Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, April 5, 1863

Camp near Rappahannock River, Va.,        

April 5, 1863.

The weather has been more disagreeable since the beginning of April than at any previous time this winter. The wind has blown almost incessantly and furiously at times. To-day is one of the windiest and most disagreeable that I ever saw. It is awful. I hope the wind will subside by night, or I am afraid it will blow my tent down. Yesterday when it was nearly night snow began falling, and with it there was a hurricane of wind, which continued through the night, and was terrific at times. I expected the tent to come down on Billie and me every moment, but it stood the gale finely, although it kept up a horrible flapping all night. The wind is still blowing to-day and the snow is several inches deep. Such weather as this will delay “Fighting Joe” Hooker's movements for some time, and it is so much the better for us.

There is now some scurvy in the army, which is caused by a lack of a vegetable diet. It is not serious yet and is easily cured if the men can get vegetables to eat.

We received orders from General Lee to be ready for an active campaign on the first of the month, by getting rid of all our surplus baggage. About one week ago I saw a Yankee balloon up on the other side of the river, and was told that General Lee had one up at the same time, but I did not see it. I do not believe we shall have so severe a campaign this spring and summer as we had last year, but I am more than willing to endure all the hardships again to be as victorious as we were then. You need have no apprehension that this army will ever meet with defeat while commanded by General Lee. General Jackson is a strict Presbyterian, but he is rather too much of a Napoleon Bonaparte in my estimation. Lee is the man, I assure you.

Dr. Kilgore and a great many others are extremely tired of this war, and he has succeeded in getting transferred to Macon, Ga. The surgeon who has taken his place is Dr. Tyler, a son of the former President of the United States. When the Thirteenth Regiment was formed there were six doctors and two bookkeepers in the medical department, and now every one of them has gone but myself.

I am glad that George is so bright and intelligent.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 46-8

Gerrit Smith to Henry Ward Beecher, May 20, 1863

Peterboro, May 20th, 1863.

Rev. Henry Ward Beecher:

My Dear Sir: I have read in the Independent your column on the late “Stonewall” Jackson. I honor him for his earnestness, sincerity, and devoutness. I grant that he was a deeply religious man. But I can not agree with you that his religion was of the Christ-type. How can it be in the light of your own admission, that he was “the champion of slavery” — the champion of that system which denies all right to husband, wife, child; all right to resist the ravisher or murderer; and which works and whips and markets men as beasts? How can it be in the light of your admission, that “he was fighting against the natural rights of man”? Nevertheless you declare him to be “a rare and eminent Christian.” I readily admit that even these enormous crimes against justice and humanity are compatible with high religiousness. But I can not admit that he who is guilty of them is grounded in the Christ-religion and is “eminent” in its graces. For the Christ-religion is simply a religion of justice. It does as it would be done by. It is for, and not “against the natural rights of man.” For it is simply the religion of nature.

I do not wonder that the Churches regard Jackson's as the Christ-religion. For the bundle of dogmas, Trinity, Atonement, Resurrection of the Body, Miracles, etc., which they make up and hold to be essential to salvation, he deeply believed in. I say not whether these dogmas are true or false — originating in fancies or in facts. I but say that they are no part of the Christ-religion. Natural justice toward God and man — so earnest and entire as to fill the heart and life with its presence and power — this, and this alone, is the essence and the all of that religion. Think not that I look for such justice where the Divine Spirit is not at work to produce it. In order to attain to it, depraved man — man who has run away from his nature — must be “born again.”

