Isaac Edward Holmes* to Senator Robert M. T. Hunter, June 8, 1855

CHARLESTON, [S. C.], 8th June, 1855.

MY DEAR HUNTER: Some weeks since I rec[eive]d y[ou]r letter and thank you for y[ou]r efforts in behalf of my brother. I seldom ask anything and rather opine, that my last request is made. I sincerely congratulate you on the success of the Virginia Election. I feared the result, and believe the victory truly auspicious. If the Know Nothings had succeeded, if the Frontier State of the Southern Confederacy had "given-way" our institutions would have been placed in great hazard; as it is, "They are by no means safe." Fanaticism never goes-back and for the first time in our history, abolitionism has the ascendant in Congress.

I see that Senator Wilson has declared, That henceforth no Slave owner, or pro-slavery man shall be President. As the Democratic party are a minority in the North, and as the entire South will most probably act as one man in the next Election, it is essential that we have a Southern man for our Candidate. The sooner we make up the Issue, the better. If we are to be in a hopeless minority, and the Slave States to remain "in statu quo," We must share the fate of the British West Indies. Not only will slavery be abolish[e]d in the District, but in the Territories. Not only additional Slave States be excluded, but free ones made Ad Libitum until the constitution is altered and the entire labour of the South be destroyed. This cant be termed speculation. The effect is as sure as the result of any cause can be. It is my sincere desire that the Union may be saved, but its salvation depends upon the next Presidential Canvass. Virginia must lead off. There should commence an active correspondence between the politicians of the Old Dominion and the Leaders of the Northern Democracy. Before we go into a Caucus we should have a distinct understanding upon all the leading points. Otherwise we should have only a Southern Caucus, irrespective of parties, and proceed to an ulterior organization. I hope Wise may pursue the true course, and "entrenous," I hope that his ambition may not be so stimulated by his late Triumph as to aspire to the purple. Virginia ought to give the President. Her position at this time is potential, and amongst her own people there should be entire unanimity before going into Caucus. Remember that the nominating Caucus will meet during the next Session of Congress, not a Twelve month hence. I am not a politician, but I deem the times so pregnant, that, if alive next Winter, my efforts shall be given to prepare the Southern mind for the Presidential Election. South Carolina, whilst she keeps in the rear of Virginia, must nevertheless be represented in the Caucus. She must no longer be isolated. Thank God, the Cuba question seems settled for awhile. It promised much distraction, and I employed my pen, for the first time these many years, in the endeavor to show the Southern States that the acquisition of Cuba was not to their benefit. One of my pieces or letters was transferred to the National Intelligence[r]. I am writing you from the sick Chamber of Mrs. Holmes who has for a long period been confin[e]d to her room. Alas with little prospect of a recovery. I hope that y[ou]r own family are well.

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* A Representative in Congress from South Carolina, 1839-1851.

SOURCE: Charles Henry Ambler, Editor, Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1916, in Two Volumes, Vol. II, Correspondence of Robert M. T. Hunter (1826-1876), p. 164-5

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 6, 1864

Bright and beautiful. Indian summer apparently.

All quiet below—but it is anticipated by some that a battle will occur to-day, or in a day or so.

The enemy's negro troops have been brought to this side of the river, and are in full view on picket duty.

The Signal Bureau reports a large number of transports descending the Potomac a few days ago; probably Sheridan's army, to reinforce Grant.

And yet our conscription superintendents, under orders, are busily engaged furloughing and detailing the rich slaveowners! It is developing a rapidly growing Emancipation party, for it is the establishment of a privileged class, and may speedily prove fatal to our cause. Our leaders are mad, and will be destroyed, if they persist in this policy.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 348-9

William T. Sherman to Ellen Ewing Sherman, February 1, 1861

SEMINARY, Feb. 1, 1861.

 . . . I suppose you are impatient to hear what next. Last night I got full letters from Baton Rouge. Governor Moore's is in these words [see pages 350-351].

Dr. Smith, also at Baton Rouge, writes me at length. He says [see page 353].

So you see I have at least the good will of all my associates. I have called the Board for February 9, and expect to leave here by or before February 20. I shall delay a while in New Orleans, not long, and get to Lancaster by March. . . If you really desire me to settle in Ohio you must make some exertions for I cannot abide there long in inactivity, and loafing. . .

I have a good letter from Turner in which he infers I cannot stay here and advises me to come to St. Louis, but points out nothing definite. He thinks Missouri will not secede, but if she do not they will have a severe contest there, for men who own negroes are blind to all interests other than those of slavery. Reason has nothing to do in these times of change and revolution. Politicians start the movement and keep it alive by a process known to themselves, and the poor innocent people have nothing to do but follow their lead. It may not be so there, but I am not convinced.

I see John takes bold ground. He is right. If the government be a reality it should defend its flag, property and servants. Anderson should be reinforced if it cost ten thousand lives and every habitation in Charleston. Also the seizure of these arsenals should be resented and the actors made to feel that the United States is a reality. But the time is not yet. . .

SOURCE: Walter L. Fleming, General W.T. Sherman as College President, p. 359-60

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: September 21, 1864

Cloudy and somber.

