning about 5 o'clock we heard heavy firing of artillery. This was the opening of Stuart's cavalry fight. We formed and marched to Lookout Mountain, about three miles from Stephenburg, and lay in line of battle upon it until the fortune of the day was decided and then returned to camp.

Colonel Frank Hampton was killed in or near Stephenburg by a pistol shot. He was in a hand to hand encounter, it is said. On the 13th we received orders to be ready to march or fight, but it turned out to be only a march of five miles, which we accomplished in an hour and reached Cedar Run, the scene of one of Stonewall Jackson's battles last August. There were a great many unburied skeletons, presenting a very ghastly appearance. There were forty-nine skulls in one little ditch; the bodies were torn to pieces and scattered about, having been taken from their shallow graves by hogs or other animals. A hand or a foot might be seen protruding from the earth, here and there, to mark the last resting place of the patriotic victims of this horrible war.

We left this camp on the 15th and marched through Culpepper towards Winchester. This was one of the hottest days and one of the hottest marches I have yet experienced. Over 500 men fell out by the road side from fatigue and exhaustion, and several died where they fell; this was occasioned by being overheated and drinking cold water in immoderate quantities, and the enforcement of the order requiring us to wade through creeks and rivers up to our waists without the privilege of even taking off our shoes. I felt quite sick and giddy with a severe pain in my head as I was climbing the hill after wading the Rappahannock, but it passed off, and I kept with the company, though I saw two dead men during the time and several others fall.

Oh! how I would have enjoyed one of mother's mint juleps then as we rested in "the shade of the trees." I slept gloriously that night on a bed of clover and blue grass and thought of the little "pig that lived in clover and when he died he died all over." On the 16th we marched twenty miles without so much suffering, though the day was very warm, and many fell by the way, and like the seed in the parable, “on stony ground," for we were getting towards the mountains. Camped that night near Markham station in another field of clover, though not so comfortable, for I was very cold and slept little. On the 17th marched fourteen miles up hill and down dale through a beautiful, mountaineous region and camped in a splendid grove of oak and hickory about one mile from Upperville, and the neighborhood of some of the most beautiful family mansions I ever saw, All the country we have passed through is perfectly charming, and I cannot see why any Virginian ever leaves Virginia. All that I have seen so far fills my ideal of the "promised land." On the 18th we marched to the Shenandoah, ten miles, and waded it with positive orders not to take off any clothing. The water was deep and cold. I put my cartridge box on my head. The water came to my arm pits. We camped about a mile beyond the river. A tremendous rain drenched us before night, so we were reconciled to the wading. My blankets and everything that I had was soaked, except Mary's daguerreotype, which Colonel B. F. Carter took charge of for me. I slept in clothes and blankets soaked wet. On the 19th we marched down the river about ten miles over a very muddy road, and crossed several little streams about knee deep, and then re-crossed the Shenandoah and marched up through Sniggers Gap to the top of the mountain, and here about dark we experienced the hardest storm of wind and rain I ever saw. It seemed to me as if the cold and rain, like the two-edged sword of holy writ, penetrated to the very joints and marrow.

I laid down but did not sleep a wink until about an hour before day, and woke up cold and stiff. More than half the soldiers spent the night in a desperate effort to keep the fire burning, which was done with great difficulty.

I took off my clothes, one garment at a time, and dried them, and baked myself until I felt tolerably well; but truly a soldier knows not what a day may bring forth. Just as I was thoroughly dried, up came another cloud and soaked us again, and then came an order to fall into line "without arms." We were then marched about half a mile from camp and ordered to build a stone fence about half a mile long. This, several thousand men accomplished in about two hours; though it worked me pretty hard to carry and roll stones weighing from 50 to 200 pounds. After my morning's work I dined with Captain Bachman, who had an elegant dinner, consisting mainly of cow-pea soup. After dinner, while we were taking a sociable smoke and chat, an order came to get ready to leave immediately. I hurried to my company and we started back down the mountain, and it was only after getting into the valley, where the sun was shining, that we discovered that we had been encamped in a cloud on the mountain top, right in the heart of the rain factory, the summer resort of Æolus himself. The division again crossed the Shenandoah, but this time I mounted one of Captain Bachman's caissons and rode over, thus escaping the chill of the waters, though the rain had wet me thoroughly before. I would like for Mrs. Bachman to paint such a scene. It was one of the most splendid for a picture I ever witnessed, 25,000 or 30,000 men, with the wagons and artillery, and horses, all crowding into the stream; a perfect living mass, with towering mountains looking down upon us, and the old stone mill reminding one of the halcyon days of peace and a hundred other incidents which I have not the ability to describe correctly; all united to form one of the most picturesque and wonderful sights my eyes ever beheld.

We camped on this side of the river two nights and one day, and on yesterday morning marched for this place, where for the first time, since the reception of your letter, I have had an opportunity to answer it, for the captain carries my paper for me, and frequently, when we stop, the wagon which carries his baggage is not near to us. I have not written to Mary for ten days, and must ask of you the favor of writing to her for me and giving her the principal items of my journey, for I shall hardly ever get an opportunity of sending a letter by hand from here, and the mails are so uncertain that there is little satisfaction in writing. I am glad she does not know of the privations I am suffering, for it would give her more pain than I have felt in enduring them. I saw Captain Bachman again yesterday. He is well and in fine spirits. I have seen James Davis and all the Camden boys and old friends, and schoolmates in McLaws division. They each hold an office of some kind.

They are very lucky in having friends on good terms with the appointing power. I think I could get a place above the ranks, but I doubt my qualifications for a higher place. I can march and shoot, and I love my musket next to my wife and my country, and this constitutes my qualifications for military service. I have quite a severe cold, though I am better to-day than I was yesterday. Don't write this to Mary. I hope we will soon get through our demonstrations and come to the fighting part of the drama.

I have not heard from home yet, though it is more than two months since I left Texas, and there are several letters in the regiment of recent date. I understand there is a large mail for our brigade at the Texas depot, in Richmond, awaiting an opportunity to be sent to us. My love to all, and tell "Theo" to study hard and get his lessons well, for an educated man can make a better soldier, a better ditcher, or well digger, and a more perfect gentleman than an uneducated one.

Your brother, truly,

JOHN C. WEST.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 73-9

Diary of Private John C. West, Saturday, June 6, 1863

On yesterday we marched six miles to a large open field beyond Culpepper to witness a review of General Stuart's cavalary [sic]. There were 8,000 or 10,000 horsemen covering an immense area. The infantry were permitted to rest and gaze at will, from the railroad embankment, on their manouvers. Except the difference in the numbers present there was nothing to note which may not be seen at the review of a regiment. The great numbers inspired a feeling of awe and created an impression of strength and security.

