Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 10, 1861

There are indications of military operations on a large scale on the Potomac. We have intelligence that McDowell is making preparations to advance against our forces at Manassas. Gen. Johnston is expected to be there in time; and for that purpose is manœuvring Gen. Patterson out of the way. Our men have caps now — and will be found in readiness. They have short-commons under the Commissary Department; but even with empty stomachs, they can beat the Yankees at the ordeal of dying. Fighting is a sport our men always have an appetite for.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 60

John Lothrop Motley to Mary Benjamin Motley, July 14, 1861

Nahant, July 14, 1861.

My Dearest Mary: This is the first rainy day since I landed in the country, now nearly five weeks ago. It has been most wondrously bright weather day after day, sometimes very hot, but as it can never be too hot for me, I have been well satisfied. I was so glad to hear of Lady Dufferin's safe return, and I do hope sincerely that the Syrian sun has not visited her too roughly, but that the gentle atmosphere of an English summer will entirely restore her. What a comfort it must be to dear Mrs. Norton to have them safe back again!

Alas! during all my pleasure at reading your letters I could not throw off for a moment the dull, deadly horror of the calamity of which I wrote to you in my last. Yesterday I went out to Longfellow's house, by especial message from Tom Appleton, to attend the funeral. It was not thus that I expected for the first time after so long an absence to cross that threshold. The very morning after my arrival from England I found Longfellow's card, in my absence, with a penciled request to come out and sup with them, Tom, Mackintosh, and the rest. I could not go, but have been several times begged to come since that day, yet this is the first time I have been there. I am glad I had seen F–––, however. I think I told you that I saw her a few days ago, at the chair of her dying father; she was radiant with health and beauty, and was so cordial and affectionate in her welcome to me. I did not mean to look at her in her coffin, for I wished to preserve that last image of her face undimmed. But after the ceremony at the house the cortege went to Mount Auburn, and there was a brief prayer by Dr. Gannett at the grave, and it so happened that I was placed, by chance, close to the coffin, and I could not help looking upon her face; it was turned a little on one side, was not in the slightest degree injured, and was almost as beautiful as in life — “but for that sad, shrouded eye,” and you remember how beautiful were her eyes. Longfellow has as yet been seen by no one except his sisters. He has suffered considerable injury in the hands, but nothing which will not soon be remedied. He has been in an almost frenzied condition, at times, from his grief, but, I hear, is now comparatively composed; but his life is crushed, I should think. His whole character, which was so bright and genial and sunny, will suffer a sad change.

. . . We were expecting the Longfellows down here every day. Tom and he own together the old Wetmore cottage, and they were just opening it when the tragedy occurred. I still think it probable that they will come, for he certainly cannot remain in his own house now. My mother is decidedly gaining strength and is very cheerful. I don't find Mr. Cabot much changed, except that he is more lame than he was. They have invited me to Newport, and so have Mr. Sears and Bancroft, but I have no idea of going. I have hardly time to see as much of my friends and relations in Boston and its neighborhood as I wish.

I had better go back, I think, and try to do a year's hard work in the diggings, as I can be of no use here, and it is absolutely necessary for me to go on with my work.

. . . Although it seems so very difficult for the English mind, as manifested in the newspapers, to understand the objects of the war, they seem to twenty millions of us very plain — first, to prohibit forever the extension of negro slavery, and to crush forever the doctrine that slavery is the national, common law of America, instead of being an exceptional, local institution confined within express limits; secondly, to maintain the authority of the national government, as our only guaranty for life, liberty, and civilization. It is not a matter of opinion, but of profound, inmost conviction, that if we lose the Union, all is lost; anarchy and Mexicanism will be substituted for the temperate reign of constitutional, representative government and the English common law. Certainly these objects are respectable ones, and it is my belief that they will be attained. If, however, the war assumes larger proportions, I know not what results may follow; but this I do know, that slavery will never gain another triumph on this continent.

This great mutiny was founded entirely on two great postulates or hopes. First, the conspirators doubted; not of the assistance, in every free State, of the whole Democratic party, who they thought would aid them in their onslaught against the Constitution, just as they had stood by them at the polls in a constitutional election. Miserable mistake! The humiliation of the national flag at Sumter threw the whole Democratic party into a frenzy of rage. They had sustained the South for the sake of the Union, for the love of the great Republic. When the South turned against the national empire and fired against the flag, there was an end of party differences at that instant throughout the free States. Secondly, they reckoned confidently on the immediate recognition and alliance of England. Another mistake! And so, where is now the support of the mutiny? Instead of a disunited North, there is a distracted South, with the free States a unit. There is no doubt whatever that the conspirators expected confidently to establish their new constitution over the whole country except New England.

I find the numbers of United States troops given thus: General Patterson's command, 25,000; General McClellan, 45,000; General McDowell, 45,000; General Butler, 20,000; total, 135,000. Certainly, if we should deduct ten per cent, from this estimate, and call them 120,000, we should not be far wrong. McDowell commands opposite Washington, along Arlington, at Alexandria, etc.; McClellan is at this moment at Beverly, and Grafton in West Virginia; Butler is at and near Fortress Monroe; Patterson is at Martinsburg. I take it for granted that you have a good map of Virginia, and that you study it.

Now for the commanders. McClellan is a first-class man, thirty-seven years of age, of superior West Point education, and has distinguished himself in Mexico. The country seems to regard him as the probable successor to Scott in its affections when he shall be taken from us. McDowell is a good, practical, professional soldier, fully equal to his work, about forty years of age. Patterson is an Irishman by birth, age sixty-nine, but educated here, and has been in the army much of his life, having served both in the War of 1812 and in Mexico, and he commands against an able rebel, Johnston, who is, or was, at Winchester and its neighborhood. Butler is the militia general who commanded at Annapolis, for a time, in the first outbreak, and has since been made major-general in the army. The Gordon regiment, whose departure from Boston I mentioned in my last, are now at Martinsburg, and will be in the front ranks under Patterson, who has been perpetually menaced by Johnston with a general attack. The prevailing impression is, however, that Johnston will fall back, as the rebels have constantly been doing; all the dash, impetuosity, and irrepressible chivalry on their part have hitherto only manifested themselves on paper.

Don't be affected by any sneers or insinuations of slowness against Scott; I believe him to be a magnificent soldier, thoroughly equal to his work, and I trust that the country and the world will one day acknowledge that he has played a noble and winning game with consummate skill. He can afford to neglect newspaper criticism at present, whether cis- or transatlantic. One victory at least he has achieved: he has at last reduced the lying telegram manufacturers to submission. Henceforth you may read our newspaper accounts with tolerable confidence. Now look at the map of Virginia, and you will see his plan so far as developed. You read the American newspapers, of course, which I ordered for you. Yesterday and to-day bring accounts from McClellan, in which he officially informs government that he has routed and annihilated the rebels in West Virginia. Their general is killed, their army broken to pieces. One colonel (Pegram) has surrendered himself and his whole regiment. McClellan has at least 1000 prisoners. He has lost very few men, the rebels perhaps 200, but the result is a large one. I am sure no one wishes to hear a long list of killed and wounded on either side. What Scott wishes is to demoralize and disorganize this senseless and wanton rebellion, and to crush its leaders. Now, these 10,000 just routed by McClellan compose the main force by which the counter-revolution of West Virginia was to be prevented. There is another force in the southwest, on the Kanawha, under the redoubtable Wise, whose retreat you will soon hear of. You will also, I think, soon find that Johnston has fallen back from Winchester. Thus the rebels will soon be squeezed down toward Richmond. There, I suppose, they must make a stand, and there will, perhaps, be a great battle. Hitherto, however, they have shown no avidity for such a result. Virginia is the battle-ground for the summer.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 175-80

