Diary of William Howard Russell: May 9, 1861

My faithful Wigfall was good enough to come in early, in order to show me some comments on my letters in the “New York Times.” It appears the papers are angry because I said that New York was apathetic when I landed, and they try to prove I was wrong by showing there was a “glorious outburst of Union feeling,” after the news of the fall of Sumter. But I now know that the very apathy of which I spoke was felt by the Government of Washington, and was most weakening and embarrassing to them. What would not the value of “the glorious outburst” have been, had it taken place before the Charleston batteries had opened on Sumter — when the Federal flag, for example, was fired on, flying from the “Star of the West,” or when Beauregard cut off supplies, or Bragg threatened Pickens, or the first shovel of earth was thrown up in hostile battery? But no! New York was then engaged in discussing State rights, and in reading articles to prove the new Government would be traitors if they endeavored to reinforce the Federal forts, or were perusing leaders in favor of the Southern Government. Haply, they may remember one, not so many weeks old, in which the “NewYork Herald” compared Jeff Davis and his Cabinet to the “Great Rail Splitter,” and Seward, and Chase, and came to the conclusion that the former “were gentlemen” — (a matter of which it is quite incompetent to judge) — “and would, and ought to succeed.” The glorious outburst of “Union feeling” which threatened to demolish the “Herald” office, has created a most wonderful change in the views of the proprietor, whose diverse-eyed vision is now directed solely to the beauties of the Union, and whose faith is expressed in “a hearty adhesion to the Government of our country.” New York must pay the penalty of its indifference, and bear the consequences of listening to such counsellors.

Mr. Deasy, much dilapidated, returned about twelve o'clock from his planter, who was drunk when he went over, and would not let him go to the beaver-dam. To console him, the planter stayed up all night drinking, and waking him up at intervals, that he might refresh him with a glass of whiskey. This man was well off, owned land, and a good-stock of slaves, but he must have been a “mean white,” who had raised himself in the world. He lived in a three-roomed wooden cabin, and in one of the rooms he kept his wife shut up from the stranger's gaze. One of his negroes was unwell, and he took Deasy to see him. The result of his examination was, “Nigger! I guess you won't live more than an hour.” His diagnosis was quite correct.

Before my departure I had a little farewell levee — Mr. Toombs, Mr. Browne, Mr. Benjamin, Mr. Walker, Major Deas, Col. Pickett, Major Calhoun, Captain Ripley, and others — who were exceedingly kind with letters of introduction and offers of service. Dined as usual on a composite dinner — Southern meat and poultry bad — at three o'clock, and at four, P. M., drove down to the steep banks of the Alabama River, where the castle-like hulk of the “Southern Republic” was waiting to receive us. I bade good-by to Montgomery without regret. The native people were not very attractive, and the city has nothing to make up for their deficiency, but of my friends there I must always retain pleasant memories, and, indeed, I hope some day I shall be able to keep my promise to return and see more of the Confederate ministers and their chief.

The vessel was nothing more than a vast wooden house, of three separate stories, floating on a pontoon which upheld the engine, with a dining-hall or saloon on the second story surrounded by sleeping-berths, and a nest of smaller rooms upstairs; on the metal roof was a “musical” instrument called a “calliope,” played like a piano by keys, which acted on levers and valves, admitting steam into metal cups, where it produced the requisite notes, — high, resonant, and not unpleasing at a moderate distance. It is 417 miles to Mobile; but at this season the steamer can maintain a good rate of speed, as there is very little cotton or cargo to be taken on board at the landings, and the stream is full.

The river is about 200 yards broad, and of the color of chocolate and milk, with high, steep, wooded banks, rising so much above the surface of the stream that a person on the upper deck of the towering “Southern Republic” cannot get a glimpse of the fields and country beyond. High banks and bluffs spring up to the height of 150 or even 200 feet above the river, the breadth of which is so uniform as give the Alabama the appearance of a canal, only relieved by sudden bends and rapid curves. The surface is covered with masses of drift-wood, whole trees, and small islands of branches. Now and then a sharp, black, fang-like projection standing stiffly in the current gives warning of a snag, but the helmsman, who commands the whole course of the river, from an elevated house amidships on the upper deck, can see these in time; and at night pine-boughs are lighted in iron cressets at the bows to illuminate the water.

The captain, who was not particular whether his name was spelt Maher, or Meaher, or Meagher (les trots se disent), was evidently a character, — perhaps a good one. One with a gray eye full of cunning and of some humor, strongly marked features, and a very Celtic mouth of the Kerry type. He soon attached himself to me, and favored me with some wonderful yarns, which I hope he was not foolish enough to think I believed. One relating to a wholesale destruction and massacre of Indians, he narrated with evident gusto. Pointing to one of the bluffs, he said that, some thirty years ago, the whole of the Indians in the district being surrounded by the whites, betook themselves to that spot, and remained there without any means of escape, till they were quite starved out. So they sent down to know if the whites would let them go, and it was agreed that they should be permitted to move down the river in boats. When the day came, and they were all afloat, the whites anticipated the boat-massacre of Nana Sahib at Cawnpore, and destroyed the helpless red skins. Many hundreds thus perished, and the whole affair was very much approved of.

The value of land on the sides of this river is great, as it yields nine to eleven bales of cotton to the acre, — worth £10 a bale at present prices. The only evidences of this wealth to be seen by us consisted of the cotton sheds on the top of the banks, and slides of timber, with steps at each side down to the landings, so constructed that the cotton bales could be shot down on board the vessel. These shoots and staircases are generally protected by a roof of planks, and lead to unknown regions inhabited by niggers and their masters, the latter all talking politics. They never will, never can be conquered, — nothing on earth could induce them to go back into the Union. They will burn every bale of cotton, and fire every house, and lay waste every field and homestead, before they will yield to the Yankees. And so they talk through the glimmering of bad cigars for hours.

The management of the boat is dexterous,— as she approaches a landing-place, the helm is put hard over, to the screaming of the steam-pipe and the wild strains of “Dixie” floating out of the throats of the calliope, and as the engines are detached, one wheel is worked forward, and the other backs water, so she soon turns head up stream, and is then gently paddled up to the river bank, to which she is just kept up by steam — the plank is run ashore, and the few passengers who are coming in or out are lighted on their way by the flames of pine in an iron basket, swinging above the bow by a long pole. Then we see them vanishing into black darkness up the steps, or coming down clearer and clearer till they stand in the full blaze of the beacon which casts dark shadows on the yellow water. The air is glistening with fire-flies, which dot the darkness with specks and points of flame, just as sparks fly through the embers of tinder or half-burnt paper.