We returned to camp about sunset, having made a march of twelve miles for recreation, entertainment and inspiration. Just as I was writing the last line we received orders to be ready to march at 12 o'clock; it is now nearly 11. I asked yesterday for Lamar Stark, but I learned from Wat Taylor that he was across the river; so I cannot tell when I shall see him.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, p. 58

Diary of Private John C. West, Sunday, May 24, 1863

Left Richmond yesterday about 6:30 o'clock a. m. Found a number of the Texas Brigade and a few of my regiment on the cars and soon became acquainted with them. The trip was monotonous, as usual, until we reached Gordonsville, where the crowd was so great that twenty of us had to stand on the platform. General J. E. B. Stuart was aboard and appeared to be very fond of ladies and flowers. He is of medium size, well formed, fair complexion, blue eyes, whiskers and mustache of sun-burnt reddish color, usually accompanying fair skin. I had quite a pleasant time on the platform watching the attempts of the proscribed to get a seat in the cars and their repulse by the provost guard. The cars were for the accommodation of ladies and commissioned officers. I never knew soldiers of any grade to be put in the same category with women before. I happened, however, to meet Tom Lipscomb, my old college classmate, who is now a major, who managed to get me in under his wing. We had a long talk about Columbia and old college days. He informed me that Lamar Stark, my wife's brother, was a prisoner confined in the old capitol in Washington city. We reached Mitchell's Station at 4 o'clock p. m.; walked five miles, a hot walk, to camp on the Rapidan, near Raccoon Ford. My regiment, the Fourth Texas, has a delightful camping place in a grove of large chestnut trees, on a hillside. We have no tents and the ground is hard and rocky, but we are all satisfied, and one day's observation has led me to believe that no army on earth can whip these men. They may be cut to pieces and killed, but routed and whipped, never! I called on Colonel B. F. Carter this morning and had quite a pleasant interview. He is a calm, determined man, and one of the finest officers in the division. To-day was the regular time for inspection and review. One barefooted and ragged hero came to Colonel Carter's Tent with the inquiry, "Colonel, do you want the barefooted men to turn out today?" to which the Colonel replied negatively, with a smile. I went out to the review which took place in an open field about 600 yards from camp. There were some ladies on horseback on the field. Their presence was cheering and grateful. They were all dressed in black, as were more than two-thirds of the women in the Confederacy. On returning to camp I called on Major Bass, of the First Texas, and gave him $25.00, which I had received for him from Lieutenant Ochiltree, at Shreveport, Louisiana, to be handed to Bass if I did not need it.

I received two haversacks to-day, miserably weak and slazy, made of thin cotton cloth. I have only taken a change of underwear, towel, soap and Bible and Milton's Paradise Lost. I have sent all the rest to Richmond with my carpet sack, to be left at Mrs. Mary E. Fisher's, on Franklin street, half way between Sixth and Seventh.

I wrote a letter to mother and one to wife to-day and read the 104th Psalm. I opened to it by chance, and it contained just what I felt.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 52-4

Diary of Edward Bates: April 21, 1859

A bad, rainy day all day long. Yesterday afternoon, my young friend, Lieutenant J. E. B. Stuart,²⁰ came out, with his wife and child and spent the night with us. He starts today for Memphis, on his way to Va., having just come from Fort Reilly,²¹ on leave for 6 months.

Mr. Wm. Glasgow Jr. gave me some plants w[hi]ch. he brought from the Hot Springs of Washetaw.

1. Native grape, resembling the Isabella, but thought to be better.

2. Native Muscadine grape.

3. Yeopan — Evergreen shrub producing red berries (supposed the same shrub used for Tea, near Norfolk[)].

4 Rattan — a slender aspiring, green vine. The plants are very dry, and I fear will not grow[.] . . ,²² Note — I was called on today by Mr. John Churchman (and his son) with a letter of introduction from A. H. H. Stuart.²³

_______________

²⁰ James E. B. Stuart of Virginia: graduate of West Point in 1854 ; Indian fighter; lieutenant in the U. S. Army until he resigned when Virginia seceded; then major-general in the Confederate Army until he died of wounds in 1864.

²¹ This should be Fort Riley which was near Junction City, Kansas.

²² A marginal note telling where he set the plants.

²³ Alexander H. H. Stuart of Virginia: Whig congressman, 1841-1843 ; secretary of the Interior, 1850-1853; unionist until Virginia seceded ; leader in the reconciliation movement after the War; debarred member-elect of Congress in 1865.

SOURCE: Howard K. Beale, Editor, Annual Report of The American Historical Association For The Year 1930, Vol. 4, The Diary Of Edward Bates, pp. 10

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Saturday, October 11, 1862

Before daylight. We have been turned out, for some purpose, and are standing in line with our guns and accoutrements on.

Later. Are back in quarters, waiting to see what comes next. It has at last begun to rain and has every appearance of keeping it up. I don't suppose it will interfere with our movements, though it can make it unpleasant for us.

8 a. m. The papers have come, and say Stuart's Cavalry have invaded Pennsylvania, and are taking all the horses they can lay hands on.

Later. We have orders to pack up two days' rations, and have just been given forty rounds of ammunition. Begins to look like business now, We are in line waiting for further orders, and I am improving the time by keeping my diary right plump up to the minute. One man is missing, absent without leave. Not a soul of us knows which way we are to go or what for. If we were mounted I would think we were going to stop Stuart's horse-stealing, but as we are on foot that can hardly be.

Noon. At the foot of Biddle Street, Baltimore, waiting for transportation. From all I can learn, our movements depend on dispatches from some higher authority, yet to be received. Major Foster's horse fell and hurt the major's leg, but he has caught up with us, though he has quite a limp.

Night. Here we sit, or stand, just as we choose, still waiting for a train. It has rained nearly all day, and we are wet and cold, and everyone is cross, even to the officers. Just then our regimental post-master caught up with us, and gave me a letter from Mrs. Loucks, also one from uncle Daniel. My sister says a box of good things is on the way for us. Too bad it didn't come before we left. No telling whether we get it now or not. Well, such is war.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 47-8

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, May 16, 1864

Appearances and talk on the streets last night indicated that they had news that worried them. This morning I learned from a sergeant, that General Stuart is killed. Our cavalry are troubling the railroads, the long bridge mentioned near Burkville, they destroyed. Several hundred start from other prisons to Georgia. There are some wounded here, thus far no medical attendance. Considerable excitement in the street occasioned by several bodies of troops leaving for the front to join Lee's army.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 47

Diary of Private Louis Leon: September 9, 1863

To-day we had a review. Present: General Lee, General Ewell, General Early, General Johnson and General Rodes, of our corps, and General Hill, Gen. J. E. B. Stewart, and smaller fry of our army. It was certainly a grand scene. Nothing more up to the 14th.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 47

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

No. 3.

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

including operations to May 1.

SEPTEMBER 11, 1864.

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

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

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

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

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

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

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

JNO. S. MOSBY,        

Lieutenant-Colonel, Commanding.

Lieutenant-Colonel TAYLOR,
        Assistant Adjutant-General.

[Indorsement.]

HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA,        

September 19, 1864.

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

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

R. E. LEE,        

General.

_______________

* March 9, See p. 236.

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

Diary of Private Louis Leon: June 9, 1863

We were ordered to Beverly Ford, to support Gen. Jeb Stewart, who is engaging the Yankees, and they are having a very hard cavalry fight: Got here in a roundabout way, and formed in line of battle, with two lines of skirmishers in front. When we got to the Army of Northern Virginia we were told that each company must furnish one skirmisher out of every six men, and there was a call for volunteers for that service. So I left the colors and went as a skirmisher, whose duty it is in time of battle to go in front of the line and reconnoitre and engage the enemy until a general engagement, then we fall in line with balance of the army. As soon as the enemy saw that the cavalry were reinforced by infantry, they fell back. This was altogether a cavalry fight. We took quite a number of prisoners, and camped two miles from the battlefield. We marched twelve miles today.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 29-30

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 11, 1864

Bright and pleasant-breezy. This has been a day of excitement.

At midnight the Departmental Battalion were marched from the south side of the river back to the city, and rested the remainder of the night at Camp Lee. But at 9 A.M. they were marched hurriedly to Meadow Bridge. They came past our house. Custis and his brother Thomas ran in--remaining but a moment. Custis exclaimed: “Let me have some money, mother (I had to go to the office), or we will starve. The government don't feed us, and we are almost famished. Cook something, and get Captain Warner to bring it in his buggy–do, if possible." He got $20. They looked worn, and were black with dust, etc. My daughter said “they looked like negroes."

The Secretary issued this morning a new edition of his handbills, calling the people "to arms."

Mr. Mallory's usual red face turned purple. He has not yet got out the iron-clad Richmond, etc., which might have sunk Gen. Butler's transports. Lieut.-Col. Lay was exhibiting a map of our defenses, and predicting something,—whether good or evil, I did not stay to learn. But I thought such maps ought not to be shown in the public ball of the department.

The armory was open to-day, and all who desired them were furnished with arms.

The Governor, I hear, issued a notification that the enemy would be here to day, etc. I did not see it.

All classes not in the army were gathered up and marched to the defenses.

2 P.M. Respectable men just from the vicinity report a great victory for Lee, yesterday, though we have nothing from him. The Secretary believes these concurring reports, which state that the battle, beginning near Spottsylvania Court House, ended at Fredericksburg, indicating a WATERLOO.

And a dispatch from Gen. Ransom from the south side of the river, states that Butler's army is retreating to the transports. This is regarded as confirmation of Lee's victory.

Several dispatches from Gen. Stuart state that the raiders have been severely beaten in several combats this morning, and are flying toward Dover Mills. They may come back, for they have not heard of Grant's defeat.

Mr. Memminger is said to have been frightened terribly, and arrangements were made for flight.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 205-6

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 12, 1864

Thunder, lightning, and rain all day.

The report of Gen. Lee's victory was premature, and Butler has not gone, nor the raiders vanished. On the contrary, the latter were engaged in battle with Stuart's division late in the afternoon, and recommenced it this morning at 3 o'clock, the enemy remaining on the ground, and still remain, some five miles from where I write. Major-Gen. J. E. B. Stuart was wounded last evening, through the kidney, and now lies in the city, in a dying condition! Our best generals thus fall around us.

The battle raged furiously; every gun distinctly heard at our house until 1 P.M.—the enemy being intrenched between our middle and outer line of works. Meantime our ambulances are arriving every hour with the wounded, coming in by the Brooke Turnpike.

The battalion my sons are in lost none of its men, though shelled by the enemy early in the morning; nor do we know that our battery did any execution. Capt. Warner delivered the provisions their mother cooked for them yesterday. He saw only Custis, who gladly received the bread, and meat, and eggs; but he and Tom were both drenched with rain, as they had no shelter yesterday. But a comrade, and one of Custis's Latin pupils, whom I saw, returned on sick leave, says Thomas stands the fatigue and exposure better than Custis, who was complaining.

About 11 A.M. to-day there was very heavy reports of cannon heard in the direction of Drewry's Bluff, supposed to be our battery shelling the country below, for some purpose.

I understand one or more of our iron-clads will certainly go out this evening, or to-night; we shall know it when it occurs, for the firing will soon follow.

Worked in my garden; set out corn and (yellow) tomatoes ; the former given me by my neighbor, to whom I had given lettuce and beet plants.

My wife spent a miserable day, some one having reported that the Departmental Battalion was cut to pieces in the battle. When I came in, she asked me if Custis and Thomas were alive, and was exceedingly glad to know not a man in the company had been even wounded.

I shall never forget the conformation of the clouds this morning as the storm arose. There were different strata running in various directions. They came in heaviest volume from the southeast in parallel lines, like lines of battle swooping over the city. There were at the same time shorter and fuller lines from the southwest, and others from the north. The meeting of these was followed by tremendous clashes of lightning and thunder; and between the pauses of the artillery of the elements above, the thunder of artillery on earth could be distinctly heard. Oh that the strife were ended! But Richmond is to be defended at all hazards.

It is said, however, that preparations have been made for the flight of the President, cabinet, etc. up the Danville Road, in the event of the fall of the city. Yet no one fears that the present forces environing it could take it. If Lee withstands Grant another week, all will be safe. My greatest fear is the want of provisions. My wife bought a half bushel of meal; so we have a week's supply on hand, as we were not quite out. I hope Beauregard will soon restore communication with the South.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 206-7

Major-General William T. Sherman to Major-General Henry W. Halleck, September 17, 1863

HEADQUARTERS FIFTEENTH ARMY CORPS,                       

Camp on Big Black, Miss., September 17, 1863.

Maj. Gen. H. W. HALLECK,

General-in-Chief, Washington, D.C.:

DEAR GENERAL: I have received your letter of August 29, and with pleasure confide to you fully my thoughts on the important matters you suggest, with absolute confidence that you will use what is valuable and reject the useless or superfluous.

That part of the continent of North America known as Louisiana, Mississippi, and Arkansas is in my judgment the key to the whole interior. The Valley of the Mississippi is America, and although railroads have changed the economy of intercommunication, yet the water channels still mark the lines of fertile land and afford carriage to the heavy products of it. The inhabitants of the country on the Monongahela, the Illinois, the Minnesota, the Yellowstone, and Osage are as directly concerned in the security of the Lower Mississippi as are those who dwell on its very banks in Louisiana, and now that the nation has recovered its possession this generation of men would commit a fearful mistake if we again commit its charge to a people liable to mistake their title, and assert, as was recently done, treat because they dwell by sufferance on the banks of this mighty stream they had a right to control its navigation.

