Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, August 19, 1862

HUDSON CAMP GROUNDS. I have enlisted! Joined the Army of Uncle Sam for three years, or the war, whichever may end first. Thirteen dollars per month, board, clothes and travelling expenses thrown in. That's on the part of my Uncle. For my part, I am to do, I hardly know what, but in a general way understand I am to kill or capture such part of the Rebel Army as comes in my way.

I wonder what sort of a soldier I will make; to be honest about it, I don't feel much of that eagerness for the fray I am hearing so much of about me.

It seems to me it is a serious sort of business I have engaged in. I was a long time making up my mind about it. This one could go, and that one, and they ought to, but with me, some way it was different. There was so much I had planned to do, and to be. I was needed at home, etc., etc. So I would settle the question for a time, only to have it come up to be reasoned away again, and each time my reasons for not taking my part in the job seemed less reasonable. Finally I did the only thing I could respect myself for doing, went to Millerton, the nearest recruiting station, and enlisted.

I then threw down my unfinished castles, went around and bid my friends good-bye, and had a general settling up of my affairs, which, by the way, took but little time. But I never before knew I had so many friends. Everyone seemed to be my friend. A few spoke encouragingly, but the most of them spoke and acted about as I would expect them to, if I were on my way to the gallows. Pity was so plainly shown that when I had gone the rounds, and reached home again, I felt as if I had been attending my own funeral. Poor old father and mother! They had expected it, but now that it had come they felt it, and though they tried hard, they could not hide from me that they felt it might be the last they would see of their baby.

Then came the leaving it all behind. I cannot describe that. The good-byes and the good wishes ring in my ears yet. I am not myself. I am some other person. My surroundings are new, the sights and sounds about me are new, my aims and ambitions are new;—that is if I have any. I seem to have reached the end. I can look backwards, but when I try to look ahead it is all a blank. Right here let me say, God bless the man who wrote "Robert Dawson," and God bless the man who gave me the book. "Only a few drops at a time, Robert." The days are made of minutes, and I am only sure of the one I am now living in. Take good care of that and cross no bridges until you come to them.

I have promised to keep a diary, and I am doing it. I have also promised that it should be a truthful account of what I saw and what I did. I have crawled off by myself and have been scribbling away for some time, and upon reading what I have written I find it reads as if I was the only one. But I am not. There are hundreds and perhaps thousands here, and I suppose all could, if they cared to, write just such an experience as I have. But no one else seems foolish enough to do it. I will let this stand as a preface to my diary, and go on to say that we, the first installment of recruits from our neighborhood, gathered at Amenia, where we had a farewell dinner, and a final handshake, after which we boarded the train and were soon at Ghent, where we changed from the Harlem to the Hudson & Berkshire R. R., which landed us opposite the gates of the Hudson Fair Grounds, about 4 P. M. on the 14th. We were made to form in line and were then marched inside, where we found a lot of rough board shanties, such as are usually seen on country fair grounds, and which are now used as offices, and are full of bustle and confusion. After a wash-up, we were taken to a building which proved to be a kitchen and dining room combined. Long pine tables, with benches on each side, filled the greater part of it, and at these we took seats and were served with good bread and fair coffee, our first meal at Uncle Sam's table, and at his expense. After supper we scattered, and the Amenia crowd brought up at the Miller House in Hudson. We took in some of the sights of the city and then put up for the night.

The next morning we had breakfast and then reported at the camp grounds ready for the next move, whatever that might be. We found crowds of people there, men, women and children, which were fathers and mothers, wives and sweethearts, brothers and sisters of the men who have enlisted from all over Dutchess and Columbia counties. Squads of men were marching on the race track, trying to keep step with an officer who kept calling out "Left, Left, Left," as his left foot hit the ground, from which I judged he meant everyone else should put his left foot down with his. We found these men had gone a step further than we. They had been examined and accepted, but just what that meant none of us exactly knew. We soon found out, however, Every few minutes a chap came out from a certain building and read from a book, in a loud voice, the names of two men. These would follow him in, be gone a little while and come out, when the same performance would be repeated. My name and that of Peter Carlo, of Poughkeepsie, were called together, and in we went. We found ourselves in a large room with the medical examiner and his clerks. His salutation, as we entered, consisted of the single word, "Strip." We stripped and were examined just as a horseman examines a horse he is buying. He looked at our teeth and felt all over us for any evidence of unsoundness there might be. Then we were put through a sort of gymnastic performance, and told to put on our clothes. We were then weighed and measured, the color of our eyes and hair noted, also our complexion, after which another man came and made us swear to a lot of things, most of which I have forgotten already. But as it was nothing more than I expected to do without swearing I suppose it makes no difference.

