Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 28, 1861

Beauregard offers battle again on the plains of Manassas; but it is declined by the enemy, who retire behind their fortifications. Our banners are advanced to Munson's Hill, in sight of Washington. The Northern President and his cabinet may see our army, with good glasses, from the roof of the White House. It is said they sleep in their boots; and that some of them leave the city every night, for fear of being captured before morning.

Generals Johnston, Wise, and Floyd are sending here, daily, the Union traitors they discover to be in communication with the enemy. We have a Yankee member of Congress, Ely, taken at Manassas; he rode out to witness the sport of killing rebels as terriers kill rats, but was caught in the trap himself. He says his people were badly whipped; and he hopes they will give up the job of subjugation as a speculation that won't pay. Most of the prisoners speak thus while in confinement.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 75-6

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw, September 2, 1863

Centreville, Sept. 2d.

Did I tell you that I saw my classmate, William J. Potter, in Washington? Potter was settled as clergyman in New Bedford, was drafted, preached an excellent sermon on the “draft,” saying he should go if accepted, and that meanwhile (previous to the examination) he should use every means to improve his muscle and should feel much humiliation if rejected as unfit to fight for his country.¹ Some one sent the sermon to Stanton; Stanton wrote asking him to come at once to Washington. Potter declined, saying “if accepted he should be under orders, but he preferred to take his chance with others.” He was accepted, and just afterward received another letter from Stanton asking him as a particular favour to come on and confer with him; so Potter was in Washington as an enlisted man on furlough, in a full suit of black. Stanton had had one “conference” with him, and finding that he did not think himself very fit for a chaplaincy with a regiment, had told him he wanted to keep him in Washington, that he wanted such men there, and had proposed to make him chaplain to a hospital, pro forma, with outside duties, — Potter was to see him again in the evening and to breakfast with him the next morning. Such little things as that make me like Stanton, with all his ferocity of manner. He acts on impulses. and is often wrong, but oftener right; on large questions, he is almost always right, I believe. I think . Stanton must have the credit in the Cabinet of having carried through the “Negro Army,” in spite of great opposition there, and some doubts at the White House. It was very pleasant to see old Potter again, coming out all right.

_______________

¹ Mr. William [James] Potter, of Quaker ancestry and great virtues and gifts, was pastor of a large, intelligent, and rich society in New Bedford, Massachusetts, and highly esteemed. On July 3, 1863, he was drafted for a soldier, under the new Conscription Act. On the following Sunday he preached to his people a manly sermon, “The Voice of the Draft,” from the text “Make full proof of thy ministry” (2 Tim. iv, 5), strongly stating the duty and privilege, even for scholars and men with no natural military tastes, to serve in such a war, in such an emergency of the country. Secretary Stanton read it, and had it at once published in the Army and Navy Gazette, as the word for the hour. He set Mr. Potter the important task of visiting and inspecting all the U. S. hospitals in or near Washington, which he did well and thoroughly, reporting their needs. Then, as chaplain to the convalescent hospital, he lived there in a little hut with his young wife, but resigned to join in the vast and beneficent work of the Sanitary Commission. Afterwards he returned to his church in New Bedford. He was one of the founders and chief workers in the Free Religious Association.

When young Potter was in college, he began to feel strongly drawn to the ministry, yet sorely doubting his fitness. “What society or sect must I go with, believing with none? I have in my mind, it is true, an ideal minister, different from any real one whom it was ever my lot to know.” His success was in the measure he approached this ideal.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 299-301, 442-3

Diary of Salmon P. Chase, Saturday, September 6, 1862

Genl. and Mrs. Worthington breakfasted with me; — also Genl. McDowell and Mr. Haven[.]

After Breakfast, Genl. McDowell read me the draft of his letter, which I thought excellent, but suggested one or two modifications which he adopted. I then went to the Department.

Soon after, the President came in, and asked what McDowell had determined to do. I told him. “Where is the letter?” He took it, intending to have it copied I suppose. “Well, it ought to be done immediately; for the corps must march, and Genl. Halleck feels that he must be relieved, at all events, from command. Where can he be found?” — “I cannot tell. An orderly, no doubt, can find him.” The President went away, and, later in the day, I heard that Genl. McDowell had been relieved at his own request. He came in himself, afterwards, stating the fact and adding. “I did not ask to be relieved — I only asked for a court.” I explained as well as I could, and he left me.

Afterwards, I started to War Department, but meet Seward, who said Stanton was not there. Went to President's, where Stanton was. He spoke of McDowell's letter, and praised it in the strongest terms.

Mr. Barney came this morning about the labor contract in New York, about which quite a difference of opinion and interest exists — one or two of our most influential journals being concerned in its continuance. The question was, whether the Contract, by its own terms, was not limited to three years, and whether an extension of it beyond that time would be, in reality, a new Contract. Doubting on the point, I referred it to the Attorney-General, who returned an answer expressing a decided opinion that the Contract was so limited and could not be extended without a new Contract. — Before receiving this opinion, I telegraphed Mr. Field to come on, if he desired to say anything further!

In the evening, Genl. Pope came in. He expressed strong indignation against Fitz-John Porter and McClellan, who had, as he believed, prevented his success. He wanted his Report published, as an act of justice to himself and his army. I stated my objection to present publication, on the ground of injury to service at this critical time; but said that a General Order, thanking his army for what they had done ought to be promulgated. He said this would be satisfactory, (partially so, at least) but that Halleck would not publish one. I said, I would see the President and urge it.

(Mr Barney and others also called, — B. having declined invitation to breakfast, but said he would come at nine, to meet Field who telegraphed he would come and call at that hour. — ) Maj. Andrews came in and spoke so of Col. Crook, that I agreed to ask that he be make Brigadier-General. Major Andrew wrote a statement of what Crook did in Western Virginia.

SOURCE: Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 67-8

Diary of Gideon Welles: Sunday, September 7, 1862

The report prevalent yesterday that the Rebels had crossed the upper Potomac at or near the Point of Rocks is confirmed, and it is pretty authentic that large reinforcements have since been added.

Found Chase in Secretary's room at the War Department with D. D. Field. No others present. Some talk about naval matters. Field censorious and uncomfortable. General Pope soon came in but stayed only a moment. Was angry and vehement. He and Chase had a brief conversation apart, when he returned to Stanton's room.

When I started to come away, Chase followed, and after we came down stairs asked me to walk with him to the President's. As we crossed the lawn, he said with emotion everything was going wrong. He feared the country was ruined. McClellan was having everything his own way, as he (Chase) anticipated he would if decisive measures were not promptly taken for his dismissal. It was a reward for perfidy. My refusal to sign the paper he had prepared was fraught with great evil to the country. I replied that I viewed that matter differently. My estimate of McClellan was in some respects different from his. I agreed he wanted decision, that he hesitated to strike, had also behaved badly in the late trouble, but I did not believe he was unfaithful and destitute of patriotism. But aside from McClellan, and the fact that it would, with the feeling which pervaded the army, have been an impolitic step to dismiss him, the proposed combination in the Cabinet would have been inexcusably wrong to the President. We had seen the view which the President took of the matter and how he felt at the meeting of the Cabinet on Tuesday. From what I have seen and heard within the last few days, the more highly do I appreciate the President's judgment and sagacity in the stand he made, and the course he took. Stanton has carried his dislike or hatred of McC. to great lengths, and from free intercourse with Chase has enlisted him, and to some extent influenced all of us against that officer, who has failings enough of his own to bear without the addition of Stanton's enmity to his own infirmities. Seward, in whom McC. has confided more than any member of the Administration, from the common belief that Seward was supreme, yielded to Stanton's malignant feelings, and yet, not willing to encounter that officer, he went off to Auburn, expecting the General would be disposed of whilst he was away. The President, who, like the rest of us, has seen and felt McClellan's deficiencies and has heard Stanton's and Halleck's complaints more than we have, finally, and I think not unwillingly, consented to bring Pope here in front of Washington; was also further persuaded by Stanton and Chase to recall the army from Richmond and turn the troops over to Pope. Most of this originated, and has been matured, in the War Department, Stanton and Chase being the pioneers, Halleck assenting, the President and Seward under stress of McClellan's disease “the slows,” and with the reverses before Richmond, falling in with the idea that a change of commanders and a change of base was necessary. The recall of the army from the vicinity of Richmond I thought wrong, and I know it was in opposition to the opinion of some of the best military men in the service. Placing Pope over them roused the indignation of many. But in this Stanton had a purpose to accomplish, and in bringing first Pope here, then by Pope's assistance and General Scott's advice bringing Halleck, and concerting measures which followed, he succeeded in breaking down and displacing McClellan, but not in dismissing and disgracing him. This the President would not do or permit to be done, though he was more offended with McC. than he ever was before. In a brief conversation with him as we were walking together on Friday, the President said with much emphasis: “I must have McClellan to reorganize the army and bring it out of chaos, but there has been a design, a purpose in breaking down Pope, without regard of consequences to the country. It is shocking to see and know this; but there is no remedy at present, McClellan has the army with him.”