I would deem it very unwise at this time, or for years to come, to revive the State Governments of Louisiana, &c., or to institute in this quarter any civil government in which the local people have much to say. They had a government, and so mild and paternal that they gradually forgot they had any at all, save what they themselves controlled; they asserted absolute right to seize public moneys, forts, arms, and even to shut up the natural avenues of travel and commerce. They chose war; they ignored and denied all the obligations of the solemn contract of government and appealed to force. We accepted the issue, and now they begin to realize that war is a two-edged sword, and, it may be, that many of the inhabitants cry for peace. I know them well and the very impulses of their nature; and to deal with the inhabitants of that part of the South which borders the great river we must recognize the classes into which they have naturally divided themselves.

First, the large planters owning lands, slaves, and all kinds of personal property. These are on type whole the ruling class. They are educated, wealthy, and easily approached. In some districts they are as bitter as gall, and have given up slaves, plantations, and all, serving in the armies of the Confederacy, whereas in others they are conservative. None dare admit a friendship to us, though they say freely that they were opposed to war and disunion. I know we can manage this class, but only by action; argument is exhausted, and words have not their usual meaning. Nothing but the logic of events touches their understanding, but of late this has worked a wonderful change. If our country were like Europe, crowded with people, I would say it would be easier to replace this population than to reconstruct it subordinate to the policy of the nation; but as this is not the case, it is better to allow them, with individual exceptions, gradually to recover their plantations, to hire any species of labor, and adapt themselves to the new order of things. Still their friendship and assistance to reconstruct order out of the present ruin cannot be depended on. They watch the operations of our armies, and hope still for a Southern Confederacy that will restore to them the slaves and privileges which they feel are otherwise lost forever. In my judgment we have two more battles to win before we should even bother our minds with the idea of restoring civil order, viz, one near Meridian in November, and one near Shreveport in February and March, when Red River is navigable by our gunboats. When these are done, then, and not until then, win the planters of Louisiana, Arkansas, and Mississippi submit. Slavery is already gone, and to cultivate the land negro or other labor must be hired. This of itself is a vast revolution, and time must be afforded to allow men to adjust their minds and habits to the new order of things. A civil government of the representative type would suit this class far less than a pure military rule, one readily adapting itself to actual occurrences and able to enforce its laws and orders promptly and emphatically.

Second, the smaller farmers, mechanics, merchants, and laborers. This class will probably number three-fourths of the whole, have in fact no real interest in the establishment of a Southern Confederacy, and have been led or driven into war on the false theory that they were to be benefited somehow, they knew not how. They are essentially tired of the war, and would slink back home if they could. These are the real tiers-état of the South, and are hardly worthy a thought, for they swerve to and fro according to events they do not comprehend or attempt to shape. When the time for reconstruction comes they will want the old political system of caucuses, legislatures, &c., something to amuse them and make them believe they are achieving wonders, but in all things they will follow blindly the lead of the planter. The Southern politicians, who understand this class, use them as the French use their masses. Seemingly consulting their prejudices, they make their orders and enforce them. We should do the same.

Third, the Union men of the South. I must confess I have little respect for this class. They allowed a clamorous set of demagogues to muzzle and drive them as a pack of curs. Afraid of shadows, they submit tamely to squads of dragoons, and permit them, without a murmur to burn their cotton, take their horses, corn, and everything, and when we reach them they are full of complaints if our men take a few fence rails for fire or corn to feed our horses. They give us no assistance or information, and are loudest in the complaints at the smallest excess of our soldiers. Their sons, horses, arms, and everything useful are in the army against us, and they stay at home, claiming all the exemptions of peaceful citizens. I account them as nothing in this great game.

Fourth, the young bloods of the South, sons of planters, lawyers about towns, good billiard players, and sportsmen—men who never did work nor never will. War suits them, and the rascals are brave; fine riders, bold to rashness, and dangerous subjects in every sense. They care not a sou for niggers, land, or anything. They hate Yankees per se, and don't bother their brains about the past, present, or future. As long as they have good horses, plenty of forage, and an open country, they are happy. This is a larger class than most men supposed, and are the most dangerous set of men which this war has turned loose upon the world. They are splendid riders, shots, and utterly reckless. Stuart, John Morgan, Forrest, and Jackson are the types and leaders of this class. This class of men must all be killed or employed by us before we can hope for peace. They have no property or future, and therefore cannot be influenced by anything except personal considerations. I have two brigades of these fellows to my front, commanded by Cosby, of the old army, and Whitfield, of Texas, Stephen D. Lee in command of the whole. I have frequent interviews with the officers and a good understanding. Am inclined to think when the resources of their country are exhausted we must employ them. They are the best cavalry in the world, but it will tax Mr. Chase's genius of finance to supply them with horses. At present horses cost them nothing, for they take where they find and don't bother their brains who is to pay for them. Some of the corn-fields which have, as they believe, been cultivated by a good-natured people for their special benefit, we propose to share with them the free use of these corn-fields planted by willing hands that will never gather it.

Now that I have sketched the people who inhabit the district of country under consideration, I will proceed to discuss the future. A civil government for any part of it would be simply ridiculous. The people would not regard it, and even the military commanders of the antagonistic party would treat it lightly. Governors would be simply petitioners for military assistance to protect supposed friendly interests, and military commanders would refuse to disperse and weaken their armies for military reasons. Jealousies would arise between the two conflicting powers, and instead of contributing to the end we all have in view, would actually defer it. Therefore I contend that the interests of the United States and of the real parties concerned demand the continuance of the simple military rule till long after all the organized armies of the South are dispersed, conquered, and subjugated. All this region is represented in the Army of Virginia, Charleston, Mobile, and Chattanooga. They have sons and relations in each, and naturally are interested in their fate. Though we hold military possession of the key-points of this country, still they contend, and naturally, that should Lee succeed in Virginia or Bragg at Chattanooga, a change will occur here also. We cannot for this reason attempt to reconstruct parts of the South as we conquer it till all idea of the establishment of a Southern Confederacy is abandoned. We should avail ourselves of the lull here to secure the geographical points that give us advantage in future military movements, and should treat the idea of civil government as one in which we as a nation have a minor or subordinate interest. The opportunity is good to impress on the population the truth that they are more interested in civil government than we are, and that to enjoy the protection of laws they must not be passive observers of events, but must aid and sustain the constituted authorities in enforcing the laws; they must not only submit themselves, but pay their taxes and render personal services when called on. It seems to me, in contemplating the past two years history, all the people of our country, North, South, East, and West have been undergoing a salutary political schooling, learning lessons which might have been taught all by the history of other people, but we had all become so wise in our own conceit that we would only learn by actual experience of our own.

The people, even of small and unimportant localities, North as well as South, had reasoned themselves into the belief that their opinions were superior to the aggregated interest of the whole nation. Half our territorial nation rebelled on a doctrine of secession that they themselves now scout, and a real numerical majority actually believed that a little State was endowed with such sovereignty that it could defeat the policy of the great whole. I think the present war has exploded that notion, and were this war to cease now, the experience gained, though dear, would be worth the expense.

