Diary of Private William S. White, August 10, 1862

Five brigades of Longstreet's division leave today for Jackson's command, in the Valley.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 126

Diary of Private William S. White, June 30, 1862

BATTLE OF WILLIS'S CHURCH, OR FRAYSER'S FARM, MONDAY, JUNE 30TH, 1862.

I was in the saddle from a little after sunrise yesterday morning until daybreak this morning, and then, after taking a nap of an hour, had to move on to find my company. McClellan, having been so terribly punished on his right flank by the fierce onslaughts of Lee and Jackson, has now concentrated his forces on this (the south) side of the Chickahominy, and is making his way to his gun-boats on the James River. We are following him up as rapidly as possible. Our two divisions moved a few miles farther down the Darbytown Road, when our advanced guard captured a Yankee picket, who reported their men to be but a short distance in advance.

Longstreet quickly disposed his troops, and advanced to meet the enemy; my battery was posted in an open field, but we could see no enemy, as a heavy wood was between us.

The enemy soon rained a storm of shot and shell upon us, and we returned the fire with vigor, but as soon as our infantry charged beyond us, as at Gaines's Mill, we were compelled to cease firing," our guns being of such short range.

Nevertheless, we were compelled to receive their fire, and, being unable to return it, it made our situation anything but pleasant. Nothing is more demoralizing to troops than to be subjected to a heavy fire from an unseen foe and to remain perfectly inactive. The wood completely shut us out from sight, yet shielded us but little from the shot and shell.

Here a member of my company (Edward F. Cullen) was struck upon the forehead by a piece of shell; we thought at first he was seriously wounded, but we were mistaken. I also made a very narrow escape, for a two ounce ball from a Belgian rifle passed through my gunner's-bag, which was, as is customary during an engagement, thrown over my shoulder. I had in this bag about 500 friction primers, each and every one a little miniature cannon of itself, filled with rifle and a poisonous fulminating powder, the explosion of one of which would have caused the explosion of the whole. The ball passed through three thick pleats of leather, breaking the fourth and last pleat. Had it not have been for this leather bag, I would have received this ball just below my heart. The fighting was still going on in our front at a terrific rate. Again and again our men charged the enemies' works, but were as often driven back. At one time Featherstone's brigade had to reform a few yards to the right of our battery, and could only muster 250 men. One more grand effort—a dashing charge and our men have carried the entrenchments. Kemper's men are holding their position without ammunition; Featherstone's brigade has melted away from 1,200 to 200; still our brave troops hold their position, and have captured many a piece of artillery. Night comes on, but still the fight continues—volley after volley of musketry pours its stream of death into our ranks, but our men cannot be driven back, and McClellan has to keep moving on. Our field of observation is so extremely limited, we can learn but little of the general plan of the battle or of the specific results. The wounded stragglers all pass through our battery and tell the same old tale of being "cut up," "badly whipped," etc., so that for a long time we were really in doubt whether we or the Yankees had been successful. The enemy fought bravely and contested the ground inch by inch. Our General, Featherstone, has been badly wounded. We have captured many prisoners and a number of pieces of artillery; also, a Brigadier-General by the name of McCall.

We spent the night on the field, and, for the season, it was bitterly cold.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 122-4

Diary of Private John C. West, Monday, May 11, 1863

Reached Montgomery this afternoon about 5:30, just too late for the cars, hence must be detained another night on the road. I walked up town a little while ago and met Mr. John A. Elmore; inquired about Culp, my old college chum, and found he was a lieutenant in the army at Vicksburg; his family is with his father-in-law. Heard here of "Stonewall" Jackson's death; it is a sad calamity for the south, but I doubt not God will raise up other great spirits to aid us with their counsels and to fight our battles for us. I wrote a letter on the steamboat, which I intended to hand to some one to mail across the Mississippi, or else mail it in Augusta.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, p. 37

Richard Brooke Garnett

Nephew of James Mercer Garnett (q. v.), and Robert Selden Garnett (q. v.); born in Virginia, in 1819; graduated from the United States Military Academy in 1841. He entered the army as second lieutenant, and served in the Florida war, and subsequently in the west. He was made first lieutenant in 1847, and later captain. He aided in quelling the Kansas disturbances in 1856-57; was engaged in the Utah expedition. He entered the Confederate service as major of artillery in 1861, and was promoted to brigadier-general the same year. He served in the Shenandoah Valley under Jackson, and at the battle of Kernstown commanded the Stonewall brigade. During and after the Maryland. campaign he commanded Pickett's brigade, which he finally led at Gettysburg, where he fell dead, shot from his horse in the midst of action. He died July 3, 1863.

SOURCE: Encyclopedia of Virginia Biography, Vol. 3, p. 53

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, May 15, 1863

May 15.

We get reports from rebel sources that Hooker has got into Richmond, that Stonewall Jackson was killed and Lee taken prisoner. Were all this true you might expect some of us home within a few months, but it is too good to believe.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 392

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, June 12, 1863

Hospital near Hamilton's Crossing, Va.,        

June 12, 1863.