We have authentic intelligence of the defeat of our forces under Gen. Early, near Winchester. Two generals, Rhodes and Godwin, were killed. We lost some guns, and heavily in killed and wounded. The enemy have Winchester, and Early has retreated, bringing off his trains, however. This has caused the croakers to raise a new howl against the President, for they know not what.

Mr. Clapman, our disbursing clerk (appointed under Secretary Randolph), proposed, to-day, to several in his office—jestingly, they supposed—revolution, and installing Gen. Lee as Dictator. It may be a jest to some, but others mean in earnest.

I look for other and more disastrous defeats, unless the speculators are demolished, and the wealthy class put in the ranks. Many of the privates in our armies are fast becoming what is termed machine soldiers, and will ere long cease to fight well having nothing to fight for. Alas, the chivalry have fallen! The lagging land proprietors and slave-owners (as the Yankees shrewdly predicted) want to be captains, etc. or speculators. The poor will not long fight for their oppressors, the money-changers, extortioners, etc., whose bribes keep them out of the service.

Mr. Foote openly advocates a convention; and says the other States will have one certainly: and if Virginia declines to unite in it, she will be “left out in the cold.” This is said of him; I have not heard him say it. But I believe a convention in any State or States, if our disasters continue, will lead to reconstruction, if McClellan be elected. If emancipation, confiscation, etc. be insisted on, the war will never terminate but in final separation.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 288-9

Diary of Gideon Welles: Friday, April 7, 1865

We have word that Sheridan has had a battle with a part of Lee's army, has captured six Rebel generals and several thousand prisoners. His dispatch intimates the almost certain capture of Lee.

In the closing up of this Rebellion, General Grant has proved himself a man of military talent. Those who have doubted and hesitated must concede him some capacity as a general. Though slow and utterly destitute of genius, his final demonstrations and movements have been masterly. The persistency which he has exhibited is as much to be admired as any quality in his character. He is, however, too regardless of the lives of his men.

It is desirable that Lee should be captured. He, more than any one else, has the confidence of the Rebels, and can, if he escapes, and is weak enough to try and continue hostilities, rally for a time a brigand force in the interior. I can hardly suppose he would do this, but he has shown weakness, and his infidelity to the country which educated, and employed, and paid him shows gross ingratitude. His true course would be to desert the country he has betrayed, and never return.

Memo. This Rebellion which has convulsed the nation for four years, threatened the Union, and caused such sacrifice of blood and treasure may be traced in a great degree to the diseased imagination of certain South Carolina gentlemen, who some thirty and forty years since studied Scott's novels, and fancied themselves cavaliers, imbued with chivalry, a superior class, not born to labor but to command, brave beyond mankind generally, more intellectual, more generous, more hospitable, more liberal than others. Such of their countrymen as did not own slaves, and who labored with their own hands, who depended on their own exertions for a livelihood, who were mechanics, traders, and tillers of the soil, were, in their estimate, inferiors who would not fight, were religious and would not gamble, moral and would not countenance duelling, were serious and minded their own business, economical and thrifty, which was denounced as mean and miserly. Hence the chivalrous Carolinian affected to, and actually did finally, hold the Yankee in contempt. The women caught the infection. They were to be patriotic, Revolutionary matrons and maidens. They admired the bold, dashing, swaggering, licentious, boasting, chivalrous slave-master who told them he wanted to fight the Yankee but could not kick and insult him into a quarrel. And they disdained and despised the pious, peddling, plodding, persevering Yankee who would not drink, and swear, and fight duels.

The speeches and letters of James Hamilton and his associates from 1825 forward will be found impregnated with the romance and poetry of Scott, and they came ultimately to believe themselves a superior and better race, knights of blood and spirit.

Only a war could wipe out this arrogance and folly, which had by party and sectional instrumentalities been disseminated through a large portion of the South. Face to face in battle and in field with these slandered Yankees, they learned their own weakness and misconception of the Yankee character. Without self-assumption of superiority, the Yankee was proved to be as brave, as generous, as humane, as chivalric as the vaunting and superficial Carolinian to say the least. Their ideal, however, in Scott's pages of "Marmion," "Ivanhoe," etc., no more belonged to the Sunny South than to other sections less arrogant and presuming but more industrious and frugal.

On the other hand, the Yankees, and the North generally, underestimated the energy and enduring qualities of the Southern people who were slave-owners. It was believed they were effeminate idlers, living on the toil and labor of others, who themselves could endure no hardship such as is indispensable to soldiers in the field. It was also believed that a civil war would, inevitably, lead to servile insurrection, and that the slave-owners would have their hands full to keep the slaves in subjection after hostilities commenced. Experience has corrected these misconceptions in each section.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 276-8