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 5, 1861

We have news of a fight at Gainesville between Gen. Patterson and Col. Jackson; the latter, being opposed by overwhelming numbers, fell back after punishing the Philadelphia general so severely that he will not be likely to have any more stomach for fighting during the remainder of the campaign.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 58

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 2, 1861

There has been some brilliant fighting by several brothers named Ashby, who led a mounted company near Romney. One of the brothers, Richard, was slain. Turner Ashby put half a dozen Yankees hors du combat with his own arm. He will make a name. We have accounts of an extraordinary exploit of Col. Thomas, of Maryland. Disguised as a French lady, he took passage on the steamer St. Nicholas at Baltimore en route for Washington. During the voyage he threw off his disguise, and in company with his accomplices, seized the steamer. Coming down the Bay, he captured three prizes, and took the whole fleet into Fredericksburg in triumph. Lieut. Minor, C. S. N., participated in this achievement. Gen. Patterson, who conciliated the mob in Philadelphia, which had intended to hang me, seems to be true to his pledge to fight the Southern people. He is now advancing into Virginia at the head of a brigade.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 57-8

John Lothrop Motley to Mary Benjamin Motley, July 7, 1861

Boston, July 7, 1861.

My Dearest Mary: I can't tell you how much delight your letters give me. . . .

Seid umschlungen, Millionen! You must give my kindest regards to dear Mrs. Norton, to Lady Dufferin, — if you are so fortunate as to see her, which seems too great a privilege ever really to come within your reach, — to Lady Palmerston and Lord Palmerston, to the adorable Lady and Lord , to Milnes, Stirling, Forster, to dear Lady William, with my most sincere wishes for her restoration to health. Tell her I should give myself the pleasure of writing to her, but my whole mind is absorbed with American affairs, and I know that they bore her inexpressibly, and I could write of nothing else. Don't forget my kind regards to Arthur, and to Odo if he comes. If you see Lady John Russell and Lord John, I wish you would present my best compliments, and say that I have been and am doing everything within my humble means to suppress the noble rage of our countrymen in regard to the English indifference to our cause, and that I hope partially to have succeeded. At any rate, there is a better feeling and less bluster; but alas and alas! there will never in our generation be the cordial, warm-hearted, expansive sentiment toward England which existed a year ago. Yet no one is mad enough not to wish for peaceful relations between the countries, and few can doubt that a war at this moment would be for us a calamity too awful to contemplate. Pray give my kindest regards to Mrs. Stanley; it was so kind of her to ask you to so pleasant a party as you mention. I hope you took the responsibility of remembering me to Froude; and indeed I wish really that you would say to all our friends individually, when you see them, that I beg my remembrances in each letter. There is no need of my specifying their names, as you see now that I have got to my third page and have not mentioned one third. Vivent nos amis les ennemis, and so I give my kind regards to Delane. I wish he wasn't such a good fellow, and that I didn't like him so well, for the “Times” has played the very devil with our international relations, and if there is one thing I have ever set my heart upon it is the entente cordiale between America and England. Give my kind regards to Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan.

. . . It never occurs to me that any one can doubt the warmth of my feelings toward England, and so when I try to picture the condition here it is that my friends in England may see with my eyes, which must be of necessity quicker to understand our national humors than those of any Englishman can be. Give my regards to Parker, to whom I dare say you read portions of my letters. Pray don't forget to present my most particular regards to Lord Lansdowne, and I hope it may have occurred to you to send him some of my letters, as I can't help thinking that it would interest him to have private information about our affairs, which, so far as it goes, can at least be relied upon. Don't forget my kind regards to Layard and to the dear Dean of St. Paul's and Mrs. Milman, and to those kindest of friends, Lord and Lady Stanhope, and also to the Reeves. As for my true friend Murray, I am ashamed not to have written him a line; but tell him, with my best regards to him and Mrs. M., that I have scarcely written to any one but you. If you see him, tell him what I think of our politics. It will distress his bigoted Tory heart to think that the great Republic has not really gone to pieces; but he must make up his mind to it, and so must Sir John Ramsden. The only bubble that will surely burst is the secession bubble. A government that can put 250,000 men in the field within ten weeks, and well armed, officered, and uniformed, and for the time well drilled, may still be considered a nation. You see that Abraham asks Congress for 400,000 soldiers and 400,000,000 of dollars, and he will have every man and every dollar.

But before I plunge into politics, let me stick to private matters for a little. If I have omitted any names in my greetings, supply them and consider them as said. I write to scarcely any one but you, and then to such as I know are sincerely interested in American affairs. To-day I send a letter to Lord Lyndhurst, a long one, and I am awfully afraid that it will bore him, for unluckily I haven't the talent of Sam Weller to make my correspondent wish I had said more, which is the great secret of letter-writing.

McClellan and Lyon and Mansfield and McDowell and a host of others, all thoroughly educated soldiers with large experience, to say nothing of old Scott, whose very name is worth 50,000 men, are fully a match for Jeff and Beauregard, able men as they unquestionably are. Then as to troops, I wish those who talk about Northern mercenaries, all Irish and German, and so on, could take a look at the Rhode Islanders, at the Green Mountain boys from Vermont, at the gigantic fellows from Maine, whose magnificent volunteers excite universal applause, at the Massachusetts fellows, who can turn their hands to anything, at the 50,000 men from the “Empire State,” already marched forward and equipped like regulars, and so on to Ohio and Pennsylvania, Illinois, Michigan, Minnesota, etc. I thought before I came home that there was some exaggeration in the accounts we received; but the state of things can't be exaggerated. I never felt so proud of my country as I do at this moment. It was thought a weak government because it was forbearing. I should like to know how many strong governments can stamp on the earth and produce 250,000 — the officially stated number of fighting men — almost at a breath; and there was never in history a nobler cause or a more heroic spectacle than this unanimous uprising of a great people to defend the benignant government of their choice against a wanton pro-slavery rebellion which had thought the country cowardly because she had been forbearing and gentle. A whole people, 22,000,000, laying aside all party feeling, stand shoulder to shoulder to protect this western continent, the home of freemen, from anarchy, perpetual warfare, and the universal spread of African slavery. But for this levy of bucklers the great Republic would have been Mexico and Alabama combined. Now slavery as a political power is dethroned, it can never spread an inch on this continent, and the Republic will come out of this conflict stronger and more respected than it ever was before.

Yesterday was a painfully interesting day. The Gordon regiment — the Massachusetts Second, of which I have spoken to you so often — took its departure for the seat of war. They have been in camp at Brook Farm for several weeks, and I have visited them often and have learned to have a high regard for Gordon. He was an excellent scholar at West Point, and served with distinction in the Mexican War. Afterward, becoming tired of quarters in Oregon and such wildernesses in the piping times of peace, he left the profession and studied and commenced the practice of law in Boston. But on the breaking out of the great mutiny he at once applied for leave to raise a regiment. His lieutenant-colonel, Andrews, is also a West Point man, having graduated first in his class. Wilder Dwight, whom you knew in Florence, is major, and a most efficient, energetic, intelligent fellow he is. . . .

