Diary of Corporal David L. Day: March 21, 1862

I AM INTERVIEWED.

Passing along Pollock, above Middle street, today, I was accosted by a man who was sitting on the veranda of his house and invited to come in, as he wished a talk with me. Noticing that he was a smart-looking, well-dressed, gentlemanly appearing man, and withal an M. D., according to his sign, I was nothing loth to gratify his whim. As I stepped up on the veranda, he invited me to be seated. After a little commonplace talk, he began to inquire about our troops, their number and where they were from. I told him only a few of our troops had landed, that the river and sound were black with them in case they should be needed, and nearly all of them were from New England. He said our capture of the city was wholly unexpected, and at the last moment nearly all the better class of citizens left, leaving their houses and property as we found them. He said in that he thought they had made a great mistake, as he regarded Gen. Burnside as an honorable, high-toned gentleman, who would have dealt fairly with them, if they had remained and taken their chances, and would have allowed them to go whenever they wished. I replied I didn't know how that would have been, but I thought they had made another mistake in burning the railroad bridge and trying to burn the town. In doing as they have, they have shown that they had no regard for their property and they certainly cannot expect us to have much for it, although we have shown some in putting out the fires and saving it.

“Yes, I know,” he said, “but perhaps they thought they would show your people that they were willing to sacrifice their property and make a Moscow of it rather than let it fall into your hands.” “Well, sir,” said I, “in that they made another mistake, for if they had succeeded in burning it, it would have been no Moscow; we should have staid here just the same. Unlike Napoleon, we do not need the town; we care nothing for it; it is the position we want.”

“But you seem to occupy it?”

“Certainly we do, there is no one else to occupy it, and we may as well use it as not.”

“Do you propose to have us vacate our premises for your use?”

“Really, sir, I am not in the secrets of the general, but I presume that you and all others will be protected in your persons and property, so long as you remain loyal and show no opposition to the government.”

“Yes, sir, I supposed it would be something that way. What do you propose doing with that cotton down on the wharf.”

“That cotton belonged to the Confederate government, or at least they were using it against the Federal government, and like other government property it becomes the spoils of war, and some fine morning you will see it going down the river bound for some northern manufacturing city. After a few weeks it will be back here again in the form of tents for the use of the army.”

“Then you intend making this a permanent garrison?”

“We intend to hold this position just as long as it is of any use to us.”

“How long do you think this war will continue?”

“As things look now, I don't think it can possibly hold more than a year longer, if it does so long.”

“Then you think in that time you can subjugate our people?”

“Well, sir, my opinion is that in less than eighteen months, every armed Confederate, unless he sooner surrenders, will be driven into the Gulf of Mexico.”

“You seem to be very sanguine in your opinion, sir; but then we all have our opinions, and I think after a year you will find you have made but little progress. I would like to ask for how long you have enlisted?”

“I have enlisted for three years, unless the job is sooner finished.”

“Well, sir, if nothing serious happens to you (which I really. hope there will not), you will serve your three years, and then, unless your people give it up, you can again enlist, for I can assure you that our people will never give it up.”

“You think then, that with all the odds against you, you will finally succeed?”

“I certainly do; you see you Yankees are going to tire of this thing after a spell; you are not used to roughing it, and will soon weary of the hardships and privations of a soldier's life. You Yankees had much rather be spinning cotton, making shoes, trading, speculating and trying to make money, than following the occupation of a soldier.”

“For a choice, there are probably very few of us who would select the occupation of a soldier, but you mistake the Yankee character entirely, if you think, having undertaken anything, they tire of it very easily. That was not the class of men they sprung from. They were an enterprising, untiring class of men; if they had not been, they would never have settled down among the rocks and hills of bleak New England and made of it the richest, most intelligent and powerful little piece of territory the sun shines on. But, my friend, as all things earthly have an end, this will probably prove no exception, and in the end, your people will find that they have got the least value received for the money paid out of any speculation they ever engaged in, and will still find themselves a part and parcel of the United States, subject to all the rules and conditions of the government, in common with the rest of the states.”

After some further talk about state rights and state sovereignty, in which we could not agree, he invited me into his house. Here, like a true Southern gentleman, he entertained and extended hospitalities right royally, and I think we must have sampled his best bottle. He told me it was six years old, and from a silver goblet, I sipped the best native wine I ever tasted; it was rich, mellow and fruity. He said it was made from a choice variety of grape called the Scupperuong. It was really a splendid native wine, as so it appeared to me. After some more small talk, I bade my new found friend good day, and took my leave.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 49-51

Governor John A. Andrew to Senator Charles Sumner, June 4, 1862

What means Stanley¹ in N. C.? Don't they know whom they send? Do they wish to drive our N. E. troops out of the field and disgust mankind? The most “hunker” officers we have ever sent, cry out, in their private correspondence, that the army is so managed in its relations to Southern men that a positive bribe is held out to whites and blacks both to be disloyal. Even guards are furnished for rebels' property not vouchsafed to men of known loyalty. This in McClellan's Department.