John Kline

The subject of this brief memoir was born near New Germantown, Hunterdon Co., N. J., on the 8th day of August, A. D. 1784. He was the grandson of Jacob Kline, who was born in Germany, March 6, 1714, and Fraenica Gertraut Melick, born at Landaif, Wurtemberg, Germany, Dec. 9, 1727. They emigrated to America, and settled at Readington, on the farm where the subject of this sketch spent eighty-three years of his life (from 1796 to 1880). Jacob Kline was for many years a justice of the peace of the county of Hunterdon; his docket, kept in the German language, is now in the possession of Lewis Vandoren, of Peapack, N. J. He died A.D. 1789, and was buried in the Lutheran cemetery, at New Germantown. His widow, Fraenica Gertraut, died A.D. 1801, at the house of her daughter, at Germantown, Pa. They had six sons and three daughters. The sons, as well as the father, were not only agriculturists, but tanners and curriers also. Their eldest son, John William Kline, was born Jan. 5, 1750. He married Altje, daughter of Matthias Smock and Gcertje Post, Jan. 24, 1780. They had one daughter, Charity Kline, born Nov. 6, 1780, married Henry Van Derveer, May 12, 1799, and had six children, two of whom are deceased, leaving no issue,—viz., Rev. John Van Derveer, D.D., of Easton, Pa., and Jacob K. Van Derveer, of Flemington, late of Clover Hill. Those still living are Peter N. Van Derveer, of Somerville; Alletta Vandoren, relict of Christianus T. Vandoren, late of Neshanic; Mary, relict of John C. Van Liew, of the same place; and Henry Van Derveer, of North Branch. Peter has two sons and three daughters. Mary has two sons and one daughter, Henry V. D., John J., and Anna Van Liew. Henry Van Derveer, of North Branch, married Frances Caroline Blackwell, of Amwell; she died without issue, August, 1880.

John Kline was born, as above stated, on what was for many years known as “the Cole farm,” half a mile southwest from New Germantown. His father, John William Kline, moved to Lower Valley, and engaged in mercantile business with David Miller; and when John was twelve years of age, he returned with his family to the homestead at Rcadington, three years before his father’s death. He was a man of correct habits and exemplary character, much respected in the community,—and so were his brothers and sisters,—and attached to the Evangelical Lutheran Church. His son, the late John Kline, married Catharine Williamson, Oct. 27, 1804, who died A.D. 1837; and for his second wife he married Ellen Wyckctf (widow of Henry Vroom), Jan. 27, 1841, who survives him and now resides in Somerville, N. J. Mrs. Vroom (the youngest daughter of Dennis Wyckotf, Esq.) had one daughter by her first husband, Henrietta Vroom, born in Wayne Co., Ohio, June 27, 1836; was educated at the female institute in Somerville. She married Lewis Vandoren, of Peapack, Somerset Co., N. J. and died January, 1875, leaving three children—John Henry, Ellen Kline, and Henrietta Vroom. Mr. Kline did for her in all respects as he would have done for an only daughter, and she loved and respected him as a father. The death of Mr. Kline, which occurred Jan. 20, 1880, was deeply lamented by the whole community. He was the patriarch of that section of the country, and commanded more than the respect of all who knew him. He was honored and beloved. Speaking of his funeral at his late residence on the homestead farm of his father and, grandfather, and where he had spent eighty-three years of his life, the obituary notice says, “Never had that wide-spread, hospitable roof covered a larger company, and seldom has such a gathering been so entirely pervaded and absorbed with affectionate reverence for departed worth.” Several years before his death he selected for his funeral text, “To live is Christ, to die is gain.” He was a man of exemplary, devoted Christian life, genial in spirit and-abundant in hospitality; of simple, child-like faith and unostentatious manners, he was yet a man of positive strength of character, and exerted a wide-spread influence for good, being a liberal patron of the church and a free giver to every charitable and benevolent enterprise. From the worldly abundance with which Providence had blessed him, and from the rich treasure of his inner life, he shed a light and a benediction upon all around him. His body lies in the Readington cemetery, near the Reformed church, of which A granite monument, incloscd by an iron fence, marks the place of burial.

SOURCE: James P. Snell, History of Hunterdon and Somerset Counties, New Jersey, p. 506

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EDITOR’S NOTE: John Kline, a German American tannery owner was the first owner of fugitive slave, Sam Scomp. He sold Sam to David Hill in 1824.¹

¹ Richard Bell, Stolen: Five Free Boys Kidnapped Into Slavery and Their Astonishing Odyssey Home, p. 17.

In The Review Queue: They Were Her Property

They Were Her Property:

White Women as Slave Owners

in the American South

By Stephanie E. Jones-Rogers

Bridging women’s history, the history of the South, and African American history, this book makes a bold argument about the role of white women in American slavery. Historian Stephanie E. Jones-Rogers draws on a variety of sources to show that slave‑owning women were sophisticated economic actors who directly engaged in and benefited from the South’s slave market. Because women typically inherited more slaves than land, enslaved people were often their primary source of wealth. Not only did white women often refuse to cede ownership of their slaves to their husbands, they employed management techniques that were as effective and brutal as those used by slave‑owning men. White women actively participated in the slave market, profited from it, and used it for economic and social empowerment. By examining the economically entangled lives of enslaved people and slave‑owning women, Jones-Rogers presents a narrative that forces us to rethink the economics and social conventions of slaveholding America.