Jackson had the theology of a Church. But he certainly had not a large share of the religion of Christ. Christ was opposed to all the theologies; for he saw that they all stand in the way of the one true religion — the religion of reason and nature. A theological, or common Church religion, is a traditional religion, authenticated by miracles and other outward testimonies. At the best, it is but a history, and full of all the characteristic uncertainty of history. Moreover, if parts of the history, or of its accepted interpretation, shall prove false, then, as is held, the deceived disciple is lost. Such is the untrustworthy plank on which men are urged to embark their all. But Christ's religion is no historic nor external thing. It cometh not from the past, and it “cometh not with observation.” It “is within” us. It is written by the finger of God in the moral consciousness; and every one, who will listen to God's voice in his soul, will know this religion, or, in other words, will know what is right. "And why," says Jesus, “even of yourselves judge ye not what is right?” Instead of sending his hearers to Moses, he sends them to themselves. Instead of bidding them go to priests to get religion interpreted, he tells them to interpret it for themselves. Instead of making religious truths a mystery, which only the wise and learned can unravel, he thanks his Father for having “revealed them unto babes.” Instead of teaching a religion as fluctuating and uncertain as human testimony is fluctuating and uncertain, he teaches a religion founded and fashioned in human nature, and therefore as unchangeable as human nature — a religion the same in all climes and ages, because human nature is the same in all climes and ages. Instead of teaching a cabalistic and conventional religion, whose rules are hard and impossible to be understood, he teaches the natural and reasonable religion which has but one rule, and this rule so obvious and simple that all know it, and need nothing but honesty to apply it. All know how they would be done by, and hence all know what to do to others.

I am amazed that you make so much account of Jackson's theological bundle, and of his being “an active member of the Presbyterian Church, of which he was a ruling Elder.” These, in your esteem, suffice to carry him straight to heaven. I had supposed that your strong common-sense and large intelligence had long ago lifted you up out of the superstitious faith that any such things can carry any man to heaven. I had taken it for granted that you believed that it is his character, however induced — whether by himself or by Christ, or otherwise — that alone qualifies a man for heaven; so obvious is it, in the light of reason, that every man must go to his own place, and that what shall be his place must be determined, not by his theology, but by his character. But I was mistaken. For in the same breath in which you send Jackson to heaven, you argue out for him a thoroughly base and abominable character; even, to use your strong and eloquent words, a “comprehensive and fundamental degradation of heart and mind and soul.”

So, since it can not be in virtue of his character, it must be in virtue of his theology and ecclesiasticism, that you send Jackson to heaven. Or am I again mistaken? Perhaps you believe that the death of the body works moral changes; and that, though Jackson died with a bad character, he woke up with a good one.

But, notwithstanding I believe that our character in this life is that with which we begin the next, I have hope for “Stonewall” Jackson. And this hope for two reasons. First, I do not believe his character to be as bad as you make it. In many an instance, slaveholding does not deprave and debase the whole soul. Unconsciousness of its criminality, and a kindly exercise of its despotic power, are among the things which leave room for the growth of self-respect and other high virtues. Second, the Christ-religion will be more clearly seen, and more justly judged, in the next life; and mistaken and guilty, though still largely noble souls, like the “Stonewall” Jacksons, will hasten to exchange their miserable theologies for it. Nay, I trust that our Church-misled hero already begins to see more beauty and preciousness in the simple doctrine of doing as we would be done by, than in all the dogmas and prayers and rites of his corrupt and corrupting Church.

But I must stop. I meant to write only a few lines. How long, oh! how long, my great-souled brother, must we still wait for the open enlistment of your large powers against the theologies! I confess that you preach the religion of Jesus, and that you preach it with rare force and beauty. But, alas! how is this preaching counteracted by your preaching the theologies also! The cause of truth can not afford to have Henry Ward Beecher continue to mix up traditional trash, or even traditional sweetness or sublimities, with that religion. She needs him to be wholly, and not but partly, on her side.

With great regard, your friend,

Gerrit Smith.

SOURCES: Gerrit Smith, Gerrit Smith on Sectarianism, p. 19-22; Octavius Brooks Frothingham, Gerrit Smith: A Biography, p. 255-6