My letter to Mr. Stanton was within the truth. Our militia, startled by the most startling summons I issued at midnight, based on the telegram of the Sec. of War, supposing the very capitol in danger, rushed to Boston. But all were unwilling, and but a handful consented, to go for the full Militia period. It was not so a year since. No one was reluctant. No one stipulated for short terms. Twenty regiments eagerly pressed for leave to go for any term however indefinite. Now, a battery Co. whose enlistment began a week yesterday has not 85 men. And they are only enlisting for Six Months. The War looks to be of indefinite length. . . .

Perhaps all men do not reason out a conclusion by careful logic or minute observation, but the instinctive sagacity and practical sense of our people is an element we may always be sure exists. Most public men despise the people, think they are foolish and knowing their own personal limitations, believe the people not to be honest.

But Yankees are pretty knowing; they are by instinct sagacious; they have sense of the hardest sort; and they are by disposition honest and manly.

In the long run he will always dupe himself who doubts the people. An honest and brave man who looks into his own heart will find public opinion just there. He need not look at the clouds nor the church steeples, watching the wind for evidence.²

_______________

¹ Edward Stanly, a conservative, appointed May 19 military governor of North Carolina.

² June 4, 1862.

SOURCE: Henry Greenleaf Pearson, The Life of John A. Andrew: Governor of Massachusetts, 1861-1865, Volume 2, p. 22-3

John L. Motley to Ann Lothrop Motley, March 3, 1863

Legation of the United States,

March 3, 1863.           

My Dearest Mother: As I have now made up my mind that our war is to be protracted indefinitely, I am trying to withdraw my attention from it, and to plunge into the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries again. While I am occupying myself with the events of a civil war which lasted eighty years and engaged and exhausted the energies of all the leading powers of Europe, perhaps I may grow less impatient with military operations extended over a much larger and less populated area, and which have not yet continued for two years. Attention in Europe, I am happy to say, is somewhat diverted from our affairs by the events which are taking place in Poland.

Meetings are held day by day all over England, in which the strongest sympathy is expressed for the United States government, and detestation for the slaveholders and their cause, by people belonging to the working and humbler classes, who, however, make up the mass of the nation, and whose sentiments no English ministry (Whig or Tory) dares to oppose. As for Poland, I suppose the insurrection will be crushed, although it will last for months. I don't believe in any intervention on the part of the Western powers. There will only be a great deal of remonstrating, and a great talk about liberty and free institutions on the part of that apostle of liberty and civilization, Louis Napoleon.

I feel very much grieved that our only well-wisher in Europe, the Russian government, and one which has just carried out at great risks the noblest measure of the age, the emancipation of 25,000,000 slaves, should now be contending in arms with its own subjects, and that it is impossible for us to sympathize with our only friends. The government here keeps very quiet.

Ever your most affectionate son,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 317-8

Diary of Captain Luman Harris Tenney: February 16, 1865

Cleared up the snow from the ground in the morning. Boys came in from picket. How bright the war prospect looks. Hope to see home by July 4th, '65.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 144

Diary of Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: September 30, 1863

Today I explained to the Twenty-third Order Number 191 respecting the re-enlistment of veteran volunteers. I told them I would not urge them to re-enlist; that my opinion was that the war would end soon after the inauguration of a new President or of Lincoln for a second term, say within one year after the expiration of their present term, i. e., June 1865, unless foreign nations intervened, in which case they would all expect to fight again. About sixty re-enlisted.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 437

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Sophia Birchard Hayes, September 28, 1863

Today I explained to the Twenty-third Order Number 191 respecting the re-enlistment of veteran volunteers. I told them I would not urge them to re-enlist; that my opinion was that the war would end soon after the inauguration of a new President or of Lincoln for a second term, say within one year after the expiration of their present term, i. e., June 1865, unless foreign nations intervened, in which case they would all expect to fight again. About sixty re-enlisted.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 437

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Sunday, June 8, 1862

Flat Top Mountain. — A bitterly cold morning — too cold to snow! Gradually warmed up. P. M. rode with Avery four or five miles. Our horses rested and fed up were in high spirits. We are all heartily tired of staying here. When shall we go? — Dear Lucy, I think of her very often these dull days. It looks as if the war would soon be ended, and then we shall be together again.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 288

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Friday, June 10, 1864

Oh, dear! Another day finds us in the same old position. I wonder if this awful war will ever find an end? It looks worse to me than ever. Here we are within ten miles of Richmond, and I can't see any prospect of our ever getting nearer to it without sacrificing half our noble army, and this in my opinion won't pay. But I fear I am getting faint-hearted! I must have more faith in our Generals. Indeed, I think I have faith in them, but they can't do what they want without they have the men to do it with.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 79