About the Author

Stephanie E. Jones-Rogers is Assistant Professor of History at the University of California, Berkeley.

ISBN 978-0300218664, Yale University Press, © 2019, Hardcover, 320 pages, Photographs & Illustrations, End Notes, Bibliography & Index. $30.00.  To purchase this book click HERE.

William T. Sherman to John Sherman, September 1859

Lancaster, Ohio, Sept., 1859.

I will come up about the 20th or 25th, and if you have an appointment to speak about that time, I should like to hear you, and will so arrange. As you are becoming a man of note and are a Republican, and as I go south among gentlemen who have always owned slaves, and probably always will and must, and whose feelings may pervert every public expression of yours, putting me in a false position to them as my patrons, friends, and associates, and you as my brother, I would like to see you take the highest ground consistent with your party creed. . .

SOURCE: Walter L. Fleming, Editor, General W.T. Sherman as College President, p. 39

Speech of Senator Charles Sumner in the United States Senate, December 18, 1861

Some days ago I called the attention of the Senate to abuses in Missouri with reference to fugitive slaves. Since then I have received a great many communications from that State showing very great interest in the question, some of them in the nature of protest against the system which has been adopted there. One of these purports to come from a slave owner, himself educated in a slave State, and he speaks with great bitterness of the indignity that has been put upon the Army there, and of the injury that it has done to the cause of the Union. Another letter from another person contains a passage which I shall read:

“I wish to say in addition that I have lived twenty-four years in Missouri, that I know the people well, have served them in various offices, and let me assure you it is nonsense to try to save Missouri to the Union and the institution of slavery also. We must give up one or the other. Slavery ought to fall and Missouri be saved. Frémont's army struck terror into the secessionists. He made them feel it by taking their goods and chattels. Let our armies proclaim freedom to the slaves of the secessionists, and the rebellion will soon close. We can take care of the free negroes at a future day. Give General Lane ten thousand men, and he would establish peace in Missouri in thirty days.”

But, sir, my especial object now is not to call attention to this abuse in Missouri, but to call attention to this abuse here near at home. Brigadier General Stone, the well-known commander at Ball's Bluff, is now adding to his achievements there by engaging ably and actively in the work of surrendering fugitive slaves. He does this, sir, most successfully. He is victorious when the simple question is whether a fugitive slave shall be surrendered to a rebel.

Sir, besides my general interest in this question, besides my interest in the honor of the national Army, I have a special interest at this moment because Brigadier General Stone has seen fit to impose this vile and unconstitutional duty upon Massachusetts troops. The Governor of my State has charged me with a communication to the Secretary of War on this subject, complaining of this outrage, treating it as an indignity to the men, and as an act unworthy of our national flag. I agree with the Governor of Massachusetts; and when I call attention to this abuse now, I make myself his representative, as also the representative of my own opinions.

But there are others besides the Governor of Massachusetts who complain. There are two German companies in one of the Massachusetts regiments who, when they enlisted, entered into the public service with the positive understanding that they should not be put to any such discreditable and unconstitutional service. Sir, they complain, and with them their own immediate fellow-citizens at home, the German population generally throughout the country.

Nor is this all. The complaint extends to other quarters. I have here a letter from a citizen of Philadelphia, from which I shall read a short extract. The writer says:

“I have but one son, and he fought at Ball's Bluff, in the California regiment, where his bravery brought him into notice. He escaped, wounded, after dark. He protests against being made to return fugitive slaves, and if ordered to that duty will refuse obedience and take the consequences. I ask, sir, shall our sons, who are offering their lives for the preservation of our institutions, be degraded to slave-catchers for any persons, loyal or disloyal? If such is the policy of the Government, I shall urge my son to shed no more blood for its preservation.”

With these communications which I have received, some of an official character and others of a private character, I have felt that I should not do my duty if I did not call the attention of the Senate to this outrage. It must be arrested. I am glad to know that my friend and colleague, the chairman of the Committee on Military Affairs, promises us at once a bill to meet this grievance. It ought to be introduced promptly, and to be passed at once. Our troops ought to be saved from this shame.

SOURCE: John C. Rives, The Congressional Globe: Containing the Debates and Proceedings of the Second Session of the Thirty-Seventh Congress, p. 130

