Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: July 4, 1863

HE FOURTH OF JULY! The siege is at last ended. Behold the white flag now waving over the rebel ramparts. Vicksburg has at length surrendered. Speed the glad news to our loved ones at the North, who, during our long trial, have helped us with their prayers. Speed it to the entire forces of the Union, that they may all take courage and move again. 

We are all full of rejoicing, as the event will no doubt prove a death-blow to the rebellion in the Southwest. Vicksburg has been the boast of the enemy, who thought it to be impregnable, and they confidently defied the Army of the West to take it. But by the untiring energy, skill and forecast of our gallant leader, U. S. Grant, aided by the willing and brave hearts about him, Vicksburg has been taken, and over it the stars and stripes now float proudly in all their majestic beauty. How glad I am that I have been one of those who have endured the trials requisite to plant our banner there. And while rejoicing over our success, let us not forget those who have died on these fields of honor. While we surviving raise Liberty's ensign over Vicksburg, let us remember the graves at Raymond and Champion Hills. And in after years, when we meet to refresh the memory of soldier days, let our dead here around Vicksburg never be forgotten. Let us think of them as standing guard over our dearly-won prize, until the final rollcall, when each shall be “present” or “accounted for." 

"They struggled and fell, their life-blood staining 

The assaulting foeman's hand; 

And clasping freedom's flag, sustaining, 

Cried, God save our native land. 

Let angels spread their wings protecting; 

Let sweetest flowers ever bloom; 

And let green bays, our faith reflecting, 

Mark each martyr's sacred tomb." 

Now that the enemy have resigned possession of Vicksburg, I trust the wicked rebellion will not fail soon to near its end, when all our boys in blue will have leave, at will, to present arms to the girls they left behind them. A star heralding the coming peace already seems to twinkle in the sky. We rejoice not less over our triumph to-day because it was consummated upon the glorious Fourth. And while we rejoice for our country, we show no unworthy exultation over the fallen, to whom we extend the sympathy of victors. 

Our division, under its commander, General Logan, marched into the city in triumph, and there took command and completed the long desired event-raising the star spangled banner over the court house cupola. 

"The armies of the Union 

    Round Vicksburg long had lain; 

For forty-seven days and nights 

    Besieging it in vain. 

Then came the morning of the Fourth, 

    Our Nation's jubilee- 

Ah, could the news this hour go north- 

    In Vicksburg soon we'll be. 

The siege is done, the struggle past. 

    On this eventful day 

Glad triumph crowns us, as, at last, 

    Our thanks to God we pay. 

Above the vanquished walls I stand, 

    My country, proud to see 

The festive hosts, with flag and band, 

    Parading gloriously. 

O, glorious Fourth! O blissful day! 

    How hearts of thousands swell 

To see such toils such hopes repay, 

    Such dangers end so well.” 

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 74-5

Diary of Caroline Cowles Richards: November 21, 1862

This is my twentieth birthday. Anna wanted to write a poem for the occasion and this morning she handed me what she called “An effort.” She said she wrestled with it all night long and could not sleep and this was the result:

“One hundred years from now, Carrie dear,

In all probability you'll not be here;

But we'll all be in the same boat, too,

And there'll be no one left

To say boo hoo!”

Grandfather gave me for a present a set of books called “Irving's Catechisms on Ancient Greeks and Romans.” They are four little books bound in leather, which were presented to our mother for a prize. It is thus inscribed on the front page, “Miss Elizabeth Beals at a public examination of the Female Boarding School in East Bloomfield, October 15, 1825, was judged to excel the school in Reading. In testimony of which she receives this Premium from her affectionate instructress, S. Adams.”

I cannot imagine Grandmother sending us away to boarding school, but I suppose she had so many children then, she could spare one or two as well as not. She says they sent Aunt Ann to Miss Willard's school at Troy. I received a birthday letter from Mrs. Beaumont to-day. She wants to know how everything goes at the Seminary and if Anna still occupies the front seat in the school room most of the time. She says she supposes she is quite a sedate young lady now but she hopes there is a whole lot of the old Anna left. I think there is.

SOURCE: Caroline Cowles Richards, Village Life in America, 1852-1872, p. 146-7

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, February 9, 1863

 ST. HELENA ISLAND, February 9, 1863.