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: Monday, May 18, 1863

This morning we had the gratification of a short visit from General Lee. He called and breakfasted with us, while the other passengers in the cars breakfasted at the hotel. We were very glad to see that great and good man look so well and so cheerful. His beard is very long, and painfully gray, which makes him appear much older than he really is. One of the ladies at table, with whom he is closely connected, rallied him on allowing his beard to grow, saying, “Cousin R., it makes you look too venerable for your years.” He was amused, and pleaded as his excuse the inconvenience of shaving in camp. “Well,” she replied, “if I were in Cousin Mary's place (Mrs. L’s) I would allow it to remain now, but I would take it off as soon as the war is over.” He answered, while a shade passed over his bright countenance, “When the war is over, my dear L., she may take my beard off, and my head with it, if she chooses.” This he said as the whistle summoned him to his seat in the cars, not meaning to depress us, or imagining for an instant that we would think of it again; but it proved to us that he knew that the end was not yet, and disappointed us, for after every great victory we cannot help hoping that the Federal Government may be tired of war and bloodshed, rapine and murder, and withdraw its myriads to more innocent pursuits.

Yesterday evening we were agreeably surprised by a call from W. B. C., just recovered from his dreadful wound, received at Fredericksburg last winter. He is an infantry captain of the Stonewall Brigade, and is just returning to his company. Alas! alas! his great Captain has passed away during his absence, which makes his return very sad. He thinks that General Ewell is the man of all others to put in his place, though no man can fill it. General Ewell, he says, is one of General Jackson's most enthusiastic admirers, believing him to have been almost an inspired man. General E. relates an incident of him, when on their victorious march through the Valley last summer, which is beautifully characteristic of General J. One night, when it was evident that there must be a battle next day, he (General E.) went to General Jackson for his plans. General J. replied that he would give them to him next morning, as they had not yet been formed. General E. felt uneasy and restless, and could not sleep. About midnight he arose, and, passing through the sleeping multitudes, he reached General Jackson's tent, and was about to raise the curtain to enter it, when his attention was arrested by the voice of prayer. General Jackson was praying fervently for guidance through the coming day. General E. remarked to a friend that he had never before heard a prayer so devout and beautiful; he then, for the first time, felt the desire to be a Christian. He retired to his tent quietly, without disturbing General J., feeling assured that all would be well. The next morning a fight came off, replete with victory. General Ewell was subsequently wounded at the second battle of Manassas, and it is said that he has since become a Christian. God grant that it may be so!

I have been in Richmond for two days past, nursing the wounded of our little hospital. Some of them are very severely injured, yet they are the most cheerful invalids I ever saw. It is remarked in all the hospitals that the cheerfulness of the wounded in proportion to their suffering is much greater than that of the sick. Under my care, yesterday, was one poor fellow, with a ball embedded in his neck; another with an amputated leg; one with a hole in his breast, through which a bullet had passed; another with a shattered arm; and others with slighter wounds; yet all showed indomitable spirit; evinced a readiness to be amused or interested in every thing around them; asked that the morning papers might be read to them, and gloried in their late victory; and expressed an anxiety to get well, that they may have another “chance at them fellows.” The Yankees are said to have landed at West Point, and are thence sending out raiding parties over the country. Colonel Davis, who led the party here on the third, has been severely wounded by a scouting party, sent out by General Wise towards Tunstall's Station. It is said he has lost his leg. So may it be!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 214-6

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: December 5, 1863

Wigfall was here last night. He began by wanting to hang Jeff Davis. My husband managed him beautifully. He soon ceased to talk virulent nonsense, and calmed down to his usual strong common sense. I knew it was quite late, but I had no idea of the hour. My husband beckoned me out. “It is all your fault,” said he. “What?” “Why will you persist in looking so interested in all Wigfall is saying? Don't let him catch your eye. Look into the fire. Did you not hear it strike two?”

This attack was so sudden, so violent, so unlooked for, I could only laugh hysterically. However, as an obedient wife, I went back, gravely took my seat and looked into the fire. I did not even dare raise my eyes to see what my husband was doing — if he, too, looked into the fire. Wigfall soon tired of so tame an audience and took his departure.

General Lawton was here. He was one of Stonewall's generals. So I listened with all my ears when he said: “Stonewall could not sleep. So, every two or three nights you were waked up by orders to have your brigade in marching order before daylight and report in person to the Commander. Then you were marched a few miles out and then a few miles in again. All this was to make us ready, ever on the alert. And the end of it was this: Jackson's men would go half a day's march before Peter Longstreet waked and breakfasted. I think there is a popular delusion about the amount of praying he did. He certainly preferred a fight on Sunday to a sermon. Failing to manage a fight, he loved best a long Presbyterian sermon, Calvinistic to the core.