My convictions are with the President that McClellan and his generals are this day stronger than the Administration with a considerable portion of this Army of the Potomac. It is not so elsewhere with the soldiers, or in the country, where McClellan has lost favor. The people are disappointed in him, but his leading generals have contrived to strengthen him in the hearts of the soldiers in front of Washington.

Chase and myself found the President alone this Sunday morning. We canvassed fully the condition of the army and country. Chase took an early opportunity, since the report of Pope was suppressed, to urge upon the President the propriety of some announcement of the facts connected with the recent battles. It was, he said, due to the country and also to Pope and McDowell.  I at once comprehended why Chase had invited me to accompany him in this visit. It was that it might appear that we were united on this mission. I therefore promptly stated that this was the first time I had heard the subject broached. At a proper time, it seemed to me, there would be propriety in presenting a fair, unprejudiced, and truthful statement of late disasters. The country craved to know the facts, but the question was, Could we just now with prudence give them? Disclosing might lead to discord and impair the efficiency of the officers. The President spoke favorably of Pope, and thought he would have something prepared for publication by Halleck.

When taking a walk this Sunday evening with my son Edgar, we met on Pennsylvania Avenue, near the junction of H Street, what I thought at first sight a squad of cavalry or mounted men, some twenty or thirty in number. I remarked as they approached that they seemed better mounted than usual, but E. said the cavalcade was General McClellan and his staff. I raised my hand to salute him as they were dashing past, but the General, recognizing us, halted the troop and rode up to me by the sidewalk, to shake hands, he said, and bid me farewell. I asked which way. He said he was proceeding to take command of the onward movement. “Then,” I added, “you go up the river.” He said yes, he had just started to take charge of the army and of the operations above. “Well,” said I, “onward, General, is now the word; the country will expect you to go forward.” “That,” he answered, “is my intention.” “Success to you, then, General, with all my heart.” With a mutual farewell we parted.

This was our first meeting since we parted at Cumberland on the Pamunkey in June, for we each had been so occupied during the three or four days he had been in Washington that we had made no calls. On several occasions we missed each other. In fact, I had no particular desire to fall in with any of the officers who had contributed to the disasters that had befallen us, or who had in any respect failed to do their whole duty in this great crisis. While McClellan may have had some cause to be offended with Pope, he has no right to permit his personal resentments to inflict injury upon the country. I may do him injustice, but I think his management has been generally unfortunate, to say the least, and culpably wrong since his return from the Peninsula.

He has now been placed in a position where he may retrieve himself, and return to Washington a victor in triumph, or he may, as he has from the beginning, wilt away in tame delays and criminal inaction. I would not have given him the command, nor have advised it, strong as he is with the army, had I been consulted; and I feel sad that he has been so intrusted. It may, however, be for the best. There are difficulties in the matter that can scarcely be appreciated by those who do not know all the circumstances. The army is, I fear, much demoralized, and its demoralization is much of it to be attributed to the officers whose highest duty it is to prevent it. To have placed any other general than McClellan, or one of his circle, in command would be to risk disaster. It is painful to entertain the idea that the country is in the hands of such men. I hope I mistake them.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 111-5

Diary of William Howard Russell: March 30, 1861

Descended into the barber's shop off the hall of the hotel; all the operators, men of color, mostly mulattoes, or yellow lads, good-looking, dressed in clean white jackets and aprons, were smart, quick, and attentive. Some seven or eight shaving chairs were occupied by gentlemen intent on early morning calls. Shaving is carried in all its accessories to a high degree of publicity, if not of perfection, in America; and as the poorest, or as I may call them without offence, the lowest orders in England have their easy shaving for a penny, so the highest, if there be any in America, submit themselves in public to the inexpensive operations of the negro barber. It must be admitted that the chairs are easy and well-arranged, the fingers nimble, sure, and light; but the affectation of French names, and the corruption of foreign languages, in which the hairdressers and barbers delight, are exceedingly amusing. On my way down a small street near the Capitol, I observed in a shop window, “Rowland's make easier paste,” which I attribute to an imperfect view of the etymology of the great “Macassar;” on another occasion I was asked to try Somebody's “Curious Elison,” which I am afraid was an attempt to adapt to a shaving paste, an address not at all suited to profane uses. It appears that the trade of barber is almost the birthright of the free negro or colored man in the United States. There is a striking exemplification of natural equality in the use of brushes, and the senator flops down in the seat, and has his noble nose seized by the same fingers which the moment before were occupied by the person and chin of an unmistakable rowdy.

In the midst of the divine calm produced by hard hand rubbing of my head, I was aroused by a stout gentleman who sat in a chair directly opposite. Through the door which opened into the hall of the hotel, one could see the great crowd passing to and fro, thronging the passage as though it had been the entrance to the Forum, or the “Salle de pas perdus.” I had observed my friend's eye gazing fixedly through the opening on the outer world. Suddenly, with his face half-covered with lather, and a bib tucked under his chin, he got up from his seat exclaiming, “Senator! Senator! hallo!” and made a dive into the passage — whether he received a stern rebuke, or became aware of his impropriety, I know not, but in an instant he came back again, and submitted quietly, till the work of the barber was completed.

The great employment of four fifths of the people at Willard's at present seems to be to hunt senators and congressmen through the lobbies. Every man is heavy with documents — those which he cannot carry in his pockets and hat, occupy his hands, or are thrust under his arms. In the hall are advertisements announcing that certificates, and letters of testimonial, and such documents, are printed with expedition and neatness. From paper collars, and cards of address to carriages, and new suits of clothes, and long hotel bills, nothing is left untried or uninvigorated. The whole city is placarded with announcements of facilities for assaulting the powers that be, among which must not be forgotten the claims of the “excelsior card-writer,” at Willard's, who prepares names, addresses, styles, and titles, in superior penmanship. The men who have got places, having been elected by the people, must submit to the people, who think they have established a claim on them by their favors. The majority confer power, but they seem to forget that it is only the minority who can enjoy the first fruits of success. It is as if the whole constituency of Marylebone insisted on getting some office under the Crown the moment a member was returned to Parliament. There are men at Willard's who have come literally thousands of miles to seek for places which can only be theirs for four years, and who with true American facility have abandoned the calling and pursuits of a lifetime for this doubtful canvass; and I was told of one gentleman, who having been informed that he could not get a judgeship, condescended to seek a place in the Post-Office, and finally applied to Mr. Chase to be appointed keeper of a “lighthouse,” he was not particular where. In the forenoon I drove to the Washington Navy Yard, in company with Lieutenant Nelson and two friends. It is about two miles outside the city, situated on a fork of land projecting between a creek and the Potomac River, which is here three quarters of a mile broad. If the French had a Navy Yard at Paris it could scarcely be contended that English, Russians, or Austrians would not have been justified in destroying it in case they got possession of the city by force of arms, after a pitched battle fought outside its gates. I confess I would not give much for Deptford and Woolwich if an American fleet succeeded in forcing its way up the Thames; but our American cousins, — a little more than kin and less than kind, who speak with pride of Paul Jones and of their exploits on the Lakes, — affect to regard the burning of the Washington Navy Yard by us, in the last war, as an unpardonable outrage on the law of nations, and an atrocious exercise of power. For all the good it did, for my own part, I think it were as well had it never happened, but no juris-consult will for a moment deny that it was a legitimate, even if extreme, exercise of a belligerent right in the case of an enemy who did not seek terms from the conqueror; and who, after battle lost, fled and abandoned the property of their state, which might be useful to them in war, to the power of the victor. Notwithstanding all the unreasonableness of the American people in reference to their relations with foreign powers, it is deplorable such scenes should ever have been enacted between members of the human family so closely allied by all that shall make them of the same household.