Yesterday afternoon I put my new saddle and bridle on the long-legged horse, claimed by the Colonel and Adjutant, and came over here to spend the night at the house of the Hunn's and Miss Forten. This is the first night I have slept in a house since the 18th day of December. It seems strange to find myself in the midst of civilization and buckwheat cakes. Just before leaving camp, I read Mr. Emerson's “Boston Hymn,” to our regiment, while assembled for divine worship. I prefaced it with the remark that many white folks could not understand the poems of Mr. Emerson, but I had no apprehensions of that kind from those before me. It was enough that Robert Sutton's eyes were glistening before me as I read. I was standing on the veranda of the plantation house and the men were under a beautiful magnolia tree toward the river. Mr. Emerson would have trembled with joy to see how much these dark colored men drank in the religion of his poem. The chaplain was filled with emotion by it and straightway took the poem for his text and when I left, was enthusiastically speaking from it.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 359

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 12, 1863

We expect to be paid off soon, as the pay-rolls are now being made out. Money cannot do us much good here among the hills, but we can send it home. Many a family is dependent upon the thirteen dollars a month drawn here by the head of it. 

When the war is over, how many soldiers will be unable to earn. even their own living, to say nothing of that of their families, all on account of wounds or disability incurred in the service. I have heard many a one say he would rather be shot dead in a fight than lose a limb, and thus be compelled to totter through life disabled. But I know our country will be too magnanimous to neglect its brave defenders who have fought its battles till they have become incapacitated for further service. I know we are not fighting for a country that will let its soldiers beg for a living. 

We have now but a year left of the term of our enlistment, and the boys are already talking about what they will do. Some say they will stay till peace comes, no matter how long may be the delay, and I think the majority are of this mind. A few, however, will seek their homes when their time runs out, should this war last so long, and the Lord and rebel bullets spare them. For myself, I shall stay, if I can, till the stars and stripes float in triumph once more over all the land. 

Here are a few lines : 

TO COMPANY E. 

You started at your country's call 

     To tread the fields of blood and strife, 

Consenting to give up your all- 

     All, even to your very life. 

And many storms of leaden rain 

     And iron hail have been your lot; 

While yet among the number slain 

     The dear ones North have read you not. 

Oh, may you safely yet return 

     To those who wait your coming, too; 

May their fond hearts not vainly yearn 

     To greet you when the war is through. 

But, though I wish you back in peace, 

     'Tis not a peace that quite disarms- 

'Tis not a full and sure release, 

     You simply take up other arms. 

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 50-1

Diary of Caroline Cowles Richards: May 20, 1861

I recited “Scott and the Veteran” today at school, and Mary Field recited, “To Drum Beat and Heart Beat a Soldier Marches By”; Anna recited “The Virginia Mother.” Every one learns war poems now-a-days. There was a patriotic rally in Bemis Hall last night and a quartette sang, “The Sword of Bunker Hill” and “Dixie” and “John Brown's Body Lies a Mouldering in the Grave,” and many other patriotic songs. We have one West Point cadet, Albert M. Murray, who is in the thick of the fight, and Charles S. Coy represents Canandaigua in the navy.

SOURCE: Caroline Cowles Richards, Village Life in America, 1852-1872, p. 132

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Saturday, March 1, 1862

We leave Nashville; descend the river, and return to Clarksville, where we are again quartered in the old tobacco factory. We still find Clarksville a very congenial locality, notwithstanding the citizens' hearts are with the South in its struggle for “Empire.” We remain here until Friday, when the Seventh for the second time leaves Clarksville and the old tobacco factory. Marching on board the steamer E. H. Fairchild, we are soon descending the Cumberland. As we pass Fort Donelson, we are reminded that over on those hills, and in those ravines brave men sleep—sleep as martyrs for freedom. As we glide quietly down beneath the shadow of the projecting cliffs, we imagine that a voice comes from those hills and ravines, saying to us in the language of the poet:

“Ye harvesters, rally from mountain and valley,

And reap the fields we have won;

We sowed for endless years of peace,

We harrowed and watered well;

Our dying deeds are the scattered seeds,

Shall they perish where they fell?”

SOURCES: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 45

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Tuesday, February 18, 1862

This morning a fatigue party is detailed from the Seventh to help bury the dead on the battle field, and those who died from wounds received in battle, who are now lying in every house in Dover (a small village on the banks of the Cumberland inside the fortifications). All day yesterday the fatigue parties were engaged burying the noble slain. War is indeed a mad machine, terrible in its work.

Silently extended on the gory main,

The fallen warriors mid the carnage lay;

No hand was there to ease the racking pain,

And staunch the life blood ebbing fast away.

But when the old flag comes home to Tennessee, over the Union soldiers' graves will be built up all that their posterity shall desire of order and government.

SOURCES: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 42-3

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Monday, February 17, 1862

This morning the boys in blue are everywhere in and around Fort Donelson, scattered among the boys in gray, rehearsing the scenes they have witnessed, and the trials through which they have passed. Although the Seventh was in the thickest of the battle, as their riddled colors show, their loss is comparatively small. The casualties in the two days' battle around Fort Donelson are as follows:

Company A.— Thomas Crayon, wounded.

Company B.— Private Thomas J. Parish, wounded in left hand; private Edmond P. Mann, wounded.

Company C. — John Brint, wounded in thigh.