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 2, 1861

Breakfasted with Mr. Hodgson, where I met Mr. Locke, Mr. Ward, Mr. Green, and Mrs. Hodgson and her sister. There were in attendance some good-looking little negro boys and men dressed in liveries, which smacked of our host's Orientalism; and they must have heard our discussion, or rather allusion, to the question which would decide whether we thought they are human beings or black two-legged cattle, with some interest, unless indeed the boast of their masters, that slavery elevates the character and civilizes the mind of a negro, is another of the false, pretences on which the institution is rested by its advocates. The native African, poor wretch, avoids being carried into slavery totis viribus, and it would argue ill for the effect on his mind of becoming a slave, if he prefers a piece of gaudy calico even to his loin-cloth and feather head-dress. This question of civilizing the African in slavery, is answered in the assertion of the slave owners themselves, that if the negroes were left to their own devices by emancipation, they would become the worst sort of barbarians — a veritable Quasheedom, the like of which was never thought of by Mr. Thomas Carlyle. I doubt if the aboriginal is not as civilized, in the true sense of the word, as any negro, after three degrees of descent in servitude, whom I have seen on any of the plantations — even though the latter have leather shoes and fustian or cloth raiment and felt hat, and sings about the Jordan. He is exempted from any bloody raid indeed, but he is liable to be carried from his village and borne from one captivity to an other, and his family are exposed to the same exile in America as in Africa. The extreme anger with which any unfavorable comment is met publicly, shows the sensitiveness of the slave owners. Privately, they affect philosophy; and the blue books, and reports of Education Commissions and Mining Committees, furnish them with an inexhaustible source of argument, if you once admit that the summum bonum lies in a certain rotundity of person, and a regular supply of coarse food. A long conversation on the old topics — old to me, but of only a few weeks’ birth. People are swimming with the tide. Here are many men, who would willingly stand aside if they could, and see the battle between the Yankees, whom they hate, and the Secessionists. But there are no women in this party. Wo betide the Northern Pyrrhus, whose head is within reach of a Southern tile and a Southern woman's arm!

I revisited some of the big houses afterwards, and found the merchants not cheerful, but fierce and resolute. There is a considerable population of Irish and Germans in Savannah, who to a man are in favor of the Confederacy, and will fight to support it. Indeed, it is expected they will do so, and there is a pressure brought to bear on them by their employers which they cannot well resist. The negroes will be forced into the place the whites hitherto occupied as laborers — only a few useful mechanics will be kept, and the white population will be obliged by a moral force drafting to go to the wars. The kingdom of cotton is most essentially of this world, and it will be fought for vigorously. On the quays of Savannah, and in the warehouses, there is not a man who doubts that he ought to strike his hardest for it, or apprehends failure. And then, what a career is before them! All the world asking for cotton, and England dependent on it. What a change since Whitney first set his cotton-gin to work in this state close by us! Georgia, as a vast country only partially reclaimed, yet looks to a magnificent future. In her past history the Florida wars, and the treatment of the unfortunate Cherokee Indians, who were expelled from their lands as late as 1838, show the people who descended from old Oglethorpe's band were fierce and tyrannical, and apt at aggression, nor will slavery improve them. I do not speak of the cultivated and hospitable citizens of the large towns, but of the bulk of the slaveless whites.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 157-8

Diary of William Howard Russell: April 27, 1861

Mrs. Trescot, it seems, spent part of her night in attendance on a young gentleman of color, who was introduced into the world in a state of servitude by his poor chattel of a mother. Such kindly acts as these are more common than we may suppose; and it would be unfair to put a strict or unfair construction on the motives of slave owners in paying such attention to their property. Indeed, as Mrs. Trescot says, “When people talk of my having so many slaves, I always tell them it is the slaves who own me. Morning, noon, and night, I'm obliged to look after them, to doctor them, and attend to them in every way.” Property has its duties, you see, madam, as well as its rights.

The planter's house is quite new, and was built by himself; the principal material being wood, and most of the work being done by his own negroes. Such work as window-sashes and panellings, however, was executed in Charleston. A pretty garden runs at the back, and from the windows there are wide stretches of cotton-fields visible, and glimpses of the river to be seen.

After breakfast our little party repaired to the river side, and sat under the shade of some noble trees waiting for the boat which was to bear us to the fishing grounds. The wind blew up stream, running with the tide, and we strained our eyes in vain for the boat. The river is here nearly a mile across, — a noble estuary rather, — with low banks lined with forests, into which the axe has made deep forays and clearings for cotton-fields.

It would have astonished a stray English traveller, if, penetrating the shade, he heard in such an out-of-the-way place familiar names and things spoken of by the three lazy persons who were stretched out — cigar in mouth — on the ant-haunted trunks which lay prostrate by the seashore. Mr. Trescot spent some time in London as attaché to the United States Legation, was a club man, and had a large circle of acquaintance among the young men about town, of whom he remembered many anecdotes and peculiarities, and little adventures. Since that time he was Under-Secretary of State in Mr. Buchanan's administration, and went out with Secession. He is the author of a very agreeable book on a dry subject, “The History of American Diplomacy,” which is curious enough as an unconscious exposition of the anti-British jealousies, and even antipathies, which have animated American statesmen since they were created. In fact, much of American diplomacy means hostility to England, and the skilful employment of the anti-British sentiment at their disposal in their own country and elsewhere. Now he was talking pleasantly of people he had met — many of them mutual friends.”Here is the boat at last!” I had been sweeping the broad river with my glass occasionally, and at length detected a speck on its broad surface moving down towards us, with a white dot marking the foam at its bows. Spite of wind and tideway, it came rapidly, and soon approached us, pulled by six powerful negroes, attired in red-flannel jackets and white straw hats with broad ribbons. The craft itself — a kind of monster canoe, some forty-five feet long, narrow, wall-sided, with high bow and raised stern — lay deep in the water, for there were extra negroes for the fishing, servants, baskets of provisions, water buckets, stone jars of less innocent drinking, and abaft there was a knot of great strong planters, — Elliots all — cousins, uncles, and brothers. A friendly hail as they swept up along-side, — an exchange of salutations.