William Cullen Bryant to Richard H. Dana, Esq., May 14, 1863

roslyn, May 14, 1863

How this war drags on! Yet I cannot help believing that it will end suddenly, almost unexpectedly, as the Indian War did in Florida, twenty years ago, when General Worth penetrated to the Everglades, to the wigwams where the savages had their families, and they, seeing that further resistance was hopeless, yielded themselves as submissive as lambs. We have all along, in my opinion, conducted the war on a false principle, weakening our forces by the loosest dispersion, and strengthening the rebels by keeping them in a compact body, when there was no necessity for all this. I think I see symptoms of a disposition to depart from this policy; and, when we do, I shall conclude the war is near an end.

I have been looking over Cowper's translation of Homer lately, and comparing it with the original. It has astonished me that one who wrote such strong English as Cowper in his original compositions, should have put Homer, who wrote also with simplicity and spirit, into such phraseology as he has done. For example, when Ulysses, in the fifth book of the Odyssey, asks, “What will become of me?” Cowper makes him say:

“—what destiny at last

Attends me?”

and so on. The greater part is in such stilted phrase, and all the freedom and fire of the old poet is lost.

SOURCE: Parke Godwin, A Biography of William Cullen Bryant, Volume 1, p. 192

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, March 10, 1862

Headquarters 2d Brigade, S. C.

Beaufort, S. C. March 10th, 1862.

My dearest Mother:

The “Atlantic” brought Wm. Elliott who had much to tell me of you all, and I gladly learned of your happiness and good health. The letters with the latest news and Lilly's carte-de-visite, likewise came to hand. I must thank Lilly a thousand times for having undergone the ordeal of being photographed for my sake. Only let Molly go and do likewise. As for the little boys, I fear their moustaches will grow before their mother will consider them lovely enough for the occasion. Pshaw! As though a photograph could represent a red nose or a cold in the head!

Well, I thank Uncle Phelps most heartily for the wine he sent me, which has been much commended by judges of the article. Aunt Maria's crackers were a welcome addition to our mess for which I am this month acting as caterer.

I received a long, long letter from Sam Elliott, for which I am most grateful. Tell him, if I do not answer as speedily as it deserves, he will nevertheless always remember how much I prize his friendship. I am very glad you did not accompany “the excellent females” whom the “Atlantic” brought hither for the purpose of regenerating the negro race. They have been having a most royal time of it I assure you. Some of the ladies are from Boston, and do not wish to associate with ladies from New-York. Indeed, some of the Boston ladies have been creditably informed that the New-York delegation is composed of nothing better than milliners. The New-York ladies say that they have volunteered their services while the philanthropic Boston women are receiving $20.00 a month — in fact are paid wages for their charity. And so the battle rages high. In fact the most of the combatants are heartily sick of it. They supposed they were coming here to occupy the superb mansions of the wealthiest of Southern Planters — such mansions as you read of in Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz's picture of Southern life. They have come, however, and found an old-fashioned town with crumbling old-fashioned houses, all run to waste in piazza — very picturesque to look at to my eyes — “but then they are so different,” the ladies say, “to what we are accustomed about Boston.” With the men of the Association there has been no little fun. They are strictly non-combatants, and have indeed a sort of superior feeling to those who are brutally employed in bearing arms. For this they have been punished by being made the recipients of the most marvellous “canards” imaginable. They are kept in a continual state of alarm by reports of a speedy attack from overwhelming forces. They are comforted by the coolest assurances that the enemy would in no case regard them as prisoners of war, but would hang them without compunction to the nearest tree.

But I have told scandal enough. We were reviewed a week ago by Gen. Sherman. Our brigade made a fine appearance, and I am glad to particularize our Conn. Battery which really reflected very creditably on its captain. I met a young fellow a few days ago, named ———, who says he knew you and Lilly when you were at the Wauregan Hotel. I believe he had a class in Sunday-school then, though somewhat anxious to play the fast boy now. Well, it seems we are making rapid progress in the war, and who knows but that I may be home by next 4th of July, instructing Mary's boys in firing off crackers and other noisy nuisances incident to the occasion.

Good-bye, my dear, darling Mother. Love to you and all of my friends, to sisters and the little children. You must report progress too about Walter's boy.

By-the-by, you addressed me some time ago in a most mysterious manner. Reading over the letter lately, I have concluded to answer with equal mystery — “Precisely!”

Your affectionate son,

W. T. Lusk,

Aide-de-Camp.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 127-9

Major Wilder Dwight, April 29, 1862

camp Near Harrisonburg, April 29, 1862.

I believe I wrote you a short letter since our arrival here. Written in a northeast storm, perhaps it had a little of the gloom of the sky that overhung it. Let me try what brighter skies may inspire. Sunday morning last broke; yes! broke, and the spell — of weather which had held us so long yielded at last. The snows which we found on the field vanished.