The Navy Yard is surrounded by high brick walls; in the gateway stood two sentries in dark blue tunics, yellow facings, with eagle buttons, brightly polished arms, and white Berlin gloves, wearing a cap something like a French kepi, all very clean and creditable. Inside are some few trophies of guns taken from us at Yorktown, and from the Mexicans in the land of Cortez. The interior inclosure is surrounded by red brick houses, and stores and magazines, picked out with white stone; and two or three green glass-plots, fenced in by pillars and chains and bordered by trees, give an air of agreeable freshness to the place. Close to the river are the workshops: of course there is smoke and noise of steam and machinery. In a modest office, surrounded by books, papers, drawings, and models, as well as by shell and shot and racks of arms of different descriptions, we found Capt. Dahlgren, the acting superintendent of the yard, and the inventor of the famous gun which bears his name, and is the favorite armament of the American navy. By our own sailors they are irreverently termed “soda-water bottles,” owing to their shape. Capt. Dahlgren contends that guns capable of throwing the heaviest shot may be constructed of cast-iron, carefully prepared and moulded so that the greatest thickness of metal may be placed at the points of resistance, at the base of the gun, the muzzle and forward portions being of very moderate thickness.

All inventors, or even adapters of systems, must be earnest self-reliant persons, full of confidence, and, above all, impressive, or they will make little way in the conservative, status-quo-loving world. Captain Dahlgren has certainly most of these characteristics, but he has to fight with his navy department, with the army, with boards and with commissioners, — in fact, with all sorts of obstructors. When I was going over the yard, he deplored the parsimony of the department, which refused to yield to his urgent entreaties for additional furnaces to cast guns.

No large guns are cast at Washington. The foundries are only capable of turning out brass field-pieces and boat-guns. Capt. Dahlgren obligingly got one of the latter out to practise for us — a 12-pounder howitzer, which can be carried in a boat, run on land on its carriage, which is provided with wheels, and is so light that the gun can be drawn readily about by the crew. He made some good practice with shrapnel at a target 1200 yards distant, firing so rapidly as to keep three shells in the air at the same time. Compared with our establishments, this dockyard is a mere toy, and but few hands are employed in it. One steam sloop, the “Pawnee,” was under the shears, nearly ready for sea: the frame of another was under the building-shed. There are no facilities for making iron ships, or putting on plate-armor here. Everything was shown to us with the utmost frankness. The fuse of the Dahlgren shell is constructed on the vis inertӕ principle, and is not unlike that of the Armstrong.

On returning to the hotel, I found a magnificent bouquet of flowers, with a card attached to them, with Mrs. Lincoln's compliments, and another card announcing that she had a “reception” at three o'clock. It was rather late before I could get to the White House, and there were only two or three ladies in the drawing-room when I arrived. I was informed afterwards that the attendance was very scanty. The Washington ladies have not yet made up their minds that Mrs. Lincoln is the fashion. They miss their Southern friends, and constantly draw comparisons between them and the vulgar Yankee women and men who are now in power. I do not know enough to say whether the affectation of superiority be justified; but assuredly if New York be Yankee, there is nothing in which it does not far surpass this preposterous capital. The impression of homeliness produced by Mrs. Lincoln on first sight, is not diminished by closer acquaintance. Few women not to the manner born there are, whose heads would not be disordered, and circulation disturbed, by a rapid transition, almost instantaneous, from a condition of obscurity in a country town to be mistress of the White House. Her smiles and her frowns become a matter of consequence to the whole American world. As the wife of the country lawyer, or even of the congressman, her movements were of no consequence. The journals of Springfield would not have wasted a line upon them. Now, if she but drive down Pennsylvania Avenue, the electric wire thrills the news to every hamlet in the Union which has a newspaper; and fortunate is the correspondent who, in a special despatch, can give authentic particulars of her destination and of her dress. The lady is surrounded by flatterers and intriguers, seeking for influence or such places as she can give. As Selden says, “Those who wish to set a house on fire begin with the thatch.”

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 50-4

Diary of Salmon P. Chase: Monday, August 18, 1862

Busy, except when interrupted by callers, with list of Collectors and Asessors. Saw Chandler and Gov. Blair at President's, and closed Michigan appointments. President insisted on Stanley, to save Trowbridge's feelings, instead of Mills, whom I recommended as best man; and Chandler and Blair concurred — none of us, however, knowing Stanley.

Thurlow Weed dined with me. Parsons was at home, but had dined, and went away. After dinner, left Weed at Willard's, where I went to call on Colonels Corcoran and Wilcox, returned yesterday from their long captivity in Richmond. They had gone to dine at the President's; and I went to Mr. Cutts' and spent an hour with Mr. C. and Mrs. D.

SOURCE: Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 61

Diary of William Howard Russell: March 28, 1861

I was honored to-day by visits from a great number of Members of Congress, journalists, and others. Judging from the expressions of most of the Washington people, they would gladly see a Southern Cabinet installed in their city. The cold shoulder is given to Mr. Lincoln, and all kinds of stories and jokes are circulated at his expense. People take particular pleasure in telling how he came towards the seat of his Government disguised in a Scotch cap and cloak, whatever that may mean.

In the evening I repaired to the White House. The servant who took my hat and coat was particularly inquisitive as to my name and condition in life; and when he heard I was not a minister, he seemed inclined to question my right to be there at all: “for,” said he, “there are none but members of the cabinet, and their wives and daughters, dining here today.” Eventually he relaxed, — instructed me how to place my hat so that it would be exposed to no indignity, and informed me that I was about to participate in a prandial enjoyment of no ordinary character. There was no parade or display, no announcement, — no gilded staircase, with its liveried heralds, transmitting and translating one's name from landing to landing. From the unpretending ante-chamber, a walk across the lofty hall led us to the reception-room, which was the same as that in which the President held his interview yesterday.

Mrs. Lincoln was already seated to receive her guests. She is of the middle age and height, of a plumpness degenerating to the embonpoint natural to her years; her features are plain, her nose and mouth of an ordinary type, and her manners and appearance homely, stiffened, however, by the consciousness that her position requires her to be something more than plain Mrs. Lincoln, the wife of the Illinois lawyer; she is profuse in the introduction of the word “sir” in every sentence, which is now almost an Americanism confined to certain classes, although it was once as common in England. Her dress I shall not attempt to describe, though it was very gorgeous and highly colored. She handled a fan with much energy, displaying a round, well-proportioned arm, and was adorned with some simple jewelry. Mrs. Lincoln struck me as being desirous of making herself agreeable; and I own I was agreeably disappointed, as the Secessionist ladies at Washington had been amusing themselves by anecdotes which could scarcely have been founded on fact.

Several of the Ministers had already arrived; by and by all had come, and the party only waited for General Scott, who seemed to be the representative man in Washington of the monarchical idea, and to absorb some of the feeling which is lavished on the pictures and memory, if not on the monument, of Washington. Whilst we were waiting, Mr. Seward took me round, and introduced me to the Ministers, and to their wives and daughters, among the latter, Miss Chase, who is very attractive, agreeable, and sprightly. Her father, the Finance Minister, struck me as one of the most intelligent and distinguished persons in the whole assemblage, — tall, of a good presence, with a well-formed head, fine forehead, and a face indicating energy and power. There is a peculiar droop and motion of the lid of one eye, which seems to have suffered from some injury, that detracts from the agreeable effect of his face; but, on the whole, he is one who would not pass quite unnoticed in a European crowd of the same description.

In the whole assemblage there was not a scrap of lace or a piece of ribbon, except the gorgeous epaulettes of an old naval officer who had served against us in the last war, and who represented some branch of the naval department. Nor were the Ministers by any means remarkable for their personal appearance.