Some of the landings were by far more important than others. There were some, for example, where an iron railroad was worked down the bank by windlasses for hoisting up goods; others where the negroes half-naked leaped ashore, and rushing at piles of firewood, tossed them on board to feed the engine, which, all uncovered and open to the lower deck lighted up the darkness by the glare from the stoke-holes, which cried forever, “Give, give!” as the negroes ceaselessly thrust the pine-beams into their hungry maws. I could understand how easily a steamer can “burn up,” and how hopeless escape would be under such circumstances. The whole framework of the vessel is of the lightest resinous pine, so raw that the turpentine oozes out through the paint; the hull is a mere shell. If the vessel once caught fire, all that could be done would be to turn her round, and run her to the bank, in the hope of holding there long enough to enable the people to escape into the trees; but if she were not near a landing, many must be lost; as the bank is steep down, the vessel cannot be run aground; and in some places the trees are in eight and ten feet of water. A few minutes would suffice to set the vessel in a blaze from stem to stern; and if there were cotton on board, the bales would burn almost like powder. The scene at each landing was repeated, with few variations, ten times till we reached Selma, 110 miles distance, at 11.30 at night.

Selma, which is connected with the Tennessee and Mississippi rivers by railroad, is built upon a steep, lofty bluff, and the lights in the windows, and the lofty hotels above us, put me in mind of the old town of Edinburgh, seen from Prince's Street. Beside us there was a huge storied wharf, so that our passengers could step on shore from any deck they pleased. Here Mr. Deasy, being attacked by illness, became alarmed at the idea of continuing his journey without any opportunity of medical assistance, and went on shore.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 182-6

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 8, 1861

I tried to write, as I have taken my place in the steamer to Mobile to-morrow, and I was obliged to do my best in a room full of people, constantly disturbed by visitors. Early this morning, as usual, my faithful Wigfall comes in and sits by my bedside, and passing his hands through his locks, pours out his ideas with wonderful lucidity and odd affectation of logic all his own. “We are a peculiar people, sir! You don't understand us, and you can't understand us, because we are known to you only by Northern writers and Northern papers, who know nothing of us themselves, or misrepresent what they do know. We are an agricultural people; we are a primitive but a civilized people. We have no cities — we don't want them. We have no literature — we don't need any yet. We have no press — we are glad of it. We do not require a press, because we go out and discuss all public questions from the stump with our people. We have no commercial marine — no navy — we don't want them. We are better without them. Your ships carry our produce, and you can protect your own vessels. We want no manufactures: we desire no trading, no mechanical or manufacturing classes. As long as we have our rice, our sugar, our tobacco, and our cotton, we can command wealth to purchase all we want from those nations with which we are in amity, and to lay up money besides. But with the Yankees we will never trade — never. Not one pound of cotton shall ever go from the South to their accursed cities; not one ounce of their steel or their manufactures shall ever cross our border.” And so on. What the Senator who is preparing a bill for drafting the people into the army fears is, that the North will begin active operations before the South is ready for resistance, “Give us till November to drill our men, and we shall be irresistible.” He deprecates any offensive movement, and is opposed to an attack on Washington, which many journals here advocate.

Mr. Walker sent me over a letter recommending me to all officers of the Confederate States, and I received an invitation from the President to dine with him to-morrow, which I was much chagrined to be obliged to refuse. In fact, it is most important to complete my Southern tour speedily, as all mail communication will soon be suspended from the South, and the blockade effectually cuts off any communication by sea. Rails torn up, bridges broken, telegraphs down — trains searched — the war is begun. The North is pouring its hosts to the battle, and it has met the paeans of the conquering Charlestonians with a universal yell of indignation and an oath of vengeance.

I expressed a belief in a letter, written a few days after my arrival (March 27th), that the South would never go back into the Union. The North think that they can coerce the South, and I am not prepared to say they are right or wrong; but I am convinced that the South can only be forced back by such a conquest as that which laid Poland prostrate at the feet of Russia. It may be that such a conquest can be made by the North, but success must destroy the Union as it has been constituted in times past. A strong Government must be the logical consequence of victory, and the triumph of the South will be attended by a similar result, for which, indeed, many Southerners are very well disposed. To the people of the Confederate States there would be no terror in such an issue, for it appears to me they are pining for a strong Government exceedingly. The North must accept it, whether they like it or not.

Neither party — if such a term can be applied to the rest of the United States, and to those States which disclaim the authority of the Federal Government — was prepared for the aggressive or resisting power of the other. Already the Confederate States perceive that they cannot carry all before them with a rush, while the North have learned that they must put forth all their strength to make good a tithe of their lately uttered threats. But the Montgomery Government are anxious to gain time, and to prepare a regular army. The North, distracted by apprehensions of vast disturbance in their complicated relations, are clamoring for instant action and speedy consummation. The counsels of moderate men, as they were called, have been utterly overruled.

The whole foundation on which South Carolina rests is cotton and a certain amount of rice; or rather she bases her whole fabric on the necessity which exists in Europe for those products of her soil, believing and asserting, as she does, that England and France cannot and will not do without them. Cotton, without a market, is so much flocculent matter encumbering the ground. Rice, without demand for it, is unsalable grain in store and on the field. Cotton at ten cents a pound is boundless prosperity, empire, and superiority, and rice or grain need no longer be regarded.

In the matter of slave-labor, South Carolina argues pretty much in the following manner: England and France (she says) require our products. In order to meet their wants, we must cultivate our soil. There is only one way of doing so. The white man cannot live on our land at certain seasons of the year; he cannot work in the manner required by the crops. He must, therefore, employ a race suited to the labor, and that is a race which will only work when it is obliged to do so. That race was imported from Africa, under the sanction of the law, by our ancestors, when we were a British colony, and it has been fostered by us, so that its increase here has been as great as that of the most flourishing people in the world. In other places, where its labor was not productive or imperatively essential, that race has been made free, sometimes with disastrous consequences to itself and to industry. But we will not make it free. We cannot do so. We hold that slavery is essential to our existence as producers of what Europe requires; nay more, we maintain it is in the abstract right in principle; and some of us go so far as to maintain that the only proper form of society, according to the law of God and the exigencies of man, is that which has slavery as its basis. As to the slave, he is happier far in his state of servitude, more civilized and religious, than he is or could be if free or in his native Africa. For this system we will fight to the end.

In the evening I paid farewell visits, and spent an hour with Mr. Toombs, who is unquestionably one of the most original, quaint, and earnest of the Southern leaders, and whose eloquence and power as a debater are greatly esteemed by his countrymen. He is something of an Anglo-maniac, and an Anglo-phobist — a combination not unusual in America — that is, he is proud of being connected with and descended from respectable English families, and admires our mixed constitution, whilst he is an enemy to what is called English policy, and is a strong pro-slavery champion. Wigfall and he are very uneasy about the scant supply of gunpowder in the Southern States, and the difficulty of obtaining it.

In the evening had a little reunion in the bedroom as before. — Mr. Wigfall, Mr. Keitt, an eminent Southern politician, Col. Pickett, Mr. Browne, Mr. Benjamin, Mr. George Sanders, and others. The last-named gentleman was dismissed or recalled from his post at Liverpool, because he fraternized with Mazzini and other Red Republicans à ce qu’ on dit. Here he is a slavery man, and a friend of an oligarchy. Your “Rights of Man” man is often most inconsistent with himself, and is generally found associated with the men of force and violence.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 179-82

Diary of William Howard Russell: May [7]*, 1861

To-day the papers contain a proclamation by the President of the Confederate States of America, declaring a state of war between the Confederacy and the United States, and notifying the issue of letters of marque and reprisal. I went out with Mr. Wigfall in the forenoon to pay my respects to Mr. Jefferson Davis at the State Department. Mr. Seward told me that but for Jefferson Davis the Secession plot could never have been carried out. No other man of the party had the brain, or the courage and dexterity, to bring it to a successful issue. All the persons in the Southern States spoke of him with admiration, though their forms of speech and thought generally forbid them to be respectful to any one.