In the midst of our morning inspection an order came to march at once on a reconnoissance towards Jackson's position in the Swift Run Gap on the Blue Ridge. We got off at about eleven o'clock, with the Twenty-seventh Indiana Regiment. It was our duty to support the cavalry and artillery under General Hatch. We went out on the “mud pike” to Magaugheysville, or rather toward that euphonious town. Such a road! We toiled out eleven miles. The cavalry pushed beyond Magaugheysville and had a brisk little skirmish, in which we took two prisoners and lost one. The Rebels have the bridge that crosses the Shenandoah full of brush and combustibles, ready to burn when we press them. It is reported that Jackson is reinforced by a brigade or more, and that he will make a stand in the gap. If this is so, perhaps we may get a little fight out of him. But I am still of the persuasion which I have always held. Our problem in this valley has always been, the movement and subsistence of our army. The enemy has always been a secondary consideration, though he has kept up a vigorous resistance.

In the ripeness of time we must cross the ridge and find ourselves close on the flank of that army that resists McClellan at Yorktown. This is certainly the right way.

What politics or jealousy or a divided command may confuse us into blundering, I cannot say.

We have reduced our baggage, and I send home a trunk. The hard pan is what we come down to, and miss only the opportunity to drive twice our force of Rebels from any position they may take.

I rejoice in the capture of New Orleans, and believe that the 1st of June will show the Rebellion crushed and bleeding.

Yesterday I was busy all day on outpost duty. On Sunday our regiment marched twenty-two miles between eleven o'clock and sunset: good work. We have met one misfortune since our arrival here. A corporal of Company H, who was a capital man, and a good soldier, marched into our present camp with the regiment, was taken sick the next day of typhus fever, and died within forty-eight hours. This morning he was buried, and I could not help thinking how little of the soldier's reward he would receive, yet how much he deserves.

We are all well, and hoping to move on toward Richmond.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 242-3

Horace Greeley to Abraham Lincoln, May 19, 1861

New York, May 19, 1861.

Dear Sir:

The intelligence that the War for the Union is to be prosecuted with emphatic vigor, and that the traitors are to be thrown back from Washington in every direction causes general rejoicing here. We feel that the struggle thus prosecuted, cannot be of long duration. All are confident that the result will justify our fondest hopes.

The one drawback on the general satisfaction is the existence of wide-spread complaint and heart-burning with regard to the acceptance of this regiment and the rejection of that and the other.— These men have volunteered to defend the country on its own terms, they cannot be made to see why they should not be taken. The report that all who are efficient and ready are henceforth to be accepted, rejoices every loyal heart. I trust that report is well-founded; if it be not, I pray you to make it so at the earliest moment, and thereby gratify millions beside

Yours,

Horace Greeley.

Hon. A. Lincoln, Washington.

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

Abraham Lincoln’s Address to the Sanitary Fair in Baltimore, Maryland, April 18, 1864

Ladies and Gentlemen – Calling to mind that we are in Baltimore, we can not fail to note that the world moves. Looking upon these many people, assembled here, to serve, as they best may, the soldiers of the Union, it occurs at once that three years ago, the same soldiers could not so much as pass through Baltimore. The change from then till now, is both great, and gratifying. Blessings on the brave men who have wrought the change, and the fair women who strive to reward them for it.

But Baltimore suggests more than could happen within Baltimore. The change within Baltimore is part only of a far wider change. When the war began, three years ago, neither party, nor any man, expected it would last till now. Each looked for the end, in some way, long ere to-day. Neither did any anticipate that domestic slavery would be much affected by the war. But here we are; the war has not ended, and slavery has been much affected – how much needs not now to be recounted. So true is it that man proposes, and God disposes.

But we can see the past, though we may not claim to have directed it; and seeing it, in this case, we feel more hopeful and confident for the future.

The world has never had a good definition of the word liberty, and the American people, just now, are much in want of one. We all declare for liberty; but in using the same word we do not all mean the same thing. With some the word liberty may mean for each man to do as he pleases with himself, and the product of his labor; while with others the same word may mean for some men to do as they please with other men, and the product of other men's labor. Here are two, not only different, but incompatable things, called by the same name – liberty. And it follows that each of the things is, by the respective parties, called by two different and incompatable names – liberty and tyranny.

The shepherd drives the wolf from the sheep's throat, for which the sheep thanks the shepherd as a liberator, while the wolf denounces him for the same act as the destroyer of liberty, especially as the sheep was a black one. Plainly the sheep and the wolf are not agreed upon a definition of the word liberty; and precisely the same difference prevails to-day among us human creatures, even in the North, and all professing to love liberty. Hence we behold the processes by which thousands are daily passing from under the yoke of bondage, hailed by some as the advance of liberty, and bewailed by others as the destruction of all liberty. Recently, as it seems, the people of Maryland have been doing something to define liberty; and thanks to them that, in what they have done, the wolf's dictionary, has been repudiated.