Mr. Cameron, the Secretary of War, a slight man, above the middle height, with gray hair, deep-set keen gray eyes, and a thin mouth, gave me the idea of a person of ability and adroitness. His colleague, the Secretary of the Navy, a small man, with a great long gray beard and spectacles, did not look like one of much originality or ability; but people who know Mr. Welles declare that he is possessed of administrative power, although they admit that he does not know the stem from the stern of a ship, and are in doubt whether he ever saw the sea in his life. Mr. Smith, the Minister of the Interior, is a bright-eyed, smart (I use the word in the English sense) gentleman, with the reputation of being one of the most conservative members of the cabinet. Mr. Blair, the Postmaster-General, is a person of much greater influence than his position would indicate. He has the reputation of being one of the most determined Republicans in the Ministry; but he held peculiar notions with reference to the black and the white races, which, if carried out, would not by any means conduce to the comfort or happiness of free negroes in the United States. He is a tall, lean man, with a hard, Scotch, practical-looking head — an anvil for ideas to be hammered on. His eyes are small and deeply set, and have a rat-like expression; and he speaks with caution, as though he weighed every word before he uttered it. The last of the Ministers is Mr. Bates, a stout, thick-set, common-looking man, with a large beard, who fills the office of Attorney-General. Some of the gentlemen were in evening dress; others wore black frock-coats, which it seems, as in Turkey, are considered to be en regle at a Republican Ministerial dinner.

In the conversation which occurred before dinner, I was amused to observe the manner in which Mr. Lincoln used the anecdotes for which he is famous. Where men bred in courts, accustomed to the world, or versed in diplomacy, would use some subterfuge, or would make a polite speech, or give a shrug of the shoulders as the means of getting out of an embarrassing position, Mr. Lincoln raises a laugh by some bold west-country anecdote, and moves off in the cloud of merriment produced by his joke. Thus, when Mr. Bates was remonstrating apparently against the appointment of some indifferent lawyer to a place of judicial importance, the President interposed with, “Come now, Bates, he's not half as bad as you think. Besides that, I must tell you, he did me a good turn long ago. When I took to the law, I was going to court one morning, with some ten or twelve miles of bad road before me, and I had no horse. The judge overtook me in his wagon. ‘Hollo, Lincoln! Are you not going to the court-house? Come in, and I'll give you a seat.’ Well, I got in, and the judge went on reading his papers. Presently the wagon struck a stump on one side of the road; then it hopped off to the other. I looked out, and I saw the driver was jerking from side to side in his seat; so says I, ‘Judge, I think your coachman has been taking a little drop too much this morning.’ ‘Well I declare, Lincoln,’ said he, ‘I should not wonder if you are right, for he has nearly upset me half a dozen of times since starting.’ So, putting his head out of the window, he shouted, ‘Why, you infernal scoundrel, you are drunk!’ Upon which, pulling up his horses, and turning round with great gravity, the coachman said, ‘By gorra! that's the first rightful decision you have given for the last twelvemonth.’” Whilst the company were laughing, the President beat a quiet retreat from the neighborhood of the Attorney-General.

It was at last announced that General Scott was unable to be present, and that, although actually in the house, he had been compelled to retire from indisposition, and we moved in to the banqueting-hall. The first “state dinner,” as it is called, of the President, was not remarkable for ostentation. No liveried servants, no Persic splendor of ancient plate, or chefs d'œuvre of art, glittered round the board. Vases of flowers decorated the table, combined with dishes in what may be called the “Gallo-American” style, with wines which owed their parentage to France, and their rearing and education to the United States, which abounds in cunning nurses for such productions. The conversation was suited to the state dinner of a cabinet at which women and strangers were present. I was seated next Mr. Bates, and the very agreeable and lively Secretary of the President, Mr. Hay, and except when there was an attentive silence caused by one of the President's stories, there was a Babel of small talk round the table, in which I was surprised to find a diversity of accent almost as great as if a number of foreigners had been speaking English. I omitted the name of Mr. Hamlin, the Vice-President, as well as those of less remarkable people who were present; but it would not be becoming to pass over a man distinguished for nothing so much as his persistent and unvarying adhesion to one political doctrine, which has made him, in combination with the belief in his honesty, the occupant of a post which leads to the Presidency, in event of any occurrence which may remove Mr. Lincoln.

After dinner the ladies and gentlemen retired to the drawingroom, and the circle was increased by the addition of several politicians. I had an opportunity of conversing with some of the Ministers, if not with all, from time to time, and I was struck by the uniform tendency of their remarks in reference to the policy of Great Britain. They seemed to think that England was bound by her anti-slavery antecedents to discourage to the utmost any attempts of the South to establish its independence on a basis of slavery, and to assume that they were the representatives of an active war of emancipation. As the veteran Commodore Stewart passed the chair of the young lady to whom I was speaking, she said, “I suppose, Mr. Russell, you do not admire that officer?” “On the contrary,” I said, “I think he is a very fine-looking old man.” “I don't mean that,” she replied; “but you know he can't be very much liked by you, because he fought so gallantly against you in the last war, as you must know.” I had not the courage to confess ignorance of the captain's antecedents. There is a delusion among more than the fair American who spoke to me, that we entertain in England the sort of feeling, morbid or wholesome as it may be, in reference to our reverses at New Orleans and elsewhere, that is attributed to Frenchmen respecting Waterloo.

On returning to Willard's Hotel, I was accosted by a gentleman who came out from the crowd in front of the office. “Sir,” he said, “you have been dining with our President tonight.” I bowed. “Was it an agreeable party?” said he. “What do you think of Mr. Lincoln?” “May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of speaking?” “My name is Mr. –––, and I am the correspondent of the New York ––––.” “Then, sir,” I replied, “it gives me satisfaction to tell you that I think a great deal of Mr. Lincoln, and that I am equally pleased with my dinner. I have the honor to bid you good evening.” The same gentleman informed me afterwards that he had created the office of Washington Correspondent to the New York papers. “At first,” said he, “I merely wrote news, and no one cared much; then I spiced it up, squibbed a little, and let off stories of my own. Congressmen contradicted me, — issued cards, — said they were not facts. The public attention was attracted, and I was told to go on; and so the Washington correspondence became a feature in all the New York papers by degrees.” The hum and bustle in the hotel to-night were wonderful. All the office-seekers were in the passages, hungering after senators and representatives, and the ladies in any way related to influential people, had an entourage of courtiers sedulously paying their respects. Miss Chase, indeed, laughingly told me that she was pestered by applicants for her father's good offices, and by persons seeking introduction to her as a means of making demands on “Uncle Sam.”

As I was visiting a book-shop to-day, a pert, smiling young fellow, of slight figure and boyish appearance came up and introduced himself to me as an artist who had contributed to an illustrated London paper during the Prince of Wales's tour, and who had become acquainted with some of my friends; and he requested permission to call on me, which I gave without difficulty or hesitation. He visited me this evening, poor lad! and told me a sad story of his struggles, and of the dependence of his family on his efforts, as a prelude to a request that I would allow him to go South when I was making the tour there, of which he had heard. He was under an engagement with the London paper, and had no doubt that if he was with me his sketches would all be received as illustrations of the places to which my letters were attracting public interest in England at the time. There was no reason why I should be averse to his travelling with me in the same train. He could certainly go if he pleased. At the same time I intimated that I was in no way to be connected with or responsible for him.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 41-6

Brigadier-General John A. Rawlins to Mary Emeline Hurlburt Rawlins, March 26, 1864

March 26, 1864.

. . . To-day has been cloudy, with high winds. The snow has entirely disappeared, except from the slopes of the Blue Ridge, which strange to say is plainly visible from here though twenty miles distant. Unless more rain or snow falls the roads here will soon be in good condition. I feel much better of my cough and when I see you again I hope to be entirely recovered from it. Nothing new here. No information comes from the enemy's lines to break the dull monotony that seems to prevail throughout this entire army. It is greatly different I assure you from what it was out West. There we were always getting some information that kept up an excitement and made it seem that we were doing something. I trust, however, that this monotony will soon be broken by the movement of the unbroken columns of this splendidly equipped and well fed army of veterans against the famed Army of Northern Virginia. For if it fights as it feels, success must attend its next advance towards Richmond. Every day gives me hope of triumph to our country in the impending conflict. One decisive victory here will go far towards the consummation of the Patriot's hope.

The General goes in the morning to Washington but will return the next day and the talk is now that on Wednesday of the coming week, he and I will visit the army of General Butler. Colonel Bowers and all the members of the staff except Colonel Duff and Captain Badeau have arrived. Our horses and baggage came through safely. Mrs. Grant was to visit the White House to-day. Captain Badeau, who is familiar with Washington society and manners, remained to accompany her. I have no doubt she will be greatly delighted. I send you enclosed a photograph of Colonel T. S. Bowers, with his autograph. . . .