There before me was “Jeff Davis's State Department” — a large brick building, at the corner of a street, with a Confederate flag floating above it. The door stood open, and “gave” on a large hall whitewashed, with doors plainly painted belonging to small rooms, in which was transacted most important business, judging by the names written on sheets of paper and applied outside, denoting bureaux of the highest functions. A few clerks were passing in and out, and one or two gentlemen were on the stairs, but there was no appearance of any bustle in the building.

We walked straight up-stairs to the first floor, which was surrounded by doors opening from a quadrangular platform. On one of these was written simply, “The President.” Mr. Wigfall went in, and after a moment returned and said, “The President will be glad to see you; walk in, sir.” When I entered, the President was engaged with four gentlemen, who were making some offer of aid to him. He was thanking them “in the name of the Government.” Shaking hands with each, he saw them to the door, bowed them and Mr. Wigfall out, and turning to me, said, “Mr. Russell, I am glad to welcome you here, though I fear your appearance is a symptom that our affairs are not quite prosperous,” or words to that effect. He then requested me to sit down close to his own chair at his office-table, and proceeded to speak on general matters, adverting to the Crimean War and the Indian Mutiny, and asking questions about Sebastopol, the Eedan, and the Siege of Lucknow.

I had an opportunity of observing the President very closely: he did not impress me as favorably as I had expected, though he is certainly a very different looking man from Mr. Lincoln. He is like a gentleman — has a slight, light figure, little exceeding middle height, and holds himself erect and straight. He was dressed in a rustic suit of slate-colored stuff, with a black silk handkerchief round his neck; his manner is plain, and rather reserved and drastic; his head is well formed, with a fine full forehead, square and high, covered with innumerable fine lines and wrinkles, features regular, though the cheek-bones are too high, and the jaws too hollow to be handsome ; the lips are thin, flexible, and curved, the chin square, well defined; the nose very regular, with wide nostrils; and the eyes deep-set, large and full — one seems nearly blind, and is partly covered with a film, owing to excruciating attacks of neuralgia and tic. Wonderful to relate, he does not chew, and is neat and clean-looking, with hair trimmed, and boots brushed. The expression of his face is anxious, he has a very haggard, careworn, and pain-drawn look, though no trace of anything but the utmost confidence and the greatest decision could be detected in his conversation. He asked me some general questions respecting the route I had taken in the States.

I mentioned that I had seen great military preparations through the South, and was astonished at the alacrity with which the people sprang to arms. “Yes, sir,” he remarked, and his tone of voice and manner of speech are rather remarkable for what are considered Yankee peculiarities, “In Eu-rope” (Mr. Seward also indulges in that pronunciation) “they laugh at us because of our fondness for military titles and displays. All your travellers in this country have commented on the number of generals and colonels and majors all over the States. But the fact is, we are a military people, and these signs of the fact were ignored. We are not less military because we have had no great standing armies. But perhaps we are the only people in the world where gentlemen go to a military academy who do not intend to follow the profession of arms.”

In the course of our conversation, I asked him to have the goodness to direct that a sort of passport or protection should be given to me, as I might possibly fall in with some guerrilla leader on my way northwards, in whose eyes I might not be entitled to safe conduct. Mr. Davis said, “I shall give such instructions to the Secretary of War as shall be necessary. But, sir, you are among civilized, intelligent people who understand your position, and appreciate your character. We do not seek the sympathy of England by unworthy means, for we respect ourselves, and we are glad to invite the scrutiny of men into our acts; as for our motives, we meet the eye of Heaven.” I thought I could judge from his words that he had the highest idea of the French as soldiers, but that his feelings and associations were more identified with England, although he was quite aware of the difficulty of conquering the repugnance which exists to slavery.

Mr. Davis made no allusion to the authorities at Washington, but he asked me if I thought it was supposed in England there would be war between the two States? I answered, that I was under the impression the public thought there would be no actual hostilities. “And yet you see we are driven to take up arms for the defence of our rights and liberties.”

As I saw an immense mass of papers on his table, I rose and made my bow, and Mr. Davis, seeing me to the door, gave me his hand and said, “As long as you may stay among us you shall receive every facility it is in our power to afford to you, and I shall always be glad to see you.” Colonel Wigfall was outside, and took me to the room of the Secretary of War, Mr. Walker, whom we found closeted with General Beauregard and two other officers in a room full of maps and plans. He is the kind of man generally represented in our types of a “Yankee” — tall, lean, straight-haired, angular, with fiery, impulsive eyes and manner — a ruminator of tobacco and a profuse spitter — a lawyer, I believe, certainly not a soldier; ardent, devoted to the cause, and confident to the last degree of its speedy success.

The news that two more States had joined the Confederacy, making ten in all, was enough to put them in good humor. “Is it not too bad these Yankees will not let us go our own way, and keep their cursed Union to themselves? If they force us to it, we may be obliged to drive them beyond the Susquehanna.” Beauregard was in excellent spirits, busy measuring off miles of country with his compasses, as if he were dividing empires.

From this room I proceeded to the office of Mr. Benjamin, the Attorney-General of the Confederate States, the most brilliant perhaps of the whole of the famous Southern orators. He is a short, stout man, with a full face, olive-colored, and most decidedly Jewish features, with the brightest large black eyes, one of which is somewhat diverse from the other, and a brisk, lively, agreeable manner, combined with much vivacity of speech and quickness of utterance. He is one of the first lawyers or advocates in the United States, and had a large practice at Washington, where his annual receipts from his profession were not less than £8,000 to £10,000 a year. But his love of the card-table rendered him a prey to older and cooler hands, who waited till the sponge was full at the end of the session, and then squeezed it to the last drop.

Mr. Benjamin is the most open, frank, and cordial of the Confederates whom I have yet met. In a few seconds he was telling me all about the course of Government with respect to privateers and letters of marque and reprisal, in order probably to ascertain what were our views in England on the subject. I observed it was likely the North would not respect their flag, and would treat their privateers as pirates. “We have an easy remedy for that. For any man under our flag whom the authorities of the United States dare to execute, we shall hang two of their people.” “Suppose, Mr. Attorney-General, England, or any of the great powers which decreed the abolition of privateering, refuses to recognize your flag?” “We intend to claim, and do claim, the exercise of all the rights and privileges of an independent sovereign State, and any attempt to refuse us the full measure of those rights would be an act of hostility to our country.” “But if England, for example, declared your privateers were pirates?” “As the United States never admitted the principle laid down at the Congress of Paris, neither have the Confederate States. If England thinks fit to declare privateers under our flag pirates, it would be nothing more or less than a declaration of war against us, and we must meet it as best we can.” In fact, Mr. Benjamin did not appear afraid of anything; but his confidence respecting Great Britain was based a good deal, no doubt, on his firm faith in cotton, and in England's utter subjection to her cotton interest and manufactures. “All this coyness about acknowledging a slave power will come right at last. We hear our commissioners have gone on to Paris, which looks as if they had met with no encouragement at London; but we are quite easy in our minds on this point at present.”