It is not very becoming for one in my position to make speeches at great length; but there is another subject upon which I feel that I ought to say a word. A painful rumor, true I fear, has reached us of the massacre, by the rebel forces, at Fort Pillow, in the West end of Tennessee, on the Mississippi river, of some three hundred colored soldiers and white officers, who had just been overpowered by their assailants. There seems to be some anxiety in the public mind whether the government is doing it's duty to the colored soldier, and to the service, at this point. At the beginning of the war, and for some time, the use of colored troops was not contemplated; and how the change of purpose was wrought, I will not now take time to explain. Upon a clear conviction of duty I resolved to turn that element of strength to account; and I am responsible for it to the American people, to the Christian world, to history, and on my final account to God. Having determined to use the negro as a soldier, there is no way but to give him all the protection given to any other soldier. The difficulty is not in stating the principle, but in practically applying it. It is a mistake to suppose the government is indiffe[re]nt to this matter, or is not doing the best it can in regard to it. We do not to-day know that a colored soldier, or white officer commanding colored soldiers, has been massacred by the rebels when made a prisoner. We fear it, believe it, I may say, but we do not know it. To take the life of one of their prisoners, on the assumption that they murder ours, when it is short of certainty that they do murder ours, might be too serious, too cruel a mistake. We are having the Fort-Pillow affair thoroughly investigated; and such investigation will probably show conclusively how the truth is. If, after all that has been said, it shall turn out that there has been no massacre at Fort-Pillow, it will be almost safe to say there has been none, and will be none elsewhere. If there has been the massacre of three hundred there, or even the tenth part of three hundred, it will be conclusively proved; and being so proved, the retribution shall as surely come. It will be matter of grave consideration in what exact course to apply the retribution; but in the supposed case, it must come.

SOURCE: Roy P. Basler, Editor, Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, Volume 7, p. 301-3

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: December 25, 1864

Christmas at Halltown. We hope this will be our last Christmas in the service, and that the war will soon be over. We write many letters and receive a large mail every day, coming from Harper's Ferry. All our shacks have small stoves, so that we use much of our time cutting wood. When off duty we visit the farmhouses, buy eggs and butter, vegetables. We are living well, passing the time very pleasantly for camp life. We are dressed warm, as we can have things sent from home, coming by Adams Express to Harper's Ferry.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 137

John L. Motley to Baron von Bismarck, August 29, 1862

Legation of the United States of America, Vienna,

August 29, 1862.

My Dear Bismarck: I have been at this point now about eight months, and ever since I came here I have been most desirous of opening communications with you. But for a long time you seemed to be so much on the move between Berlin, Petersburg, and Paris that even if I should succeed in getting a letter to you, it appears doubtful whether I should be lucky enough to receive a reply.

Perhaps I shall be more successful now, for the newspapers inform me that you are in some watering-place in the south of France. So I shall write but a very brief note, merely to express my great desire to hear from you again, and my hope that in an idle moment, if you ever have such, you will send me a line to tell me of yourself, your prosperity, and of your wife and children.

Pray give my sincerest regards to Madame de Bismarck, and allow me to add those of my wife, although personally still unknown to you both, alas!

I don't know whether you have observed in any newspapers that I was appointed about a year ago minister plenipotentiary, etc., to this court. I arrived here from America about the beginning of November. I much fear that this is the very last place in Europe where I shall ever have the good luck of seeing you. Nevertheless, whether you remain in Paris or go — as seems most likely from all I can gather from private and public sources — to Berlin this autumn to form a ministry, in either case there is some chance of our meeting some time or other, while there would have been none so long as you remained in St. Petersburg. Pray let me have a private line from you; you can't imagine how much pleasure it will give me. My meeting with you in Frankfort, and thus renewing the friendship of our youth, will remain one of the most agreeable and brightest chapters in my life. And it is painful to think that already that renewed friendship is beginning to belong to the past, and that year after year is adding a fold to the curtain.

However, you must write to me, and tell me where we can all meet next summer, if no sooner. I wish you would let me know whether and how soon you are to make a cabinet in Berlin. Remember that when you write to me it is as if you wrote to some one in the planet Jupiter. Personally, I am always deeply interested in what concerns you. But, publicly, I am a mere spectator of European affairs, and wherever and whatever my sympathies in other times than these might be, I am too entirely engrossed with the portentous events now transacting in my own country to be likely to intermeddle or make mischief in the doings of this hemisphere, save in so far as they may have bearing on our own politics. You can say anything you like to me, then, as freely as when you were talking to me in your own house.