Well, a telegram came on Saturday evening last, signed “Winfield Scott,” ordering the Second to move forward at once to help reinforce General Patterson in Martinsburg, Virginia. Patterson is expecting daily an engagement with Johnston, one of the best of the rebel generals, who commands some 20,000 men within a few miles of Martinsburg, so that the Second Regiment is going straight to glory or the grave. It was this that made the sight so interesting. It is no child's play, no holiday soldiering, which lies before them, but probably, unless all the rebel talk is mere fustian, as savage an encounter as men ever marched to meet. Within four days they will be on the sacred soil of Virginia, face to face with the enemy. The regiment came in by the Providence Railroad at eleven o'clock. It had been intended that they should march through many streets, as this was the first opportunity for the citizens of Boston to see the corps; but the day was intensely hot, a cloudless sky and 95° of Fahrenheit in the shade, so they only marched along Boylston, Tremont, up Beacon streets, to the Common, very wisely changing the program. They made a noble appearance: the uniform is blue, and they wore the army regulation hat, which I think — although Mr. Russell does not — very becoming with its black ostrich plumes, and I am assured that it is very convenient and comfortable in all weathers, being both light, supple, and shady. The streets were thronged to cheer them and give them God-speed. There was a light collation spread on tables in the Beacon Street Mall, and I walked about within the lines, with many other friends, to give the officers one more parting shake of the hand. There were many partings such as press the life from out the heart.

I was glad that M— and the girls were not there; but I saw Mr. and Mrs. D—, Mrs. Quincy, and many other wives and mothers. You may judge of the general depth of feeling when even Tom D— wouldn't come to see the regiment off for fear of making a fool of himself. People seemed generally to be troubled with Lear's hysterica passio, so that the cheers, although well intentioned, somehow stuck in their throats. The regiment got to the cars at three o'clock, and were to go via Stonington to New York, and soon via Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, to Williamsport, Maryland, and Martinsburg. We shall hear of them by telegram, and I hope occasionally to get a line from Gordon. Oh, how I wish that I had played at soldiers when I was young; wouldn't I have applied for and got a volunteer regiment now! But alas! at forty-seven it is too late to learn the first elements, and of course I could not be a subaltern among young men of twenty-two. William Greene — lucky fellow! — is raising a regiment; he was educated at West Point, you know, and served in the Florida war; and Raymond Lee, also a West Point man, is raising another of the additional ten regiments offered by Massachusetts. Young Wendell Holmes — who, by the way, is a poet and almost as much a man of genius as his father, besides being one of the best scholars of his time — has a lieutenant's commission in Lee's regiment, and so on. Are you answered as to the Irish and German nature of our mercenaries?

Nothing decisive has yet occurred. The skirmishes — outpost affairs, and which have furnished food for telegrams and pictures for the illustrated newspapers — are all of no consequence as to the general result. Don't be cast down, either, if you hear of a few reverses at first. I don't expect them; but, whether we experience them or not, nothing can prevent our ultimate triumph and a complete restoration of the Union. Of this I feel very confident. I don't like to prophesy, — a man always makes an ass of himself by affecting to read the future, — yet I will venture one prediction: that before eighteen months have passed away the uprising of a great Union party in the South will take the world so much by surprise as did so recently the unanimous rising of the North. For example, only a very few months ago, the Confederate flag was to wave over Washington before May 1, and over Faneuil Hall before the end of this year; there was to be a secession party in every Northern State, and blood was to flow from internecine combats in every Northern town. Now Washington is as safe as London; the North is a unit, every Northern town is as quiet and good-natured, although sending forth regiment after regiment to a contest far away from home, as it was five years ago; while Virginia is the scene of civil war — one Virginia sending senators and representatives to Washington, while another Virginia sends its deputies to Jeff Davis's wandering capital, and the great battle-field of North and South will be on the “sacred soil.” I feel truly sorry for such men as C—; there could not be a man more amiable or thorough gentleman than he seemed to be on our brief acquaintance. But rely upon it that Abraham is a straightforward, ingenuous, courageous backwoodsman, who will play his part manfully and wisely in this great drama.

The other day I dined with Mr. Palfrey. It was a very pleasant little dinner, and besides Frank and the daughters there were Holmes, Lowell, and John Adams. Frank Palfrey is lieutenant-colonel in William Greene's regiment; Mr. Palfrey's other son, John, is a lieutenant in the regular army, and I am truly sorry to hear today that he has just come home from Fortress Monroe with typhoid fever. I am just going down to inquire after him. Lowell and Holmes were as delightful as ever. I liked John Adams very much indeed; he seemed to me very manly, intelligent, and cultivated, and very good-looking. He was kind enough to ask me to come down to Quincy to dine and pass the night, and I certainly shall do so, for besides wishing to see the ancient abode of the Adamses, I must go and see the venerable Mr. Quincy, who has kindly sent for me once or twice. By the way, remember me kindly to Mr. and Mrs. Adams whenever you see them. I hear that they speak of you in all their letters in the most friendly and agreeable manner. . . .

Ever yours affectionately,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 164-72

Wilder Dwight: July 19, 1861

Headquarters Second Regiment M. V., Harper's Ferry,

Friday Morning, July 19, 1861.

A soldier's life is always gay! Here we are! Yesterday morning, just as I had finished my letter to you from Charlestown, from our camp, an order came from General Patterson for our brigade to prepare itself with two days' rations in haversacks, to march without baggage. This made us lively under the hot sun. The Colonel and I went and reported to General Patterson, whose head-quarters were in the house of Senator Hunter, the traitor, who had fled to Richmond. There we saw the General and Major Porter. It was evident that no vigorous move was to be attempted, and that this column awaited the news from Manassas. We returned to camp. I had just got to sleep, to make up for the fatigues of the day before (our march from Bunker Hill to Charlestown, Colonel Abercrombie says, was as hard a one as he ever knew), when the Colonel came to my tent and said, “No sleep for you; I've got orders.” A new order had come, directing our regiment to get ready for detached service. No indication had come of our destination, but we were to report to General Patterson as soon as ready. At three, we got under way with all our train. We were sent to Harper's Ferry. After a march of three hours we reached Harper's Ferry. The people received us with perfect enthusiasm, cheering and shouting after our flag. We are sent here to hold Harper's Ferry. Our headquarters are in the house of the Superintendent of the Arsenal. We succeed in its occupation to Johnston, the rebel. There are a good many of the secession horsemen home-guard, who are a terror to the country, and whom we are to quell. We shall establish our pickets in various directions, and hold the place, unless, indeed, we get orders to go elsewhere, which we are prepared to expect at any time. So, after all our expectation, there is no battle yet. The rumor is that Johnston is withdrawing from Winchester, and does not mean to fight. We know nothing here except by rumor. The country here is magnificent; the scenery glorious. Our camp is on the high ground, and faces the gorge through which the Potomac flows. The service on which our regiment is detached, though not a dangerous, is a very responsible and honorable one. The climate here is delightful, and I hope that all our men and officers will entirely recover from the fatigues of their sudden and recent duty. It is an odd life, and full of variety. Just now we seem to be about to see a little comfort. Our post here is due to the reputation the regiment has already acquired for discipline and promptness. It stirs one's blood to see the reign of terror under which these people have been living. Men come in and claim protection. Wives come and ask that their husbands may be assured of safety in returning to their homes. The most villanous system of oppression has been practised here in Virginia. The house in which we are now quartered is a fine house, and has a view which you would like, I think.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 52-4

Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, Saturday, July 16, 1861

in Bivouac At Bunker Hill, July 16, 1861.