SOURCE: James H. Wilson, The Life of John A. Rawlins, p. 405-6

Brigadier-General John A. Rawlins to Mary Emeline Hurlburt Rawlins, March 9, 1864

Washington, D. C., March 9, 1864.

. . . We arrived here yesterday evening, called at General Halleck's office, found he had gone, proceeded to his residence on Georgetown Heights; he was not there; returned to the President's house where a grand levee was being held, and oh what enthusiasm prevailed. The General was certainly, last night, more than President in the hearts of the immense concourse of ladies attending the White House. It would have filled Mrs. Grant with delight. After the Levee, we visited the Secretary of War.

To-day the General received and accepted his commission as Lieutenant General in the army of the United States. He talks of going out to visit the army of the Potomac to-morrow, but whether he will or not I am unable to say. I am doing all I can to get him away from here. To-night he dines with Mr. Seward, Secretary of State. I shall accompany him though it is not my pleasure to do so. You know where I am wine is not drunk by those with whom I have any influence. Were it otherwise I should consult my pleasure. The new order of things will necessitate breaking up our little home at Nashville, but not, I trust, before I see you again. . . .

SOURCE: James H. Wilson, The Life of John A. Rawlins, p. 402-3

Diary of William Howard Russell: March 27, 1861

This morning, after breakfast, Mr. Sanford called, according to promise, and took me to the State department. It is a very humble — in fact, dingy — mansion, two stories high, and situated at the end of the magnificent line of colonnade in white marble, called the Treasury, which is hereafter to do duty as the head-quarters of nearly all the public departments. People familiar with Downing Street, however, cannot object to the dinginess of the bureaux in which the foreign and state affairs of the American Republic are transacted. A flight of steps leads to the hall-door, on which an announcement in writing is affixed, to indicate the days of reception for the various classes of persons who have business with the Secretary of State; in the hall, on the right and left, are small rooms, with the names of the different officers on the doors — most of them persons of importance; half-way in the hall a flight of stairs conducts us to a similar corridor, rather dark, with doors on each side opening into the bureaux of the chief clerks. All the appointments were very quiet, and one would see much more bustle in the passages of a Poor Law Board or a parish vestry.

In a moderately sized, but very comfortable, apartment, surrounded with book-shelves, and ornamented with a few engravings, we found the Secretary of State seated at his table, and enjoying a cigar; he received me with great courtesy and kindness, and after a time said he would take occasion to present me to the President, who was to give audience that day to the minister of the new kingdom of Italy, who had hitherto only represented the kingdom of Sardinia.

I have already described Mr. Seward's personal appearance; his son, to whom he introduced me, is the Assistant-Secretary of State, and is editor or proprietor of a journal in the State of New York, which has a reputation for ability and fairness. Mr. Frederick Seward is a slight delicate-looking man, with a high forehead, thoughtful brow, dark eyes, and amiable expression; his manner is very placid and modest, and, if not reserved, he is by no means loquacious. As we were speaking, a carriage drove up to the door, and Mr. Seward exclaimed to his father, with something like dismay in his voice, “Here comes the Chevalier in full uniform!” — and in a few seconds in effect the Chevalier Bertinatti made his appearance, in cocked hat, white gloves, diplomatic suit of blue and silver lace, sword, sash, and ribbon of the cross of Savoy. I thought there was a quiet smile on Mr. Seward's face as he saw his brilliant companion, who contrasted so strongly with the more than republican simplicity of his own attire. “Fred., do you take Mr. Russell round to the President's, whilst I go with the Chevalier. We will meet at the White House.” We accordingly set out through a private door leading to the grounds, and within a few seconds entered the hall of the moderate mansion, White House, which has very much the air of a portion of a bank or public office, being provided with glass doors and plain heavy chairs and forms. The domestic who was in attendance was dressed like any ordinary citizen, and seemed perfectly indifferent to the high position of the great personage with whom he conversed, when Mr. Seward asked him, “Where is the President?” Passing through one of the doors on the left, we entered a handsome spacious room, richly and rather gorgeously furnished, and rejoicing in a kind of “demi-jour,” which gave increased effect to the gilt chairs and ormolu ornaments. Mr. Seward and the Chevalier stood in the centre of the room, whilst his son and I remained a little on one side: “For,” said Mr. Seward, “you are not to be supposed to be here.”

Soon afterwards there entered, with a shambling, loose, irregular, almost unsteady gait, a tall, lank, lean man, considerably over six feet in height, with stooping shoulders, long pendulous arms, terminating in hands of extraordinary dimensions, which, however, were far exceeded in proportion by his feet. He was dressed in an ill-fitting, wrinkled suit of black, which put one in mind of an undertaker's uniform at a funeral; round his neck a rope of black silk was knotted in a large bulb, with flying ends projecting beyond the collar of his coat; his turned-down shirt-collar disclosed a sinewy muscular yellow neck, and above that, nestling in a great black mass of hair, bristling and compact like a ruff of mourning pins, rose the strange quaint face and head, covered with its thatch of wild republican hair, of President Lincoln. The impression produced by the size of his extremities, and by his flapping and wide projecting ears, may be removed by the appearance of kindliness, sagacity, and the awkward bonhommie of his face; the mouth is absolutely prodigious; the lips, straggling and extending almost from one line of black beard to the other, are only kept in order by two deep furrows from the nostril to the chin; the nose itself—a prominent organ — stands out from the face, with an inquiring, anxious air, as though it were sniffing for some good thing in the wind; the eyes dark, full, and deeply set, are penetrating, but full of an expression which almost amounts to tenderness; and above them projects the shaggy brow, running into the small hard frontal space, the development of which can scarcely be estimated accurately, owing to the irregular flocks of thick hair carelessly brushed across it. One would say that, although the mouth was made to enjoy a joke, it could also utter the severest sentence which the head could dictate, but that Mr. Lincoln would be ever more willing to temper justice with mercy, and to enjoy what he considers the amenities of life, than to take a harsh view of men's nature and of the world, and to estimate things in an ascetic or puritan spirit. A person who met Mr. Lincoln in the street would not take him to be what — according to the usages of European society — is called a “gentleman;” and, indeed, since I came to the United States, I have heard more disparaging allusions made by Americans to him on that account than I could have expected among simple republicans, where all should be equals; but, at the same time, it would not be possible for the most indifferent observer to pass him in the street without notice.

As he advanced through the room, he evidently controlled a desire to shake hands all round with everybody, and smiled good-humoredly till he was suddenly brought up by the staid deportment of Mr. Seward, and by the profound diplomatic bows of the Chevalier Bertinatti. Then, indeed, he suddenly jerked himself back, and stood in front of the two ministers, with his body slightly drooped forward, and his hands behind his back, his knees touching, and his feet apart. Mr. Seward formally presented the minister, whereupon the President made a prodigiously violent demonstration of his body in a bow which had almost the effect of a smack in its rapidity and abruptness, and, recovering himself, proceeded to give his utmost attention, whilst the Chevalier, with another bow, read from a paper a long address in presenting the royal letter accrediting him as “minister resident;” and when he said that “the king desired to give, under your enlightened administration, all possible strength and extent to those sentiments of frank sympathy which do not cease to be exhibited every moment between the two peoples, and whose origin dates back as far as the exertions which have presided over their common destiny as self-governing and free nations,” the President gave another bow still more violent, as much as to accept the allusion.

The minister forthwith handed his letter to the President, who gave it into the custody of Mr. Seward, and then, dipping his hand into his coat-pocket, Mr. Lincoln drew out a sheet of paper, from which he read his reply, the most remarkable part of which was his doctrine “that the United States were bound by duty not to interfere with the differences of foreign governments and countries.” After some words of compliment, the President shook hands with the minister, who soon afterwards retired. Mr. Seward then took me by the hand and said — “Mr. President, allow me to present to you Mr. Russell, of the London ‘Times.’” On which Mr. Lincoln put out his hand in a very friendly manner, and said, “Mr. Russell, I am very glad to make your acquaintance, and to see you in this country. The London ‘Times’ is one of the greatest powers in the world, — in fact, I don't know anything which has much more power, — except perhaps the Mississippi. I am glad to know you as its minister.” Conversation ensued for some minutes, which the President enlivened by two or three peculiar little sallies, and I left agreeably impressed with his shrewdness, humor, and natural sagacity.