The rest of the day we visited around, getting acquainted and meeting many I had long been acquainted with. In the afternoon the camp ground was full of people, and as night began to come, and they began to go, the good-byes were many and sad enough. I am glad my folks know enough to stay away. That was our first night in camp. After we came from the medical man, we were no longer citizens, but just soldiers. We could not go down town as we did the night before. This was Saturday night, August 17th. We slept but little, at least I did not. A dozen of us had a small room, a box stall, in one of the stables, just big enough to lie down in. The floor looked like pine, but it was hard, and I shall never again call pine a soft wood, at least to lie on. If one did fall asleep he was promptly awakened by some one who had not, and by passing this around, such a racket was kept up that sleep was out of the question. I for one was glad the drummer made a mistake and routed us out at five o'clock instead of six, as his orders were. We shivered around until roll-call and then had breakfast. We visited together until dinner. Beef and potatoes, bread and coffee, and plenty of it. Some find fault and some say nothing, but I notice that each gets away with all that's set before him. In the afternoon we had preaching out of doors, for no building on the grounds would hold us. A Rev. Mr. Parker preached, a good straight talk, no big words or bluster, but a plain man-to-man talk on a subject that should concern us now, if it never did before. I for one made some mighty good resolutions, then and there. Every regiment has a chaplain, I am told, and I wish ours could be this same Mr. Parker. The meeting had a quieting effect on all hands. There was less swearing and less noise and confusion that afternoon than at any time before. After supper the question of bettering our sleeping accommodations came up, and in spite of the good resolutions above recorded I helped steal some hay to sleep on. We made up our minds that if our judge was as sore as we were he would not be hard on us. We spread the hay evenly over the floor and lay snug and warm, sleeping sound until Monday morning, the 18th.

The mill of the medical man kept on grinding and batches of men were sworn in every little while. Guards were placed at the gates, to keep us from going down town. I was one of the guards, but was called off to sign a paper and did not go back. Towards night we had to mount guard over our hay. Talk about "honor among thieves," what was not stolen before we found it out, was taken from under us while we were asleep, and after twisting and turning on the bare floor until my aching bones woke me, I got up and helped the others express themselves, for there was need of all the cuss words we could muster to do the subject justice. But that was our last night in those quarters.

The next day the new barracks were finished and we took possession. They are long narrow buildings, about 100 feet by 16, with three tiers of bunks on each side, leaving an alley through the middle, and open at each end. The bunks are long enough for a tall man and wide enough for two men provided they lie straight, with a board in front to keep the front man from rolling out of bed. There are three buildings finished, and each accommodates 204 men. We were not allowed either hay or straw for fear of fire. As we only had our bodies to move, it did not take long to move in. Those from one neighborhood chose bunks near together, and there was little quarrelling over choice. In fact one is just like another in all except location. Walter Loucks and I got a top berth at one end, so we have no trouble in finding it, as some do who are located near the middle. These barracks, as they are here called, are built close together, and ordinary conversation in one can be plainly heard in the others. Such a night as we had, story-telling, song-singing, telling what we would do if the Rebs attacked us in the night, with now and then a quarrel thrown in, kept us all awake until long after midnight. There was no getting lonesome, or homesick. No matter what direction one's thought might take, they were bound to be changed in a little while, and so the time went on. Perhaps some one would start a hymn and others would join in, and just as everything was going nicely, a block of wood, of which there were plenty lying around, would come from no one knew where, and perhaps hit a man who was half asleep. Then the psalm singing would end up in something quite different, and for awhile one could almost taste brimstone. I heard more original sayings that night than in all my life before, and only that the boards were so hard, and my bones ached so badly, I would have enjoyed every minute of it.