We paused last evening, on our march toward Winchester, and lay down on the side of a hill in a pine grove. Late Sunday evening, at Martinsburg, the order came to be in readiness to march at five o'clock the next morning. No intimation whither. We had reveillé at three o'clock, packed wagons, breakfasted, formed the battalion, and then came our marching orders. The whole command of General Patterson commenced its movement at five. The march was without incident. We found our place in column at about eight o'clock, and moved on till three, when we reached Bunker Hill. There was firing by our advanced guard, who drove fifteen hundred of the enemy's cavalry before them. We came upon their deserted camp. The movement was steady but slow. From the high ground, and in turnings of the road, the sight was a fine one. Our regiment excited universal admiration. It is already considered the regiment of the whole command. My horse works beautifully, and keeps perfectly well. I have great comfort in him. When one is twelve hours in saddle, it makes a difference what the saddle is on. The camp-ground assigned us was the one we now occupy. It is very much exposed, and in advance of the main body. On taking possession of it, we found every indication of recent occupation, and find that the Rebels occupied it night before last. The men lay right down to rest. I continued upon duty, under direction of the Colonel, till five o'clock in the afternoon. Then, a man who lived near by invited us to tea with him. Our wagons were back in the interminable train, and we had given up all hope of them till late. The man spoke strongly of Union, &c. We accepted his offer, and went down to his farm-house and ate our bacon and eggs in the midst of his pickaninnies and slaves. The poor man could not speak of the American flag without choking. He said the other army had pressed their horses and food, &c., and given them nothing in return but receipts of the Southern Confederacy, and “there ain't any Southern Confederacy,” said he. Still the prevailing tone here is secession. We lay down at night under the trees. I posted a picket-guard outside the lines, and, after attending to other duties, was right glad to go to sleep.

Our men are toughening to it slowly, but their knapsacks still pull heavily at them.

To-day we have been resting the men, and having skirmish-drill in the wheat-fields. One of our companies is off on picket duty, three miles down the road towards Winchester. We had a call this morning from Major Doubleday. His battery is the terror of the enemy. He got out his map, and we studied the localities. He talked very agreeably about Sumter, &c. We have just received (four P. M., Tuesday) our orders for the advance upon Winchester. A very good place is assigned us. The impression is that the advance forms part of a grand concerted movement, and that to-morrow will be a decisive day in the history of the campaign. I hope for a big, worthy battle, one that means something and decides something. And I hope to have strength, courage, and wisdom to do my duty in it. I never felt happier or more earnest than for the last few days, and I never realized more fully the best significance of life. I have always had a dream and theory about the virtues that are called out by war. I have nothing to say of the supply which I can furnish, but I am vividly impressed with the demand. The calling needs a whole man; and it exacts very much from him. Self gets thrown into the background. It straggles out of the column, and is picked up, if at all, very late, by the rear-guard. I am writing this letter upon an empty case of cartridges, which were distributed this morning, sitting under an oak-tree back of the lines by the side of the Colonel, who has just returned from a conference with Colonel Abercrombie, and who is full of the duties of to-morrow. Good by, and God bless you. Love to all.

If anything should happen to me, remember that I meant to do my duty.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 49-50

James Chesnut Jr. to Mary Boykin Chesnut, June 22, 1861

We are very strongly posted, entrenched, and have now at our command about 15,000 of the best troops in the world. We have besides, two batteries of artillery, a regiment of cavalry, and daily expect a battalion of flying artillery from Richmond. We have sent forward seven regiments of infantry and rifles toward Alexandria. Our outposts have felt the enemy several times, and in every instance the enemy recoils. General Johnston has had several encounters — the advancing columns of the two armies — and with him, too, the enemy, although always superior in numbers, are invariably driven back.

There is great deficiency in the matter of ammunition. General Johnston's command, in the very face of overwhelming numbers, have only thirty rounds each. If they had been well provided in this respect, they could and would have defeated Cadwallader and Paterson with great ease. I find the opinion prevails throughout the army that there is great imbecility and shameful neglect in the War Department.

Unless the Republicans fall back, we must soon come together on both lines, and have a decided engagement. But the opinion prevails here that Lincoln's army will not meet us if they can avoid it. They have already fallen back before a slight check from 400 of Johnston's men. They had 700 and were badly beaten. You have no idea how dirty and irksome the camp life is. You would hardly know your best friend in camp guise.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 75-6

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: July 4, 1861

Russell abuses us in his letters. People here care a great deal for what Russell says, because he represents the London Times, and the Times reflects the sentiment of the English people. How we do cling to the idea of an alliance with England or France! Without France even Washington could not have done it.

We drove to the camp to see the President present a flag to a Maryland regiment. Having lived on the battlefield (Kirkwood), near Camden,¹ we have an immense respect for the Maryland line. When our militia in that fight ran away, Colonel Howard and the Marylanders held their own against Rawdon, Cornwallis, and the rest, and everywhere around are places named for a doughty captain killed in our defense — Kirkwood, De Kalb, etc. The last, however, was a Prussian count. A letter from my husband, written June 22d, has just reached me. He says:

"We are very strongly posted, entrenched, and have now at our command about 15,000 of the best troops in the world. We have besides, two batteries of artillery, a regiment of cavalry, and daily expect a battalion of flying artillery from Richmond. We have sent forward seven regiments of infantry and rifles toward Alexandria. Our outposts have felt the enemy several times, and in every instance the enemy recoils. General Johnston has had several encounters — the advancing columns of the two armies — and with him, too, the enemy, although always superior in numbers, are invariably driven back.

"There is great deficiency in the matter of ammunition. General Johnston's command, in the very face of overwhelming numbers, have only thirty rounds each. If they had been well provided in this respect, they could and would have defeated Cadwallader and Paterson with great ease. I find the opinion prevails throughout the army that there is great imbecility and shameful neglect in the War Department.

"Unless the Republicans fall back, we must soon come together on both lines, and have a decided engagement. But the opinion prevails here that Lincoln's army will not meet us if they can avoid it. They have already fallen back before a slight check from 400 of Johnston's men. They had 700 and were badly beaten. You have no idea how dirty and irksome the camp life is. You would hardly know your best friend in camp guise.''

Noise of drums, tramp of marching regiments all day long; rattling of artillery wagons, bands of music, friends from every quarter coming in. We ought to be miserable and anxious, and yet these are pleasant days. Perhaps we are unnaturally exhilarated and excited.

Heard some people in the drawing-room say: “Mrs. Davis's ladies are not young, are not pretty,” and I am one of them. The truthfulness of the remark did not tend to alleviate its bitterness. We must put Maggie Howell and Mary Hammy in the foreground, as youth and beauty are in request. At least they are young things — bright spots in a somber-tinted picture. The President does not forbid our going, but he is very much averse to it. We are consequently frightened by our own audacity, but we are wilful women, and so we go.

_______________

¹ At Camden in August, 1780, was fought a battle between General Gates and Lord Cornwallis. in which Gates was defeated. In April of the following year near Camden, Lord Rawdon defeated General Greene.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 74-6

Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, Saturday, July 13, 1861

in Camp, Martinsburg, Saturday, July 13, 1861.