Our corps is lying in line of battle in the trenches, and has been for six days. The Yankees are still on this side of the river. The picket lines are within speaking distance of each other and we exchange newspapers with them every day. I went there this morning and was never before so close to the enemy when in a hostile attitude. I saw the New York Illustrated News, and will try to get a copy to send to you. I stay out on the field with the troops during the day, but come back to the hospital at night.

Chaplain Beauchelle messes with Dr. Tyler and me while his messmates are out in the line. He and Tyler sleep together. Tyler is one of the most wicked and profane men I ever knew, but he is a very intelligent man and is generous and high-minded. His father educated him for the ministry, and he and the chaplain argue on Scripture at night. It is highly amusing, for he is hard to handle in an argument on Scripture.

I am told that all of our army has gone in the direction of Manassas except our corps (A. P. Hill's), which was formerly Stonewall Jackson's. It consists of Pender's, Heath's and Anderson's divisions, and is about twenty-five or thirty thousand strong. We can take care of any Yankee force which may come at us in our present position. I have not seen Edwin in two days, and suppose he is strengthening the entrenchments here and there where they may chance to be defective.

My father wrote me that George was the liveliest child he ever saw, and that it was a matter of rejoicing when you and George were seen coming.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 53-4

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

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, June 26, 1862

Camp near Richmond, Va.,        

June 26, 1862.

I returned to camp on Monday because we expected to have a fight. Our brigade was ordered away last night with two days' rations, but I am left behind with the sick. There are a great many sick men in the hospitals and they are dying by the thousands. Our regiment has lost about one hundred men since we came to Virginia.

The enemy threw shells all about our camp yesterday and killed two horses, but only one man. It was a great day between our batteries and those of the enemy. They fired all day long, but as it was all at long taw little damage was done. I went out this morning to view the enemy, and could see them and their breastworks very distinctly.

Since I began writing this letter I hear a terrific cannonading on the left wing of our army, and I believe the battle has opened. I am informed that General Jackson is about there and that a fight will certainly take place this week.

You must be cheerful and take things easy, because I believe the war will soon be ended.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch , A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 14

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, June 29, 1862

Camp near Richmond, Va.,        

June 29, 1862.

I was correct in my last letter to you when I predicted that the great battle had commenced (Chickahominy or Gaines Mills). The conflict raged with great fury after I finished writing, and it lasted from three o'clock until ten that night. The cannonading was so continuous at one time that I could scarcely hear the musketry at all. There was one incessant boom and roar for three hours without any cessation. Next morning (28th) the battle began anew, but there was not nearly so much cannonading, because our men rushed upon the Yankees and took their cannon. The musketry, though, was terrific. It reminded me of myriads of hailstones falling upon a house top. I could see the smoke and the bombs burst in the air, and could hear the shouts of our men as they would capture the Yankee batteries.

Our brigade took the advance in the morning when the battle commenced, and after we routed them we did not get a chance to fight them again until we had driven them about eight or ten miles from where we started them. They rallied there and made a stand, but our troops rushed at them again and drove them to—God only knows where! A Yankee officer (a prisoner) told me they had no idea General Jackson was anywhere about here, and he acknowledged that General McClellan was completely outwitted. I tell you the Yankee "Napoleon” has been badly defeated.

Our colonel surprised his men by his bravery. My brother Billie is greatly mortified because he was too sick to be in the fight. He is still hardly able to walk. Our regiment had eight killed and forty wounded. Orr's Regiment and the First South Carolina were badly cut up in an attempt to capture a battery. (The former had 81 killed and 234 wounded, and the latter 20 killed and 125 wounded).

I was on the ground yesterday (Saturday) where some of the hardest fighting took place. The dead were lying everywhere and were very thick in some places. One of our regiments had camped in some woods there and the men were lying among the dead Yankees and seemed unconcerned.

The most saddening sight was the wounded at the hospitals, which were in various places on the battlefield. Not only are the houses full, but even the yards are covered with them. There are so many that most of them are much neglected. The people of Richmond are hauling them away as fast as possible. At one place I saw the Yankee wounded and their own surgeon attending to them. There are no crops or fences anywhere, and I saw nothing which had escaped the Yankees except one little Guinea fowl. I thought our army was bad enough, but the country over which the Yankees have been looks like some barren waste. On my way to the battlefield I met a negro who recognized me and told me that your brother Edwin was wounded in the breast and had gone to Richmond. I fear there is some truth in it.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 15-7

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, August 12, 1862

Near Orange Court House, Va.,        

August 12, 1862.

While we are resting a little I will endeavor to write you a few lines. We have been moving about continuously since I wrote to you on the 8th inst., and have had some hard times, I assure you. Most of our hard marching has been during the night, but much of it has been in the heat of the day. We have had nothing to eat but crackers and bacon, and not nearly enough of that.

We first (on the 9th inst.) marched up into Culpeper County, and were within two miles of the battlefield (of Cedar Mountain). It was a brilliant victory for us, as two of their dead to one of ours were left on the field. On the way we met a great many prisoners, who were lively and jocose and seemed glad they were taken.

The weather has been fine, although very hot. We had one hard shower of rain, and everybody stood and took it, as there was nothing else we could do. Tell your brother he should be glad he was wounded, for it has saved him many great hardships. I never murmur at these trials, though, as long as I can have good health.