But we survived the night, and were able to eat everything set before us, when morning and breakfast time came. After breakfast we had our first lesson in soldiering, that is, the men of what will be Captain Bostwick's company, if he succeeds in filling it, and getting his commission, did. A West Point man put us through our paces. We formed in line on the race track, and after several false starts got going, bringing our left feet down as our instructor called out, "Left, Left," etc. A shower in the night had left some puddles on the track, and the first one we came to some went around and some jumped across, breaking the time and step and mixing up things generally. We were halted, and as soon as the captain could speak without laughing, he told us what a ridiculous thing it was for soldiers to dodge at a mud puddle. After a turn at marching, or keeping step with each other, he explained very carefully to us the "position of a soldier," telling how necessary it was that we learn the lesson well, for it would be of great use to us hereafter. He repeated it, until every word had time to sink in. "Heels on the same line, and as near together as the conformation of the man will permit. Knees straight, without stiffness. Body erect on the hips, and inclining a little forward. Arms hanging naturally at the sides, the little finger behind the seam of the pantaloons. Shoulders square to the front. Head erect, with the eyes striking the ground at the distance of fifteen paces." Every bone in my body ached after a little of this, and yet our instructor told us this is the position in which a well-drilled soldier can stand for the longest time and with the greatest ease. This brings my diary up to this date and I must not let it get behind again. There is so much to write about, it takes all my spare time; but now I am caught up, I will try and keep so.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 1-7

William T. Sherman to Ellen Ewing Sherman, January 27, 1861

SEMINARY, January 27, 1861.

. . . Since my last I have three letters from you. . . The mails have been much disordered by a break on the Mississippi Railroad. In my last I sent you a copy of a letter written to Governor Moore, to which I have received no answer.¹ He is very busy indeed, legislature and convention both in session at Baton Rouge, giving him hardly time to think of the Seminary. . .

The ordinance of Secession will pass in a day or so², but the legislature was adjourned till February 4, so that no business can be transacted there for some days. It don't take long to pull down, and everybody is striving for the honor of pouring out the deepest insult to Uncle Sam. The very men who last 4th of July were most patriotic and exhausted their imaginations for pictures of the glories of our Union, are now full of joy and happiness that this accursed Union is wrecked and destroyed.

This rapid popular change almost makes me monarchist, and raises the question whether the self interest of one man is not a safer criterion than the wild opinions of ignorant men. From all I can read Missouri and Kentucky will go with the crowd South and will be more seriously affected than any other part of the country.

As soon as I hear from Governor Moore I will let you know when to expect me. I know that he, the governor, will feel inclined to get rid of me instanter, but Dr. Smith wants me to stay for a successor, and he has no successor in his mind. If he proposes I shall stay till March, I will feel disposed to agree to it for pecuniary reasons, but I think the governor will feel hurt at my letter, and will be disposed to get rid of me. At all events, my position being clearly defined I cannot be complicated by these secession movements. I do feel a little mean at being made partially accessory to the robbing of the Baton Rouge Arsenal by receiving a part of the stolen property. . .

_______________

¹ See pages 341-343, 350-351. – ED.

² It was passed on January 26, 1861. – Ed.

SOURCE: Walter L. Fleming, General W.T. Sherman as College President, p. 351-3

William T. Sherman to Senator John Sherman, February 1, 1861

February 1, 1861.

. . . It is war to surround Anderson with batteries, and it is shilly-shally for the South to cry “Hands off! No coercion!” It was war and insult to expel the garrison at Baton Rouge, and Uncle Sam had better cry “Cave!” or assert his power. Fort Sumter is not material, save for the principle; but Key West and the Tortugas should be held in force at once, by regulars, if possible, if not, by militia. Quick! They are occupied now, but not in force.

Whilst maintaining the high, strong ground you do, I would not advise you to interpose an objection to securing concessions to the middle and moderate states — Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Missouri. Slavery there is local, and even if the world were open to them, its extension would involve no principle. If these states felt the extreme South wrong, a seeming concession would make them committed. The cotton states are gone, I suppose. Of course, their commerce will be hampered. . .

I sent you a copy of my letter to the governor. Here is his answer [see pages 350-351].

This is very handsome, and I do regret this political imbroglio. I do think it was brought about by politicians. The people in the South are evidently unanimous in the opinion that slavery is endangered by the current of events, and it is useless to attempt to alter that opinion. As our government is founded on the will of the people, when that will is fixed, our government is powerless, and the only question is whether to let things slide into general anarchy, or the formation of two or more confederacies, which will be hostile sooner or later. Still, I know that some of the best men of Louisiana think this change may be effected peaceably. But even if the Southern States be allowed to depart in peace, the first question will be revenue.