Voici que nous sommes arrivés. I am in my tent, on the high ground, south of the town of Martinsburg. Our regiment is a part of what is called General Patterson's column, and we are on the advance post. It would have done your pride good to have seen us form the regiment, and start on our march from Hagerstown. My own responsible position, in rear of the column, led me to watch its progress, to return to give orders to the rear-guard and wagons, and, in general, to be lively. I am very well, and, though living under high pressure, getting my load along. At about half past six on Thursday afternoon we reached the bank of the Potomac, passing down from the high ground on which Doubleday's battery stood two weeks ago. We camped on the bank, without crossing the river. It was a long job getting the men into camp, and getting their supper into the men. At four the next (yesterday) morning we were up striking tents and getting breakfast. Then the battalion formed, and then came our first regular undress parade. At the command, the men prepared to ford the Potomac. In a few moments, the regiment was without its pantaloons. The vulgar prejudices of society, I am aware, are on the side of these appendages, but society does not cross the Potomac on foot in the freshness of the morning. The column moved forward in regular order. The band advanced into the stream playing a confident march, and so we passed the river gayly. Then came a long march, — thirteen miles. We were told that the enemy's cavalry were on the hills on the Virginia bank of the river, but we saw nothing of them, though the regiment marched with loaded muskets. The march was a new experience, — it was an interesting one. The morning was fresh and cool; the horses and wagons were our chief source of delay. One balky horse jumped up, leaped over the wheel-horses, fell, and hooked himself to the pole. He was left behind. One team spent a long time in the river. Still, at last, the train moved on. With frequent halts, we reached Martinsburg at three in the afternoon. We marched with music playing, and amid some attention of thousands of troops, to our camping-ground. Then we pitched our tents, and, in the midst of a violent thunder-storm, mounted our guns, got supper, and then I suppose you expect me to say went to bed. Not so, however, the Major. Instead of bed, which I desired, I went about in the pouring rain to visit sentinels, see that the men had supper, &c., &c.  At twelve o'clock I crept under cover. At five this morning, got up, put on wet boots, and went on duty again. To-day I have been attending drills, &c. I see clearly that there is no rest in this life. With care, I can keep well, I think, and I hope can do well for the men. But the care is a very great one. I have written this note in the midst of interruptions of every kind, and I have no more time now. We are under orders to move on Monday somewhither. We are in a beautiful country; everything here is new under the sun, or rather under the clouds. That, in itself, is spicy and cheering. In great haste.  . . . with much love to all.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 47-8

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: August 12, 1861

Still nothing from the army. We go on here quietly and happily — as happily as the state of the country will allow. The household peaceful and pleasant. The ladies — all of us collect in one room — work, while one reads some pleasant book. We are mercifully dealt with, and I hope we are grateful for such blessings.

The Northern papers tell us that General Patterson has withdrawn from the Northern army. The reason thereof is not mentioned; but we shrewdly suspect that the powers at Washington are not entirely satisfied that he was so completely foiled by General Johnston. General Johnston was fighting the battle of Manassas before General P. knew that he had left the Valley. The rumour that he had gone to join McDowell was unfounded. For many days there was no intercourse between the section occupied by the Federal army and that occupied by ours; pickets were placed on every road, to prevent any one from passing towards General P. Gentlemen who had come to Winchester and Berryville on business for a few hours, were not allowed to return home for days. So how could the poor man know what was going on? We only fear that his place may be supplied by one more vigilant. General Scott, too, has been almost superseded by General McClellan, who seems just now to be the idol of the North. The Philadelphia papers give a glowing description of his reception in that city. It was his luck, for it seems to me, with his disciplined and large command, it required no skill to overcome and kill the gallant General Garnett at Rich Mountain. For this he is feted and caressed, lionized and heroized to the greatest degree. I only hope that, like McDowell and Patterson, he may disappoint their expectations.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 49-50

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: July 19, 1861

This day is perhaps the most anxious of my life. It is believed that a battle is going on at or near Manassas. Our large household is in a state of feverish anxiety; but we cannot talk of it. Some sit still, and are more quiet than usual; others are trying to employ themselves. N. is reading aloud, trying to interest herself and others; but we are all alike anxious, which is betrayed by the restless eye and sad countenance. Yesterday evening we were startled by the sound of myriads of horses, wheels, and men on the turnpike. We soon found the whole of General Johnston's army was passing by, on its way to join Beauregard, below the mountain. A note from J. M. G., written with a pencil at the Longwood gate, was soon brought in, to say that they would halt at Millwood. The carriages were soon ready, and as many of the family as could go went to Millwood to meet them. I gave up my seat to another, for I felt too sad to meet with those dear boys marching on to such danger. Mr. ____ and the girls went. They saw my nephews, R. C. W. and B. B., and others who were very dear to us. They report them all as in fine spirits. The people all along the road, and in the village of Millwood, went out to meet them with refreshments. While halting at Millwood, General Johnston announced to them that General Beauregard had been successful in a fight the day before, near Manassas, and that another fight was hourly pending. The troops became wild with excitement. It is said that General Patterson has gone to join McDowell. I trust that General Johnston may get there in time. They were passing here from about four in the afternoon until a late hour in the night. After midnight the heavy army wagons were lumbering by, and we ever and anon heard the tap of the drum. We did not retire until all was still, and then none of us slept.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 40-1

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: July 18, 1861

During the last ten days we have been visiting among our friends, near Berryville, and in Winchester. The wheat harvest is giving the most abundant yield, and the fields are thick with corn. Berryville is a little village surrounded by the most beautiful country and delightful society. Patriotism burns brightly there, and every one is busy for the country in his or her own way. It is cheering to be among such people; the ladies work, and the gentlemen — the old ones — no young man is at home — give them every facility. But Winchester, what shall I say for Winchester that will do it justice? It is now a hospital. The soldiers from the far South have never had measles, and most unfortunately it has broken out among them, and many of them have died of it, notwithstanding the attention of surgeons and nurses. No one can imagine the degree of self-sacrificing attention the ladies pay them; they attend to their comfort in every respect; their nourishment is prepared at private houses; every lady seems to remember that her son, brother, or husband may be placed in the same situation among strangers, and to be determined to do unto others as she would have others to do unto her.

War still rages. Winchester is fortified, and General Johnston has been reinforced. He now awaits General Patterson, who seems slowly approaching.

While in Winchester, I heard of the death of one who has been for many years as a sister to me — Mrs. L. A. P., of S. H., Hanover County. My heart is sorely stricken by it, particularly when I think of her only child, and the many who seemed dependent on her for happiness. She died on Saturday last. With perfect resignation to the will of God, she yielded up her redeemed spirit, without a doubt of its acceptance. In cœlo quies. There is none for us here.

We have been dreadfully shocked by the defeat at Rich Mountain and the death of General Garnett! It is the first repulse we have had, and we should not complain, as we were overpowered by superior numbers; but we have so much to dread from superior numbers — they are like the sand upon the sea-shore for multitude. Our men say that one Southern man is equal to three Yankees. Poor fellows! I wish that their strength may be equal to their valour. It is hard to give up such a man as General Garnett. He was son of the late Hon. Robert S. Garnett, of Essex County; educated at West Point; accomplished and gallant. His military knowledge and energy will be sadly missed. It was an unfortunate stroke, the whole affair; but we must hope on, and allow nothing to depress us.