Company D. — First Lieutenant James Munn, wounded in face.

Company F. — John Dell, wounded; Rosewell C. Staples, wounded.

Company G. — Jno. H. Dougherty, wounded in arm.

Company H. — Private John D. Turner, wounded in head.

Company I. — Captain Noah E. Mendell, killed; Ole Porter, killed; Corporal William Boring, wounded, leg amputated.

Company K. — John W. Hopper, killed by cannon shot; Corporal Thomas Kirby, wounded severely; Corporal Wallace Smith, wounded slightly; John Rhodes, wounded severely; Julius Wolf, wounded slightly: Dilivan D. Daniels, wounded severely; Winfry Mitchell, wounded slightly; Charles Huffman, wounded severely, leg amputated; Jacob Hoen, wounded slightly. Sum total of casualties, 20.

In looking over the list we notice that company K, the gallant Captain Hunter's company, sustained nearly half the loss in the regiment. Noble old Carlinville company, under its brave leader, made a fearful swing on these fortified hills. We will add no more; their list of casualties speaks for itself. It tells the story more plainly than pen can write it. Though our loss is light, we miss those who have fallen, and those who have been wounded. Among the most distinguished who fell in these wintry days of battle before Fort Donelson will ever appear the name of the brave Captain Noah E. Mendell, of company I. In view of the accident that befell him near Fort Henry, his friends remonstrated with him, and besought him to remain at the rear, but when the order was given “Forward to Fort Donelson," he determined not to be thwarted by anything. Evading the surgeon, who forbade his going, alleging, as was the case, that he was unfit for duty, he pressed on, saying to his gallant First Lieutenant, Edward S. Johnson: “Ed, you take command of the company; I will follow you as long as I have strength.” When he heard the drums beating, and the loud huzzas away on those hills, his heart beat high, and its silent language was, men tell me not to stay; I will go where that old flag goes to-day. Being unable from the injuries received near Fort Henry, to buckle his sword belt around his waist, he buckled it around his neck and followed close in the rear of his company, cheering his men and telling them to stand by their brave, youthful leader, Lieutenant Johnson, who was then commanding the company. But how soon are his hopes dashed down. A whizzing grape comes crashing through the woods and singles him as its victim, entering his head just beneath the right ear, coming out immediately through the center of his left. His death was instantaneous, and he fell with his sword still above his head, with his face lit up with the smile of triumph—a glorious death and such as all brave and patriotic soldiers like him would wish to die—face to face with the enemies of his country. Captain Mendell was born in Blairsville, Pennsylvania, November 4th, 1837, and consequently was in his twenty-fifth year at the time of his death, February 13th, 1862. When the call was made for three months' volunteers he was among the first to offer his services, together with a majority of Captain John Cook's (State Militia) company, denominated the Springfield Zouave Grays, of which he was long a respected member. Upon Captain Cook's promotion to Colonel, Mendell rose to Second Lieutenant, in which capacity he served during the three months' service, at the close of which he was unanimously chosen Captain for the three years' service. He was the only brother of Captain G. H. Mendell, of the United States Topographical Engineers, professor at West Point, whom, with a loving father and sister, he leaves to mourn his early death. He is silently sleeping now. May he sleep well, and may the noble men of his company, should they in coming years pass his grave, tread lightly there and shed a silent tear to his memory; and may every soldier of the Seventh do likewise, remembering that there sleeps the gallant Captain Noah E. Mendell, the first brave soldier of the Seventh who fell in the war for the Union, and the first in Grant's army who fell a victim upon the Union altar before the battlements of Fort Donelson.

Preparations are now being made to send his remains home to be buried in the Springfield cemetery. As a martyr, we give him to the loyal people of Springfield, and the Seventh, especially his noble company, appeals to them in the language of the poetess:

Lay him where the clover blooms,
Let the gallant soldier rest
Where the twilight dews will fall
On his youthful breast.

Lay him where the evening sun
Gives to him her parting ray;
Where the violet droops her head
At the closing day.

Lay him where the midnight star
Sheds o'er him her gentle light;
Where the wood bird's plaintive strain
Serenades the night.

Lay him where the stars and stripes
Will o'er him ever wave';
Where no foe can touch the realm,
For which he died to save.

Lay him where bright angel wings
Will guard his happy sleep ;
Until the Saviour's voice shall call,
May their faithful vigil keep.

Company D has lost for a time their loved and brave-hearted Lieutenant Munn. True to the flag and its fostered principles, he fought valiantly until wounded, when he was compelled to leave the field. We remember when he went bleeding from the hill, when we were making the assault on Saturday evening. He was foremost in the fray, fighting bravely until the battle was waning, when one of the deadly messengers selected him as its prey, inflicting a frightful wound in his face. Heroic soldier! We fear he will battle no more in the cause of human right.