Now, if the South have free trade, how can you collect revenues in the eastern cities? Freight from New Orleans to St. Louis, Chicago, Louisville, Cincinnati, and even Pittsburg, would be about the same as by rail from New York, and importers at New Orleans, having no duties to pay, would undersell the East if they had to pay duty. Therefore, if the South make good their confederation and their plan, the northern confederacy must do likewise or blockade. Then comes the question of foreign nations. So, look on it in any view, I see no result but war and consequent changes in the form of government. . .

SOURCE: Walter L. Fleming, General W.T. Sherman as College President, p. 357-8

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: July 3, 1863

Uncle Sam's cashier has arrived at last, and we have been paid for two months' service. The married men are quite anxious to send their money home to their wives and little ones. It is risky sending money North from here, yet, to some, more dangerous to keep it. I saw two boys sitting on a log, today, playing poker at five cents a game. Five cent currency is paid in a sheet, and, as either lost the game, a five cent piece was torn off.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 74

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 26, 1863

Combined knife, fork and spoon, used by the boys
at the siege of Vicksburg.

We have heard that Port Hudson is ours, and I hope this may be true, for it will tend to hasten the surrender of Vicksburg.

A little dirt has been thrown up ahead of us, as a shield, in case we have to fight the enemy. We hear all sorts of reports about the strength of Johnston's army, but the truth will only appear when we meet it. One captive said the report in Vicksburg was that Pemberton despaired of getting help from the out side, and was ready to surrender when the last meal rations have been eaten. He probably understands the resources of our commissary, as well as the magnanimous disposition of Grant to issue provisions to a starving foe. Well, why not? The first square meal received from Uncle Sam will be an occasion to them of thanksgiving. They will get the best that we can issue. And when the war is over, true soldiers of both armies will be among the first to break the bread of reunion and quaff the cup of restored peace and good will.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 65-6

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 5, 1863

The siege is still progressing favorably. There is joy in our camp, for Uncle Sam has again opened a clothing store, which we shall patronize, asking nothing about price or quality. The boys cheered lustily when they saw the teams drive in, and heard what they were loaded with. However, I don't want to hug rifle-pits with a brand new suit on, for it would soon get dirty.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 45

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 4, 1863

We move at last. We left camp as the sun rose, reaching our old quarters in front of the rebel Fort Hill in the afternoon. Glad we are to get here. A great change has taken place during our ten days' absence. More rifle-pits have been made and new batteries erected, and our lines generally have been pushed closer to the works of the enemy. Mines are being dug, and we shall soon see something flying in the air in front of us, when those mines explode. The work is being done very secretly, for it would not do to have the rebels find out our plans. Fort Hill in our front and on the Jackson road is said to be the key to Vicksburg. We have tried often to turn this key, but have as often failed. In fact, the lock is not an easy one. The underground work now going on will perhaps break the lock with an explosion. Our return to camp from our excursion after Johnston creates some excitement among those who stayed behind. They all want to hear about our trip, and what we saw and conquered. Our clothes are so dirty and ragged, that though we have sewed and patched, and patched and sewed, Uncle Sam would hardly recognize those nice blue suits he gave us a little while ago. This southern sun pours down a powerful heat, which compels us to keep as quiet as possible. Just a month from today we celebrate our Fourth of July-where, I do not know, but inside of Vicksburg, I hope.

I have asked both officers and men to write in an album I have opened since reaching our old post near the city, and here are a few of their contributions:

“Friend O.: Here is hoping we may see the stars and stripes float over the court house in Vicksburg on the Fourth of July, and also that we may see this rebellion, in which so many of our comrades have fallen, come to an end, while we live on to enjoy a peace secured by our arms. Then hurrah for the Buckeye girls. Your sincere friend,

“HENRY H. Fulton,

" Company E, 20th Ohio.”

“Here is hoping we may have the pleasure of zweiglass of lager in Vicksburg, on July 4th.

“D. M. COOPER,

“ Company A, 96th Ohio.”

I hope we shall be able to spend the coming Fourth in the famous city before us, and to have a glorification there over our victories.

“SQUIRE McKEE,

“Company E, 20th Ohio.”

“Here is hoping that by the glorious Fourth, and by the force of our arms, we shall penetrate their boasted Gibraltar.

“T. B. LEGGETT,

“Company E, 20th Ohio.”