In the evening I dined with Mr. Seward, in company with his son, Mr. Seward, junior, Mr. Sanford, and a quaint, natural specimen of an American rustic lawyer, who was going to Brussels as Secretary of Legation. His chief, Mr. Sanford, did not appear altogether happy when introduced to his secretary, for he found that he had a very limited knowledge (if any) of French, and of other things which it is generally considered desirable that secretaries should know.

Very naturally, conversation turned on politics. Although no man can foresee the nature of the crisis which is coming, nor the mode in which it is to be encountered, the faith of men like Mr. Sanford and Mr. Seward in the ultimate success of their principles, and in the integrity of the Republic, is very remark able; and the boldness of their language in reference to foreign powers almost amounts to arrogance and menace, if not to temerity. Mr. Seward asserted that the Ministers of England or of France had no right to make any allusion to the civil war which appeared imminent; and that the Southern Commissioners who had been sent abroad could not be received by the Government of any foreign power, officially or otherwise, even to hand in a document or to make a representation, without incurring the risk of breaking off relations with the Government of the United States. As regards the great object of public curiosity, the relief of Fort Sumter, Mr. Seward maintains a profound silence, beyond the mere declaration, made with a pleasant twinkle of the eye, that “the whole policy of the Government, on that and other questions, is put forth in the President's inaugural, from which there will be no deviation. Turning to the inaugural message, however, there is no such very certain indication, as Mr. Seward pretends to discover, of the course to be pursued by Mr. Lincoln and the cabinet. To an outside observer, like myself, it seems as if they were waiting for events to develop themselves, and rested their policy rather upon acts that had occurred, than upon any definite principle designed to control or direct the future.

I should here add that Mr. Seward spoke in high terms of the ability, dexterity, and personal qualities of Mr. Jefferson Davis, and declared his belief that but for him the Secession movement never could have succeeded as far as it has gone, and would, in all probability, indeed, have never taken place at all. After dinner cigars were introduced, and a quiet little rubber of whist followed. The Secretary is given to expatiate at large, and told us many anecdotes of foreign travel; — it I am not doing him injustice, I would say further, that he remembers his visit to England, and the attention he received there, with peculiar satisfaction. He cannot be found fault with because he has formed a most exalted notion of the superior intelligence, virtue, happiness, and prosperity of his own people. He said that it would not be proper for him to hold any communication with the Southern Commissioners then in Washington; which rather surprised me, after what I had heard from their friend, Mr. Banks. On returning to my hotel, I found a card from the President, inviting me to dinner the following day.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 36-40

Diary of Salmon P. Chase: Saturday, August 2, 1862

At Department all day — went neither to the President's nor the War Department.

Genl. Shields called and talked over movement up the Shenandoah. He told me that when he received peremptory orders to return, he had held communication with Fremont and Jackson's capture was certain. I told him of my urgency that McDowell should be ordered forward with his entire command from Warrenton, per Front Royal, to Charlottesville and Lynchburg; that the President was not ready to act; that McDowell himself was apparently disinclined, preferring concentration at Manassas and then advance to Richmond. Plain enough now, he said, that this was the true movement. He had himself telegraphed McDowell that Jackson would be Pattersonized by recall of troops from pursuit. The troops were, nevertheless, recalled and by peremptory orders from the President himself, those of Shields were directed to return to Manassas and those of Fremont to resume position as a corps of observation.

It was a terrible mistake. It would have been easy to take Charlottesville and Lynchburg — very easy; the capture of Jackson, though not at the time seen at Washington to be practicable was, nevertheless, within easy possibility; his defeat and the dispersion of his force certain. Our troops were called off when they were just upon him. The course of the whole movement was changed, for no reason that I could see. Charlottesville and Lynchburg were saved to the enemy, with their stores and the Rail Roads on which they are situated, forming the great East and West communication of the rebels. A wide door for Jackson to Richmond was opened — the very door through which, a little later, he passed; fell in cooperation with the rebel army at Richmond, on McClellan's right, left unsupported as if to invite disaster; defeated it; and then, with the same army, pursued the Union main body to the James. Sad! sad! yet nobody seems to heed. Genl. Shields and I talked this all over, deploring the strange fatality which seemed to preside over the whole transaction. He dined with us; and after dinner, rode out with brother Edward and Nettie.

1. I. e., weakened as Patterson was by recall of troops to defend Washington the latter part of June 1861.

In the evening, several callers came in. Beebe, from Ravenna, a faithful friend — John R. French — Smith Homans — Chas. Selden — and some others. Selden says that at Cincinnati, old Mr. Molitor and Rev'd. Edw. Purcell spoke very kindly of me.

SOURCE: Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 52-3

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: April 2, 1861

Governor Manning came to breakfast at our table. The others had breakfasted hours before. I looked at him in amazement, as he was in full dress, ready for a ball, swallow-tail and all, and at that hour. “What is the matter with you?” “Nothing, I am not mad, most noble madam. I am only going to the photographer. My wife wants me taken thus.” He insisted on my going, too, and we captured Mr. Chesnut and Governor Means.¹ The latter presented me with a book, a photo-book, in which I am to pillory all the celebrities.

Doctor Gibbes says the Convention is in a snarl. It was called as a Secession Convention. A secession of places seems to be what it calls for first of all. It has not stretched its eyes out to the Yankees yet; it has them turned inward; introspection is its occupation still.

Last night, as I turned down the gas, I said to myself: “Certainly this has been one of the pleasantest days of my life.” I can only give the skeleton of it, so many pleasant people, so much good talk, for, after all, it was talk, talk, talk à la Caroline du Sud. And yet the day began rather dismally. Mrs. Capers and Mrs. Tom Middleton came for me and we drove to Magnolia Cemetery. I saw William Taber's broken column. It was hard to shake off the blues after this graveyard business.

The others were off at a dinner party. I dined tête-a-tête with Langdon Cheves, so quiet, so intelligent, so very sensible withal. There never was a pleasanter person, or a better man than he. While we were at table, Judge Whitner, Tom Frost, and Isaac Hayne came. They broke up our deeply interesting conversation, for I was hearing what an honest and brave man feared for his country, and then the Rutledges dislodged the newcomers and bore me off to drive on the Battery. On the staircase met Mrs. Izard, who came for the same purpose. On the Battery Governor Adams² stopped us. He had heard of my saying he looked like Marshal Pelissier, and he came to say that at last I had made a personal remark which pleased him, for once in my life. When we came home Mrs. Isaac Hayne and Chancellor Carroll called to ask us to join their excursion to the Island Forts to-morrow. With them was William Haskell. Last summer at the White Sulphur he was a pale, slim student from the university. To-day he is a soldier, stout and robust. A few months in camp, with soldiering in the open air, has worked this wonder. Camping out proves a wholesome life after all. Then came those nice, sweet, fresh, pure-looking Pringle girls. We had a charming topic in common — their clever brother Edward.

A letter from Eliza B., who is in Montgomery: “Mrs. Mallory got a letter from a lady in Washington a few days ago, who said that there had recently been several attempts to be gay in Washington, but they proved dismal failures. The Black Republicans were invited and came, and stared at their entertainers and their new Republican companions, looked unhappy while they said they were enchanted, showed no ill-temper at the hardly stifled grumbling and growling of our friends, who thus found themselves condemned to meet their despised enemy.”

I had a letter from the Gwinns to-day. They say Washington offers a perfect realization of Goldsmith's Deserted Village.

Celebrated my 38th birthday, but I am too old now to dwell in public on that unimportant anniversary. A long, dusty day ahead on those windy islands; never for me, so I was up early to write a note of excuse to Chancellor Carroll. My husband went. I hope Anderson will not pay them the compliment of a salute with shotted guns, as they pass Fort Sumter, as pass they must.

Here I am interrupted by an exquisite bouquet from the Rutledges. Are there such roses anywhere else in the world? Now a loud banging at my door. I get up in a pet and throw it wide open. “Oh!” said John Manning, standing there, smiling radiantly; “pray excuse the noise I made. I mistook the number; I thought it was Rice's room; that is my excuse. Now that I am here, come, go with us to Quinby's. Everybody will be there who are not at the Island. To be photographed is the rage just now.”