Last night we began falling back. I suppose it was some strategic move and that we will continue these active operations until a decisive fight takes place. General Jackson will not be outgeneraled, and I believe he is sure to defeat Pope. I saw him (Jackson) this morning. He is a very ordinary looking man.

I would like to write you a longer letter, but have not the time. We are now drawing rations, and as soon as we get our meat boiled will start again. I must close, as preparations are being made to leave, so good-by for this time.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 17-9

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, August 18, 1862

Orange County, Va.,        

August 18, 1862.

On leaving our last camp we first went back five miles in a northerly direction to Orange Court House, and we thought Jackson intended to take us over the same road we had fallen back on a few days before; but from there we took the road to Fredericksburg. Then everyone said we were going to Fredericksburg. That was a mistake also, for after going about ten miles we turned to the left and went three miles toward the Rapidan River, and have stopped at this place. It is believed that Jackson intended to cross the river and flank Pope, and that the Yankees got wind of it. They were on a mountain and may have seen our large force moving. Jackson is a general who is full of resources, and if he fails in one plan he will try another.

The men stood the march better than at any previous time. The health of the brigade has improved since we are where we can breathe the pure mountain air. This beautiful country, with its mountains and rolling hills, is enough to make any sick man feel better. We all sleep out in the open air—officers as well as privates—although the weather is becoming quite cool and signs of autumn begin to appear. The crops of corn are magnificent and are almost matured, but wherever our army goes, roasting ears and green apples suffer. I have often read of how armies are disposed to pillage and plunder, but could never conceive of it before. Whenever we stop for twenty-four hours every corn field and orchard within two or three miles is completely stripped. The troops not only rob the fields, but they go to the houses and insist on being fed, until they eat up everything about a man's premises which can be eaten. Most of them pay for what they get at the houses, and are charged exorbitant prices, but a hungry soldier will give all he has for something to eat, and will then steal when hunger again harasses him. When in health and tormented by hunger he thinks of little else besides home and something to eat. He does not seem to dread the fatiguing marches and arduous duties.

A wounded soldier who has been in Jackson's army for a long time told me his men had but one suit of clothes each, and whenever a suit became very dirty the man would pull it off and wash it and then wait until it dried. I believe this to be a fact, because when I see Jackson's old troop on the march none have any load to carry except a blanket, and many do not even have a blanket; but they always appear to be in fine spirits and as healthy and clean as any of our men.The force we have here now is a mammoth one. I am told that Lee and Johnson are both here, and I am anxious for our army to engage Pope. Whenever we start on a march I am impatient to go on and fight it out, for we are confident we can whip the enemy.

We are now cooking up two days' rations and are ordered to have them in our haversacks and be ready to move at sundown, but we may not go at that time, because we sometimes receive such orders and then do not leave for a day or two. I will write again whenever I have a chance.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 19-21

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, Sunday, June 12, 1864

Lexington, Rockbridge County, June 12 (Sunday), 1864.

Dearest: — I just hear that a mail goes tomorrow. We captured this town after an artillery and sharpshooter fight of three hours, yesterday P. M. My brigade had the advance for two days and all the casualties, or nearly all, fell to me. [A] first lieutenant of [the] Fifth Virginia killed and one private; three privates of [the] Thirty-sixth killed and ten to fifteen wounded. [The] Twenty-third had no loss. Very noisy affair, but not dangerous.

This is a fine town. Stonewall Jackson's grave and the Military Institute are here. Many fine people. Secesh are not at all bitter and many are Union.

I am more pleased than ever with General Crook and my brigade, etc., but some things done here are not right. General Hunter will be as odious as Butler or Pope to the Rebels and not gain our good opinion either. You will hear of it in Rebel papers, I suspect.

Weather fine and all our movements are successful. The Rebels have been much crippled already by our doings. We are probably moving towards Lynchburg. If so you will have heard of our fortunes from other sources before this reaches you.

I got a pretty little cadet musket here which I will try to send the boys. Dear boys, love to them and the tenderest affection for you. — Good-bye.

[R. B. Hayes.]

Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 474

Diary of Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Sunday, June 5, 1864

From three miles west of Millboro to one mile beyond Goshen; about thirteen to fourteen miles. Rained last night. Our march today impeded by a small body of Rebel cavalry. Rumors of Jackson, McCausland, and General Morgan, all hurrying to Staunton to oppose Hunter or our command. Perhaps both in detail. Bad strategy to propose to unite two forces in the enemy's lines. Struck the Virginia Central one hundred and seventy-five [miles] from Richmond near Goshen. Our route through narrow valleys or canons where a small force can easily hold a large one.

Now (3 P. M.) we are waiting as rear brigade, on a pretty stream, for the leading brigade, Colonel White's, to drive a party of Rebels through a narrow gap on railroad from Millboro to Goshen. They turn the position and we go on. We lose two or three slightly wounded and capture four or five Rebels and wound three others badly. Goshen a pretty place in the mountains. We cross no high mountain today.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 470

Major-General William T. Sherman to Major-General Henry W. Halleck, September 17, 1863

HEADQUARTERS FIFTEENTH ARMY CORPS,                       

Camp on Big Black, Miss., September 17, 1863.