“Well, Trescot, have you got plenty of Crabs?"

A groan burst forth at his insouciant reply. He had been charged to find bait, and he had told the negroes to do so, and the negroes had not done so. The fishermen looked grievously at each other, and fiercely at Trescot, who assumed an air of recklessness, and threw doubts on the existence of fish in the river, and resorted to similar miserable subterfuges; indeed, it was subsequently discovered that he was an utter infidel in regard to the delights of piscicapture.

“Now, all aboard! Over, you fellows, and take these gentlemen in!" The negroes were over in a moment, waist deep, and, each taking one on his back, deposited us dry in the boat. I only mention this to record the fact, that I was much impressed by a practical demonstration from my bearer respecting the strong odor of the skin of a heated African. I have been wedged up in a column of infantry on a hot day, and have marched to leeward of Ghoorkhas in India, but the overpowering pungent smell of the negro exceeds everything of the kind I have been unfortunate enough to experience.

The vessel was soon moving again, against a ripple, caused by the wind, which blew dead against us; and, notwithstanding the praises bestowed on the boat, it was easy to perceive [t]hat the labor of pulling such a dead-log-like thing through the water told severely on the rowers, who had already come some twelve miles, I think. Nevertheless, they were told to sing, and they began accordingly one of those wild Baptist chants about the Jordan in which they delight, — not destitute of music, but utterly unlike what is called an Ethiopian melody.

The banks of the river on both sides are low; on the left covered with wood, through which, here and there, at intervals, one could see a planter's or overseer's cottage. The course of this great combination of salt and fresh water sometimes changes, so that houses are swept away and plantations submerged; but the land is much valued nevertheless, on account of the fineness of the cotton grown among the islands. “Cotton at twelve cents a pound, and we don't fear the world.”

As the boat was going to the fishing ground, which lay towards the mouth of the river at Hilton Head, our friends talked politics and sporting combined, — the first of the usual character, the second quite new.

I heard much of the mighty devil-fish which frequents these waters. One of our party, Mr. Elliot, sen., a tall, knotty, gnarled sort of man, with a mellow eye and a hearty voice, was a famous hand at the sport, and had had some hair-breadth escapes in pursuit of it. The fish is described as of enormous size and strength, a monster ray, which possesses formidable antennae-like horns, and a pair of huge fins, or flappers, one of which rises above the water as the creature moves below the surface. The hunters, as they may be called, go out in parties, — three or four boats, or more, with good store of sharp harpoons and tow-lines, and lances. When they perceive the creature, one boat takes the lead, and moves down towards it, the others following, each with a, harpooner standing in the bow. The devil-fish sometimes is wary, and dives, when it sees a boat, taking such a long spell below that it is never seen again. At other times, however, it backs, and lets the boat come so near as to allow of the harpooner striking it, or it dives for a short way and comes up near the boats again. The moment the harpoon is fixed, the line is paid out by the rush of the creature, which is made with tremendous force, and all the boats at once hurry up, so that one after another they are made fast to that in which the lucky sportsman is seated. At length, when the line is run out, checked from time to time as much as can be done with safety, the crew take their oars and follow the course of the ray, which swims so fast, however, that it keeps the line taut, and drags the whole flotilla seawards. It depends on its size and strength to determine how soon it rises to the surface; by degrees the line is warped in and hove short till the boats are brought near, and when the ray comes up it is attacked with a shower of lances and harpoons, and dragged off into shoal water to die.

On one occasion, our Nimrod told us, he was standing in the bows of the boat, harpoon in hand, when a devil-fish came up close to him; he threw the harpoon, struck it, but at the same time the boat ran against the creature with a shock which threw him right forward on its back, and in an instant it caught him in its horrid arms and plunged down with him to the depths. Imagine the horror of the moment! Imagine the joy of the terrified drowning, dying man, when, for some inscrutable reason, the devil-fish relaxed its grip, and enabled him to strike for the surface, where he was dragged into the boat more dead than alive by his terror-smitten companions, — the only man who ever got out of the embraces of the thing alive. “Tom is so tough that even a devil-fish could make nothing out of him.”

At last we came to our fishing ground. There was a substitute found for the favorite crab, and it was fondly hoped our toils might be rewarded with success. And these were toils, for the water is deep and the lines heavy. But to alleviate them, some hampers were produced from the stern, and wonderful pies from Mrs. Trescot's hands, and from those of fair ladies up the river whom we shall never see, were spread out, and bottles which represented distant cellars in friendly nooks far away. “No drum here! Up anchor, and pull away a few miles lower down.” Trescot shook his head, and again asserted his disbelief in fishing, or rather in catching, and indeed made a sort of pretence at arguing that it was wiser to remain quiet and talk philosophical politics; but, as judge of appeal, I gave it against him, and the negroes bent to their oars, and we went thumping through the spray, till, rounding a point of land, we saw pitched on the sandy shore ahead of us, on the right bank, a tent, and close by two boats. “There is a party at it!” A fire was burning on the beach, and as we came near, Tom and Jack and Harry were successfully identified. “There's no take on, or they would not be on shore. This is very unfortunate.”

