Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 3, 1863

Gen. Lee communicates to the department to-day his views of the Montgomery letter to Gen. Forrest, a copy of which was sent him by Governor Vance. He terms it “diabolical.” It seems to have been an official letter, superscribed by “C. Marshall, Major and A. A. G.” Gen. Lee suggests that it be not published, but that copies be sent to all our generals.

Hon. R. M. T. Hunter urges the Secretary, in a lengthy letter, to send a cavalry brigade into Essex and the adjacent counties, to protect the inhabitants from the incursions of the “Yankees.” He says a government agent has established a commissary department within six miles of his house, and it will be sure to be destroyed if no force be sent there adequate to its defense. He says, moreover, if our troops are to operate only in the great armies facing the enemy, a few hostile regiments of horse may easily devastate the country without molestation.

Gov. Vance writes a most indignant reply to a letter which, it seems, had been addressed to him by the Assistant Secretary of War, Judge Campbell, in which there was an intimation that the judicial department of the State government “lent itself” to the work of protecting deserters, etc. This the Governor repels as untrue, and says the judges shall have his protection. That North Carolina has been wronged by calumnious imputations, and many in the army and elsewhere made to believe she .was not putting forth all her energies in the work of independence. He declares that North Carolina furnished more than half the killed and wounded in the two great battles on the Rappahannock, in December and May last.

By the Northern papers we see the President of the United States, his wife, and his cabinet are amusing themselves at the White House with Spiritualism.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 339-40

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Friday, January 30, 1863

A whole week has passed since I opened this book, a week certainly not spent in idleness, if not a very interesting one. For I have kept my room almost all the time, leaving Miriam and Anna to entertain their guests alone. Even when Mr. Halsey called on Sunday, I declined going down. Why, I wonder? I felt better than usual, was in a splendid humor for talking, yet — my excuses took my place, and I lay quietly in bed, dreaming by the firelight, and singing hymns to myself. Once in a while the thought would occur to me, “Why don't I go down?” But it was always answered with a wry face, and the hymn went on. Yet I knew he had come expecting to see me. On the table near me stood a bunch of snowdrops that Miriam had culled for her beloved Captain Bradford. An idea struck me so suddenly that my voice died instantly. The spirit of mischief had taken possession of me. Laughing to myself, I caught them up, drew three long bright hairs from my head — they looked right gold-y in the firelight — and tied them around the flowers — I thought I should never get to the end while wrapping them. Thus secured, a servant carried them into the parlor with “Miss Sarah's compliments to Mr. Halsey.” Poor Miriam's cry of surprise at finding her flowers thus appropriated, reached my ears and caused me to laugh again. It was rather cool! But then it was better fun than going down. And then didn't it flatter his vanity! O men! you vain creatures! A woman would receive a whole bunch of hair and forty thousand bouquets, without having her head turned; while you — Well! I heard enough from Miriam to amuse me, at all events.

And a day or two after, Captain Bradford had a long story to tell her — what he called a good joke on Mr. Halsey. Of how he had found him kissing three long bright hairs in rapture, and on asking where he got them, received as an answer — “From the God-blessedest little angel that ever wore long hair!” This blessedest little angel did not intend it as a souvenir, and is consequently annoyed about stories of three hairs, intended as a string and nothing more, being wrapped in tissue paper and treasured up — so goes the tale — instead of being thrown into the fire as I certainly expected.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Last night Anna and Miriam sat on my bed at twilight, playing cards while I tried my guitar, when Captain C—, Major Spratley, and Lieutenant Dupre were announced. Quick, down went the cards as they sprang to their feet to throw off their neat calicoes. Where was Miriam's comb, and grenadine, and collar, and belt? Good gracious! where was her buckle? On the bureau, mantel, washstand, or under them? “Please move a moment, Anna!” In such a hurry, do! There was Anna, “Wait! I'm in a hurry, too! Where is that pomatum? You Malvina! if you don't help me, I’ll — There! take that, Miss! Now fly around!” Malvina, with a faint, dingy pink suddenly brought out on her pale sea-green face, did fly around, while I, hushing my guitar in the tumult, watch each running over the other, in silent amazement, wondering if order can come out of such confusion, and if the people downstairs were worth all that trouble.