Maj. Gen. H. W. HALLECK,

General-in-Chief, Washington, D.C.:

DEAR GENERAL: I have received your letter of August 29, and with pleasure confide to you fully my thoughts on the important matters you suggest, with absolute confidence that you will use what is valuable and reject the useless or superfluous.

That part of the continent of North America known as Louisiana, Mississippi, and Arkansas is in my judgment the key to the whole interior. The Valley of the Mississippi is America, and although railroads have changed the economy of intercommunication, yet the water channels still mark the lines of fertile land and afford carriage to the heavy products of it. The inhabitants of the country on the Monongahela, the Illinois, the Minnesota, the Yellowstone, and Osage are as directly concerned in the security of the Lower Mississippi as are those who dwell on its very banks in Louisiana, and now that the nation has recovered its possession this generation of men would commit a fearful mistake if we again commit its charge to a people liable to mistake their title, and assert, as was recently done, treat because they dwell by sufferance on the banks of this mighty stream they had a right to control its navigation.

I would deem it very unwise at this time, or for years to come, to revive the State Governments of Louisiana, &c., or to institute in this quarter any civil government in which the local people have much to say. They had a government, and so mild and paternal that they gradually forgot they had any at all, save what they themselves controlled; they asserted absolute right to seize public moneys, forts, arms, and even to shut up the natural avenues of travel and commerce. They chose war; they ignored and denied all the obligations of the solemn contract of government and appealed to force. We accepted the issue, and now they begin to realize that war is a two-edged sword, and, it may be, that many of the inhabitants cry for peace. I know them well and the very impulses of their nature; and to deal with the inhabitants of that part of the South which borders the great river we must recognize the classes into which they have naturally divided themselves.

First, the large planters owning lands, slaves, and all kinds of personal property. These are on type whole the ruling class. They are educated, wealthy, and easily approached. In some districts they are as bitter as gall, and have given up slaves, plantations, and all, serving in the armies of the Confederacy, whereas in others they are conservative. None dare admit a friendship to us, though they say freely that they were opposed to war and disunion. I know we can manage this class, but only by action; argument is exhausted, and words have not their usual meaning. Nothing but the logic of events touches their understanding, but of late this has worked a wonderful change. If our country were like Europe, crowded with people, I would say it would be easier to replace this population than to reconstruct it subordinate to the policy of the nation; but as this is not the case, it is better to allow them, with individual exceptions, gradually to recover their plantations, to hire any species of labor, and adapt themselves to the new order of things. Still their friendship and assistance to reconstruct order out of the present ruin cannot be depended on. They watch the operations of our armies, and hope still for a Southern Confederacy that will restore to them the slaves and privileges which they feel are otherwise lost forever. In my judgment we have two more battles to win before we should even bother our minds with the idea of restoring civil order, viz, one near Meridian in November, and one near Shreveport in February and March, when Red River is navigable by our gunboats. When these are done, then, and not until then, win the planters of Louisiana, Arkansas, and Mississippi submit. Slavery is already gone, and to cultivate the land negro or other labor must be hired. This of itself is a vast revolution, and time must be afforded to allow men to adjust their minds and habits to the new order of things. A civil government of the representative type would suit this class far less than a pure military rule, one readily adapting itself to actual occurrences and able to enforce its laws and orders promptly and emphatically.

Second, the smaller farmers, mechanics, merchants, and laborers. This class will probably number three-fourths of the whole, have in fact no real interest in the establishment of a Southern Confederacy, and have been led or driven into war on the false theory that they were to be benefited somehow, they knew not how. They are essentially tired of the war, and would slink back home if they could. These are the real tiers-état of the South, and are hardly worthy a thought, for they swerve to and fro according to events they do not comprehend or attempt to shape. When the time for reconstruction comes they will want the old political system of caucuses, legislatures, &c., something to amuse them and make them believe they are achieving wonders, but in all things they will follow blindly the lead of the planter. The Southern politicians, who understand this class, use them as the French use their masses. Seemingly consulting their prejudices, they make their orders and enforce them. We should do the same.

Third, the Union men of the South. I must confess I have little respect for this class. They allowed a clamorous set of demagogues to muzzle and drive them as a pack of curs. Afraid of shadows, they submit tamely to squads of dragoons, and permit them, without a murmur to burn their cotton, take their horses, corn, and everything, and when we reach them they are full of complaints if our men take a few fence rails for fire or corn to feed our horses. They give us no assistance or information, and are loudest in the complaints at the smallest excess of our soldiers. Their sons, horses, arms, and everything useful are in the army against us, and they stay at home, claiming all the exemptions of peaceful citizens. I account them as nothing in this great game.