So Great Britain is in a pleasant condition. Mr. Seward is threatening us with war if we recognize the South, and the South declares that if we don't recognize their flag, they will take it as an act of hostility. Lord Lyons is pressed to give an assurance to the Government at Washington, that under no circumstances will Great Britain recognize the Southern rebels; but, at the same time, Mr. Seward refuses to give any assurance whatever, that the right of neutrals will be respected in the impending struggle.

As I was going down stairs, Mr. Browne called me into his room. He said that the Attorney-General and himself were in a state of perplexity as to the form in which letters of marque and reprisal should be made out. They had consulted all the books they could get, but found no examples to suit their case, and he wished to know, as I was a barrister, whether I could aid him. I told him it was not so much my regard to my own position as a neutral, as the vafri inscitia juris which prevented me throwing any light on the subject. There are not only Yankee ship-owners but English firms ready with sailors and steamers for the Confederate Government, and the owner of the Camilla might be tempted to part with his yacht by the offers made to him.

Being invited to attend à levée or reception held by Mrs. Davis, the President's wife, I returned to the hotel to prepare for the occasion. On my way I passed a company of volunteers, one hundred and twenty artillerymen, and three fieldpieces, on their way to the station for Virginia, followed by a crowd of “citizens” and negroes of both sexes, cheering vociferously. The band was playing that excellent quick-step “Dixie.” The men were stout, fine fellows, dressed in coarse gray tunics with yellow facings, and French caps. They were armed with smooth-bore muskets, and their knapsacks were unfit for marching, being water-proof bags slung the shoulders. The guns had no caissons, and the shoeing of the troops was certainly deficient in soling. The Zouave mania is quite as rampant here as it is in New York, and the smallest children are thrust into baggy red breeches, which the learned Lipsius might have appreciated, and are sent out with flags and tin swords to impede the highways

The modest villa in which the President lives is painted white, — another “White House,” — and stands in a small garden. The door was open. A colored servant took in our names, and Mr. Browne presented me to Mrs. Davis, whom I could just make out in the demi-jour of a moderately-sized parlor, surrounded by a few ladies and gentlemen, the former in bonnets, the latter in morning dress à la midi. There was no affectation of state or ceremony in the reception. Mrs. Davis, whom some of her friends call “Queen Varina,” is a comely, sprightly woman, verging on matronhood, of good figure and manners, well-dressed, ladylike, and clever, and she seemed a great favorite with those around her, though I did hear one of them say, “It must be very nice to be the President's wife, and be the first lady in the Confederate States.” Mrs. Davis, whom the President C. S. married en secondes noces, exercised considerable social influence in Washington, where I met many of her friends. She was just now inclined to be angry, because the papers contained a report that a reward was offered in the North for the head of the arch rebel Jeff Davis. “They are quite capable, I believe,” she said, “of such acts.” There were not more than eighteen or twenty persons present, as each party came in and staid only for a few moments, and, after a time, I made my bow and retired, receiving from Mrs. Davis an invitation to come in the evening, when I would find the President at home.

At sundown, amid great cheering, the guns in front of the State Department, fired ten rounds to announce that Tennessee and Arkansas had joined the Confederacy.

In the evening I dined with Mr. Benjamin and his brother-in-law, a gentleman of New Orleans, Colonel Wigfall coming in at the end of dinner. The New Orleans people of French descent, or “Creoles,” as they call themselves, speak French in preference to English, and Mr. Benjamin's brother-in-law labored considerably in trying to make himself understood in our vernacular. The conversation, Franco-English, very pleasant, for Mr. Benjamin is agreeable and lively. He is certain that the English law authorities must advise the Government that the blockade of the Southern ports is illegal so long as the President claims them to be ports of the United States. “At present,” he said, “their paper blockade does no harm; the season for shipping cotton is over; but in October next, when the Mississippi is floating cotton by the thousands of bales, and all our wharves are full, it is inevitable that the Yankees must come to trouble with this attempt to coerce us.” Mr. Benjamin walked back to the hotel with me, and we found our room full of tobacco-smoke, filibusters, and conversation, in which, as sleep was impossible, we were obliged to join. I resisted a vigorous attempt of Mr. G. N. Sanders and a friend of his to take me to visit a planter who had a beaver-dam some miles outside Montgomery. They succeeded in capturing Mr. Deasy.

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* This entry is dated May 9, 1861 in the published work, which is chronologically out of order, May 6th preceding it, and May 8 & 9 following it. Since there is an entry for May 9 in its proper order, I surmise May 7th is the logical and true date of the entry above in Mr. Russell’s Diary.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 171-8

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 6, 1861

I forgot to say that yesterday before dinner I drove out with some gentlemen and the ladies of the family of Mr. George N. Sanders, once United States consul at Liverpool, now a doubtful man here, seeking some office from the Government, and accused by a portion of the press of being a Confederate spy — Porcus de grege epicuri — but a learned pig withal, and weatherwise, and mindful of the signs of the times, catching straws and whisking them upwards to detect the currents. Well, in this great moment I am bound to say there was much talk of ice. The North owns the frozen climates; but it was hoped that Great Britain, to whom belongs the North Pole, might force the blockade and send aid.

The environs of Montgomery are agreeable — well-wooded, undulating, villas abounding, public gardens, and a large negro and mulatto suburb. It is not usual, as far as I can judge, to see women riding on horseback in the South, but on the road here we encountered several.

After breakfast I walked down with Senator Wigfall to the capitol of Montgomery — one of the true Athenian Yankeeized structures of this novo-classic land, erected on a site worthy of a better fate and edifice. By an open cistern, on our way, I came on a gentleman engaged in disposing of some living ebony carvings to a small circle, who had more curiosity than cash, for they did not at all respond to the energetic appeals of the auctioneer.

The sight was a bad preparation for an introduction to the legislative assembly of a Confederacy which rests on the Institution as the corner-stone of the social and political arch which maintains it. But there they were, the legislators or conspirators, in a large room provided with benches and seats, and listening to such a sermon as a Balfour of Burley might have preached to his Covenanters — resolute and massive heads, and large frames — such men as must have a faith to inspire them. And that is so. Assaulted by reason, by logic, argument, philanthropy, progress directed against his peculiar institutions, the Southerner at last is driven to a fanaticism—a sacred faith which is above all reason or logical attack in the propriety, righteousness, and divinity of slavery.