The cardinal principle of American diplomacy has always been to abstain from all intervention or participation in European affairs. This has always seemed to me the most enlightened view to take of our exceptional, and therefore fortunate, political and geographical position. I need not say how earnest we are in maintaining that principle at this moment, when we are all determined to resist to the death any interference on the part of Europe in our affairs.

I wish, by the way, you would let me know anything you can pick up in regard to the French emperor's intentions or intrigues in regard to our civil war.

Of course I don't suggest to you for an instant any violation of confidence, but many things might be said with great openness to you that would not, from reserve or politeness or a hundred other reasons, be said to an American diplomatist.

I suppose there is no doubt whatever that L. N. has been perpetually, during the last six months, provoking, soliciting, and teasing the English cabinet to unite with him in some kind of intervention, and that the English ministers have steadily refused to participate in the contemplated crime. Of course they know and we know that intervention means war with the United States government and people on behalf of the rebel slaveholders; but I have very good reason to know that the English government refuse, and that Lord Palmerston even ridicules the idea as preposterous. Not that the English love us. On the contrary, they hate us, but they can't understand how it will help the condition of their starving populations in the manufacturing districts to put up the price of cotton five hundred per cent., which a war with America would do, and to cause an advance in corn in the same proportion. There is no doubt whatever that the harvest in England is a very bad one, and that they must buy some thirty million sterling worth of foreign corn. On the other hand, the harvest in America is the most fruitful ever known since that continent was discovered.

Unless lunatics were at the head of affairs in England, they would not seize the opportunity of going to war with the granary of corn and cotton without a cause.

But it may be different with France. She is fond of la Gloire. And she is sending out an expedition to Mexico, although she seems likely to have her hands full in Italy just now. Moreover, L. N. is the heaven appointed arbiter of all sublunary affairs, and he doubtless considers it his mission to “save civilization” in our continent, as he has so often been good enough to do in the rest of the world.

What do you think is his real design? How far do you believe he has gone in holding out definite encouragement to the secessionist agents in France? Do you think he has any secret plot with them to assist them against us in the Gulf of Mexico? Will he attempt anything of this kind without the knowledge and connivance of England? I say no more except to repeat that you may give me, perhaps, a useful hint or two, from time to time, of what you hear and know. It is unnecessary for me to say that I shall keep sacredly confidential anything you may say to me as such.

I shall not go into the subject of our war at all, save to say that it is to me an inconceivable idea that any man of average intellect or love of right can possibly justify this insurrection of the slaveholders. The attempt to destroy a prosperous, powerful, and happy commonwealth like ours, merely that on its ruin might be constructed a slave-breeding, slave-holding confederacy, is one of the greatest crimes that history has recorded. In regard to the issue of the war I don't entertain the slightest doubt, if foreign interference is kept off. If the slaveholders obtain the alliance of France, the war will of course be indefinitely protracted. If we are left to ourselves, I think with the million of men that we shall have in the field in the course of the month of October, and with a fleet of twelve or fifteen first-class iron-clad frigates, which will be ready by that time, that the insurrection cannot hold out a great while longer. However, of that I am not sure. Time is nothing to God — nor to the devil either, as to that matter. We mortals, creatures of a day, are very impatient. The United States government is now fighting with the devil, for the spirit of this slave Confederacy is nothing less. How long it will take us to vanquish it I know not. But that it will be vanquished completely I entertain no doubt whatever. I don't expect you to accept my views, but I thought it as well to state them. I am more anxious about the next three months than about anything that can happen afterward. Let me, however, warn you — in case you take an interest in the progress of our affairs — not to believe in Reuter's telegrams as in the London “Times.” Their lies are stupendous, and by them public opinion all over Europe is poisoned. This is nothing to me. Their lies can't alter the facts — I have other sources of information. But when I see how the telegraph and the European press have been constantly worked for the interest of the secessionists, it does not surprise me to see the difficulty which honest people have in arriving at the truth, either in fact or in theory. Do you know your colleague, Mr. Dayton, United States Minister in Paris? Let me recommend him to you as a most excellent and honorable man. Renewing all our kindest regards to you and yours, believe me, my dear Bismarck, always most sincerely your old friend,

J. L. Motley.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 271-6

Major Wilder Dwight: April 9, 1862

camp Near Edinburg, April 9, 1862.