Fourth, the young bloods of the South, sons of planters, lawyers about towns, good billiard players, and sportsmen—men who never did work nor never will. War suits them, and the rascals are brave; fine riders, bold to rashness, and dangerous subjects in every sense. They care not a sou for niggers, land, or anything. They hate Yankees per se, and don't bother their brains about the past, present, or future. As long as they have good horses, plenty of forage, and an open country, they are happy. This is a larger class than most men supposed, and are the most dangerous set of men which this war has turned loose upon the world. They are splendid riders, shots, and utterly reckless. Stuart, John Morgan, Forrest, and Jackson are the types and leaders of this class. This class of men must all be killed or employed by us before we can hope for peace. They have no property or future, and therefore cannot be influenced by anything except personal considerations. I have two brigades of these fellows to my front, commanded by Cosby, of the old army, and Whitfield, of Texas, Stephen D. Lee in command of the whole. I have frequent interviews with the officers and a good understanding. Am inclined to think when the resources of their country are exhausted we must employ them. They are the best cavalry in the world, but it will tax Mr. Chase's genius of finance to supply them with horses. At present horses cost them nothing, for they take where they find and don't bother their brains who is to pay for them. Some of the corn-fields which have, as they believe, been cultivated by a good-natured people for their special benefit, we propose to share with them the free use of these corn-fields planted by willing hands that will never gather it.

Now that I have sketched the people who inhabit the district of country under consideration, I will proceed to discuss the future. A civil government for any part of it would be simply ridiculous. The people would not regard it, and even the military commanders of the antagonistic party would treat it lightly. Governors would be simply petitioners for military assistance to protect supposed friendly interests, and military commanders would refuse to disperse and weaken their armies for military reasons. Jealousies would arise between the two conflicting powers, and instead of contributing to the end we all have in view, would actually defer it. Therefore I contend that the interests of the United States and of the real parties concerned demand the continuance of the simple military rule till long after all the organized armies of the South are dispersed, conquered, and subjugated. All this region is represented in the Army of Virginia, Charleston, Mobile, and Chattanooga. They have sons and relations in each, and naturally are interested in their fate. Though we hold military possession of the key-points of this country, still they contend, and naturally, that should Lee succeed in Virginia or Bragg at Chattanooga, a change will occur here also. We cannot for this reason attempt to reconstruct parts of the South as we conquer it till all idea of the establishment of a Southern Confederacy is abandoned. We should avail ourselves of the lull here to secure the geographical points that give us advantage in future military movements, and should treat the idea of civil government as one in which we as a nation have a minor or subordinate interest. The opportunity is good to impress on the population the truth that they are more interested in civil government than we are, and that to enjoy the protection of laws they must not be passive observers of events, but must aid and sustain the constituted authorities in enforcing the laws; they must not only submit themselves, but pay their taxes and render personal services when called on. It seems to me, in contemplating the past two years history, all the people of our country, North, South, East, and West have been undergoing a salutary political schooling, learning lessons which might have been taught all by the history of other people, but we had all become so wise in our own conceit that we would only learn by actual experience of our own.

The people, even of small and unimportant localities, North as well as South, had reasoned themselves into the belief that their opinions were superior to the aggregated interest of the whole nation. Half our territorial nation rebelled on a doctrine of secession that they themselves now scout, and a real numerical majority actually believed that a little State was endowed with such sovereignty that it could defeat the policy of the great whole. I think the present war has exploded that notion, and were this war to cease now, the experience gained, though dear, would be worth the expense.

Another great and important natural truth is still in contest and can only be solved by war. Numerical majorities by vote is our great arbiter. Heretofore all have submitted to it in questions left open, but numerical majorities are not necessarily physical majorities. The South, though numerically inferior, contend they can whip the Northern superiority of numbers, and therefore by natural law are not bound to submit. This issue is the only real one, and in my judgment all else should be deferred to it. War alone can decide it, and it is the only question left to us as a people. Can we whip the South? If we can, our numerical majority has both the natural and constitutional right to govern. If we cannot whip them, they contend for the natural right to select their own government, and they have the argument. Our armies must prevail over theirs. Our officers, marshals, and courts must penetrate into the innermost recesses of their land before we have the natural right to demand their submission.

I would banish all minor questions and assert the broad doctrine, that as a nation the United States has the right, and also the physical power, to penetrate to every part of the national domain, and that we will do it; that we will do it in our own time, and in our own way; that it makes no difference whether it be in one year or two, or ten or twenty; that we will remove and destroy every obstacle—if need be, take every life, every acre of land, every particle of property, everything that to us seems proper; that we will not cease until the end is attained. That all who do not aid are enemies, and we will not account to them for our acts. If the people of the South oppose, they do so at their peril; and if they stand by mere lookers-on the domestic tragedy, they have no right to immunity, protection, or share in the final result.

I even believe, and contend further, that in the North every member of the nation is bound by both natural and constitutional to "maintain and defend the Government against all its opposers whomsoever." If they fail to do it they are derelict., and can be punished or deprived of all advantage arising from the labors of those who do. If any man, North or South, withholds his share of taxes or physical assistance in this crisis of our history, he should and could be deprived of all voice in the future elections of this country, and might be banished or reduced to the condition of a denizen of the land.

War is upon us; none can deny it. It is not the act of the Government of the United States but of a faction. The Government was forced to accept the issue or submit to a degradation fatal and disgraceful to all the inhabitants. In accepting war it should be pure and simple as applied to the belligerents. I would keep it so till all traces of the war are effaced; till those who appealed to it are sick and tired of it, and come to the emblem of our nation and sue for peace. I would not coax them or even meet them half way, but make them so sick of war that generations would pass before they would again appeal to it.