Another great and important natural truth is still in contest and can only be solved by war. Numerical majorities by vote is our great arbiter. Heretofore all have submitted to it in questions left open, but numerical majorities are not necessarily physical majorities. The South, though numerically inferior, contend they can whip the Northern superiority of numbers, and therefore by natural law are not bound to submit. This issue is the only real one, and in my judgment all else should be deferred to it. War alone can decide it, and it is the only question left to us as a people. Can we whip the South? If we can, our numerical majority has both the natural and constitutional right to govern. If we cannot whip them, they contend for the natural right to select their own government, and they have the argument. Our armies must prevail over theirs. Our officers, marshals, and courts must penetrate into the innermost recesses of their land before we have the natural right to demand their submission.

I would banish all minor questions and assert the broad doctrine, that as a nation the United States has the right, and also the physical power, to penetrate to every part of the national domain, and that we will do it; that we will do it in our own time, and in our own way; that it makes no difference whether it be in one year or two, or ten or twenty; that we will remove and destroy every obstacle—if need be, take every life, every acre of land, every particle of property, everything that to us seems proper; that we will not cease until the end is attained. That all who do not aid are enemies, and we will not account to them for our acts. If the people of the South oppose, they do so at their peril; and if they stand by mere lookers-on the domestic tragedy, they have no right to immunity, protection, or share in the final result.

I even believe, and contend further, that in the North every member of the nation is bound by both natural and constitutional to "maintain and defend the Government against all its opposers whomsoever." If they fail to do it they are derelict., and can be punished or deprived of all advantage arising from the labors of those who do. If any man, North or South, withholds his share of taxes or physical assistance in this crisis of our history, he should and could be deprived of all voice in the future elections of this country, and might be banished or reduced to the condition of a denizen of the land.

War is upon us; none can deny it. It is not the act of the Government of the United States but of a faction. The Government was forced to accept the issue or submit to a degradation fatal and disgraceful to all the inhabitants. In accepting war it should be pure and simple as applied to the belligerents. I would keep it so till all traces of the war are effaced; till those who appealed to it are sick and tired of it, and come to the emblem of our nation and sue for peace. I would not coax them or even meet them half way, but make them so sick of war that generations would pass before they would again appeal to it.

I know what I say when I repeat that the insurgents of the South sneer at all overtures looking to their interest. They scorn the alliance with copperheads. They tell me to my face that they respect Grant, McPherson, and our brave associates who fight manfully and well for a principle, but despise the copperheads and sneaks who profess friendship for the South and opposition to the war as mere covers for their knavery and poltroonery.

God knows that I deplored this fratricidal war as much as any man living; but it is upon us, a physical fact, and there is only one honorable issue from it. We must fight it out, army against army and man against man, and I know and you know and civilians begin to realize the fact that reconciliation and reconstruction will be easier through and by means of strong, well-equipped and organized armies than through any species of conventions that can be framed. The issues are made, and all discussion is out of place and ridiculous.

The section of 30-pounder Parrott rifles now drilling before my tent is a more convincing argument than the largest Democratic meeting the State of New York could assemble at Albany, and a simple order of the War Department to draft enough men to fill our skeleton regiments would be more convincing as to our national perpetuity than an humble pardon to Jeff. Davis and all his misled host.

The only government now needed or deserved by the States of Louisiana, Arkansas, and Mississippi now exists in Grant's army. It needs simply enough privates to fill its ranks; all else will follow in due season. This army has its well-defined code of laws and practice, and can adapt itself to the wants and necessities of a city, the country, the rivers, the sea; indeed, to all parts of this land. It better subserves the interest and policy of the General Government, and the people prefer it to any weak or servile combination that would at once, from force of habit, revive and perpetuate local prejudices and passions. The people of this country have forfeited all right to a voice in the councils of the nation. They know it and feel it, and in after years they will be the better citizens from the dear-bought experience of the present crisis. Let them learn now, and learn it well, that good citizens must obey as well as command. Obedience to law—absolute, yea, even abject—is the lesson that this war, under Providence, will teach the free and enlightened American citizen; as a nation we will be the better for it. I never have apprehended foreign interference in our family quarrel. Of course governments founded on a different, and it may be antagonistic, principle with ours, would naturally feel a pleasure at our complications, but in the end England and France will join with us in jubilations in the triumph of a constitutional government over faction; even now the English manifest this.

I do not profess to understand Napoleon's design in Mexico, but I do not see that his taking military possession of Mexico concerns us. We have as much territory as we want. The Mexicans have failed in self-government, and it was a question to what nation she would fall a prey. That is solved, and I don't see that we are damaged. We have the finest part of the North American continent, all we can people and take care of, and if we can suppress rebellion in our land and compose the strife generated by it, we will have people, resources, and wealth which, if well combined, can defy interference from any and every quarter.

I therefore hope the Government of the United States will continue as heretofore in collecting in well-organized armies the physical strength of the nation; apply it as heretofore in asserting the national authority, persevering without relaxation to the end. This, whether near or far off, is not for us to say, but, fortunately, we have no choice. We must succeed; no other choice is left us but degradation. The South must be ruled or will rule. We must conquer them ourselves or be conquered. There is no middle course. They ask and will have nothing else, and all the talk of compromise is bosh, for we know they would even now scorn the offer. I wish the war could have been deferred for twenty years, till the superabundant population of the North should flow in and replace the losses sustained by war, but this could not be, and we are forced to take things as they arise.

All therefore I can now venture to advise is the pushing the draft to its maximum, fill the present regiments to as large a standard as possible, and push the war, pure and simple.

Great attention should be paid to the discipline of our armies, for on them will be founded the future stability of our Government. The cost of the war is of course to be considered, but finances will adjust themselves to the-actual state of affairs, and even if we would we could not change the cost. Indeed, the larger the cost now the less will it be in the end, for the end must be attained somehow, regardless of cost of life and treasure, and is merely a question of time.

Excuse so long a letter.

With great respect,

W. T. SHERMAN,                

Major-general.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 30, Part 3 (Serial No. 52), p. 694-700

Diary of Gideon Welles: Monday, May 16, 1864

I yesterday took a steamer with a small company, consisting among others of Postmaster-General Blair, Senators Doolittle and Grimes, Messrs. Rice and Griswold of the Naval Committee, Count Rosen of the Swedish Navy, Mr. Hale (the newly selected Consul-General to Egypt), G. W. Blunt and Assistant Secretary Fox, Commander Wise, Dr. Horwitz, and two or three others, and went down the Potomac to Belle Plain. The day was pleasant and the sail charming. We reached Belle Plain about two P.M. and left a little past five. Is a rough place with no dwelling, — an extemporized plank-way from the shore some twenty or thirty rods in the rear. Some forty or fifty steamers and barges, most of them crowded with persons, were there. Recruits going forward to reinforce Grant's army, or the wounded and maimed returning from battle. Rows of stretchers, on each of which was a maimed or wounded Union soldier, were wending towards the steamers which were to bear them to Washington, while from the newly arrived boats were emerging the fresh soldiers going forward to the field. Working our way along the new and rough-made road, through teams of mules and horses, we arrived at the base of a hill some two or three hundred feet in height, and went up a narrow broken footpath to the summit, on which were the headquarters of General Abercrombie and staff. The ascent was steep and laborious. We had expected to find the prisoners here, but were told they were beyond, about one and a half miles. The majority were disposed to proceed thither, and, though tired and reluctant, I acquiesced. The prisoners, said to be about 7000 in number, were encamped in a valley surrounded by steep hills, the circumference of the basin being some two or three miles. Returning, we passed through the centre of this valley or basin. The prisoners were rough, sturdy-looking men, good and effective soldiers, I should judge. Most of them were quiet and well-behaved, but some few of them were boisterous and inclined to be insolent.