Scene, camp, snowing and raining, and blowing angrily; Time, Tuesday morning. The Major Second Massachusetts Regiment enters his tent, shaking the dripping oil-skin cap and India-rubber clothing. He discovers John, his John, surnamed Strong i’ the arm, or Armstrong, digging a hole within the damp tent to receive some coals from the hickory fire that is trying to blaze without. John (loquitur). Sogering is queer business, sir. M. Yes, John. J. But it's hard, too, sir, on them that follers it. M. Yes, John. J. It's asy for them as sits to home, sir, by the fire, and talks about sogers and victories, very fine and asy like. It's little they know of the raal work, sir. M. Yes, John. J. ’T wouldn't be quite the same, sir, if they was out here theirselves trying to warm theirselves at a hole in the ground, sir. M. No, John. Then the coals are brought on, and a feeble comfort is attained. The woods are heavy without with snow and ice. In the afternoon I visit the pickets, and spend a chilly and wearisome day. This morning is again like yesterday. –––, who has shown himself  a trump in our recent exigencies, but who has certain eccentricities of manner and speech, came to breakfast this morning, rubbing his hands and saying, “You wouldn't hardly know that this was the South if you did n't keep looking on the map, would you? hey? What say?”

Since I wrote the above I have spent two hours in the hail-storm visiting pickets. This, then, is an invasion of the South, query?

We receive this morning news of the capture of Island No. 10, and the defeat of Beauregard.

Westward the star of — victory takes its way. How long can this thing last? Is it not collapsing with occasional throes of vigor, and are not these spasms the twitchings that precede death? I cannot say. But of one thing I am sure, that it will be warmer farther south; so I wish to go there. It is a week that we have hesitated on the bank of this stony creek; soon we will move on. Our signal-station on the neighboring mountain can see Jackson's camps beyond Mount Jackson, and his wagons, with teams hitched, ready to move at a moment's notice. We can advance again at any moment, by a prolonged skirmish.

I wish you all at home much better weather than we have, and the same peace and quietness.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 230-1

Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. to John L. Motley, August 29, 1862

Boston, 21 Charles Street,

August 29, 1862.

My Dear Motley: I don't know how I can employ the evening of my birthday better than by sitting down and beginning a letter to you. I have heard of your receiving my last, and that you meant to reply to it soon. But this was not in the bond, and whether you write or not, I must let you hear from me from time to time. I know what you must endure with a non-conductor of a thousand leagues between you and this great battery, which is sending its thrill through us every night and morning. I know that every different handwriting on an envelop, if it comes from a friend, has its special interest, for it will give an impression in some way differing from that of all others. My own thoughts have been turned aside for a while from those lesser occurrences of the day which would occupy them at other times by a domestic sorrow, which, though coming in the course of nature, and at a period when it must have been very soon inevitable, has yet left sadness in mine and other households. My mother died on the 19th of this month, at the age of ninety-three, keeping her lively sensibilities and sweet intelligence to the last. My brother John had long cared for her in the most tender way, and it almost broke his heart to part with her. She was a daughter to him, she said, and he had fondly thought that love and care could keep her frail life to the filling up of a century or beyond it. It was a pity to look on him in his first grief; but time, the great consoler, is busy with his anodyne, and he is coming back to himself. My mother remembered the Revolution well, and she was scared by the story of the redcoats coming along and killing everybody as they went, she having been carried from Boston to Newburyport. Why should I tell you this? Our hearts lie between two forces — the near ones of home and family, and those that belong to the rest of the universe. A little magnet holds its armature against the dragging of our own planet and all the spheres.

I had hoped that my mother might have lived through this second national convulsion. It was ordered otherwise, and with the present prospects I can hardly lament that she was spared the period of trial that remains. How long that is to be no one can predict with confidence. There is a class of men one meets with who seem to consider it due to their antecedents to make the worst of everything. I suppose —— —— may be one of these. I met him a day or two since, and lost ten minutes in talk with him on the sidewalk — lost them, because I do not wish to talk with any man who looks at this matter empirically as an unlucky accident, which a little prudence might have avoided, and not a theoretical necessity. However, he said to me that the wisest man he knew — somebody whose name I did not know — said to him long ago that this war would outlast him, an old man, and his companion also, very probably. You meet another man, and he begins cursing the government as the most tyrannical one that ever existed. “That is not the question,” I answer. “How much money have you given for this war? How many of your boys have gone to it? How much of your own body and soul have you given to it?” I think Mr. —— —— is the most forlorn of all the Jeremiahs I meet with. Faith, faith is the only thing that keeps a man up in times like these; and those persons who, by temperament or underfeeding of the soul, are in a state of spiritual anemia, are the persons I like least to meet, and try hardest not to talk with.