The chaplain, a venerable old man, loudly invoked curses on the heads of the enemy, and blessings on the arms and councils of the New State. When he was done, Mr. Howell Cobb, a fat, double-chinned, mellow-eyed man, rapped with his hammer on the desk before the chair on which he sat as speaker of the assembly, and the house proceeded to business. I could fancy that, in all but garments, they were like the men who first conceived the great rebellion which led to the independence of this wonderful country — so earnest, so grave, so sober, and so vindictive — at least; so embittered against the power which they consider tyrannical and insulting.

The word "liberty" was used repeatedly in the short time allotted to the public transaction of business and the reading of documents; the Congress was anxious to get to its work, and Mr. Howell Cobb again thumped his desk and announced that the house was going into “secret session,” which intimated that all persons who were not members should leave. I was introduced to what is called the floor of the house, and had a delegate's chair, and of course I moved away with the others, and with the disappointed ladies and men from the galleries; but one of the members, Mr. Rhett, I believe, said jokingly: “I think you ought to retain your seat. If the ‘Times’ will support the South, we'll accept you as a delegate.” I replied that I was afraid I could. not act as a delegate to a Congress of Slave States. And, indeed, I had been much affected at the slave auction held just outside the hotel, on the steps of the public fountain, which I had witnessed on my way to the capitol. The auctioneer, who was an ill-favored, dissipated-looking rascal, had his “article “ beside him, on, not in, a deal packing-case — a stout young negro badly dressed and ill-shod, who stood with all his goods fastened in a small bundle in his hand, looking out at the small and listless gathering of men, who, whittling and chewing, had moved out from the shady side of the street as they saw the man put up. The chattel character of slavery in the States renders it most repulsive. What a pity the nigger is not polypoid — so that he could be cut up in junks, and each junk should reproduce itself.

A man in a cart, some volunteers in coarse uniforms, a few Irish laborers in a long van, and four or five men in the usual black coat, satin waistcoat, and black hat, constituted the audience, whom the auctioneer addressed volubly: “A prime field hand! Just look at him — good-natered, well-tempered; no marks, nary sign of bad about him! En-i-ne hunthered — only nine hun-ther-ed and fifty dol'rs for 'em! Why, it's quite rad-aklous! Nine hundred and fifty dol'rs! I can't raly

That's good. Thank you, sir. Twenty-five bid — nine huntherd and seventy-five dol'rs for this most useful hand. The price rose to one thousand dollars, at which the useful hand was knocked down to one of the black hats near me. The auctioneer and the negro and his buyer all walked off together to settle the transaction, and the crowd moved away.

“That nigger went cheap,” said one of them to a companion, as he walked towards the shade. “Yes, Sirr! Niggers is cheap now — that's a fact.” I must admit that I felt myself indulging in a sort of reflection whether it would not be nice to own a man as absolutely as one might possess a horse — to hold him subject to my will and pleasure, as if he were a brute beast without the power of kicking or biting — to make him work for me — to hold his fate in my hands: but the thought was for a moment. It was followed by disgust.

I have seen slave markets in the East, where the traditions of the race, the condition of family and social relations divest slavery of the most odious characteristics which pertain to it in the States if but the use of the English tongue in such a transaction, and the idea of its taking place among a civilized Christian people, produced in me a feeling of inexpressible loathing and indignation. Yesterday I was much struck by the intelligence, activity, and desire to please of a good-looking colored waiter, who seemed so light-hearted and light colored I could not imagine he was a slave. So one of our party, who was an American, asked him: “What are you, boy — a free nigger?” Of course he knew that in Alabama it was most unlikely he could reply in the affirmative. The young man's smile died away from his lips, a flush of blood embrowned the face for a moment, and he answered in a sad, low tone: “No, sir! I b'long to Massa Jackson,” and left the room at once. As I stood at an upper window of the capitol, and looked on the wide expanse of richly-wooded, well-cultivated land which sweeps round the hill-side away to the horizon, I could not help thinking of the misery and cruelty which must have been borne in tilling the land and raising the houses and streets of the dominant race before whom one nationality of colored people has perished within the memory of man. The misery and cruelty of the system are established by the advertisements for runaway negroes, and by the description of the stigmata on their persons — whippings and brandings, scars and cuts — though these, indeed, are less frequent here than in the border States.

On my return, the Hon. W. M. Browne, Assistant-Secretary of State, came to visit me — a cadet of an Irish family, who came to America some years ago, and having lost his money in land speculations, turned his pen to good account as a journalist, and gained Mr. Buchanan's patronage and support as a newspaper editor in, Washington. There he became intimate with the Southern gentlemen, with whom he naturally associated in preference to the Northern members; and when they went out, he walked over alongwith them. He told me the Government had already received numerous — I think he said 400 — letters from ship-owners applying for letters of marque and reprisal. Many of these applications were from merchants in Boston, and other maritime cities in the New England States. He further stated that the President was determined to take the whole control of the army, and the appointments to command in all ranks of officers into his own hands.

There is now no possible chance of preserving the peace or of averting the horrors of war from these great and prosperous communities. Thy Southern people, right or wrong, are bent on independence and on separation, and they will fight to the last for their object.

The press is fanning the flame on both sides: it would be difficult to say whether it or the telegraphs circulate lies most largely; but that as the papers print the telegrams they must have the palm. The Southerners are told there is a reign of terror in New York — that the 7th New York Regiment has been captured by the Baltimore people — that Abe Lincoln is always drunk — that General Lee has seized Arlington Heights, and is bombarding Washington. The New York people are regaled with similar stories from the South. The coincidence between the date of the skirmish at Lexington and of the attack on the 6th Massachusetts Regiment at Baltimore is not so remarkable as the fact, that the first man who was killed at the latter place, 86 years ago, was a direct descendant of the first of the colonists who was killed by the royal soldiery. Baltimore may do the same for the South which Lexington did for all the Colonies. Head-shaving, forcible deportations, tarring and feathering are recommended and adopted as specifics to produce conversion from erroneous opinions. The President of the United States has called into service of the Federal Government 42,000 volunteers, and increased the regular army by 22,000 men, and the navy by 18,000 men. If the South secede, they ought certainly to take over with them some Yankee hotel keepers. This “Exchange” is in a frightful state — nothing but noise, dirt, drinking, wrangling

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 167-71

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: April 15, 1865

What a week it has been — madness, sadness, anxiety, turmoil, ceaseless excitement. The Wigfalls passed through on their way to Texas. We did not see them. Louly told Hood they were bound for the Rio Grande, and intended to shake hands with Maximilian, Emperor of Mexico. Yankees were expected here every minute. Mrs. Davis came. We went down to the cars at daylight to receive her. She dined with me. Lovely Winnie, the baby, came, too. Buck and Hood were here, and that queen of women, Mary Darby. Clay behaved like a trump. He was as devoted to Mrs. Davis in her adversity as if they had never quarreled in her prosperity. People sent me things for Mrs. Davis, as they did in Columbia for Mr. Davis. It was a luncheon or breakfast only she stayed for here. Mrs. Brown prepared a dinner for her at the station. I went down with her. She left here at five o'clock. My heart was like lead, but we did not give way. She was as calm and smiling as ever. It was but a brief glimpse of my dear Mrs. Davis, and under altered skies.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 377-8

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: Thursday, March 30, 1865

I find I have not spoken of the box-car which held the Preston party that day on their way to York from Richmond. In the party were Mr. and Mrs. Lawson Clay, General and Mrs. Preston and their three daughters, Captain Rodgers, and Mr. Portman, whose father is an English earl, and connected financially and happily with Portman Square. In my American ignorance I may not state Mr. Portman's case plainly. Mr. Portman is, of course, a younger son. Then there was Cellie and her baby and wet-nurse, with no end of servants, male and female. In this ark they slept, ate, and drank, such being the fortune of war. We were there but a short time, but Mr. Portman, during that brief visit of ours, was said to have eaten three luncheons, and the number of his drinks, toddies, so called, were counted, too. Mr. Portman's contribution to the larder had been three small pigs. They were, however, run over by the train, and made sausage meat of unduly and before their time.