One of the prisoners, a young man of some twenty-five, joined me and inquired if I resided in the neighborhood. I told him at a little distance. He wished to exchange some money, Rebel for greenbacks. When I told him that his was worthless, he claimed it was better than greenbacks though not current here. I asked him if they had not enough of fighting, opposing the Union and lawful authority. He said no, there was much more fighting yet to be done. Claimed that Lee would be in Fredericksburg before the Union army could get to Richmond. Would not believe that J. E. B. Stuart was killed, news of which I received just as I came on board the boat this morning. He was earnest, though uninformed, and said he was from western North Carolina. Returning, we reached Washington at 9 P.M.

To-day I have been busy in preparing two or three letters and matters for Congress.

Governor Morgan called on me relative to abuses in cotton speculations, and malconduct of Treasury agents and others. Some of the malpractices which are demoralizing the army and the officials and disgusting the whole people in the lower Mississippi are becoming known, and will, I trust, lead to legislative correction. As Morgan introduced the subject and thought proper to consult me, I freely gave him facts and my views, which conflict with Chase and the Treasury management. A bill which Morgan showed me is crudely drawn but introduces, or makes, an entire change. It is not, in some of its features, what I should have proposed, but it will improve on the present system.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 31-3

John Brown to John Q. Anderson,* November 29, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson County Prison, Va., Nov. 29, 1859.

J. Q. Anderson, Esq.

My Dear Sir, — Your letter of the 23d instant is received; but notwithstanding it would afford me the utmost pleasure to answer it at length, it is not in my power to write you but a few words. Jeremiah G. Anderson was fighting bravely by my side at Harper's Ferry up to the moment when I fell wounded, and I took no further notice of what passed for a little time.¹ I have since been told that he was mortally wounded at the same moment, and died in a short time afterwards. I believe this information is correct; but I have no means of knowing from any acquaintances, not being allowed intercourse with other prisoners, except one. The same is true as to the death of one of my own sons. I have no doubt but both are dead.

Your friend,

John Brown.

_______________

* Brother of Jeremiah G. Anderson.

¹ At this point may be introduced the letter of an eye-witness of what happened during this “little time,” when the hero had swooned from loss of blood and pain, and was believed to be dead. Mr. Taylcure, a South Carolinian, wrote thus to John Brown, Jr., six years ago: —

864 Broadway, New York, June 15, 1879.

Dear Sir, — Duty took me to Harper's Ferry at the time of the mid in 1859 (I was then connected with the Baltimore Press), and by chance I was brought into close personal contact with both your father and your brother Watson. After the assault I assisted your father to rise, as he stumbled forward out of the historic engine-house; and was able to administer to your brother, just before he died, some physical comfort, which won me his thanks. Subsequent to the capture of the party, I accompanied Captain J. E. B. Stuart and the battalion he commanded to the Kennedy farm; and there, by another strange chance, I came into possession of a number of papers belonging to your father. These I afterwards delivered to Governor Wise, upon his requisition; but there yet remains in my possession an old manifold letter-writer which belonged to your father. In this are several letters, in his handwriting, entitled “Sambo's Mistakes,” written, apparently, for publication, and addressed “To the Editor of the “Ramshorn.” They contain a satirical summing up, related in the first person, of the mistakes and weaknesses common to the colored people. This book, together with a common carpet-bag, a red and white check blanket, a rifle, pistol, and pike, — all of which I found at the Kennedy house, — I kept, and yet have, I think, as mementos of that tragic affair. Two or three years ago I read in one of the magazines Owen Brown's relation of his escape from the Ferry, and was minded to supplement it with my narrative of the capture and its incidents, but the many demands upon my time prevented my doing so.

I am a South Carolinian, and at the time of the raid was very deeply imbued with the political prejudices of my State; but the serenity, calm courage, and devotion to duty which your father and his followers then manifested impressed me very profoundly. It is impossible not to feel respect for men who offer up their lives in support of their convictions; and the earnestness of my respect I put upon record in a Baltimore paper the day succeeding the event. I gave your brother a cup of water to quench his thirst (this was at about 7.30 on the morning of the capture), and improvised a couch for him out of a bench, with a pair of overalls for a pillow. I remember how he looked, — singularly handsome, even through the grime of his all-day struggles, and the intense suffering which he must have endured. He was very calm, and of a tone and look very gentle. The look with which he searched my very heart I can never forget. One sentence of our conversation will give you the key-note to the whole. I asked him, “What brought you here?” He replied, very patiently, “Duty, sir.” After a pause, I again asked: “Is it then your idea of duty to shoot men down upon their own hearthstones for defending their rights?” He answered: “I am dying; I cannot discuss the question; I did my duty, as I saw it.” This conversation occurred in the compartment of the engine-house adjoining that in which the defence had been made, and was listened to by young Coppoc with perfect equanimity, and by Shields Green with uncontrollable terror.

I met at Pittsburg, some years ago, Mr. Richard Realf (If that is the name; he was connected with the “Commercial” of that city); and on relating my experience, he not only expressed much interest in it, but said he thought the surviving members of John Brown's family would be gratified to hear what I had to tell. ’T is in remembrance of Colonel Realf that I obey the impulse to write you now. I do so with deep earnestness and with respect . The war, in which I took part on the Southern side, eradicated many errors of political opinion, and gave growth to many established truths not then recognized. I have, for my own part, no regrets for my humble share in the revolt; but I have now to say, that I firmly believe the war was ordained of God for the extermination of slavery; and that your father was an elected instrument for the commencement of that good work.

I am, sir, with respect,

Yours truly,

C. W. Tayleure.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 611-2

John Brown's Interview with Senator James M. Mason, Congressman Clement L Vallandigham, and Others, October 19, 1859

Senator Mason. Can you tell us who furnished money for your expedition?

John Brown. I furnished most of it myself; I cannot implicate others. It is by my own folly that I have been taken. I could easily have saved myself from it, had I exercised my own better judgment rather than yielded to my feelings.

Mason. You mean if you had escaped immediately?