I have just returned from a small hospital which has recently been established in a meeting-house near us. The convalescent are sent down to recruit for service, and to recover their strength in the country, and also to relieve the Winchester hospitals. The ladies of the neighbourhood are doing all they can to make them comfortable. They are full of enthusiasm, and seem to be very cheerful, except when they speak of home. They are hundreds of miles from wife, children, and friends. Will they ever see them again? I have been particularly interested in one who is just recovering from typhoid fever. I said to him as I sat fanning him: “Are you married?” His eyes filled with tears as he replied, “Not now; I have been, and my little children, away in Alabama, are always in my mind. At first I thought I could not leave the little motherless things, but then our boys were all coming, and mother said, ‘Go, Jack, the country must have men, and you must bear your part, and I will take care of the children;’ and then I went and ‘listed, and when I went back home for my things, and saw my children, I 'most died like. ‘Mother,’ says I, ‘I am going, and father must take my corn, my hogs, and every thing else he likes, and keep my children; but if I never get back, I know it will be a mighty burden in your old age; but I know you will do your best.’ ‘Jack,’ says she, ‘I will do a mother's part by them; but you must not talk that way. Why should you get killed more than another? You will get back, and then we shall be so happy. God will take care of you, I know He will.’” He then took a wallet from under his pillow, and took two locks of hair: “This is Peter's, he is three years old; and this is Mary's, she is a little more than one, and named after her mother, and was just stepping about when I left home.” At that recollection, tears poured down his bronzed cheeks, and I could not restrain my own. I looked at the warm-hearted soldier, and felt that he was not the less brave for shedding tears at the recollection of his dead wife, his motherless children, and his brave old mother. I find that the best way to nurse them, when they are not too sick to bear it, is to talk to them of home. They then cease to feel to you as a stranger, and finding that you take interest in their “short and simple annals,” their natural reserve gives way, and they at once feel themselves among friends.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 37-40

Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, July 11, 1861

Hagerstown, Maryland, July 11, 1861.

If any one supposes that an advance under pressure to join General Patterson's column is fun, let him try it. From Boston, as soon as we got the train, all went well. At New York, on the whole, everything was warm, but cheerful. We gave them a show in the Park, and made our speeches. But best of all was our prompt and orderly embarkation at the wharf, and our start for Harrisburg and Hagerstown. Luck, however, did not follow us beyond New York. We spent in the cars, on our way to Hagerstown, nearly thirty-six hours, — more than twice too long. But, per contra, discipline was maintained, and every man found himself fed, and in as good shape as possible. Here we are. Our band filled the town with its music at five o'clock this morning. The advance train, in which I was, arrived at one o'clock. We are in the midst of preparation to commence our march upon Martinsburg, where we join General Patterson. I do not think there will be any fighting immediately, — others think otherwise; but to-day's rumors show Johnson falling back to Winchester. Unless he does voluntarily, he must per force. We ford the Potomac, and I am impatient to feel, with my horses' hoofs, the sacred soil of Virginia. I have been very well, notwithstanding the intense heat. Saw William in New York, and he helped me a good deal. You would laugh to see how our pretty things are getting spoiled with the service.

Our present position and duty cannot be regarded otherwise than as a high compliment. With other regiments almost on the spot, we are called to the post most threatened, and we are called from a distance, too. It shows that, somehow or other, we have got a reputation. Excuse haste and all incoherency.

I was sorry not to see you more on the Common, but it was best to cut short the parting. Give warm love to father and all the boys, and every one else. God bless you all.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 45-6

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: July 5, 1861

Yesterday M. P. and myself spent several hours riding about to visit our friends. The news of the day was, that General Patterson, with a large force, had crossed the river and taken possession of Martinsburg, and that General Johnston had sent Colonel Stuart, with his cavalry, to reconnoitre and cut off his supplies, and to prevent a retreat. All these things make us anxious, particularly as the booming of cannon is not unfrequent; but my faith in the justice of our cause is strong.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 36

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, July 26, 1861

Harper's Ferry, July 26, 1861.

Reveille roll-call is just finished, and I have a short time before breakfast to improve by writing. We still garrison the town, and very hard work it is, too, it taking five companies a day to do it, making guard duty come every other day. What we principally have to do is to keep the rumshops closed to the soldiers. At night we have patrols on the streets all about the town, and any one found out after nine P. M. is sent to his house or quarters, or if suspicious-looking, taken to the guard-room, which, by the way, is the very engine house where John Brown made his final stand. The loop-holes and all are just as he left them.

We also guard all the ferries very carefully. The other night, when I was on guard, there was a report brought to me of a fight in a house a little ways off. I took a Sergeant and eight men and went, double quick, to the place; the house was full of men, fighting and drunk. We cleared it in about two minutes, took the noisiest, prisoners, then went back and emptied a rum barrel that had caused the whole of it. Such things were occurring frequently, two or three days ago, but, as the Pennsylvania militia go home, we have less and less of it. They are going home at the rate of two regiments a day, and we are glad of it, for a more undisciplined set of men I never saw, spoiling everything they come near, breaking into houses, robbing orchards, and doing all manner of harm generally. Our force will be about eight thousand, when they are all gone. General Banks arrived here, night before last, with two or three of his aides. We all hope he will do something more for us than Patterson has. You can form no idea of the terrible destruction of government buildings here, without seeing it. For nearly half a mile along the river were these splendid works, and now there is nothing but bare walls and heaps of ruins; they say twelve million dollars will not replace them. All the bridges across the Potomac and Shenandoah are also burned.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 10-11

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, July 24, 1861

July 24, Wednesday.

A moment after I stopped writing, I was busy ordering tents struck, wagons packed, and everything got ready for a start. We were almost prepared to move, when General Patterson got a dispatch from General Scott ordering him to stay where he was; so unpack wagons, pitch tents, was the order. We were generally glad of it, as it would have looked as if it were a regular runaway, and we haven't got over feeling sore at not getting to Winchester and giving General Johnston a try.

My story left off at Charlestown, where we were last Thursday. About noon, our regiment received orders to march at half-past three P. M., on detached service. Everything was moving at the appointed time. We marched out in good spirits, but with empty stomachs. After traveling about a mile, we were informed that we were going to Harper's Ferry to hold the place. I was assigned the honorable command of the rear guard. We had a very pleasant march of eight miles through some of the finest scenery I ever saw. We met with quite a reception in the town; men, women and children cheering us, waving flags, and evidently overjoyed to see United States troops again. We camped on a high bluff just over the Potomac, and proceeded to put the town in a state of martial law, taking several leading secessionists prisoners. Here we got plenty to eat; my first purchase was a gallon of milk; Captain Curtis and myself drank the whole of it before we lay down for the night. The next day we had a good rest. Captain Curtis picked up, during the day, information of a party of troopers that were camped over the other side of the Shenandoah, and obtained permission to take me and forty men and find them, if we could, that night. We called our men out at twelve and started. It was very dark, and there was a severe thunderstorm. We were ferried across the Shenandoah, and scouted all over the mountains, visiting every farm-house and barn, but we found we were just too late, as they had left, suspecting our approach. We got back to camp at eight or nine o'clock, wet and tired, having traveled some ten miles over the roughest possible roads.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 9-10

Diary of Josephine Shaw Lowell: July 23, 1861

Yesterday was the saddest day this country has ever experienced. In the morning the papers said that we had gained a great victory at Bull's Run, taken three batteries and were pushing on to Manassas Junction. We found afterwards that these accounts were exaggerated, and that the action at Bull's Run was merely the beginning of a battle, which appeared to be favorable to the Federal forces. About half past three, Anna and Mother had gone to drive and I was sitting in Mother's room, when Nellie came up crying, and said, “Our whole army has been cut to pieces and entirely routed.” “Which army?” I asked. I immediately thought that we had been driven from Virginia and the three divisions of our army completely destroyed. I went down to ask Anna, but she could tell nothing excepting that our men had run from the enemy and lost everything. In a few moments Father, George and Mother (who had met them and walked back with them) came in and we all sat on the piazza in a most unhappy state of mind. The report was that a panic had taken possession of our army as they were attacking the batteries at Manassas Junction and they had all run, with no regard to anything else but saving their own lives. Our loss was said to be about three thousand and that of the enemy very severe also. Father had brought down a letter from Rob, saying they (Patterson's Column) were about to march somewhere from Charlestown, but we have heard this morning that Patterson was expected to make a junction with McDowell and would have saved the day had he done so. As we sat all together on the piazza feeling very miserable, George didn't enliven us much by saying, “The next thing they will do will be to march on Washington, take possession of it, and then Jeff Davis will issue his conditions from the Capitol and offer us peace.” After talking it over we all felt better and prepared to hear that it wasn't quite so bad as the reports said.