General Lee says to the men who shirk duty, “This is the people's war; when they tire, I stop.” Wigfall says, “It is all over; the game is up.” He is on his way to Texas, and when the hanging begins he can step over into Mexico.

I am plucking up heart, such troops do I see go by every day. They must turn the tide, and surely they are going for something more than surrender. It is very late, and the wind flaps my curtain, which seems to moan, “Too late.” All this will end by making me a nervous lunatic.

Yesterday while I was driving with Mrs. Pride, Colonel McCaw passed us! He called out, “I do hope you are in comfortable quarters.” “Very comfortable,” I replied. “Oh, Mrs. Chesnut!” said Mrs. Pride, “how can you say that?” “Perfectly comfortable, and hope it may never be worse with me,” said I. “I have a clean little parlor, 16 by 18, with its bare floor well scrubbed, a dinner-table, six chairs, and — well, that is all; but I have a charming lookout from my window high. My world is now thus divided into two parts — where Yankees are and where Yankees are not.”

As I sat disconsolate, looking out, ready for any new tramp of men and arms, the magnificent figure of General Preston hove in sight. He was mounted on a mighty steed, worthy of its rider, followed by his trusty squire, William Walker, who bore before him the General's portmanteau. When I had time to realize the situation, I perceived at General Preston's right hand Mr. Christopher Hampton and Mr. Portman, who passed by. Soon Mrs. Pride, in some occult way, divined or heard that they were coming here, and she sent me at once no end of good things for my tea-table. General Preston entered very soon after, and with him Clement Clay, of Alabama, the latter in pursuit of his wife's trunk. I left it with the Rev. Mr. Martin, and have no doubt it is perfectly safe, but where? We have written to Mr. Martin to inquire. Then Wilmot de Saussure appeared. “I am here,” he said, “to consult with General Chesnut. He and I always think alike.” He added, emphatically: “Slavery is stronger than ever.” “If you think so,” said I, “you will find that for once you and General Chesnut do not think alike. He has held that slavery was a thing of the past, this many a year.”

I said to General Preston: “I pass my days and nights partly at this window. I am sure our army is silently dispersing. Men are moving the wrong way, all the time. They slip by with no songs and no shouts now. They have given the thing up. See for yourself. Look there.” For a while the streets were thronged with soldiers and then they were empty again. But the marching now is without tap of drum.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 373-4

Parole of Louis T. Wigfall, alias J. A. White, April 10, 1865

appomattox Court House, Va.,

April 10th, 1865.

The Bearer, pri. J. A. White, of Co. M. First Regt. of Texas Vols., a paroled Prisoner of the Army of Northern Virginia, has permission to go to his home, and there remain undisturbed.

Jno. N. Wilson, Capt.

commdg.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 243

General Joseph E Johnston to Senator Louis T. Wigfall, March 14, 1865

raleigh, March 14th, 1865.

My dear Wigfall:

I have just received yours of February 27th. I have been for two weeks looking for an opportunity other than by mail, to send you a letter. But all are reported to me too late.

What you write me of Lee gratifies me beyond measure. In youth and early manhood I loved and admired him more than any man in the world. Since then we have had little intercourse and have become formal in our personal intercourse. A good deal, I think, from change of taste and habits, in one or the other. When we are together former feelings always return. I have long thought that he had forgotten our early friendship: to be convinced that I was mistaken in so thinking would give me inexpressible pleasure. Be assured, however, that Knight of old never fought under his King more loyally than I'll serve under Gen. Lee.¹ I have suggested to him what seems to be the only course for us, should Sherman endeavor to join Grant. . . .

As ever yours,

j. e. johnston.

_______________

¹ In another letter he speaks of serving under Gen. Lee “as loyally as my father served under his in the first revolution.”

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 240-1

The Confederate Senate to General Robert E. Lee, February 4, 1865

C. S. Senate Chamber,

4th February, 1865.

Genl. R. E. Lee.

Sir: The undersigned beg leave earnestly but respectfully to recommend the assignment of Genl. Joseph E. Johnston to the command of the troops lately composing the Army of Tennessee. We are induced to make this suggestion by information derived from such sources as to leave us no room to doubt its correctness, that the Army referred to is seriously disorganized, and that the surest, if not the only means of effecting its speedy reorganization, and of restoring its discipline and efficiency in time for the approaching campaign, will be the immediate return of its former commander, whose assignment to that position is universally desired by the Officers and Soldiers of that Army. We are further persuaded that among the people of those important and principal States of the Confederacy which have looked to the Army of Tennessee as furnishing their chief defence against the forces with which the enemy is seeking to overcome them, the desire is not only general, but intense, that the principal Army designed for their protection should be placed under the command of Genl. Johnston. And we are convinced that the gratification of their wishes on this point would materially assist in dissipating the feeling of despondency which undoubtedly prevails to a considerable extent in those States, and do much towards restoring public confidence and reanimating the hopes and courage of the people.

In making this suggestion to you, we assume that under the recent Act, by virtue of which, you have been appointed General in Chief of the Armies of the Confederate States, the right and duty of assigning the General Officers to command our different Armies, are devolved upon you. Such we believe was the intention of Congress in passing the Act, and such we trust will be its practical construction.

In conclusion we beg leave to assure you that in recommending the assignment of Genl. Johnston to the command in question, we have been influenced by an imperative sense of duty, and by a firm conviction that what we have advised, would be promotive of the public good, if indeed it be not essential to the public safety.

With high respect,

Your obdt. Servants,

R. H. Walker, Ala.	James L. Orr, So. Ca.
A. T. Caperton, Va.	Geo. G. Vest, Mo.
Landon C. Haynes, Ten.	W. E. Simms, Ken.
Waldo P. Johnson, Mo.	W. A. Graham, No. Ca.
A. H. Garland, Ark.	W. S. Oldham, Texas.
Jos. C. Watson, Miss.	Wm. T. Dortch,
No. Ca. H. C. Burnett, Ken.	A. G. Brown, Miss.
Louis T. Wigfall, Texas.

Without committing myself to all the reasons set forth in the foregoing paper, I cordially endorse the recommendation in it for the assignment of Genl. Johnston to the position requested.

alexander H. Stephens,

V. P. C. S. A.

I concur in the foregoing recommendation, not agreeing however, to the view expressed in the paragraph next preceding the last.