The wounded are now being sent north, and while there, may they receive from the loyal people tokens of gratitude, that will make them feel glad that they stood on the banks of the Cumberland, when the winter winds blew, and when the battle king made his deadly march, causing shot and shell to make a dirge-like music where they stood. We cannot pass without alluding to the noble ones who passed through the battle untouched; who bore the flag through tempest and storm and planted its staff firmly in the ramparts. But how can we distinguish any when all were brave; when all stood so nobly during those fierce hours of battle?

Lieutenant Colonel A. J. Babcock deserves the praise of all. Cool and calm as a placid brook, with a heart that prompted to daring deeds, he led his men through the terrible storm, and as they followed him there was power felt on those hills. He displayed a tact and skill in handling the regiment, forming it at one time under a galling fire, which elicited the commendation of the General commanding. We will not soon forget how often his voice rang out in inspiring tones, and how the Seventh went surging on with him, and how her flag was ofttimes seen, reflecting its light where smoke and red-hot flame belched forth from brazen fronts.

Major Rowett also deserves the plaudits of all. Enthusiastic, but not rash, he was found where all the brave were found. None but could admire his dashso free, so courageous—as he moved with the regiment on those hills with defiance, facing danger and cheering his men on to victory. Says he, since the battle: “I never felt so happy in all my life as when before that rebel battery the first day; happy because I there discovered that I had a heart to face the cannon's mouth, which I did not feel certain of having until then.” Many of the Seventh can speak likewise; can testify that they feel glad in their hearts that they have been tried and not found wanting. Among the brigade commanders none were more conspicuous when the battle was at its highest than our Colonel, John Cook. Amid the terrible storm that rolled from the cannon's angry front he stood. Though death and carnage followed in its wake, making little streams beneath his feet, he faltered not, but with that veteran soldier and brave general, Smith, he moved until the sun went down and the battle storm was hushed.

SOURCES: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 36-42

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: February 6, 1862

Hoisted anchor and steamed to within a short distance of the light house, and in full view of the island. Here we again dropped anchor and the day was spent in prospecting by the gunboats. They went up near the island, and after a few hours returned, reporting three forts and a number of armed boats and schooners. The thing is being managed pretty cautiously, and I expect when the show comes off, it will be ahead of anything we ever saw, not excepting Barnum's. For one, I am not over anxious to see a fight, and especially to be a participant, but we have been afloat so long and fared so hard I wish to get ashore, no matter under what circumstances. One would have supposed, to have heard the boys talk last night, that we were all Napoleons. They talked of booming guns, the rattle of infantry, of splendid bayonet charges, brilliant victories, and deeds of courage, daring and heroism. On the principle, I suppose of those who know nothing fear nothing, but then it is a good plan not to get our tails down until we are obliged to. I even got my courage screwed up so I could repeat the words of some great military hero or other:

“Then welcome war, our arms to brace,

The standards planted face to face;

Tho' death’s pale horse leads on the chase,

We’ll follow there.”

Ammunition was dealt out today, and our cartridge boxes now contain forty rounds of the death-dealing missiles. The boys seem to be in great spirits and the bands are discoursing national music.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 32

The Soldier’s Dream

On Chicamauga’s bloody field,

     A wounded soldier lay,

Dreaming about his Hoosier Home,

     Six hundred miles away.

Thro’ thick’ning gloom of cloud and rain,

     There came an angel fair,

Robed in celestial light and placed

     A hand on his bloody hair.

And lo! visions broke upon

     The wounded hero’s eye,

As he beheld the rolling clouds

     Parting and upwardly fly;

A vast, reflected multitude

     Knelt on the Southern sod,

By broken chains and gory lash,

     In fervent prayer to God.

Then rose the countless throng erect,

     Their black hands lifted high,

And with supernal pow’r bore

     Abe Lincoln thro’ the sky.

Far thro’ the dim and distant blue,

     Past moon and shining stars,

Beyond Orion’s baleful hue,

     And blood-red light of Mars.

Angels with arms of living light

     By mighty pow’r given,

With radient faces lifted him

     Into the midst of Heaven.

There stood the sainted Washington,

     With heroes of the past,

With kindling eye and glowing face,

     To welcome Abe at last.

Then came a sight which ne’er till now

     Shone on earth’s greenest sod;

The glow’d o’er Lincoln’s noble brow

     Th’ radient smile of God.

A voice of murmurous sweetness said,

     Enter and be blest,

Emancipator of Mankind,

     The land of endless rest.

Then the angel of the soldier

     Turn’d the bright dreamer’s eye

Back from the mansions of the blest,

     Back from the glowing sky;

Down the turbid Mississippi,

     O’er Lake and rolling Bay,

We heard the thunder of our guns

     On their victorious way.

Then Art and Science, like the sun

     Of a Millennial ray,

O’erspread with peace and hope and joy,

     The dawn of Freedom’s day.