All the regret of my friends was on my account, so to ease their minds I assured them I did not mind the disappointment much. “Hallo Dick! Caught any drum?” “A few this morning; bad sport now, and will be till tide turns again.” I was introduced to all the party from a distance, and presently I saw one of them raising from a boat something in look and shape and color like a sack of flour, which he gave to a negro, who proceeded to carry it towards us in a little skiff. “Thank you, Charley. I just want to let Mr. Russell see a drum-fish.” And a very odd fish it was, — a thick lumpish form, about four and a half feet long, with enormous head and scales, and teeth like the grinders of a ruminant animal, acting on a great pad of bone in the roof of the mouth, — a very unlovely thing, swollen with roe, which is the great delicacy.

“No chance till the tide turned,” — but that would be too late for our return, and so unwillingly we were compelled to steer towards home, hearing now and then the singular noise like the tap on a large unbraced drum, from which the fish takes its name. At first, when I heard it, I was inclined to think it was made by some one in the boat, so near and close did it sound; but soon it came from all sides of us, and evidently from the depths of the water beneath us, — not a sharp rat-tat-tap, but a full muffled blow with a heavy thud on the sheepskin. Mr. Trescot told me that on a still evening by the river side the effect sometimes is most curious, — the rolling and pattering is audible at a great distance. Our friends were in excellent humor with everything and everybody, except the Yankees, though they had caught no fish, and kept the negroes at singing and rowing till at nightfall we landed at the island, and so to bed after supper and a little conversation, in which Mrs. Trescot again explained how easily she could maintain a battalion on the island by her simple commissariat, already adapted to the niggers, and that it would therefore be very easy for the South to feed an army, if the people were friendly

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 141-6

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 10, 1862

Second year of Confederate independence. I write daily for my own diversion. These mémoires pour servir may at some future day afford facts about these times and prove useful to more important people than I am. I do not wish to do any harm or to hurt any one. If any scandalous stories creep in they can easily be burned. It is hard, in such a hurry as things are now, to separate the wheat from the chaff. Now that I have made my protest and written down my wishes, I can scribble on with a free will and free conscience.

Congress at the North is down on us. They talk largely of hanging slave-owners. They say they hold Port Royal, as we did when we took it originally from the aborigines, who fled before us; so we are to be exterminated and improved, à l'Indienne, from the face of the earth.

Medea, when asked: “Country, wealth, husband, children, all are gone; and now what remains?” answered: “Medea remains.” “There is a time in most men's lives when they resemble Job, sitting among the ashes and drinking in the full bitterness of complicated misfortune.”

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 137

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 4, 1861

Met Wm. H. B. Custis, Esq., to-day in the square, and had a long conversation with him. He has made up his mind to sign the ordinance. He thinks secession might have been averted with honor, if our politicians at Washington had not been ambitious to figure as leaders in a new revolution. Custis was always a Democrat, and supported Douglas on the ground that he was the regular nominee. He said his negro property a month before was worth, perhaps, fifty thousand dollars; now his slaves would not bring probably more than five thousand; and that would be the fate of many slaveowners in Virginia.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 31

Samuel Gridley Howe to John M. Forbes, August 19, 1861

Boston, August 19,1861.

. . . The public need something, or somebody, some word, or some blow, to magnetize them, or else they will be fearfully demoralized in a month. The word must be emancipation, and war upon slaveholders as such — as a distinct class — as the authors of all the present ills.

Can you not confer with the governor about this? You cannot keep up public interest, much less public enthusiasm, about an abstraction (at least of a worldly and temporal nature), and Union is a mere abstraction now; it touches not, and cannot touch, the public heart.

As one blow, I suggest what I vainly suggested last spring, an expedition to land in or about Albemarle Sound, composed mainly of blacks, who would go into the Dismal and other swamps and raise the thousands of refugees there to go out and make sallies and onslaughts upon the enemy; and so make a diversion.

It would at least cause a worse than Bull Run panic. There are plenty of men in Canada, resolute and intelligent refugees, who would enlist in such an enterprise. It cannot, however, be done by private means. Can any other be had, think you?

I have mentioned the matter of expedition to the Dismal Swamp to the governor, but to him only. Please not speak of it to any one else.

SOURCE: Sarah Forbes Hughes, Letters and Recollections of John Murray Forbes, Volume 1, p. 238

Theodore Winthop to L., May 31st, 1861 – 10 p.m.

Fortress Monroe, May 31st, 1861.

Dear L., — Thanks for your kind letter and the hamper. I saw Gen. Butler at Washington. He invited me here when the Seventh should return, and here am I, acting as his Military Sec'y pro tem. He will find me something to do. He is a character, and really was the man who saved Washington by devising the march to Annapolis — a place which nobody had ever heard of.