We had a nice open carriage, and we made a number of calls, Mrs. Izard, the Pringles, and the Tradd Street Rutledges, the handsome ex-Governor doing the honors gallantly. He had ordered dinner at six, and we dined tête-atête. If he should prove as great a captain in ordering his line of battle as he is in ordering a dinner, it will be as well for the country as it was for me to-day.

Fortunately for the men, the beautiful Mrs. Joe Heyward sits at the next table, so they take her beauty as one of the goods the gods provide. And it helps to make life pleasant with English grouse and venison from the West. Not to speak of the salmon from the lakes which began the feast. They have me to listen, an appreciative audience, while they talk, and Mrs. Joe Heyward to look at.

Beauregard³ called. He is the hero of the hour. That is, he is believed to be capable of great things. A hero worshiper was struck dumb because I said: “So far, he has only been a captain of artillery, or engineers, or something.” I did not see him. Mrs. Wigfall did and reproached my laziness in not coming out.

Last Sunday at church beheld one of the peculiar local sights, old negro maumas going up to the communion, in their white turbans and kneeling devoutly around the chancel rail.

The morning papers say Mr. Chesnut made the best shot on the Island at target practice. No war yet, thank God. Likewise they tell me Mr. Chesnut has made a capital speech in the Convention.

Not one word of what is going on now. “Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh,” says the Psalmist. Not so here. Our hearts are in doleful dumps, but we are as gay, as madly jolly, as sailors who break into the strong-room when the ship is going down. At first in our great agony we were out alone. We longed for some of our big brothers to come out and help us. Well, they are out, too, and now it is Fort Sumter and that ill-advised Anderson. There stands Fort Sumter, en evidence, and thereby hangs peace or war.

Wigfall⁴ says before he left Washington, Pickens, our Governor, and Trescott were openly against secession; Trescott does not pretend to like it now. He grumbles all the time, but Governor Pickens is fire-eater down to the ground. “At the White House Mrs. Davis wore a badge. Jeff Davis is no seceder,” says Mrs. Wigfall.

Captain Ingraham comments in his rapid way, words tumbling over each other out of his mouth: “Now, Charlotte Wigfall meant that as a fling at those people. I think better of men who stop to think; it is too rash to rush on as some do.” “And so,'” adds Mrs. Wigfall, “the eleventh-hour men are rewarded; the half-hearted are traitors in this row.”

_______________

¹ John Hugh Means was elected Governor of South Carolina in 1850, and had long been an advocate of secession. He was a delegate to the Convention of 1860 and affixed his name to the Ordinance of Secession. He was killed at the second battle of Bull Run in August, 1862.

² James H. Adams was a graduate of Yale, who in 1832 strongly opposed Nullification, and in 1855 was elected Governor of South Carolina.

³ Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard was born in New Orleans in 1818, and graduated from West Point in the class of 1838. He served in the war with Mexico; had been superintendent of the Military Academy at West Point a few days only, when in February, 1861, he resigned his commission in the Army of the United States and offered his services to the Confederacy.

⁴ Louis Trezevant Wigfall was a native of South Carolina, but removed to Texas after being admitted to the bar, and from that State was elected United States Senator, becoming an uncompromising defender of the South on the slave question. After the war he lived in England, but in 1873 settled in Baltimore. He had a wide Southern reputation as a forcible and impassioned speaker.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 25-9

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: April 10, 1861

Making an early start this morning, I once more arrived at Washington City. I saw no evidences of a military force in the city, and supposed the little army to be encamped at the west end of the Avenue, guarding the Executive Mansion.

We took an omnibus without delay and proceeded to the steamer. As soon as we left the shore, I fancied I saw many of the passengers breathing; easier and more deeply. Certainly there was more vivacity, since we were relieved of the presence of Republicans. And at the breakfast table there was a freer flow of speech, and a very decided manifestation of secession proclivities.

Among the passengers was Major Holmes, who had just resigned his commission in the U. S. army. He had been ordered to proceed with the expedition against Charleston; but declined the honor of fighting against his native land. The major is a little deaf, but has an intellectual face, the predominant expression indicating the discretion and prudence so necessary for success in a large field of operations. In reply to a question concerning the military qualities of Beauregard and Bragg, he said they were the flower of the young officers of the U. S. army. The first had great genius, and was perhaps the most dashing and brilliant officer in the country; the other, more sedate, nevertheless possessed military capacities of a very high order. President Davis, in his opinion, had made most excellent selections in the appointment of his first generals. The major, however, was very sad at the prospect before us; and regarded the tenders of pecuniary aid to the U. S. by the Wall Street capitalists as ominous of a desperate, if not a prolonged struggle. At this time the major's own State, North Carolina, like Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Arkansas, and Missouri, yet remains in the Union.

We were delayed several hours at Aquia Creek, awaiting the arrival of the cars, which were detained in consequence of a great storm and flood that had occurred the night before.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 14-5

Major-General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Mead, February 21, 1864

In Camp, February 21, 1864.

I returned from Washington to-day, very much fatigued and worn out with two days passed in that place. I reached there Friday about 2 P. M., and immediately went to the Department, where I stayed till 6 P. M., returned to the hotel, dined, and spent the evening with Mr. Odell, member of Congress, and Judge Harris. The next day, Saturday, I was with General Halleck till 3 P. M., when I went out to Georgetown and saw Margaret.¹ I ought to have mentioned that before going to see Margaret, I stopped at the President's, where Mrs. Lincoln was holding a levee, and spent a half-hour. I also ought to have stated that the evening before, after leaving Judge Harris, I was persuaded by Mr. Harding and Cortlandt Parker to go to Speaker Colfax's reception, where I was a great lion, Mr. Colfax himself turning usher and bringing every man and woman in the room to introduce to me. All this going about, sitting up late at night and standing so much, had its effect on me, wearying and fatiguing me so that I was very glad to get back to-day.

The army is overrun with women. There is to be a grand ball to-morrow at the headquarters of the Second Corps, and I believe half of Washington is coming down to attend. I expected the Secretary of the Interior and his lady to come down with me to-day, but he did not come to the cars. As the ball is nearly five miles from my headquarters, I don't think I shall have the courage to go. I don't mind the going, but it is the coming back which is so unpleasant.

_______________

¹ Sister of General Meade.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 2, p. 166-7

Rose O’Neal Greenhow to William H. Seward, November 17, 1861

Washington, November 17, 1861.

398, 16th Street.

HON. WM. H. SEWARD, SEC. OF STATE.

Sir, — For nearly three months I have been confined a close prisoner, shut out from air and exercise, and denied all communion with family and friends.

“Patience is said to be a great virtue,” and I have practised it to my utmost capacity of endurance.

I am told, sir, that upon your ipse dixit the fate of citizens depends, and that the sign-manual of the ministers of Louis XIV. and XV. was not more potential in their day than that of the Secretary of State in 1861.

I therefore most respectfully submit that on Friday, August 23rd, without warrant or other show of authority, I was arrested by the detective police, and my house taken in charge by them: that all my private letters and papers of a life-time were read and examined by them: that every law of decency was violated in the search of my house and person, and by the surveillance over me.

We read in history that the poor Marie Antoinette had a paper torn from her bosom by lawless hands, and that even a change of linen had to be effected in sight of her brutal captors. It is my sad experience to record even more revolting outrages than that, for during the first days of my imprisonment, whatever necessity forced me to seek my chamber, a detective stood sentinel at the open door. And thus, for a period of seven days, I, with my little child, was placed absolutely at the mercy of men without character or responsibility; that during the first evening a portion of those men became brutally drunk, and boasted in my hearing of the nice times they expected to have with the female prisoners, and that rude violence was used towards a servant girl during that first evening. For any show of decorum afterwards practised towards me I was indebted to the detective called Captain Dennis.

In the careful analysis of my papers I deny the existence of a line that I had not a perfect right to have written or to have received. Freedom of speech and of opinion is the birthright of Americans, guaranteed to us by our charter of liberty — the Constitution of the United States. I have exercised my prerogative, and have openly avowed my sentiments. During the political struggle I opposed your Republican party with every instinct of self-preservation. I believed your success a virtual nullification of the Constitution, and that it would entail upon us all the direful consequences which have ensued. These sentiments have doubtless been found recorded among my papers, and I hold them as rather a proud record of my sagacity.