When I finally made my appearance in the parlor, it was with the conviction that I would have a dreadfully stupid time, and Captain C— too. However, though at first I had both, soon only the last was left me. Some one suggested calling the Spirits, which game I had imagined “played out” long ago; and we derived a great deal of amusement from it. Six of us around a small table invoked them with the usual ceremony. There was certainly no trick played; every finger was above the board, and all feet sufficiently far from the single leg to insure fair play. Every rap seemed to come exactly from the centre of the table, and was painfully distinct though not loud. When asked if there was a writing medium present, it indicated Captain C—. I observed that he seemed averse to trying it, but yielded at length and took the pencil in his hand.

Our first question, of course, was, How long before Peace? Nine months was written. Which foreign nation would recognize us first? France, then England, in eight months. Who was Miriam to marry? Captain of a battery. “Who?” we all shouted. “Captain C. E. Fenner”¹ was written again. When? In ten months. I believe Captain C— to be honest about it. He seemed to have no control over his hand, and his arm trembled until it became exceedingly painful. Of course, I do not actually believe in Spiritualism; but there is certainly something in it one cannot understand; and Mrs. Badger's experience is enough to convert one, alone. Each was startled in turn by extraordinary revelations concerning themselves. Gibbes was to be transferred to the Trans-Mississippi Department,² George would come home, and all the gentlemen had the name and address of future sweethearts written in full. The question was asked, “Who will Sarah Morgan fall in love with?” Every eye was on the pencil as a capital “H” was traced. As the “a” followed, I confess to a decided disgust at the Spirits, and was about to beg it might be discontinued when the rest followed rapidly until in three separate lines appeared, “Has not seen him yet” (here came an exclamation of surprise from Lydia and Miriam, who knew how true it was, and even Gibbes looked astonished). “Captain, in Virginia. Captain Charles Lewis.”³ A perfect buzz of comments followed; every one asked every one else if they knew any one by that name, and every one said no. Gibbes was decidedly more interested than I. That odd “Has not seen him yet,” expressing so exactly the fact that I pride myself upon, carried conviction in the truth of Spirits, almost. “Who will she marry?” asked Gibbes. (He has a pet belief, in which I encourage him, that I will never marry.) Again came the name as distinctly as before, of Captain Charles Lewis. “When will she marry him?” “In June, 1864,” was the answer. I was to meet him in New Orleans. November followed, after a period.

Of course, the Spirits produced some slight commotion which made the time pass pleasantly until Miriam began to waltz with her Monsieur Deux Temps. Then Captain C— told me why he had been unwilling to try it; of how his father believed so strongly in it that he had very nearly been made crazy by it, and how he had sworn to abandon the practice of consulting them, seeing the effect produced. He did not believe in Spirits himself; but could not account for the influence he was under, when he saw his hand involuntarily write things he was totally unconscious of, himself. However, he proposed that we two should have a private consultation with them, which I opened by asking when I should again see my home. I know he did not know anything about it; but on the paper appeared — “Five months have gone — five months more.” It is just five months since I did see home. I think it was the 26th of August that Charlie took me there. He asked if he should ever marry. “Never. You will be jilted by the lady you love in Missouri, Miss Christina P—.” I pointed it out to him, as he happened to be looking at me when it was written. It surprised him into saying, “Why, I'm engaged to her!” I asked whose spirit was communicating with us. He was watching the dance when his hand wrote, “John C —“ I laughed and asked if there was such a person, pointing to the name. He looked actually sick as he said, “Yes, my brother; he is dead.” I had not the heart to talk of Spirits again; so we took to writing poetry together, every alternate line falling to my lot. It made an odd jingle, the sentimental first line being turned to broad farce by my absurd second one.

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¹ Note by Mrs. Dawson in 1896: wrong — she married Lieutenant Dupre.

² Note by Mrs. Dawson: he was transferred in his coffin.

³ Captain F. W. Dawson, whom Sarah Morgan eventually married, was at that time a captain in Virginia, and she had not yet seen him.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 319-24

Diary of Salmon P. Chase: Sunday, September 14, 1862

Went to Methodist Church. Mr. Brown preached good sermon. — Afterwards called to enquire for Mrs. Douglas, who, I found, had passed a bad night, but was better.