By Liberty! but it is worth something to be here at this moment, in the center of the center! Here we scheme the schemes! Here we take the secession flags, the arms, the prisoners! Here we liberate the slaves — virtually. I write at ten P. M. We have just had a long examination of a pompous Virginian, secessionist and slave owner, who came under safe conduct to demand back his twenty niggers who had run over to us. Half of his slaves he had smuggled over to Alabama for sale a week ago. But he was not lively enough with the second score. He said, with a curious mock pathos — “One boy, sir, staid behind, sir, and I said to him, John, they're all gone, John, and you can go if you like; I can't hold you. No, master, says John, I'll stay by you, master, till I die! But, sir, in the morning John was gone, and he'd taken my best horse with him! Now, Colonel,” said the old chap, half pleading and half demanding, “I'm an invalid, and you have got two of my boys, young boys, sir, not over twelve — no use to you except perhaps to black a gentleman's boots. I would like them very much, sir, if you would spare them. In fact, Colonel, sir, I ought to have my property back.”

It would have done Gay's heart good to have heard what Gen. Butler said, when this customer was dismissed. Then we had an earnest, simple fellow, black as the ace of spades, with whites of eyes like holes in his head, and sunshine seen through; who had run away from the batteries at Yorktown, and came to tell what they were doing there. It is prime, and growing primer all the time. I wish I could write more, but I am at hard work most of the day. In the afternoon I ride about, and the sentries present arms, though I am still in my uniform of a private. I left Billy in Washington. It broke my heart to leave the boy, but I shall work with him again. Dearest love to all in the house and region,

Yours,

T. W.

SOURCE: Laura Winthrop Johnson, Editor, The Life and Poems of Theodore Winthrop, p. 288-90

Charles Eliot Norton to Arthur H. Clough, February 10, 1861

Shady Hill, 10 February, 1861.

. . . Well, since I wrote last to you, great things have been going on here. It has been no time for writing letters, for the speculations of one day were forgotten the next in the new aspect of affairs. Not even yet is there any certainty as to the result of our present troubles and excitements, so far as the South is concerned. It is still doubtful whether the states that have already left the Union will be the only ones to do so, or whether the whole body of Slave States will go off and set up an attempt at a Confederacy to be managed in the interest of the owners of slaves, and for the protection and extension of slavery. There is little to choose between the two. For many reasons, political, social, and economical, it would be desirable to keep the northern tier of Slave States united with the Free States; but on the other hand, if they go off, the Free States no longer have any connection with or responsibility for Slavery. For my own part I have been hopeful from the beginning that the issue of these troubles, whatever it might be, would be for the advantage of the North, and for the permanent and essential weakening of the Slave power; and I see no reason to change this opinion. The truth is that it is the consciousness of power having gone from their hands that has induced the revolutionists of the South to take the hasty, violent, and reckless steps they have done. It is not the oppression of the North, it is not any interference with the interests of the South, it is not John Brown, or Kansas, or the principles of the Republican party, that are the causes of secession, — but it is the fact that the South, which has heretofore, from the beginning, controlled the government of the country, is now fairly beaten, and that it prefers revolution to honest acknowledgment of defeat and submission to it. But disunion is no remedy for defeat; the South is beaten in the Union or out of it. If the Slave States had accepted in a manly way their new position they would have secured their own interests. Slavery would not have been interfered with. But the course they have pursued has already done more work in damaging Slavery as an institution than all the labours of the Abolitionists could have effected for years. The competition for the supply of cotton which has now been effectually roused will be the great means by which slave labour will be rendered unprofitable to the owners of slaves; and as soon as they find this out Slavery will cease to be defended as a Divine Institution, and as the necessary basis of the best form of society. In fact we are seeing now the beginning of the death struggles of Slavery; and there is no ground for wonder at the violence of its convulsions. Civil war between the Free and the Slave States is a remote possibility. It will be hard to drive us of the North into it. But we are quite ready to fight, if need be, for the maintenance of the authority of the Civil Government, (threatened by a prejudiced attack of the Southern revolutionists on Washington,) and, I hope, also for the freedom of the Territories. But I trust that fighting will not be required, and I believe that Mr. Lincoln will be quietly inaugurated on the 4th March. He has shown great courage and dignity in holding his tongue so completely since his election.

I could fill twenty sheets with the rumours, the fancies, and the theories of the day, but by the time my letter reaches you they would not be worth so much as last year's dead leaves. Of course there is no other news with us, for the intensity of the interest in public affairs lessens that of the other events, and diminishes the number of the events themselves. . . .

Emerson's new volume has been a great success here, and has met with far more favour than it seems to have done in England. Ten thousand copies of it have gone off here in spite of the political excitements. I do not wonder that the English critics do not like the book, for every year the imaginative and mystic element of the intellect, as it shows itself in literature, is getting more and more scouted at by them, — but I do not wonder at the abusive vulgarity of the article in the “Saturday Review.” The book is the most Emersonian, good and bad, of all his books; certainly a book to do good to any one who knows how to think. But Emerson's books, as you know, are not nearly so good as himself. . . .

SOURCE: Sara Norton and  M. A. DeWolfe Howe, Letters of Charles Eliot Norton, Volume 1, p. 216-8