I must be permitted to quote from a letter of yours, in regard to “Russell of the London Times,” which you conclude with these admirable words: “Individual errors of opinion may be tolerated, so long as good sense is left to combat them.”

By way of illustrating theory and practice, here am I — a prisoner in sight of the executive mansion — in sight of the Capitol, where the proud statesmen of our land have sung their pagans to the blessings of our free institutions. Comment is idle. Freedom of speech, freedom of thought, every right pertaining to the citizen, has been suspended by what, I suppose, the President calls a “military necessity.” A blow has been struck by this total disregard of all civil rights against the present system of government far greater in its effects than the severance of the Southern States. The people have been taught to contemn the supremacy of the law, to which all have hitherto bowed, and to look to the military power for protection against its decrees. A military spirit has been developed which will only be subordinate to a military dictatorship. Read history, and you will find that the causes which bring about a revolution rarely predominate at its close, and no people have ever returned to the point from which they started. Even should the Southern States be subdued, and forced back into the Union (which I regard as impossible, with a full knowledge of their resources), a different form of government will be found needful to meet the new developments of national character. There is no class of society, no branch of industry, which this change has not reached, and the dull plodding methodical habits of the past can never be resumed.

You have held me, sir, to a man's accountability, and I therefore claim the right to speak on subjects usually considered beyond a woman's ken, and which you may class as “errors of opinion.” I offer no excuse for this long digression, as a three months’ imprisonment, without formula of law, gives me authority for occupying even the precious moments of a Secretary of State.

My object is to call your attention to the fact, that during this long imprisonment I am yet ignorant of the causes of my arrest; that my house has been seized and converted into a prison by the Government; that the valuable furniture it contained has been abused and destroyed; that during some period of my imprisonment I have suffered greatly for want of proper and sufficient food. Also, I have to complain that more recently a woman of bad character —  recognised as having been seen in the streets of Chicago as such, by several of the guard — calling herself Mrs. Onderdunk, was placed here in my house in a room adjoining mine.

In making this exposition, I have no object of appeal to your sympathies. If the justice of my complaint and a decent regard for the world’s opinion do not move you, I should but waste time to claim your attention on any other score.

I may, however, recall to your mind that but a little while since you were quite as much proscribed by public sentiment here, for the opinions and principles you held, as I am now for mine.

I could easily have escaped arrest, having had timely warning. I thought it possible that your statesmanship might prevent such a proclamation of weakness to the world as even the fragment of a once great Government turning its arms against the breasts of women and children. You have the power, sir, and may still further abuse it. You may prostrate the physical strength, by confinement in close rooms and insufficient food. You may subject me to harsher, ruder treatment than I have already received; but you cannot imprison the soul. Every cause worthy of success has had its martyrs. The words of the heroine Corday are applicable here: “C’est le crime qui fait la honte, et non pas l’échafaud.” My sufferings will afford a significant lesson to the women of the South, that sex or condition is no bulwark against the surging billows of the “irrepressible conflict.”

The “iron heel” of power may keep down, but it cannot crush out, the spirit of resistance in a people armed for the defence of their rights; and I tell you now, sir, that you are standing over a crater whose smothered fires in a moment may burst forth.

It is your boast that thirty-three bristling fortifications surround Washington. The fortifications of Paris did not protect Louis Philippe when his hour had come.

In conclusion, I respectfully ask your attention to this my protest, and have the honour to be, &c,

&c, &c,

ROSE O'N. Geeenhow.

SOURCE: Rose O'Neal Greenhow, My Imprisonment and the First Year of Abolition rule at Washington, p. 118-24

Major-General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Mead, February 14, 1864 – 7 p.m.

Willard's Hotel, Sunday, February 14, 1864—7 P. M.

I felt very badly at leaving you, but I tried to reconcile myself to what was inevitable and could not be helped. We had a very pleasant journey to this place. Mr. Cram and Colonel Bache joined us at the depot, and at Wilmington I found General Hartsuff and Colonel Sackett on the train and took them into the car. Mr. Felton, the president of the company, was at the cars and was very civil. When we crossed the Susquehanna an elegant cold collation with champagne was set out, of which we all freely partook. On arriving here we took tea, and soon afterwards, about nine o'clock, I went to bed. The next day I spent all the day at the Department and White House. The Secretary was, as he always is, very civil and ready to accede to all my suggestions. He gratified me very much by saying that there was no officer in command who had to so great a degree the implicit confidence of all parties as myself; but he said there were several officers in my army that did not have the confidence of the country, and that I was injuring myself by retaining them. I told him I did not know who they were, but that if he was aware of this fact, I thought it was his duty to retire them, and I should not object; and I suppose the result will be a pretty general sweeping out. While with the Secretary, Mr. Usher, Secretary of the Interior, came in and invited me to his house at seven o'clock. Supposing it to be an evening party, where I could show myself and slip out, I accepted; but on going there I found it to be a regular dinner party. Senators Collamore, Wilson, Wilkeson and Powell, together with Judges Holt and Law, and the ladies of the family, constituted the party. All received and treated me with great distinction and civility, and about 10 P. M. I got home, and, after a talk with Cram, went to bed, a little tired. I had intended to go down to the army this morning, but received last night a note from the Secretary, saying he wanted to see me to-day; so I had to spend some four or five hours at the Department, and the rest of the day have remained quietly in the house with Cram.

Mr. Harding with Mrs. Harding are here, also Cortlandt Parker. I have not seen our friends the Harrises, except the Senator.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 2, p. 164-5

Diary of Corydon E. Fuller: Tuesday, April 4, 1865

During the day great preparations had been made for the grand illumination to come off in the evening. About 7½ o'clock P. M., we rode to the city, with Bro. Summy's people, and remained until near 10½ o’clock. We rode down Seventh street, past the Post-office, to E street; then along that street to Ninth street; then down Ninth street to Pennsylvania avenue, and then up the avenue to the War Department, where we left the carriage and walked down Seventeenth street, past the War Department, nearly to the Navy Department. Four bands were at the War Department, and made excellent music all the evening. Over the north portico was erected a magnificent evergreen arch, beneath which was suspended a transparency with the motto, “The Union must and shall be preserved,” and beneath, the word “Richmond.” The pillars were wreathed with flags, and in each window were twenty-four lights. The effect was very brilliant. Several thousand people filled the avenue and Seventeenth street, both north and west of the War Department. The Navy Department, Winder's building, the “Art Hall,” and several other buildings near, were brilliantly illuminated, and added much to the effect. We then went around to the President's house, which was a blaze of light; while from Lafayette Square beautiful rockets were sent up, exploding in a shower of stars. We next went down the avenue past the Treasury. Over the north door of the State Department, which is in the Treasury building, was the motto, “At home, Union is Order, and Order is Peace; Abroad, Union is Strength, and Strength is Peace.” Over the east door the motto was, “Peace and good will to all nations, but no entangling alliances and no intervention.” Over the door of the National Currency Bureau of the United States Treasury Department, was the motto, “U. S. Greenbacks and U. S. Grant; Grant gives the Greenbacks a metallic ring.” Below this was another transparency presenting a facsimile of a ten dollar compound interest note. Jay Cooke's banking office had transparencies as follows: over the north window, “5-20”; over the south window, “7-30.” These were connected by another, bearing the inscription. “The bravery of our Army, the valor of our Navy, sustained by our Treasury, upon the faith and persistence of a patriotic people.” Hundreds of other buildings were illuminated, but I can not mention them. We walked down Pennsylvania avenue as far as Seventh street; then up Seventh street to the Post-office, and down F street, stopping in front of the Patent Office, where some ten or fifteen thousand persons were congregated, listening to speeches. We did not go up to the Capitol, as the cars were crowded and the walk too much for Mary. It was very brilliantly illuminated to the very top of the dome, and in the distance presented a magnificent spectacle. Taken as a whole, the illumination was by far the best I have ever seen, and is said to have been the best ever seen in this city.

SOURCE: Corydon Eustathius Fuller, Reminiscences of James A. Garfield: With Notes Preliminary and Collateral, p. 376-7