Brown. No. I had the means to make myself secure without any escape; but I allowed myself to be surrounded by a force by being too tardy. I should have gone away; but I had thirty odd prisoners, whose wives and daughters were in tears for their safety, and I felt for them. Besides, I wanted to allay the fears of those who believed we came here to burn and kill. For this reason I allowed the train to cross the bridge, and gave them full liberty to pass on. I did it only to spare the feelings of those passengers and their families, and to allay the apprehensions that you had got here in your vicinity a band of men who had no regard for life and property, nor any feelings of humanity.

Mason. But you killed some people passing along the streets quietly.

Brown. Well, sir, if there was anything of that kind done, it was without my knowledge. Your own citizens who were my prisoners will tell you that every possible means was taken to prevent it. I did not allow my men to fire when there was danger of killing those we regarded as innocent persons, if I could help it. They will tell you that we allowed ourselves to be fired at repeatedly, and did not return it.

A Bystander. That is not so. You killed an unarmed man at the corner of the house over there at the water-tank, and another besides.

Brown. See here, my friend; it is useless to dispute or contradict the report of your own neighbors who were my prisoners.

Mason. If you would tell us who sent you here, — who provided the means, — that would be information of some value.

Brown. I will answer freely and faithfully about what concerns myself, — I will answer anything I can with honor, — but not about others.

Mr. Vallandigham (who had just entered). Mr. Brown, who sent you here?

Brown. No man sent me here; it was my own prompting and that of my Maker, or that of the Devil, — whichever you please to ascribe it to. I acknowledge no master in human form.

Vallandigham. Did you get up the expedition yourself?

Brown. I did.

Vallandigham. . Did you get up this document that is called a Constitution?

Brown. I did. They are a constitution and ordinances of my own contriving and getting up.

Vallandigham. How long have you been engaged in this business?

Brown. From the breaking out of the difficulties in Kansas. Four of my sons had gone there to settle, and they induced me to go. I did not go there to settle, but because of the difficulties.

Mason. How many are there engaged with you in this movement?

Brown. Any questions that I can honorably answer I will, — not otherwise. So far as I am myself concerned, I have told everything truthfully. I value my word, sir.

Mason. What was your object in coming?

Brown. We came to free the slaves, and only that.

A Volunteer. How many men, in all, had you?

Brown. I came to Virginia with eighteen men only, besides myself.

Volunteer. What in the world did you suppose you could do here in Virginia with that amount of men?

Brown. Young man, I do not wish to discuss that question here.

Volunteer. You could not do anything.

Brown. Well, perhaps your ideas and mine on military subjects would differ materially.

Mason. How do you justify your acts?

Brown I think, my friend, yon are guilty of a great wrong against God and humanity, — I say it without wishing to be offensive, — and it would be perfectly right for any one to interfere with you so far as to free those you wilfully and wickedly hold in bondage. I do not say this insultingly.

Mason. I understand that

Brown. I think I did right, and that others will do right who interfere with you at any time and at all times. I hold that the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as ye would that others should do unto you,” applies to all who would help others to gain their liberty.

Lieutenant Stuart. But don't you believe in the Bible?

Brown. Certainly I do.

Mason. Did you consider this a military organization in this Constitution? I have not yet read it.

Brown. I did, in some sense. I wish you would give that paper close attention.

Mason. You consider yourself the commander-in-chief of these “provisional” military forces?

Brown. I was chosen, agreeably to the ordinance of a certain document, commander-in-chief of that force.

Mason. What wages did you offer?

Brown. None.

Stuart. “The wages of sin is death.”

Brown. I would not have made such a remark to you if you had been a prisoner, and wounded, in my hands.

A Bystander. Did you not promise a negro in Gettysburg twenty dollars a month?

Brown. I did not.

Mason. Does this talking annoy you?

Brown. Not in the least.

Vallandigham. Have you lived long in Ohio?

Brown. I went there in 1805. I lived in Summit County, which was then Portage County. My native place is Connecticut; my father lived there till 1805.

Vallandigham. Have you been in Portage County lately?

Brown. I was there in June last.

Vallandigham. When in Cleveland, did you attend the Fugitive Slave Law Convention there?

Brown. No. I was there about the time of the sitting of the court to try the Oberlin rescuers. I spoke there publicly on that subject; on the Fugitive Slave Law and my own rescue. Of course, so far as I had any influence at all, I was supposed to justify the Oberlin people for rescuing the slave, because I have myself forcibly taken slaves from bondage. I was concerned in taking eleven slaves from Missouri to Canada last winter. I think I spoke in Cleveland before the Convention. I do not know that I had conversation with any of the Oberlin rescuers. I was sick part of the time I was in Ohio with the ague, in Ashtabula County.

Vallandigham. Did you see anything of Joshua R. Giddings there?

Brown. I did meet him.

Vallandigham. Did you converse with him?

Brown. I did. I would not tell you, of course, anything that would implicate Mr. Giddings; but I certainly met with him and had conversations with him.

Vallandigham. About that rescue case?

Brown. Yes; I heard him express his opinions upon it very freely and frankly.

Vallandigham. Justifying it?

Brown. Yes, sir; I do not compromise him, certainly, in saying that.

Vallandigham. Will you answer this: Did you talk with Giddings about your expedition here?

Brown. No, I won't answer that; because a denial of it I would not make, and to make any affirmation of it I should be a great dunce.

Vallandigham. Have you had any correspondence with parties at the North on the subject of this movement?

Brown. I have had correspondence.

A Bystander. Do you consider this a religious movement?

Brown. It is, in my opinion, the greatest service man can render to God.

Bystander. Do you consider yourself an instrument in the hands of Providence?

Brown. I do.

Bystander. Upon what principle do you justify your acts?

Brown. Upon the Golden Rule. I pity the poor in bondage that have none to help them: that is why I am here; not to gratify any personal animosity, revenge, or vindictive spirit. It is my sympathy with the oppressed and the wronged, that are as good as you and as precious in the sight of God.

Bystander. Certainly. But why take the slaves against their will?

Brown. I never did.

Bystander. You did in one instance, at least.

Stephens, the other wounded prisoner, here said, “You are right. In one case I know the negro wanted to go back.”

Bystander. Where did you come from?

Stephens. I lived in Ashtabula County, Ohio.

Vallandigham. How recently did you leave Ashtabula County?

Stephens. Some months ago. I never resided there any length of time; have been through there.

Vallandigham. How far did you live from Jefferson?

Brown. Be cautious, Stephens, about any answers that would commit any friend. I would not answer that.

[Stephens turned partially over with a groan of pain, and was silent. ]

Vallandigham. Who are your advisers in this movement?

Brown. I cannot answer that. I have numerous sympathizers throughout the entire North.

Vallandigham. In northern Ohio?

Brown. No more there than anywhere else; in all the free States.

Vallandigham. But you are not personally acquainted in southern Ohio?

Brown. Not very much.

A Bystander. Did you ever live in Washington City?