“I offer you this toast: Though you have seen many hardships, let me congratulate you on arriving safely so near Vicksburg. May the besieged city fall in time for you and all our boys to take a glass of lager on the Fourth of July; and may the boys of the Twentieth be the first to taste the article they have duly won.

“D. B. LINSTEAD,

“Company G, 20th Ohio.”

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 43-5

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: May 17, 1863

Too many Slapjacks cause a soldier to dream of a feast at home.

On the road to Vicksburg, resolved to capture the city or get badly whipped. We have not known defeat since we left Fort Donelson, and we propose to keep our good record up. We have seen hard times on some hotly contested fields, but mean to have nothing but victory, if possible, on our banner.

The advance of our army has made a grand sweep, paaell-mell, over the rebel works at Big Black River, routing the foe and capturing twenty-five hundred prisoners with twenty-nine cannon. Their rifle pits were quite numerous, but they were all on low ground, so that when the word was given the Yankees rushed over them with the greatest ease. The rebs may be drawing us into a trap, but as yet we have not a moments' fear of the result, for when Grant tells us to go over a thing we go, and feel safe in going. Even in time of peace we would not wish the great curtain that hides the future to be rolled away, nor do soldiers now ask to know what lies before them. But every day brings new scenes fraught with dangers, hair-breadth escapes or death, after which the ranks close and move on undaunted. And our love of country still grows as we go.

We camped within a few miles of Black River, perfectly satisfied, though we have had no hand in the slaughter to-day. We rather expected to be halted a few days at the river, where the enemy would surely be strongly fortified, and where, as they could certainly spare the greater part of their forces from Vicksburg if they would but bring them out, they could make a desperate stand.  We are now fighting hard for our grub, since we have nothing left but flour, and slapjacks lie to heavy on a soldier’s stomach. But there is great consolation in reflecting that behind us Uncle Sam keeps piled a bountiful supply all ready to be issued as soon as we can find a proper halting place.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 25-6

Captain Charles Wright Wills: October 5, 1864

Six miles south of Marietta, October 5, 1864.

Had an awful day's march yesterday, full 20 miles and the road very muddy and slippery. County peculiarly Georgian, the like of which, I hope, is to be found nowhere else in Uncle Sam's domain. When we started the “spring or grapevine” dispatch said that Hardee's headquarters were in Marietta, and that he was living very high on sanitary stores, of which there is enough to feed an army for a time. We crossed the river on pontoons near the railroad bridge, a very fine work, considering it was built inside of a week.

We then heard that Marietta was not in Hardee's possession, but that lively skirmishing was going on along the lines, and that Hardee's army was before the place. About three miles from the river we met a wagon train just from Marietta; part of the guards had not heard that any Rebels were near the town. Others said that Hood's army was just the other side of Kenesaw, about two miles north of Marietta. Finally a cavalry man said part of our (guard's) cavalry occupied Kenesaw, from the top of which he had seen the Rebel army occupying an old line of works of ours just this side of Big Shanty. I just thought I would give you a sample of the “grape cuttings” that accompany a march. A body of Rebels is evidently above Marietta, on the railroad; how strong I don't know, and it is none of my business. “Pap” knows all about it. He never tells us anything. He has not issued a “battle order” during the whole campaign and hardly a congratulatory. If the Rebels are there in force, there will be a battle. It can have but one result, and cannot fail to be a disastrous one for them. We have at least 50 days’ full rations and I think 90, so the breaking of the railroad cannot affect us. Six p. m.—We took all kinds of roundabout roads to-day, and marched eight miles to make not over four. I have been really sick all day, but hope it will be over by morning. The Johnnies have left Big Shanty, moving north on the railroad, tearing it up as they travel. Go it, Rebels!

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 305-6

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: December 20, 1861

We are having cold weather; freezing quite hard at night, and making our lodgings in these little rag houses anything but comfortable. I have been with a detail of men down to the wharf unloading and storing army supplies. Annapolis is a depot of supplies, and immense quantities are landed here and sent by rail to Washington. A person never having given the subject of army preparation and supplies much thought, would be astonished at the immense quantities he would see here, and would begin to calculate how long it would be before Uncle Sam would be bankrupt. Large warehouses are filled and breaking down under the weight of flour, beef, pork, bread, sugar, coffee, clothing, ammunition, etc., while the wharves and adjacent grounds are filled with hay, oats, lumber, coal, guns, mortars, gun-carriages, pontoons and other appendages of an army. I presume the cost of feeding and clothing an army of half a million of-men is not really so much as the same number of men would cost at home, but the army being consumers, instead of producers, the balance will eventually be found on the debit page of the ledger.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 15

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: May 5, 1863

We were annoyed some little through the night, by the rebels firing, but they didn't hit anybody. Two regiments of infantry with some cavalry crossed the river for a little scout. I do not think there are many rebels over there, but what few there are, ought to be whipped. They will have to fall back at the approach of our men, but that is easily done, and, when our forces return, they will be right back firing from behind the trees.