In the evening Mr. Appleton (a neighbor) came in to George's and told us that Patterson's forces were supposed to be engaged at Manassas. We didn't tell Mother, although we all knew it, for it would have caused her useless anxiety. Lou Schuyler (who is staying here with her sister) heard of the report on the boat but didn't speak of it. In the evening Sam Curtis and I went to Mrs. Oakey's and Mr. Oakey demonstrated in a very scientific manner that this couldn't possibly be true. In spite of his cheering remarks, we all felt very badly and merely hoped we might hear better news in the morning. Our hopes proved true, although even today the news is so humiliating that we feel as if we couldn't trust our own men again. They ran with no one pursuing! The enemy didn't even know such a direful rout had occurred. In their reports they say only that they have gained the battle, but with fearful loss on both sides. It was evidently the battle on which everything depended for them. Their four best generals, Beauregard, Johnston, Davis and Lee, were there with ninety thousand men, while our force was only twenty-five thousand. I can conceive what must be the feelings of the men under Patterson; they might have turned the fortune of the battle and were doing nothing! Poor fellows! Our men ran as far as Fairfax Court House and the Rebels took possession of the territory as we left it. McClellan is called from Western Virginia and we shall have to retake by slow degrees what we have lost in one day. This morning our loss was said to be only five hundred, but what are we to believe?

This afternoon all the most humiliating circumstances of our defeat proved to be false. Our men behaved with the greatest courage and bravery, charging and carrying the batteries and fighting with as much intrepidity as the most veteran troops could display, until the force of the enemy became overpowering by the junction of Johnston with Beauregard. Then, and not until then, they retreated in good order. Mr. Russell, of the London Times, is said to have said that nowhere in the Crimean War had he seen men make such splendid charges. This morning I and the Oakeys went down to the sewing meeting and worked hard until three o'clock, when we came home and heard the joyful tidings that our men were not cowards. The false reports were from the exaggerated statements of civilians who had witnessed the battle and been very much frightened themselves, and all the agony of yesterday was occasioned by the readiness of newspaper reporters to transmit any stirring news to their employers.

One little incident showed the difference of feeling between today and yesterday. A few days ago Mother bought Frank a uniform and George had promised to buy him a knapsack yesterday, but when he came down from town he said to Frank: “My dear little boy, you must forgive me this time for when I got to New York, I heard such terrible news that I had no heart to buy your knapsack.” This afternoon Frank came over in great glee, with knapsack and fez.

I know a great many men in the army who are: My brother, and first cousin, H. S. Russell, in Gordon's Regiment (2d Mass. Vol.), Capt. Curtis, Lieut. Motley, Lieut. Morse, Capt. Tucker, Lieut. Bangs, Lieut. Robson in the same Regiment; Joe and Ned Curtis, the former belonging to the Ninth Regiment, N. Y., the latter, a surgeon in the Georgetown Hospital. My cousin, Harry Sturgis, in Raymond Lee's Mass. Regiment. My uncle, William Greene, Colonel of the 14th Mass.; Dr. Elliott and his three sons of the Highland Regiment; Capt. Lowell of the U. S. A., and Theodore Winthrop, who died for his country at Great Bethel, June 10th, 1861. Also, Rufus Delafield, a surgeon U. S. A. Twenty brave men, — nineteen living and one dead. — O. Wendell Holmes, Caspar Crowninshield.

SOURCE: William Rhinelander Stewart, The Philanthropic Work of Josephine Shaw Lowell, p. 10-13

Abraham Lincoln to Brigadier General Don Carlos Buell and Major General Henry W. Halleck, January 13, 1862

EXECUTIVE MANSION,

Washington, January 13, 1862.

Brigadier-General BUELL:

MY DEAR SIR: Your dispatch of yesterday is received, in which you say, "I have received your letter and General McClellan's, and will at once devote all my efforts to your views and his." In the midst of my many cares I have not seen nor asked to see General McClellan's letter to you. For my own views, I have not offered, and do not now offer them, as orders; and while I am glad to have them respectfully considered, I would blame you to follow them contrary to your own clear judgment, unless I should put them in the form of orders. As to General McClellan's views, you understand your duty in regard to them better than I do.

With this preliminary I state my general idea of this war to be that we have the greater numbers and the enemy hits the greater facility of concentrating forces upon points of collision; that we must fail unless we can find some way of making our advantage an overmatch for his; and that this can only be done by menacing him with superior forces at different points at the same time, so that we can safely attack one or both if he makes no change; and if he weakens one to strengthen the other, forbear to attack the strengthened one, but seize and hold the weakened one, gaining so much.

To illustrate: Suppose last summer, when Winchester ran away to reenforce Manassas, we had foreborne to attack Manassas, but had seized and held Winchester. I mention this to illustrate and not to criticise. I did not lose confidence in McDowell, and I think less harshly of Patterson than some others seem to. In application of the general rule I am suggesting every particular case will have its modifying circumstances, among which the most constantly present and most difficult to meet will be the want of perfect knowledge of the enemy's movements.  This had its part in the Bull Run case; but worse in that case was the expiration of the terms of the three-months' men.

Applying the principle to your case, my idea is that Halleck shall menace Columbus and "down-river" generally, while you menace Bowling Green and East Tennessee. If the enemy shall concentrate at Bowling Green do not retire from his front, yet do not fight him there either, but seize Columbus and East Tennessee, one or both, left exposed by the concentration at Bowling Green. It is a matter of no small anxiety to me, and one which I am sure you will not overlook, that the East Tennessee line is so long and over so bad a road.

Yours, very truly,

A. LINCOLN.

[Indorsement]

JANUARY 13, 1862.

Having to-day written General Buell a letter, it occurs to me to send General Halleck a copy of it.

A. LINCOLN.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 7 (Serial No. 7), p. 928-9

Colonel William T. Sherman to Ellen Ewing Sherman, July 28, 1861

FORT CORCORAN, July 28, Sunday.

I have already written to you since my return from the unfortunate defeat at Bull Run. I had previously conveyed to you the doubts that oppressed my mind on the score of discipline.

Four large columns of poorly disciplined militia left this place, the Long bridge and Alexandria, all concentrating at a place called Centreville, twenty-seven miles from Washington. We were the first column to reach Centreville, the enemy abandoning all defences en route.

The first day of our arrival our commander, General Tyler, advanced on Bull Run, about two and a half miles distant, and against orders engaged the batteries. He sent back to Centreville and I advanced with our Brigade, when we lay for half an hour, amidst descending shots, killing a few of our men. The batteries were full a mile distant, and I confess I, nor any person in my Brigade, saw an enemy.

Towards evening we returned to Centreville.