Brown. I did not. I want you to understand, gentlemen, and [to the reporter of the “Herald”] you may report that, — I want you to understand that I respect the rights of the poorest and weakest of colored people, oppressed by the slave system, just as much as I do those of the most wealthy and powerful. That is the idea that has moved me, and that alone. We expected no reward except the satisfaction of endeavoring to do for those in distress and greatly oppressed as we would be done by. The cry of distress of the oppressed is my reason, and the only thing that prompted me to come here.

Bystander. Why did you do it secretly?

Brown. Because I thought that necessary to success; no other reason.

Bystander. Have you read Gerrit Smith's last letter?

Brown. What letter do you mean?

Bystander. The “New York Herald” of yesterday, in speaking of this affair, mentions a letter in this way : —

“Apropos of this exciting news, we recollect a, very significant passage in one of Gerrit Smith's letters, published a month or two ago, in which he speaks of the folly of attempting to strike the shackles off the slaves by the force of moral suasion or legal agitation, and predicts that the next movement made in the direction of negro emancipation would be an insurrection in the South.”

Brown. I have not seen the “New York Herald” for some days past; but I presume, from your remark about the gist of the letter, that I should concur with it. I agree with Mr. Smith that moral suasion is hopeless. I don't think the people of the slave States will ever consider the subject of slavery in its true light till some other argument is resorted to than moral suasion.

Vallandigham. Did you expect a general rising of the slaves in case of your success?

Brown. No, sir; nor did I wish it. I expected to gather them up from time to time, and set them free.

Vallandigham. Did you expect to hold possession here till then?

Brown. Well, probably I had quite a different idea. I do not know that I ought to reveal my plans. I am here a prisoner and wounded, because I foolishly allowed myself to be so. You overrate your strength in supposing I could have been taken if I had not allowed it. I was too tardy after commencing the open attack — in delaying my movements through Monday night, and up to the time I was attacked by the Government troops. It was all occasioned by my desire to spare the feelings of my prisoners and their families and the community at large. I had no knowledge of the shooting of the negro Heywood.

Vallandigham. What time did you commence your organization in Canada?

Brown. That occurred about two years ago; in 1858.

Vallandigham. Who was the secretary?

Brown. That I would not tell if I recollected; but I do not recollect. I think the officers were elected in May, 1858. I may answer incorrectly, but not intentionally. My head is a little confused by wounds, and my memory obscure on dates, etc.

Dr. Biggs. Were you in the party at Dr. Kennedy's house?

Brown. I was the head of that party. I occupied the house to mature my plans. I have not been in Baltimore to purchase caps.

Dr. Biggs. What was the number of men at Kennedy's?

Brown. I decline to answer that.

Dr. Biggs. Who lanced that woman's neck on the hill?

Brown. I did. I have sometimes practised in surgery when I thought it a matter of humanity and necessity, and there was no one else to do it; but I have not studied surgery.

Dr. Biggs. It was done very well and scientifically. They have been very clever to the neighbors, I have been told, and we had no reason to suspect them, except that we could not understand their movements. They were represented as eight or nine persons; on Friday there were thirteen.

Brown. There were more than that.

Q. Where did you get arms?

A. I bought them.

Q. In what State?

A. That I will not state.

Q. How many guns?

A. Two hundred Sharpe's rifles and two hundred revolvers, — what is culled the Massachusetts Arms Company's revolvers, a little under navy size.

Q. Why did you not take that swivel you left in the house?

A. I had no occasion for it. It was given to me a year or two ago.

Q. In Kansas?

A. No. I had nothing given to me in Kansas.

Q. By whom, and in what State?

A. I decline to answer. It is not properly a swivel; it is a very large rifle with a pivot. The ball is larger than a musket ball; it is intended for a slug.

Reporter. I do not wish to annoy you; but if you have anything further you would like to say, I will report it.

Brown. I have nothing to say, only that I claim to be here in carrying out a measure I believe perfectly justifiable, and not to act the part of an incendiary or ruffian, but to aid those suffering great wrong. I wish to say, furthermore, that you had better — all you people at the South —  prepare yourselves for a settlement of this question, that must come up for settlement sooner than you are prepared for it. The sooner you are prepared the better. You may dispose of me very easily, — I am nearly disposed of now; but this question is still to be settled, — this negro question I mean; the end of that is not yet. These wounds were inflicted upon me — both sabre cuts on my head and bayonet stabs in different parts of my body — some minutes after I had ceased fighting and had consented to surrender, for the benefit of others, not for my own.¹ I believe the Major would not have been alive; I could have killed him just as easy as a mosquito when he came in, but I supposed he only came in to receive our surrender. There had been loud and long calls of “surrender” from us, — as loud as men could yell; but in the confusion and excitement I suppose we were not heard. I do not think the Major, or any one, meant to butcher us after we had surrendered.

An Officer. Why did you not surrender before the attack?

Brown. I did not think it was my duty or interest to do Bo. We assured the prisoners that we did not wish to harm them, and they should be set at liberty. I exercised my best judgment, not believing the people would wantonly sacrifice their own fellow-citizens, when we offered to let them go on condition of being allowed to change our position about a quarter of a mile. The prisoners agreed by a vote among themselves to pass across the bridge with us. We wanted them only as a sort of guarantee of our own safety, — that we should not be fired into. We took them, in the first place, as hostages and to keep them from doing any harm. We did kill some men in defending ourselves, but I saw no one fire except directly in self-defence. Our orders were strict not to harm any one not in arms against us.

Q. Brown, suppose you had every nigger in the United States, what would you do with them?

A. Set them free.

Q. Your intention was to carry them off and free them?

A. Not at all.

A Bystander. To set them free would sacrifice the life of every man in this community.

Brown. I do not think so.

Bystander. I know it. I think you are fanatical.

Brown. And I think you are fanatical. “Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad,” and you are mad.

Q. Was it your only object to free the negroes?

A. Absolutely our only object.

Q. But you demanded and took Colonel Washington's silver and watch?

A. Yes; we intended freely to appropriate the property of slaveholders to carry out our object. It was for that, and only that, and with no design to enrich ourselves with any plunder whatever.

Bystander. Did you know Sherrod in Kansas? I understand you killed him.

Brown. I killed no man except in fair fight. I fought at Black Jack Point and at Osawatomie; and if I killed anybody, it was at one of these places.

_______________

¹ At the trial of Copeland the following evidence was given :—

Mr. Sennott. You say that when Brown was down you struck him in the face with your sabre?

Lieutenant Green. Yes.

Q. This was after he was down?

A. Yes; he was down.

Q. How many times. Lieutenant Green, did you strike Brown in the face with your sabre after he was down?

A. Why, sir, he was defending himself with his gun.

Mr. Hunter. I hope the counsel for the defence will not press such questions as these.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 562-9; "Startling News from Virginia and Maryland - Negro Insurrection at Harper's Ferry - Strange and Exciting Intelligence," The New York Herald, Tuesday, October 18, 1859, Morning Edition, p. 6 to confirm the date of the interview only.