I know what I say when I repeat that the insurgents of the South sneer at all overtures looking to their interest. They scorn the alliance with copperheads. They tell me to my face that they respect Grant, McPherson, and our brave associates who fight manfully and well for a principle, but despise the copperheads and sneaks who profess friendship for the South and opposition to the war as mere covers for their knavery and poltroonery.

God knows that I deplored this fratricidal war as much as any man living; but it is upon us, a physical fact, and there is only one honorable issue from it. We must fight it out, army against army and man against man, and I know and you know and civilians begin to realize the fact that reconciliation and reconstruction will be easier through and by means of strong, well-equipped and organized armies than through any species of conventions that can be framed. The issues are made, and all discussion is out of place and ridiculous.

The section of 30-pounder Parrott rifles now drilling before my tent is a more convincing argument than the largest Democratic meeting the State of New York could assemble at Albany, and a simple order of the War Department to draft enough men to fill our skeleton regiments would be more convincing as to our national perpetuity than an humble pardon to Jeff. Davis and all his misled host.

The only government now needed or deserved by the States of Louisiana, Arkansas, and Mississippi now exists in Grant's army. It needs simply enough privates to fill its ranks; all else will follow in due season. This army has its well-defined code of laws and practice, and can adapt itself to the wants and necessities of a city, the country, the rivers, the sea; indeed, to all parts of this land. It better subserves the interest and policy of the General Government, and the people prefer it to any weak or servile combination that would at once, from force of habit, revive and perpetuate local prejudices and passions. The people of this country have forfeited all right to a voice in the councils of the nation. They know it and feel it, and in after years they will be the better citizens from the dear-bought experience of the present crisis. Let them learn now, and learn it well, that good citizens must obey as well as command. Obedience to law—absolute, yea, even abject—is the lesson that this war, under Providence, will teach the free and enlightened American citizen; as a nation we will be the better for it. I never have apprehended foreign interference in our family quarrel. Of course governments founded on a different, and it may be antagonistic, principle with ours, would naturally feel a pleasure at our complications, but in the end England and France will join with us in jubilations in the triumph of a constitutional government over faction; even now the English manifest this.

I do not profess to understand Napoleon's design in Mexico, but I do not see that his taking military possession of Mexico concerns us. We have as much territory as we want. The Mexicans have failed in self-government, and it was a question to what nation she would fall a prey. That is solved, and I don't see that we are damaged. We have the finest part of the North American continent, all we can people and take care of, and if we can suppress rebellion in our land and compose the strife generated by it, we will have people, resources, and wealth which, if well combined, can defy interference from any and every quarter.

I therefore hope the Government of the United States will continue as heretofore in collecting in well-organized armies the physical strength of the nation; apply it as heretofore in asserting the national authority, persevering without relaxation to the end. This, whether near or far off, is not for us to say, but, fortunately, we have no choice. We must succeed; no other choice is left us but degradation. The South must be ruled or will rule. We must conquer them ourselves or be conquered. There is no middle course. They ask and will have nothing else, and all the talk of compromise is bosh, for we know they would even now scorn the offer. I wish the war could have been deferred for twenty years, till the superabundant population of the North should flow in and replace the losses sustained by war, but this could not be, and we are forced to take things as they arise.

All therefore I can now venture to advise is the pushing the draft to its maximum, fill the present regiments to as large a standard as possible, and push the war, pure and simple.

Great attention should be paid to the discipline of our armies, for on them will be founded the future stability of our Government. The cost of the war is of course to be considered, but finances will adjust themselves to the-actual state of affairs, and even if we would we could not change the cost. Indeed, the larger the cost now the less will it be in the end, for the end must be attained somehow, regardless of cost of life and treasure, and is merely a question of time.

Excuse so long a letter.

With great respect,

W. T. SHERMAN,                

Major-general.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 30, Part 3 (Serial No. 52), p. 694-700

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

Lieutenant-Colonel William T. Lusk to Lou Thompson, July 7, 1863

Headquarters Delaware Department,

Wilmington, Del., July 7th, 1863.

Dear, dear Cousin Lou:

I said I would write you so soon as the full purport of the good news was ascertained. And now that it has all broken upon us, although my heels are where my head ought to be, I will try and fulfil my engagement as coherently as possible. We have had the dark hour. The dawn has broken, and the collapsed confederacy has no place where it can hide its head. Bells are ringing wildly all over the city. Citizens grin at one another with fairly idiotic delight. One is on the top of his house frantically swinging a dinner bell, contributing thus his share of patriotic clamor to the general ding-dong. Bully for him! How I envy the heroes of Meade's Army. It would be worth while to die, in order that one's friends might say, “He died at Gettysburg.” But to live to hear all the good news, and now to learn that Vicksburg has surrendered, is a little too much happiness for poor mortal men. I can laugh, I can cry with joy. All hysterical nonsense is pardonable now. Manassas, twice repeated, Fredericksburg and Chickahominy! Bless them as the cruel training that has made us learn our duties to our country. Slavery has fallen, and I believe Heaven as well as earth rejoices. Providence has tenderly removed that grand old hero, Jackson, before the blow came, that the one good, earnest, misguided man might be spared the sight of the downfall of a cause fanaticism led him to believe was right. Slink away ye copperheads to your native slime, and there await until in Hell is ready the place your master has prepared for you! There, Oh Fernando, go reign in torment to all eternity! These enthusiastic citizens of Wilmington, not content with bell-ringing, have taken to firing cannon, and the boys, to help matters, are discharging pistols into empty barrels. The people in a little semi-slaveholding State, when not downright traitors, are noisily, obstreperously loyal, to a degree that New England can hardly conceive of. My letter must be short and jubilant, I cannot do anything long to-day.