That occurred on Thursday. We lay in camp till Saturday night by which the whole army was assembled in and about Centreville. We got orders for march at 2½ Sunday morning, — our column of three brigades — Schenck, Sherman and Keyes — to move straight along a road to Bull Run; another of about 10,000 men to make a circuit by the right (Hunter’s), and come upon the enemy in front of us; Heintzelman's column of about similar strength also to make a wide circuit to sustain Hunter. We took the road first, and about 6 A.M. came in sight of Bull Run. We saw in the grey light of morning men moving about, but no signs of batteries. I rode well down to the stone bridge which crosses the stream, saw plenty of trees cut down, some bush huts, such as soldiers use on picket guard, but none of the evidences of strong fortifications we had been led to believe.

Our business was simply to threaten, and give time for Hunter and Heintzelman to make their circuit. We arranged our troops to this end, Schenck to the left of the road, and I to the right, Keyes behind in reserve. We had with us two six gun batteries, and a 30 lb. gun. This was fired several times, but no answer. We shifted positions several times, firing whenever we had reason to suppose there were any troops. About ten or eleven o’clock, we saw the cloud of dust in the direction of Hunter's approach, saw one or more regiments of the enemy leave their line and move in that direction, soon the firing of musketry and guns showing the engagement had commenced. Early in the morning I saw a flag flying behind some trees. Some of the soldiers seeing it called out, “Colonel, there's a flag, a flag of truce.” A man in the field with his dog and gun, called out, “No, it is no flag of truce, but a flag of defiance.”  I was at the time studying the ground and paid no attention to him. About nine o’clock I was well down to the Run with some skirmishers, and observed two men on horseback ride along a hill, descend, cross the stream, and ride out towards us. He had a gun in his hand which he waved over his head, and called out to us, “You d----d black abolitionists, come on,” etc. I permitted some of the men to fire on him, but no damage was done. We remained some time thus awaiting the action which had begun on the other side of Bull Run. We could see nothing, but heard the firing and could judge that Hunter's column steadily advanced. About 2 P. M. they came to a stand, the firing was severe and stationary. General Tyler rode up to me and remarked that he might have to send the N. Y. 69th to the relief of Hunter. A short while after, he came up and ordered me with my whole Brigade, some 3,400 men, to cross over to Hunter. I ordered the movement, led off, found a place where the men could cross, but the battery could not follow.

We crossed the stream, and ascended the bluff bank, moving slowly to permit the ranks to close up. When about half a mile back from the stream, I saw the parties in the fight, and the first danger was that we might be mistaken for secessionists and fired on. One of my regiments had on the grey uniform of the Virginia troops. We first fired on some retreating secessionists, our Lieutenant Colonel Haggerty was killed, and my bugler by my side had his horse shot dead. I moved on and joined Hunter’s column. They had a pretty severe fight. Hunter was wounded, and the unexpected arrival of my Brigade seemed a great relief to all. I joined them on a high field with a house, and as we effected the junction the secessionists took to the woods and were seemingly retreating, and General McDowell who had accompanied Hunter’s column ordered me to join in the pursuit. I will not attempt to describe you the scene. Their batteries were on all the high hills overlooking the ground which we had to cross, and they fired with great vigor. Our horse batteries pursued from point to point returning the fire, whilst we moved on, with shot, shell and cannister over and all round us. I kept to my horse and head of the Brigade, and moving slowly, came upon their heavy masses of men, behind all kinds of obstacles.

They knew the ground perfectly, and at every turn we found new ground, over which they poured their fire. At last we came to a stand, and with my regiments in succession we crossed a ridge and were exposed to a very heavy fire. First one regiment and then another and another were forced back, not by the bayonet but by a musketry and rifle fire, which it seemed impossible to push our men through. After an hour of close contest our men began to fall into confusion. One hundred and eleven had been killed, some two hundred and fifty wounded and the soldiers began to fall back in disorder. My horse was shot through the fore leg. My knee was cut round by a ball, and another had hit my coat collar and did not penetrate; an aide, Lt. Bagley, was missing, and spite of all exertions the confusion increased, and the men would not re-form. Similar confusion had already occurred among other regiments, and I saw we were gone. Had they kept their ranks we were the gainers up to that point, only our field batteries, exposed, had been severely cut up by theirs, partially covered. Then for the first time I saw the carnage of battle, men lying in every conceivable shape, and mangled in a horrible way; but this did not make a particle of impression on me, but horses running about riderless with blood streaming from their nostrils, lying on the ground hitched to guns, gnawing their sides in death. I sat on my horse on the ground where Ricketts’ Battery had been shattered to fragments, and saw the havoc done. I kept my regiments under cover as much as possible, till the last moment, when it became necessary to cross boldly a ridge and attack the enemy, by that time gathered in great strength behind all sorts of cover.

The volunteers up to that time had done well, but they were repulsed regiment by regiment, and I do think it was impossible to stand long in that fire. I did not find fault with them, but they fell into disorder — an incessant clamor of tongues, one saying they were not properly supported, another that they could not tell friend from foe; but I observed the gradual retreat going on and did all I could to stop it. At last it became manifest we were falling back, and as soon as I perceived it, I gave it direction by the way we came, and thus we fell back to Centreville, some four miles. We had with our Brigade no wagons, they had not crossed the river. At Centreville came pouring in the confused masses of men, without order or system. Here I supposed we should assemble in some order the confused masses and try to stem the tide. Indeed I saw but little evidence of being pursued, though once or twice their cavalry interposed themselves between us and our rear. I had read of retreats before, have seen the noise and confusion of crowds of men at fires and shipwrecks, but nothing like this. It was as disgraceful as words can portray, but I doubt if volunteers from any quarter could do better. Each private thinks for himself. If he wants to go for water, he asks leave of no one. If he thinks right, he takes the oats and corn, and even burns the house of his enemy. As we could not prevent these disorders on the way out, I always feared the result, for everywhere we found the people against us. No curse could be greater than invasion by a volunteer army. No Goths or Vandals ever had less respect for the lives and property of friends and foes, and henceforth we ought never to hope for any friends in Virginia. McDowell and all the generals tried their best to stop these disorders, but for us to say we commanded that army is no such thing. They did as they pleased. Democracy has worked out one result, and the next step is to be seen. Beauregard and Johnston were enabled to effect a junction by the failure of Patterson to press the latter, and they had such accurate accounts of our numbers and movements that they had all the men they wanted. We had never more than 18,000 engaged, though some ten or twelve thousand were within a few miles. After our retreat here I did my best to stop the flying masses, and partially succeeded, so that we once more present a front: but Beauregard has committed a sad mistake in not pursuing us promptly. Had he done so, he could have stampeded us again, and gone into Washington.

As it is, I suppose their plan is to produce riot in Baltimore, cross over above Leesburg, and come upon Washington through Maryland. Our rulers think more of who shall get office, than who can save the country. Nobody, no man, can save the country. The difficulty is with the masses. Our men are not good soldiers. They brag, but don't perform, complain sadly if they don't get everything they want, and a march of a few miles uses them up. It will take a long time to overcome these things, and what is in store for us in the future I know not. I purpose trying to defend this place if Beauregard approaches Washington by this route, but he has now deferred it some days and I rather think he will give it up.

The newspapers will tell ten thousand things, none of which are true. I have had no time to read them, but I know no one now has the moral courage to tell the truth. . . .

SOURCE: M. A. DeWolfe Howe, Editor, Home Letters of General Sherman,  p. 204-10.  A full copy of this letter can be found in the William T Sherman Family papers (SHR), University of Notre Dame Archives (UNDA), Notre Dame, IN 46556, Folder CSHR 1/138.