The army is marching on around Vicksburg, and we are very anxious to take our place in this grand column. We are quite tired of the duties assigned us here, and have had orders to move several times, which were as often countermanded.

Had chicken for dinner. Uncle Sam doesn't furnish chickens in his bill of fare, but they will get into the camp kettle. We have to be very saving of the regular rations, consequently must look outside for extras—chickens, ham, sweet potatoes, etc., all taste good. I walked down the river a short distance, viewing the scenery, when a bullet flew through the trees not far from my head. I looked across the river from whence it came, but could not see anybody. Did not stay there long, but got back to camp, where I felt safer.

Our camp is in the bottom, close to the river bank. – The enemy at Grand Gulf spiked their cannon and retreated to Vicksburg. If that place could not be taken by the gun-boats on the river in front, the infantry marching in their rear made them hustle out in a hurry. When the people in Vicksburg see their retreating troops returning to the town they went out to protect, they will think Grant's marching around them means something.

While writing a few letters to-day I was amused to notice the various attitudes taken by the boys while writing. One wrote on a drum-head, another on his cartridge-box; one used a board and several wrote on the top of a battery caisson. These letters would be more highly appreciated by the recipients if the circumstances under which they were prepared were realized.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 7-8

George D. Phillips to Howell Cobb, February 25, 1845

Hab[ersham] Co[unty, Ga.], Feb. 25,1845.

Dear Sir: I wrote you a few days ago that the Texas question, as decided now, would stand decided forever. I would stake my ears against a Romish crucifix, that time proves the correctness of this opinion; but I would qualify in this particular: if President Polk convenes an extra Congress and Texas be thereby annexed, even under less favourable circumstances than those secured by the House Resolutions, Texas will assent, provided there be no restrictions on the subject of slavery embraced. The wit of man could not devise a plan of annexation to which they would assent if at any future time any portion of Texas, or rather any State formed out of Texas territory, should give rise even to a discussion in Congress on the question of negro slavery. Her public lands are more than enough to pay her public debt, and she feels indifferent on that subject. You need not indulge the least fear that Texas will fall a prey to English diplomacy, intrigue, or money. I had my doubts and fears until I visited the country and mixed with her people freely, the elite and the clod-pole. Save the immigrants from the West, and probably those from abroad, all, all are Americans, and better, Southern, and dyed in the wool. And I hazard nothing in saying Texas will sustain and defend Southern rights and Southern institutions or cease to exist as a free people. Nor will Texas permit England to guarantee her independence. She is conscious of having a better guarantee in the strong arms and brave hearts of her sons; and if she is not received by the U. S., or her independence acknowledged by the powers that be, as soon as a new state of things becomes settled in Mexico she will wring from Mexico that acknowledgement. There is now a strong feeling in all the states from the Rio del Nort to the Table Lands to amalgamate with Texas; an invading army of 2000 men would certainly take possession of 4 states. As those who are resolved not to fight are easily whipd, all that Texas will desire of Uncle Sam will be to keep her Indians at home. As to Mexico and her own savages, she can take care of them.

The last mail brought us intelligence that Congress had decided to establish a territorial government in Oregon. The slavery question did not apply there; but to us it involved the question of power, and if I had been clear that the whole country to the 54th deg. N. L. belonged to us, I never could have supported the measure in advance of a settlement of the Texas question. With me it would have been: no Texas, no Oregon, or both simultaneously. I have never seen any conclusive evidence of our titles to Oregon north of 49, and doubt if such proof is extant. If so, where will I find it? If I am not deceived, Oregon will prove a Pandora's Box. For a foot of Maine I was willing to fight; for Texas I would fight the world, because the world would be impertinently interfering with our concerns; but for Oregon north of 49, I would not quarrel. . . .