The flags of every mighty land,

     Of England, France and Spain,

Bowed down their standards, as of old,

     To Joseph’s golden grain.

And while the wounded soldier’s heart

     Grew warm with glory’s thrill,

There faded from our flag each stripe,

     But Stars were glowing still.

The Angel changed to mortal mould,

     Floated free each shining curl,

Which bound in loves delicious spell,

     Hero and Hoosier girl.

Then burst the clanging bugle’s note

     Upon the morning air;

He woke to see his Country’s flag,

     And Arabell—was there.

Oh wounded soldier, loved and blest,

     Oh Country, fair and free,

Enshrined in every Christian’s heart,

     By Lincoln’s jubilee.

Oh may our banner be the last

     Earth’s sun shall shine upon,

Redeemed in full by ABRAHAM,

     And blest by WASHINGTON.

SOURCES: “Original Poetry, Written for the Herald,” The Indian Herald, Huntington, Indiana, Wednesday, January27, 1864, p. 1; Lincoln, Abraham. Abraham Lincoln papers: Series 1. General Correspondence. 1833 to 1916: De Witt C. Chipman to Abraham Lincoln, Monday,Pomeroy Circular. 1864. Manuscript/Mixed Material. https://www.loc.gov/item/mal3109100/.

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: May 18, 1863

Sherman's men inflating rubber pontoon on which to cross Big Black River.

The army last night made pontoons, on which this morning the Black River has been crossed. McClernand is on the left, McPherson in the center, and Sherman on the right. In this position the three great corps will move to Vicksburg by different roads. We are nearing the doomed city, and are now on the lookout for fun.

As we crossed the river and marched up the bank, a brass band stood playing national airs. O, how proud we felt as we marched through the rebel works, and up to the muzzles of the abandoned guns that had been planted to stay our progress. Every man felt the combined Confederate army could not keep us out of Vicksburg. It was a grand sight, the long lines of infantry moving over the pontoons, and winding their way up the bluffs, with flags flying in the breeze, and the morning sun glancing upon the guns as they lay across the shoulders of the boys. Cheer after cheer went up in welcome and triumph from the thousands who had already crossed and stood in waiting lines upon the bluff above. This is supposed to be the last halting place before we knock for admittance at our goal—the boosted Gibraltar of the west.

Our division has made a long march to-day, and we have bivouaced for the night without supper, and with no prospect of breakfast, for our rations have been entirely exhausted. Murmurings and complaints are loud and deep, and the swearing fully up to the army standard. General Leggett walked into our camp, and in his usual happy way inquired, “Well, boys, have you had your supper?” “No, General, we have not had any.” “Well, boys, I have not had any either, and we shall probably have to fight for our breakfast.” “Very well, General; guess we can stand it as well as you,” came the ready answer from a score of us, and resignation settled back upon the features of tired and hungry, but unsubdued, patriot soldiers.

“You may study the hopeful, bright brows of these men,

Who have marched all day over hill and through glen,

Half clad and unfed; but who is it will dare

Claim to find on those faces one trace of despair?”

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 26-7

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

A QUIET I)A Y.

The weather still continues in an unsettled state. Although not so rough as it was, it is still too rough to attempt to do much. All the vessels of our fleet are now here, except those that were lost and the schooner with the signal corps. Nothing has been heard from her, and we are beginning to think that she too may be lost. Albert Tucker of company B died this morning, and his body was taken ashore and buried on the beach this afternoon. It is a sad sight to see men die and be buried here on this low, lonely sand-bar.

He lies on the beach, the cold waters beside,

And lonely and sad was the death that he died.

No mother mourns o'er him, no fond fair one weeps

Where far from the land of his fathers he sleeps.

But the mad swelling waves and the wild birds career

O'er the wet sandy grave of the young volunteer.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 24-5

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: May 6, 1863

This day has been a hot one, but as our duties have not been of an arduous nature we have sought the shade and kept quiet. While in camp, the boys very freely comment upon our destination, and give every detail of progress a general overhauling. The ranks of our volunteer regiments were filled at the first call for troops. That call opened the doors of both rich and poor, and out sprang merchant, farmer, lawyer, physician and mechanics of every calling, whose true and loyal hearts all beat in unison for their country. The first shot that struck Sumpter's wall sent an electric shot to every loyal breast, and today we have in our ranks material for future captains, colonels and generals, who before this war is ended will be sought out and honored.