For myself, I do not profess to have any political wisdom. I read, I listen, I judge to the best of my ability. The best talk I have heard from any of our home politicians was that of Banks, more than a year and a half ago. In a conversation I had with him, he foreshadowed more clearly the plans and prospects and estimated more truly the resources of the South than any one else with whom I had met. But prophets in America and Europe have been at a very heavy discount of late. Count Gasparin seems to me to have the broadest and keenest understanding of the aims and ends of this armed controversy. If we could be sure of no intermeddling, I should have no anxiety except for individuals and for temporary interests. If we have grown unmanly and degenerate in the north wind, I am willing that the sirocco should sweep us off from the soil. If the course of nature must be reversed for us, and the Southern Goths must march to the “beggarly land of ice” to overrun and recolonize us, I have nothing to object. But I have a most solid and robust faith in the sterling manhood of the North, in its endurance, its capacity for a military training, its plasticity for every need, in education, in political equality, in respect for man as man in peaceful development, which is our law, in distinction from aggressive colonization; in human qualities as against bestial and diabolical ones; in the Lord as against the devil. If I never see peace and freedom in this land, I shall have faith that my children will see it. If they do not live long enough to see it, I believe their children will. The revelations we have had from the Old World have shed a new light for us on feudal barbarism. We know now where we are not to look for sympathy. But oh, it would have done your heart good to see the processions of day before yesterday and to-day, the air all aflame with flags, the streets shaking with the tramp of long-stretched lines, and only one feeling showing itself, the passion of the first great uprising, only the full flower of which that was the opening bud.

There is a defense of blubber about the arctic creatures through which the harpoon must be driven before the vital parts are touched. Perhaps the Northern sensibility is protected by some such incasing shield. The harpoon is, I think, at last through the blubber. In the meanwhile I feel no doubt in my own mind that the spirit of hostility to slavery as the cause of this war is speedily and certainly increasing. They were talking in the cars to-day of Fremont's speech at the Tremont Temple last evening. His allusions to slavery — you know what they must have been — were received with an applause which they would never have gained a little while ago. Nay, I think a miscellaneous Boston audience would be more like to cheer any denunciation of slavery now than almost any other sentiment.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 267-71

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Tuesday, April 15, 1862

Still rain! — Read Bulwer's “Strange Story.” One idea I get: “We have an instinctive longing for a future existence”; ergo, there is a future. “Jack Hinton” and “Strange Story” both read in these days of rain and suspense. I think often of my wife and mother as I read news which seems to point to an early termination of the war. How happy peace will make many families!

Lieutenant Harris, [a] corporal, and seven men go with prisoners to Fayetteville. Two will go on to Ohio.

P. M. Cleared off enough to have a parade in the evening. Evening, read Commercial of 11th containing more particulars of the fight, the great battle at Pittsburg Landing. What a complete success General Pope's operations against Island Number 10 turned out to be! Complete. It must weaken the enemy more than any blow they have yet received.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 228-9

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: July 16, 1864

Near Vining Station, Ga.,

July 16, 1864.

The President, in his wisdom or his weakness, has stopped all capital punishment in the army. The greatest penalty for the crime of desertion now is confinement during the war at the Dry Tortugas; that may be for a longer or shorter period than the term of their enlistment, but during the whole time the deserters are not under fire, their hard labor is probably less than that which troops in the field have to perform, and the chance of escape is always before them. Is it humanity for a man virtually to pardon all these deserters, who have committed one of the greatest military crimes, when, by so doing, the life of every soldier who does his duty and goes into battle is endangered to a greater extent? I do not say that shooting deserters would stop all desertion, but I believe that with such a penalty before them, only the most reckless would attempt it. These men who desert are of no value to society, and no one would regret them if they were justly shot.

This war is now in its fourth year; no one doubts that it has got to go on in some shape or other, either well or poorly managed, till it is brought to a definite conclusion; that end may be in one year and it may be in five years, but should not there be some regard to economy in its conduct? Should it be possible for ten out of every fifteen thousand men, raised at an expense of four or five hundred dollars apiece, to escape their term of service due the Government? Why, at every little scare, are we raising hundred-day men and telling them, as a strong inducement to serve, that they will be exempt from any drafts during that period? A man cannot become a soldier in a hundred days; he can't learn in that time how to take care of his health and rations. The shorter the term of service the greater will be the proportion of deaths. No man in this war can look ahead for one hundred days and calculate on any great and decided success within that time. The chances are that at the end of that term, the occasion for men will be as great as at the beginning.

These calls for men for short terms are farces which have been repeated too often. They are made as concessions to a people who would as cheerfully stand a practical order for men. In the case of these bounty-jumpers, substitutes, and all other unreliable men, there should be an order obliging them to deposit their bounties in some bank, payable only by small instalments, or at the end of their term of service. A man furnishing a substitute should be held responsible for him during the whole three years. I am willing and have made up my mind to serve through this war, no matter how long it lasts, with pay or without pay; and I do want to see a little more practical earnestness in the conduct of affairs, and not so much shirking of responsibility.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 178-80

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: October 20, 1864

Many reports of the great battle came late last night and this morning. Great cheering and rejoicing. Our gallant Phil rode from Winchester to the army and saved the day. Expressions on all sides, General Sheridan was never defeated. Jubal Early found out that our gallant Phil Sheridan was in command of the Shenandoah Valley and he had the men to back him up. The talk in camp is the war will soon be over.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 130-1