“He had shown small sympathy with human infirmity. He was a one-idea-ed man. He looked upon broken-down men and stragglers as the same thing. He classed all who were weak and weary, who fainted by the wayside, as men wanting in patriotism  If a man's face was as white as cotton and his pulse so low you scarce could feel it, he looked upon him merely as an inefficient soldier and rode off impatiently. He was the true type of all great soldiers. Like the successful warriors of the world, he did not value human life where he had an object to accomplish. He could order men to their death as a matter of course. His soldiers obeyed him to the death. Faith they had in him stronger than death. Their respect he commanded. I doubt if he had so much of their love as is talked about while he was alive. Now, that they see a few more years of Stonewall would have freed them from the Yankees, they deify him. Any man is proud to have been one of the famous Stonewall brigade. But, be sure, it was bitter hard work to keep up with him as all know who ever served under him. He gave his orders rapidly and distinctly and rode away, never allowing answer or remonstrance. It was, ‘Look there — see that place — take it!’ When you failed you were apt to be put under arrest. When you reported the place taken, he only said, ‘Good!’”

Spent seventy-five dollars to-day for a little tea and sugar, and have five hundred left. My husband's pay never has paid for the rent of our lodgings. He came in with dreadful news just now. I have wept so often for things that never happened, I will withhold my tears now for a certainty. To-day, a poor woman threw herself on her dead husband's coffin and kissed it. She was weeping bitterly. So did I in sympathy.

My husband, as I told him to-day, could see me and everything that he loved hanged, drawn, and quartered without moving a muscle, if a crowd were looking on; he could have the same gentle operation performed on himself and make no sign. To all of which violent insinuation he answered in unmoved tones: “So would any civilized man. Savages, however — Indians, at least — are more dignified in that particular than we are. Noisy, fidgety grief never moves me at all; it annoys me. Self-control is what we all need. You are a miracle of sensibility; self-control is what you need.” “So you are civilized!” I said. “Some day I mean to be.”

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 261-3

Major-General Thomas J. Jackson to Colonel John T. L. Preston, December 22, 1862

Caroline Co., Va., Dec. 22d, 1862.

Dear Colonel, — I hope that ere this your son Randolph is out of danger. I regretted to hear of his sickness.

Before this, you have, I presume, seen the details of the recent battle near Fredericksburg.

I greatly desire to see peace, blessed peace, and I am persuaded that if God's people throughout our Confederacy will earnestly and perseveringly unite in imploring His interposition for peace, that we may expect it. Let our Government acknowledge the God of the Bible as its God, and we may expect soon to be a happy and independent people. It appears to me that extremes are to be avoided, and it also appears to me that the old United States occupied an extreme position in the means it took to prevent the union of Church and State. We call ourselves a Christian people, and it seems to me our Government may be of the same character, without committing itself with an established Church. It does appear to me that as our President, our Congress, and our people have thanked God for victories, and prayed to him for additional ones, and He has answered such prayers, and gives us a government, that it is gross ingratitude not to acknowledge Him in the gifts.

Let the framework of our government show that we are not ungrateful to Him. If you think with me, I hope you will use the talent God has given you of impressively presenting facts to others, in securing a government which will gain God's blessing. Our Congressional Committee is in favor of repealing the law which requires Sabbath mails. Can you not write to several members of Congress for the purpose of securing their support of the committee's report? I have only seen one member of the House, Mr. Boteler, who warmly favors the repeal.

I am much obliged to you for your kind offer respecting Albert, &c. Please hire him to any one with whom he desires to live: and please ascertain whether Hetty has been hired, and if not, may I trouble you to do it f or me?  . . . I also wish you would sell my lot the first opportunity. I do not desire to keep it any longer. You need not consult me about the price, but take what you can get. Remember me very kindly to Maggie and all the family. I sent her a note from her brother John a few days since. He was on the recent battle field.