It can not be possible that we are to be kept at this place much longer, for it is not very desirable as a permanent location. Of course we are here for some purpose, and I suppose that to be to prevent the enemy from assailing our line of supplies. As they are familiar with the country they can annoy us exceedingly without much loss to themselves. But after we have captured Vicksburg, and the history of Grant's movements is known, we shall then understand why we guarded Hankinson's Ferry so long. One of the boys said he thought Mr. Hankinson owed us something nice for taking such good care of his ferry for him. The variety of comments and opinions expressed in camp by the men is very curious. Some say we are going to surround Vicksburg, others think Grant is feeling for the enemy's weakest point there to strike him, and one cool head remarked that it was all right wherever we went while Grant was leading, for he had never known defeat. Confidence in a good general stiffens a soldier—a rule that ought to work both ways. Surely no leader ever had more of the confidence of those he led than General Grant. He is not as social as McPherson, Sherman, Logan and some others, but seems all the while careful of the comfort of his men, with an eye single to success. Great responsibilities, perhaps, suppress his social qualities, for the present; for each day presents new obstacles to be met and overcome without delay. The enemy are doing all they can to hinder us, but let Grant say forward, and we obey.

Unable to sleep last night, I strolled about the camp awhile. Cause of my wakefulness, probably too much chicken yesterday. I appeared to be the only one in such a state, for the rest were

“Lost in heavy slumbers,

Free from toil and strife.

Dreaming of their dear ones,

Home and child and wife;

Tentless they are lying,

While the moon shines bright.

Sleeping in their blankets,

Beneath the summer's night.”

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 8-9

John L. Motley to the Duchess of Argyll, February 7, 1864

Vienna,

February 7, 1864.

Dear Duchess Of Argyll: We get on very well in Vienna. We have an extremely pleasant house with a large garden. Many of our colleagues are very kind and agreeable; your ambassador most especially so — high-minded, honorable, sympathetic, good-tempered, amiable. Everybody respects and loves him for his fine qualities of mind and character. Lady Bloomfield is very charming and accomplished, and has but one fault in the world: she has been away from us three or four months, and we all miss her very much.

I have purposely avoided speaking of the one topic of which my mind is always full, because when I once begin I can never stop, and I become an intolerable bore.

I am glad you spoke of Colonel Shaw. His father and mother are intimate friends of ours, and I have had a touching letter from Mr. Shaw since his son's death. I knew the son, too, a beautiful, fair-haired youth, with everything surrounding him to make life easy and gay. When I was at home in 1861 I saw him in camp. He was in the same tent with one of my own nephews, both being lieutenants in what has since become a very famous regiment — the Massachusetts Second. I had the honor of presenting their colors to that regiment, and saw them march out of Boston 1040 strong. Since that day they have been in countless actions, some of the bloodiest of the war. A large proportion of its officers, all of them young men of well-known Boston families, have been killed or severely wounded; and in the last papers received I read that the regiment, reduced to about two hundred, has returned on a few weeks' furlough and to recruit its numbers, having reenlisted — like most of the other regiments whose term expires this year — for three years longer, or for the duration of the war. I believe that they would serve for twenty years rather than that our glorious Republic should be destroyed. But be assured that the government of the United States is firm as the mountains.

Young Robert Shaw is a noble type of the young American. Did you see the poem to his memory in the January number of the "Atlantic"? It is called "Memorise Positum," and is, I think, very beautiful. The last verse is especially touching. It is by Russell Lowell, one of our first poets, as you know. The allusion is to his two nephews who were killed in Virginia. A third nephew (he has no sons), Colonel Lowell of the Second Massachusetts Cavalry, is in active service in Meade's army. He lately married a sister of Colonel Shaw, and she is with him now. Shaw fought all through the campaigns of Virginia, in the Massachusetts Second, until he took the command of the Massachusetts Fifty-fourth (colored). His was a beautiful life and a beautiful death.

I shall say no more. My wife and daughters join me in sincerest remembrances and best wishes for the duke and yourself and all your household. I beg to remain, dear Duchess of Argyll,

Most truly yours,

J. L. M.

I wish you would whisper to the duke that he owes me a letter, and that if he should ever find time to write I will write a short letter in return.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, Volume III, p. 4-6

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: Wednesday, October 19, 1864

Firing again on picket. Turned out. At daylight heavy firing commenced on left with infantry. At 8 A. M. learned the infantry had fallen back in confusion, losing 24 pieces of artillery. 8th and 19th corps broken. 6th corps firm and in line. Cavalry went into position immediately and gave infantry time to form. Crossed the pike and formed again — under heavy fire all the time. Kept the position until Sheridan came up, then sent over to the right again. Charged rebel cavalry. Little before dusk whole line advanced — routing the rebs. Two regts. of 3rd Div. charged to the right, driving reb cavalry over Cedar Creek and the rest charging on right of 19th corps, 5th N. Y. in advance. Overtook the artillery and wagon trains, capturing it and many prisoners.