A. E. Maxwell, Flo.

Jas. M. Baker, Flo.

Official.

W.H.Taylor,
A. A. G.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 235-8

General Joseph E. Johnston to Louis T. Wigfall

Genl. M. Cook, U. S. A., told several of our officers made prisoners by him, but rescued by Wheeler, that Genl. Sherman said, on learning of the change of Commanders of our army, that heretofore we had fought as Johnston pleased, but hereafter 'twould be as he pleased!

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 229-30

General Robert E. Lee to Senator Louis T. Wigfall, February 8, 1865

head Quarters,

Army N. Va.,

8th February, 1865.

hon. Louis T. Wigfall,

Richmond.

Dear Sir:

I have received your letter of the 3rd inst. with reference to permitting the Texas Brigade to return home to recruit.

No troops in the Army have earned a better title to indulgence than the brave Texas Brigade, and to none would I more willingly grant any privilege consistent with the interests of the service. I have no doubt but that they would return, and I hope they would realize all you promise in the way of recruits. But it is impossible for me to detach any men from this army now. I do not think that we shall remain long inactive. Operations on our right have already begun, and there are indications of movements in other quarters in which this army has an immediate concern. Such is our great want of men, that the absence of even four hundred would be severely felt, especially four hundred of our best troops. I see no way to accomplish your wish except by first bringing some regiments or a brigade from Texas to take the place of these now here. If that can be done I need not say how much pleasure it would afford me to let the old brigade go home, and how pleased I should be to see it return augmented to a Division.

I do think it extremely important that some of the troops west of the Mississippi should be brought to this side.

The enemy has brought away a large part of the force with which he has been operating in the West, and concentrated upon our eastern armies. I think we must do the same with ours, and will be greatly obliged for any assistance you can render to accomplish it.

We are greatly in need of men.

Very respectfully,

Your obt. servt.,

R. E. Lee,

Genl.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 226-7

Alexander H. Stephens to Senator Louis T. Wigfall, February 13, 1865

13 Feb., 1865.

hon. Louis T. Wigfall,

Richmond, Va.

Dear Sir:

I am here sick — laid up on the way — was taken quite unwell night before last, but am better now and hope to be able to go on tomorrow. I am about thirteen miles from Charlotte on the road to Columbia. I drop you a line in fulfilment of my promise to write to you merely to say that I find spirit and vitality enough in the mass of the people as far as I have met with them on my way here. All that is wanting is the proper wisdom and statesmanship to guide it. But our ultimate success, in my deliberate judgment, will never be attained, never can be, without a speedy and thorough change of our policy towards the masses at the North. We must show that we war against the doctrines and principles and power of the radicals there — the fanatics, the abolitionists and consolidationists — which we should do, and say anything in our power in a manly way to enlist the sympathy and action of all the true friends there of Constitutional liberty. We should show them we are fighting their battles as well as our own. If we go down; if our liberties are lost in these waters, theirs will be too. We must make them allies in a common struggle. We must not be deterred from this by any such ghosts as the goblin of reconstruction. On this point the future must be left to take care of itself. Congress ought to pass, before it adjourns, some such resolutions as the three first that were reported to the House by the Committee on Foreign Affairs. Numbers 1, 2, and 3 of those Resolutions are now quite as opportune as they were when reported. For the remaining Resolution in that series one might be substituted embracing some of the ideas in them and appealing from the authorities at Washington to all friends of Constitutional liberty at the North—invoking an adjournment of the questions of strife from the arbitrament of arms to the forum of reason—upon the great principles of self Government, on which all American institutions are founded. On this line if our people can endure for two years longer — all may yet be well. But my word for it, the only peace that the sword alone will bring us in fighting the United North will be the peace of death and subjugation.

Yours truly,

alexander H.stephens.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 224-5

Lieutenant-General Wade Hampton to Senator Louis T. Wigfall, January 20, 1865

Hd. Qrts., Jan. 20th, 1865.

My dear Wigfall:

Your message to me by Mr. Davis reached me a day or two ago. As I am about to start to S. C., I anticipate your letter by writing at once to you. It gave me great pleasure to see your return mentioned.

. . . We are passing through a fiery ordeal but if we “quit ourselves like men” we must be successful. I do not allow myself to contemplate any other than a successful issue to our struggle.

I have given far more than all my property to this cause, and I am ready to give all. Genl. Lee thinks that I may be of some service in South Carolina and I go to see what I can do there. . . I am going to fight for my State and I am willing to fight anywhere. The record of the cavalry which has fought under my command, is that this campaign has been an honorable one, and I take great pride in it. They have been successful in every fight — not a few — have captured large supplies of arms and taken not less than 10,000 prisoners. So I leave the record good. . . . What will be done with the Army of Tennessee? You know how highly I regard Hood, how much I esteem him, but it was a mistake to remove Johnston. The army had perfect confidence in him and I am convinced that they will not fight as well under anyone else as under him; therefore do I regard his removal as a national calamity. And if the President would reinstate him it would not only restore public confidence, but would strengthen the President greatly. I wish, my dear Wigfall, that you would forget the differences of the past and try to re-establish the intimate relations that once existed between Mr. Davis and yourself. You can aid him greatly and you can serve the country by giving him counsel. . . . I wish that I could have seen you before leaving this State, as there is much I want to talk to you about. But I hope to meet you in brighter times when my heart is not so oppressed by public and private anxieties. . . . But I bate not one jot or tittle of our claims and I shall fight as long as I can wield my sabre. I hope your family are well. Give my kindest regards to them and believe me to be,

Very sincerely, your friend,

Hon. L. T. Wigfall,

Wade Hampton.

Write to Columbia.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 222-4

Francis H. Wigfall to Louis T. Wigfall, September 14, 1864

Camp near Lovejoy's Station,

Sept. 14, 1864.

When my last was written Sherman had not developed his intentions, and we were all in the dark as to what he would do next. After drawing back his line from our right and centre, he pushed these troops round in rear of his original right and crossing the West Point and Atlanta R. R. struck for the Macon road. On the night of the 30th Aug., Hardee's Corps started from the neighborhood of East Point, six miles below Atlanta, for Jonesboro', sixteen miles further in the direction of Macon — opposite which was McPherson's Army. You know Sherman's Army is composed of McPherson's old Army, commanded since his death by Howard; Thomas's Army and Schofield's Army. Lee's Corps followed Hardee and next day they attacked this fraction of the Yankee force, but failed to make any impression. There was therefore nothing left but to evacuate the place, which was done that next night. Lee's Corps was drawn away from Hardee after the fight and covered the flank of the troops marching from Atlanta to effect a junction with Hardee. . . . Gen. Hood is making every exertion to get ready for the fall campaign and preserves his equanimity perfectly.