Just dance through the house for me, and kiss every one you meet. So I feel now. Good-bye.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 284-5

Diary of William Howard Russell: July 4, 1861

“Independence Day.” Fortunate to escape this great national festival in the large cities of the Union where it is celebrated with many days before and after of surplus rejoicing, by fireworks and an incessant fusillade in the streets, I was, nevertheless, subjected to the small ebullition of the Washington juveniles, to bell-ringing and discharges of cannon and musketry. On this day Congress meets. Never before has any legislative body assembled under circumstances so grave. By their action they will decide whether the Union can ever be restored, and will determine whether the States of the North are to commence an invasion for the purpose of subjecting by force of arms, and depriving of their freedom, the States of the South.

Congress met to-day merely for the purpose of forming itself into a regular body, and there was no debate or business of public importance introduced. Mr. Wilson gave me to understand, however, that some military movements of the utmost importance might be expected in a few days, and that General McDowell would positively attack the rebels in front of Washington. The Confederates occupy the whole of Northern Virginia, commencing from the peninsula above Fortress Monroe on the right or east, and extending along the Potomac, to the extreme verge of the State, by the Baltimore and Ohio Railway. This immense line, however, is broken by great intervals, and the army with which McDowell will have to deal may be considered as detached, covering the approaches to Richmond, whilst its left flank is protected by a corps of observation, stationed near Winchester, under General Jackson. A Federal corps is being prepared to watch the corps and engage it, whilst McDowell advances on the main body, To the right of this again, or further west, another body of Federals, under General McClellan, is operating in the valleys of the Shenandoah and in Western Virginia; but I did not hear of any of these things from Mr. Wilson, who was, I am sure, in perfect ignorance of the plans, in a military sense, of the General. I sat at Mr. Sumner's desk, and wrote the final paragraphs of a letter describing my impressions of the South in a place but little disposed to give a favorable color to them.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, Vol. 1, p. 378-9

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, December 22, 1862

Camp Near Falmouth, Va.

Dec. 22nd, 1862.

My dear Mother:

Since the late disastrous affair at Fredericksburg, as before, I look in vain for some tidings from you. These mails! As for me, it is of less importance, for the letters you write me will eventually reach me, but with you I hope that long ere this, you may have had the pleasant tidings of my safety throughout the late battle. Of that fight I have not words to express my indignation. It was so uncalled for. Not being a participant myself, only an anxious witness, I can fully appreciate the terrible character of the massacre. No one was more desirous than I for an onward movement, but not for such an one. The idea of an attempt directly in the front was scouted at by those who professed to know, as sheer madness, concerning which the result could not be doubtful. Yet it was attempted, but at whose orders we cannot tell. Rumors reach us of the resignation of Lincoln's Cabinet. God grant this be true. We may fall into worse hands, but there is the hope of something better. I have lost faith in Halleck, and for this reason. Last summer I wrote Walter I had cheered the last time for McClellan. I did this on the authority of Gen. Halleck. Halleck was an unsuccessful competitor of Stevens for the honors of his class. At Newport News Halleck had an interview with Stevens, the result of which I afterwards learned. In this interview Halleck represented McClellan as solely responsible for the misfortunes of the Peninsula; represented that McClellan had received everything from the administration he had requested; that McClellan was responsible for the division in his command, resulting in the creation of McDowell's Department. This and much else against McClellan, which Halleck's subsequent report, and the revelations from the McDowell Court of Inquiry, prove to have been base and malignant falsehoods. Since then it has been my good fortune to have been twice in battle under McClellan. How admirably those battles were planned and executed, I, who have seen so much mismanagement, so many defeats, know best how to appreciate. Therefore I say, as I heard a rebel officer once say “God bless old Stonewall Jackson,” ‘God bless McClellan.” We have had enough of Halleck — and disgrace.

Mother, do not wonder that my loyalty is growing weak. I love the Nation too well to willingly pardon the “unfortunate Abraham Lincoln” as the London Times so aptly calls him. With resources enough to have long since ended the controversy, with resources enough to end it before the opening of Spring, sixty years will not end it if we are obliged to sustain the paltry policy of the administration. I am sick and tired of disaster, and the fools that bring disaster upon us. I believe Burnside to be brave and honest, a good soldier and worthy of honor, but I know that no one in this country has a heartier esteem for McClellan than he. No one bends more to McClellan than Gen. Burnside. The President I doubt not is honest, but “let the shoemaker stick to the last.” Let Lincoln turn his talents to splitting rails. I prefer George McClellan to Abraham Lincoln, as the Commander-in-Chief of the Army. The same energy, the same good-sense, the same foresight exhibited by us that the South has shown, and the rebellion is a dead letter. The same fatal disregard of common sense on our part, and the Southern independence is won. At least so I feel, and so I write strongly, who so earnestly pray for the triumph of our cause.