_______________

Note — The modest entry under date of Oct. 19, 1864, refers to the historic battle of Cedar Creek, Va., when Sheridan made his famous ride on his black horse from Winchester, “twenty miles away,” and saved the day. During Sheridan's temporary absence from his army, Gen. H. G. Wright, the next in command, permitted himself and the army to be totally surprised at three o'clock in the morning, by the recently defeated army of Gen. Jubal A. Early. The Union troops were nearly all sleeping in their tents when the enemy's cannon and musketry opened on them in a terrific onslaught at close range. The Union artillery was mainly captured, nearly 5,000 Union soldiers killed and captured, and our army, except the Cavalry and one Division of Infantry, started in panic and confused retreat towards Winchester in the rear — where Sheridan had spent the previous night. Up to that point the event had been one of the greatest Union disasters of the war. But about 10 o'clock in the morning Sheridan arrived on the field in the dramatic manner described in the poem, "Sheridan's Ride," and instantly all was reversed. Meanwhile the Cavalry, which had not been involved in the surprise and panic and slaughter, being encamped on the right and left flanks of the army out of the line of the attack of Early, had promptly been ordered to the center and front, where they held the Confederates back from further pursuit until Sheridan's arrival. Sheridan's presence promptly restored confidence. The retreating and disorganized troops quickly rallied, and by 3 P. M. a general charge was ordered all along the line occupying some four miles front. The Cavalry charge on this occasion was the finest performance and spectacle at any time witnessed by the writer during the war. The astonished and recently victorious Confederates broke in confusion, their retreat was a worse panic than that of the Union army in the early morning. All our artillery was retaken from the enemy and some thirty cannon captured in addition, besides great numbers of prisoners and the entire wagon train of Early. Early's army never made another serious rally. — A. B. N.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 133

Diary of Julia Ward Howe: Wednesday April 19, 1865

The day of President Lincoln's funeral. A sad, disconnected day. I could not work, but strolled around to see the houses, variously draped in black and white. Went to Bartol's church, not knowing of a service at our own. Bartol's remarks were tender and pathetic. I was pleased to have heard them.

Wrote some verses about the President — pretty good, perhaps, — scratching the last nearly in the dark, just before bedtime.

This is the poem called “Parricide.” It begins: —

O'er the warrior gauntlet grim

Late the silken glove we drew.

Bade the watch-fires slacken dim

In the dawn's auspicious hue.

Staid the armed heel;

Still the clanging steel;

Joys unwonted thrilled the silence through.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards & Maud Howe Elliott, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, Large-Paper Edition, Volume 1, p. 221

Amos Bronson Alcott, May 8, 1859

Concord, May 8, 1859.

This evening I hear Captain Brown speak at the town hall on Kansas affairs, and the part taken by him in the late troubles there. He tells his story with surpassing simplicity and sense, impressing us all deeply by his courage and religious earnestness. Our best people listen to his words, — Emerson, Thoreau, Judge Hoar, my wife; and some of them contribute something in aid of his plans without asking particulars, such confidence does he inspire in his integrity and abilities. I have a few words with him after his speech, and find him superior to legal traditions, and a disciple of the Right in ideality and the affairs of state. He is Sanborn's guest, and stays for a day only. A young man named Anderson accompanies him. They go armed, I am told, and will defend themselves, if necessary. I believe they are now on their way to Connecticut and farther south; but the Captain leaves us much in the dark concerning his destination and designs for the coming months. Yet he does not conceal his hatred of slavery, nor his readiness to strike a blow for freedom at the proper moment. I infer it is his intention to run off as many slaves as he can, and so render that property insecure to the master. I think him equal to anything he dares, — the man to do the deed, if it must be done, and with the martyr's temper and purpose. Nature obviously was deeply intent in the making of him. He is of imposing appearance, personally, —tall, with square shoulders and standing; eyes of deep gray, and couchant, as if ready to spring at the least rustling, dauntless yet kindly; his hair shooting backward from low down on his forehead; nose trenchant and Romanesque; set lips, his voice suppressed yet metallic, suggesting deep reserves; decided mouth; the countenance and frame charged with power throughout. Since here last he has added a flowing beard, which gives the soldierly air and the port of an apostle. Though sixty years old, he is agile and alert, and ready for any audacity, in any crisis. I think him about the manliest man I have ever seen, — the typo and synonym of the Just. I wished to see and speak with him under circumstances permitting of large discourse. I am curious concerning his matured opinions on the great questions, — as of personal independence, the citizen's relation to the State, the right of resistance, slavery, the higher law, temperance, the pleas and reasons for freedom, and ideas generally. Houses and hospitalities were invented for the entertainment of such questions, — for the great guests of manliness and nobility thus entering and speaking face to face:—

Man is his own star; and the soul that can

Render an honest and a perfect man

Commands all light, all influence, all fate.

Nothing to him falls early or too late:

Our acts our angels are, — or good or ill,

Our fatal shadows, that walk by us still.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 504-5

Northward

Under the high unclouded sun

That makes the ship and shadow one,

     I sail away as from the fort

Booms sullenly the noonday gun.