A few days after the army was reunited, Sherman retired his forces to the neighborhood of Atlanta and the campaign came to an end. He is doubtless preparing for another advance before the stoppage of operations by bad weather. He stripped the citizens of the country that he has abandoned to us, and yesterday there was application made at Jonesboro' for rations for one thousand destitute people in that vicinity. He has signalized his retirement to Atlanta by an order exiling every white man, woman and child from the place, regardless of political opinion. The reason given is that it is to the interest of the United States.

I feel confident that the first of December will see Sherman North of the Etowah River. His line of communication is too long, his means of transportation consisting as it does of a railroad. You must be sure and come up to the Army as you pass on your way to Richmond. I have a great deal to say that I do not like to entrust to a letter.

Genl. Patton Anderson was severely wounded on the 31st, as was Genl. Cumming, of Georgia, and Gen. Finly, of Florida. I suppose you will have heard of Governor Lubbock's appointment as Aide to the President. He was in Atlanta just before the evacuation, accompanied by Tom Ochiltree. Genl. G. W. Smith's Georgia Militia have been furloughed for thirty days to give them an opportunity to gather their crops (!)

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 188-90

Francis H. Wigfall, March 21, 1864

Dalton, March 21, 1864

. . . . I have just returned from a ride with some of “the staff” looking at the country. I think Gen. Hood is quite anxious for a fight and I have no doubt will distinguish himself whenever it does come. He brought a carriage up from Atlanta when he came, but has sent it back, and rides everywhere on horseback. He is out nearly every day and rides from twelve to fifteen and twenty miles without dismounting.

. . . I heard a sermon yesterday from Gen. Pendleton, who I wrote in my last to Papa is out here inspecting the artillery of the army. He read the service, and it had a very familiar sound with the exception of the hymns, which were from the prayer book, but sung to the regular old Camp-meeting tunes, through the nose. . . .

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 173-4

Francis H. Wigfall, April 9, 1864

April 9.

. . . The sham battle of General Hardee's Corps took place on Thursday, and was witnessed by a large number of ladies from all parts of the State. There was a party of them at Gen. Hood's for several days and the evening after the battle we had a dance at Hd. Qurs. to which was gathered “the beauty and the chivalry.” It was a decided success and was almost fashionably crowded. I indulged slightly in the galop and deuxtemps and wish L. could have seen me. There are to be some tableaux a few miles below here at a country house on the railroad Monday evening, to which the General and his staff are invited. I expect there will be a good deal of gaiety in Dalton, (that is, for the army) until the war begins, which from all appearance is as far off as ever. Tell Papa that the army is very much “down on” Congress for the ration bill and ask him to be sure and have it remedied as soon as the session begins. I have heard several plans proposed by officers for inviting one or two members of Congress now with the army to a “one ration a day dinner.” Something of this sort, for instance: The entertainer would be very generous and have the whole day's ration served for dinner. He would divide the pound and a quarter of meal, the quarter of a pound of hominy and the third of a pound of bacon into three parts and give his guest one, take one himself and set one aside for his servant. However, we all live in hope of the better time coming.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 174-5

General Joseph E. Johnston to Senator Louis T. Wigfall, January 4, 1864

Dalton, Jan. 4th, 1864.

My dear Wigfall:

It is necessary to recruit this army promptly to enable it to hold its ground against Grant's forces. Remember that it was unable to move forward even before it had been weakened by the defeat of Missionary Ridge, and Longstreet's march into East Tennessee, and the enemy strengthened by his victory and 25,000 men brought from Mississippi by Sherman.

I propose to substitute slaves for all soldiers employed out of the ranks — on detached service, extra duty, as cooks, engineers, laborers, pioneers, or any kind of work. Such details for this little army amount to more than 10,000 men. Negroes would serve for such purposes, better than soldiers. The impressment of negroes has been practised ever since the War commenced — but we have never been able to keep the impressed negroes with an army near the enemy. They desert. If you can devise and pass a law to enable us to hold slaves or other negroes with armies, this one can, in a few weeks, be increased by the number given above — of soldiers — not conscripts. Is not this worth trying? We require promptness here and this is the only prompt way of sending us soldiers. The proposed modifications of the conscript law are good, but then operations cannot help us in the present emergency. The plan is simple and quick. It puts soldiers and negroes each in his appropriate place; the one to fight, the other to work. I need not go into particulars in this matter. You understand it as well as I. Now do apply your energy and zeal to it. There is no other mode by which this army can be recruited before spring—and there is no other so good as this. Speak to General Sparrow and Mr. Miles for me on this subject. I would write to them both but am so pressed for time as to be unable to do so.

As ever yours,

J. E. Johnston.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 168-9

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: January 7, 1865

Sherman is at Hardieville and Hood in Tennessee, the last of his men not gone, as Louis Wigfall so cheerfully prophesied.

Serena went for a half-hour to-day to the dentist. Her teeth are of the whitest and most regular, simply perfection. She fancied it was better to have a dentist look in her mouth before returning to the mountains. For that look she paid three hundred and fifty dollars in Confederate money. “Why, has this money any value at all?” she asked. Little enough in all truth, sad to say.

Brewster was here and stayed till midnight. Said he must see General Chesnut. He had business with him. His “me and General Hood” is no longer comic. He described Sherman's march of destruction and desolation. “Sherman leaves a track fifty miles wide, upon which there is no living thing to be seen,” said Brewster before he departed.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 340-1

General Joseph E. Johnston to Senator Louis T. Wigfall, December 14, 1863

Brandon, Dec. 14th, 1863.

My dear Wigfall:

I see in the newspapers reports of resolutions of what is called the Mississippi campaign. One of them calling for the correspondence connected with it.

Let me suggest that the campaign really commenced in the beginning of December, 1862 — and that my connection with it dates from November 24th of that year — the day on which I was assigned to supervision of Bragg's, Pemberton's and Kirby Smith's Commands. If investigation is made it should include that time, to make it complete. Or if correspondence or papers are called for begin with the order of November 24th just referred to. At that time we had the means of preventing the invasion of Mississippi and those means were pointed out by me in writing, as well as orally, to the Secretary of War in your presence. Such a publication would justify me fully in the opinions of all thinking men. It would show that while it was practicable I proposed the true system of warfare. That I could not go to Mississippi sooner than I did, and that I was “too late” to repair the consequences of previous measures and never had the means of rescuing Vicksburg or its garrison.

Very truly yours,

J. E. Johnston.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 161-2

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, November 26, 1863

charlottesville, Nov. 26th, 1863.

. . . We hear to-night that the Army is to move, it is thought to Fredericksburg.

The news from the West has made every one look very blue — and I should think Mr. Davis would feel very uncomfortable with such a weight to carry. . . . What is to happen next no one can tell. We are all quite busy getting ready to go to Richmond. We leave here Monday, Dec. 1st.  . . . I had a letter from Mrs. Johnston a few days ago. She was with her husband at Meridian. I expect he feels very keenly his present position; it is certainly an odd one — for such a general, at such a time — no army and nothing to do. I suppose you have seen by the papers that Genl. Hood is in Richmond. We hear that Dr. Darby is going to Europe to buy a leg for him, so Gen'l Ewell told your father; he is up here at present with his wife.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 160-1