I have just received your letter, and feel truly thankful to learn you had heard of my safety previous to the arrival of my own letter written the day after we recrossed the Rappahannock. Day before yesterday I was on picket, and saw several officers of the rebel service who came to our lines under a flag of truce. One of them who came from near Atlanta, told me he knew Alfred Tyler; that it was a mistake that Alfred was on Gen. Lawton's staff; that, on the contrary, he still was employed on the Macon and Atlanta R. R., and was reputed to be one of the truest supporters of the Southern movement in his district. The same officer, Capt. McBride, appeared to know enough of Tyler's family and family affairs to make his statement worthy of credit. The same officer further told me that among the brave officers of his army that fell at Fredericksburg, was Henry Lord King, whom you will remember was an old admirer of Sarah Phelps. King fell, pierced by nine minie balls, in the attack made on our left (Franklin's Division). Morrison professes to be a strong supporter of mine now. He says that there had been so much intriguing in the Regiment, that he suspected me for some time, but my action with regard to More has fully satisfied him, and he professes himself anxious to serve me in any way. What the professions are worth I have yet to learn.

Give my best, my dearest love to my sisters. Tell Uncle Phelps that I leave my proposition to be settled according to his judgment, and with best love to him and all my friends, I remain,

Your affec. son,

W. T. Lusk.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 254-7

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Sardis Birchard, May 17, 1863

Camp White, May 17, 1863.

Dear Uncle:— . . . We are in no danger here. We have built a tolerably good fort which we can hold against superior forces perhaps a week or two or more. We have a gunboat which will be useful as long as the river is navigable. My whole brigade has been here. The most of it is good and the rest is improving.

I like your bank project.

The Richmond hoax was a severe one. It did not reach us in a way to command belief. I still stick to Hooker. The Rebel loss of Jackson gives us the best of that effort. I hope the Potomac Army will get a victory sometime.

Sincerely,

R. B. Hayes.

S. BlRCHARD.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 410

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, September 4, 1862

Headquarters 1st Div. Reno's Command,

Near Alexandria, Sept. 4th, 1862.

Dear Mother:

Once more, after a lapse of nearly five weeks, am I able to write you again. During this time we have been cut off from all communication with our friends, we have been busily employed, and have suffered much. I have lost my good friend, Genl. Stevens, who has been sacrificed by little men who can poorly fill his place. Whenever anything desperate was to be performed, Stevens and Kearny were always selected, with this difference though, that Stevens rarely was credited with what he did, while Kearny's praises were properly published. On Monday's fight, the General's son and I were walking together in the rear of the 79th Regiment, when Capt. Stevens was wounded. Finding that young Stevens was able to move off without assistance, I continued to follow the Regiment. Soon the General came up on foot. “Have you seen your son?” I asked him. “Yes,” said he, “I know he is wounded,” and then added, “Capt. Lusk, I wish you would pass to the left of the line, and push the men forward in that direction.” I did as I was ordered, and on my return, found the General had been killed, and the troops badly slaughtered. The General you have read was shot while holding the flag of the 79th Regiment in his hand.

There were five shot holding the same flag in about twenty minutes time. I found the sixth man standing almost alone at the edge of some woods still clinging hopelessly to the colors. I drew him back to the crest of a hill a couple of hundred yards back and gathered a few of the 79th about it. Kearny then came riding up, and asked the name of the little band. On being told, he said, “Scotchmen, you must follow me.” They told him they had not a round of ammunition left. “Well,” said he then, “stand where you are and it may be you will be able to assist my men with the bayonet.” The soldierly form moved on, and it too soon was dust. Stevens was a great man and Kearny a courageous soldier. It is not every man of whom this last can be said, though the country may have placed him high in power. I suppose I must not tell all I have seen in the last few days fighting, but I have seen enough to make it no matter of wonder at the extent of our disaster. I have read little truth as yet in the papers, though I see the people are beginning to feel the truth. So long as the interests of our country are entrusted to a lying braggart like Pope, or a foolish little Dutchman like Sigel, we have little reason to hope successfully to compete with an army led by Lee, Johnston and old "Stonewall" Jackson. Carl Schurz, our lately returned minister to Spain, I found blundering horribly. Schenck was a laughable instance of incompetence, and so with others. You must be careful to whom you repeat these things, and yet there is much which it were better were known, for our soldiers are not deceived by lying reports. They feel whom they can trust, and are not willing to fight for men like McDowell and that ilk. McClellan's reappointment gives great satisfaction to the soldiers. Whether right or wrong they believe in him.

I expect to get my back letters to-day, and then what a treat. I am still very much fatigued by the last month, and like to rest all I can.

Good-bye. Kisses and love to all.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 180-1