The odorous airs blow thin and fine,

The sparkling waves like emeralds shine,

     The lustre of the coral reefs

Gleams whitely through the tepid brine.

And glitters o'er the liquid miles

The jewelled ring of verdant isles,

     Where generous Nature holds her court

Of ripened bloom and sunny smiles.

Encinctured by the faithful seas

Inviolate gardens load the breeze,

     Where flaunt like giant-warders' plumes

The pennants of the cocoa-trees.

Enthroned in light and bathed in balm,

In lonely majesty the Palm

     Blesses the isles with waving hands, –

High-Priest of the eternal Calm.

Yet Northward with an equal mind

I steer my course, and leave behind

     The rapture of the Southern skies, –

The wooing of the Southern wind.

For here o'er Nature's wanton bloom

Falls far and near the shade of gloom,

     Cast from the hovering vulture-wings

Of one dark thought of woe and doom.

I know that in the snow-white pines

The brave Norse fire of freedom shines,

     And fain for this I leave the land

Where endless summer pranks the vines.

O strong, free North, so wise and brave!

O South, too lovely for a slave!

     Why read ye not the changeless truth, –

The free can conquer but to save?

May God upon these shining sands

Send Love and Victory clasping hands,

     And Freedom's banners wave in peace

Forever o'er the rescued lands !

And here, in that triumphant hour,

Shall yielding Beauty wed with Power;

     And blushing earth and smiling sea

In dalliance deck the bridal bower.

— John Hay, Key West, Wednesday, March 9, 1864.

SOURCES: John Hay, The Complete Poetical Works of John Hay, p. 140-2Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 177-8. Michael Burlingame & John R. Turner Ettlinger, Editors, Inside Lincoln's White House: The Complete Civil War Diary of John Hay, p. 178.

John Hay to John G. Nicolay, April 14, 1863

April 14, 1863.

MY DEAR NICO:

Here is one of the cleverest things I have seen since the war began. It is an impromptu order of Halpine’s on Miss Mary Brooks, a New York lady, who was down here on a visit with Mrs. Raymond. The “Hay” is, of course, Charlie, not the Colonel.

We are living very pleasantly here since the return from Charleston of the K 's. The General has some fine horses and the rides are pleasant.

Yours truly,

J. H.

_______________

Headquarters, Dept. of the South,

Hilton Head, S. C., March 25, 1863

 SPECIAL ORDERS,

A. No. 1

I.

With her charming looks

And all her graces,

Miss Mary Brooks,

Whose lovely face is

The sweetest thing we have seen down here

On these desolate Islands for more than a year,

Is hereby appointed an extra Aide

On the Staff of the General Commanding,

With a Captain of Cavalry's strap and grade,

And with this most definite understanding.

II.

That Captain Mary,

Gay and airy,

At nine each day, until further orders,

To Colonel Halpine shall report

For special duty at these Headquarters:—

And Captain Mary,

(Bless the fairy!)

Shall hold herself, upon all occasions,

Prepared to ride

At the Adjutant's side

And give him of flirting his regular rations;

And she shan't vamoose

With the younglings loose

Of the junior Staff, — such as Hay and Skinner;

But, galloping onward, she shall sing,

Like an everlasting lark on the wing—

And she shan't keep the Adjutant late for dinner.

III.

The Chief Quartermaster of Department

Will give Captain Mary a riding garment:—

A long, rich skirt of a comely hue,

Shot silk, with just a suspicion of blue,—

A gipsey hat, with an ostrich feather,

A veil to protect her against the weather,

And delicate gauntlets of pale buff leather;

Her saddle with silver shall all be studded

And her pony, — a sorrel, — it shall be blooded:

Its shoes shall be silver, its bridle all ringing

With bells that shall harmonize well with her singing.

And thus Captain Mary,

Gay, festive and airy,

Each morning shall ride

At the Adjutant's side

And hold herself ready, on all fit occasions,

To give him of flirting his full army rations.

By Command of Maj. Gen'l D. Hunter,

Ed. W. Smith,

Assistant Adjutant-General.

Official Copy:

Chas. G. Halpine,

Lieut.-Col. and Assistant Adjutant-General,

10th Army Corps, and Department of the South.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 79-81; Michael Burlingame, Editor, At Lincoln’s Side: John Hay’s Civil War Correspondence and Selected Writings, p. 36 where the entire letter appears.

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Wednesday, August 24, 1864

Good-by one more day. Major Morfit up here this eve; looked in to see me; thinks my chance for exchange just as good here as at Columbia. I don't know how much he knows about it, but I think very little. Apropos, an epigram occurs.

Our jailer bears the name of Morfit

A name on which if any saw fit

By making rhymes his life to forfeit

He'd swear By Allah and the Prophet

For nothing was this Major more fit.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 130