Went to War Department. Despatches from McClellan to the President — also to Genl. Halleck. First, complimentary respects to Mrs. Lincoln; ladies enthusiastic welcome of McClellan and his army “us.” The second states getting possession of Lee's Order to Hill of 10th. troops from various directions to attack Martinsburg and Harpers Ferry on the 12th. — capture both — and then reunite at Hagerstown; — White had anticipated the enemy by joining Miles at Harpers Ferry, where the enemy made vigorous attack yesterday; — courier from Miles says he can hold out two days, but enemy is in possession of Maryland Heights; —  McC. hopes before two days to relieve Miles—is already in possession of Middleton and Jefferson; — estimates rebel force in Maryland at 125,000 thinks defeat of his army would be ruinous, and therefore better to spare all troops from Washington than suffer it; — anticipates great battle tomorrow, Monday; — enemy don't mean to go back to Virginia, but thinks Lee has blundered and hopes to make him repent of it. — Watson rode with me.

Read several books, especially article in “Revue des deux Mondes” on the soul. In the evening, Mr. Case called and talked of Politics and Spiritualism — especially the last, in which he is a firm believer. Says he receives letters from the inhabitants of the Sixth and other Spheres, among whom are Calhoun, Brutus and others that there is a council of the 6th., presided over by Washington, to which the control of this war is committed; that Richmond will be taken about Dec. 1st., and Charleston early in the Spring. — Dr. Rabe called and talked over California matters. Seems to have been very unfairly and unjustly dealt with. Thinks Hoffman excellent man — also Sharp, Dist. Atty. Thinks Phelps or , a partisan of Fremont, will be elected Senator. Rand, new Marshal, is one of Palmer, Cook & Co. set. Advised him to examine papers, and, if possible, refute charges and be restored.

Mr. Varnum, of N. Y., and his cousin, from Mass., came in and talked a little. Nothing important.

SOURCE: Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 81-2

John Brown to John Brown Jr., December 6, 1850

SPRINGFIELD, MASS., Dec. 6, 1850.

DEAR SON JOHN, — Your kind letter is received. By same mail I also have one from Mr. Perkins in answer to one of mine, in which I did in no very indistinct way introduce some queries, not altogether unlike those your letter contained. Indeed, your letter throughout is so much like what has often passed through my own mind, that were I not a little sceptical yet, I should conclude you had access to some of the knocking spirits.¹ I shall not write you very long, as I mean to write again before many days. Mr. Perkins's letter, to which I just alluded, appears to be written in a very kind spirit; and so long as he is right-side up, I shall by no means despond; indeed, I think the fog clearing away from our matters a little. I certainly wish to understand, and I mean to understand, “how the land lies” before taking any important steps. You can assist me very much about being posted up: but you will be able to get hold of the right end exactly by having everything done up first-rate, and by becoming very familiar, and not by keeping distant. I most earnestly hope that should I lose caste, my family will at least prove themselves worthy of respect and confidence; and I am sure that my three sons in Akron can do a great job for themselves and for the family if they behave themselves wisely. Your letter so well expresses my own feelings, that were it not for one expression I would mail it with one I have just finished, to Mr. Perkins. Can you not all three effectually secure the name of good business men this winter? That you are considered honest and rather intelligent I have no doubt.

I do not believe the losses of our firm will in the end prove so very severe, if Mr. Perkins can only be kept resolute and patient in regard to matters. I have often made mistakes by being too hasty, and mean hereafter to “ponder well the path of my feet.” I mean to pursue in all things such a course as is in reality wise, and as will in the end give to myself and family the least possible cause for regret. I believe Mr. Newton is properly authorized to take testimony. If so, I wish you to ascertain the fact and write me; if not, I want you to learn through Mr. Perkins who would be a suitable person for that business, as I expect before many weeks to want your testimony, and I want you to give me the name. I forgot to write to Mr. Perkins about it, and have sealed up my letter to him. I mentioned about your testimony, but forgot what I should have written.

Your affectionate father,

JOHN BROWN.

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¹ This was the period when the Fox family, at Rochester, N. Y., were astonishing the world with their knockings and the messages from another world which these were supposed to convey. John Brown, Jr., was inclined to believe in the reality of this “rat-hole revelation” (as Emerson described it to Henry Ward Beecher); but his father was sceptical. He talked with his son at the American House, Springfield, in 1848, concerning this matter, and told him that the Bible contains the whole revelation of God; that since that canon was closed, “the book has been sealed.” In his later years he was less confident of this; and in 1859, when he last talked with John Brown, Jr., on the subject, he said he had received messages, as he believed, from Dianthe Lusk, which had directed his conduct in cases of perplexity. Milton Lusk has been a believer in “Spiritualism” for many years; indeed, he is naturally heretical, and was excommunicated by the church in Hudson, in 1835.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 78-9