Very truly your friend,

T. J. Jackson.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 152-4

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: July 2, 1862

. . . People think that the reason Jackson is so successful is because he prays so much. One of his staff told Mr. P. not long ago, that amid the strife of battle he had sometimes seen him for a moment with uplifted hands in the act of prayer. When Mr. P. was his Adjutant-General, he says Jackson was in the habit of withdrawing frequently during the day, when it was practicable, as Mr. P. believes, for prayer.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 145

Major-General Thomas J. Jackson to Margaret Junkin Preston, November 16, 1861

Winchester, Va., Nov. 16th, 1861.

My Dear Maggie, — More than once your kind and touching letter respecting the sainted Amy brought tears to my eyes. For several months before leaving home, I was impressed with her great devotion to the cause of our beloved Redeemer. She was evidently ripening rapidly for a better world, where I hope that we, and the ransomed of the Lord, may be privileged to join her.

I am very grateful to you for your Christian kindness to her. If the money I sent by Dr. White is not enough to meet the little demands connected with her funeral, please let me know how much more is required, and I will promptly attend to having it forwarded. I am much gratified to know that you gave her a decent burial, and that so many followed her remains to the grave. Though such numbers cannot affect the dead, yet such demonstrations of regard are gratifying to the living.

Remember me very kindly to Mrs. Cocke, and the different members of your family. I sent your letter to A. Your dear husband has gone to Richmond for a few days. I received a letter from him since he left, in which he expressed the desire of spending one day with yon, but his services are so valuable to me that I regret to say he cannot be spared.

Very affectionately yours,

T. J. Jackson.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 130-1

Lieutenant-Colonel John T. L. Preston to Margaret Junkin Preston, December 5, 1861

Headquarters, Valley District,

Winchester, Dec. 5th, 1861.

(This is the regular heading to all documents that we send out.)

Two letter in one day! This is getting worse instead of better. I do not think that while I was a crane, musing, crabbing, and spreading the pinions of fancy, I ever perpetrated more than one epistle in 24 hours.  . . . But now that Jim Lewis is going home on furlough, I cannot refrain from scribbling again. White people here have no chance of getting a furlough; it is only our colored friends who can escape for a time the evils of war. I had but time to gobble up your letter this morning before I wrote, but to-night I have enjoyed it as an epicure ought to eat and be thankful for a dainty. Speaking of dainties, we had for supper to-night two pheasants and some partridges; that will do pretty well, I should say! In fact we live very well. Our mess is: the General and myself; Alfred Jackson, Sandy Pendleton, and George Junkin; very smart fellows all of them (Sandy most uncommonly so), and as nice as can be, and full of gayety. We have a merry table; I as much a boy as any of them, and Jackson grave as a signpost, till something chances to overcome him, and then he breaks out into a laugh so awkward that it is manifest he has never laughed enough to learn how. He is a most simple-hearted man. He said to me the other day, “Do you know that the thing which has most interested and pleased me to-day, is to learn by a letter from Mr. Samuel Campbell that my lot is well set in grass.” This would make Clark laugh, that any one should think so much of such a rocky bit of land! Don't repeat this; it would seem as if I were laughing at the General. Jackson said to me last night, that he would much rather be at the Institute than in the army, and seemed to think fortunate those of us who are to go back. I sleep in the same room with the young men. Jackson invited me to share his room,  . . . but I know that privacy would be more agreeable to him. Besides, I have a notion that he goes to his room many times a day for special prayer. As to myself, you know anything will do for me and  . . . any place to sleep will answer very well. I sleep on what they call a stretcher, a military cot, with my overcoat and cape under my head for a pillow. I sleep soundly and get up early. . . . Well, I have written you an objective letter, and I enclose you a sort of diary that I keep on my business table, to help my indifferent memory. I do so many and such various things that I jot them down to prevent my forgetting. This is the diary of one day, and gives you a sample of my occupations; you must allow that it would take up a good deal of time to fill up these outlines! Hardly room left to say — I love you!

Your Husband.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 122-3