There is I find an extraordinary effort making to remove Mr. Cooper, superintendent of the mint,¹ from office; and that Dr. Singleton should have the motley crowd almost passeth belief and that too to wear the slippers. Does it not require some credulity to believe this, yet it is so. You know the Dr. is a dull plodding man, and if he were again in office and remained there for half a century he could not be as well qualified for the office as Mr. Cooper was the first week he entered it. Under the Dr.'s administration depositors had to wait from two to four weeks for coin. Some improvement took place when Rosignol was in office, but since Mr. Cooper has been in depositors often get their gold coin as soon as the assay can be made. Mr. Rosignol was an efficient man but his manners rendered him unpopular and it was said, perhaps with some truth, he killed two birds with one stone, served a bank and Uncle Sam too; and for this I presume was removed. Mr. Cooper is easy and polite in his intercourse with all who have business at the mint. If any charges of improper conduct have been brought against him I have not heard them; and it would be difficult to imagine one so correct and unexceptionable in his conduct that such a being as Harrison Riley could not bring a charge against. I presume they dare not attack Mr. Cooper on the ground of want of qualification. No change could be made for the better on that score. Do depositors of gold bullion want him removed? No, and he may challenge to the proof. I speak of honorable, intelligent gentlemen. Many two-and-sixpence depositors may have signed a petition. To what kind of a petition would you fail to get signers? You might get forty in Washington to emancipate my negroes and compel them to cut my throat. But if they really have, as I hear, 6000 petitioners for the removal, I have no doubt but 9/10 of them never were in the mint, made a deposit of gold or know Mr. Cooper, and further that 9/10 of them are Whigs. If Mr. Cooper or his friends were to get up counter petitions they could beat the celebrated Abolition petition a stone's throw. That I think had 7 thousand names. We could get 20 thousand in Geo. The truth is this: Dr. Singleton wants the office for the money. Harrison Riley, than whom the devil is not more artful, hates Mr. Cooper because he is a gentleman and a Democrat, and wishes to get him out of the county, and others whom I could name cooperate from interested motives. In justice to Maj. C. and in justice to your constituents I hope you and every Democratic Member of Congress of both houses will call on President Tyler and put this low and dirty effort down, by the correct representations. It is said Mr. C. is some way related to the President; if so, there may be more danger than if no such connection existed. If any importance is attached to six thousand then ask a suspension of any action until a counter petition of 10,000 can be sent on; and if the matter is reserved for the President-elect, do not in the fulness of heartfelt rejoicing and the pageantry of oiling the head of our triumphant Chief make you forget to call on him, the whole of you, Judge Colquitt at your head, and prevent an honest man and faithful officer from being thrown overboard to gratify a land pirate and his porpoise coadjutor. I write in haste and amidst confusion, but have no doubt wearied you. Adieu.

_______________

¹ I. e., the United States branch mint at Dahlonega, Ga.

SOURCE: Ulrich Bonnell Phillips, Editor, The Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1911, Volume 2: The Correspondence of Robert Toombs, Alexander H. Stephens, and Howell Cobb, p. 66-8

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 1, 1861

May Day, — Not unworthy of the best effort of English fine weather before the change in the calendar robbed the poets of twelve days, but still a little warm for choice. The young American artist Moses, who was to have called our party to meet the officers who were going to Fort Pulaski, for some reason known to himself remained on board the Camilla, and when at last we got down to the river side I found Commodore Tatnall and Brigadier Lawton in full uniform waiting for me.

The river is about the width of the Thames below Gravesend, very muddy, with a strong current, and rather fetid. That effect might have been produced from the rice-swamps at the other side of it, where the land is quite low, and stretches away as far as the sea in one level green, smooth as a billiard-cloth. The bank at the city side is higher, so that the houses stand on a little eminence over the stream, affording convenient wharfage and slips for merchant vessels.

Of these there were few indeed visible—nearly all had cleared out for fear of the blockade; some coasting vessels were lying idle at the quay side, and in the middle of the stream near a floating dock the Camilla was moored, with her club ensign flying. These are the times for bold ventures, and if Uncle Sam is not very quick with his blockades, there will be plenty of privateers and the like under C. S. A. colors, looking out for his fat merchantmen all over the world.

I have been trying to persuade my friends here they will find very few Englishmen willing to take letters of marque and reprisal.

The steamer which was waiting to receive us had the Confederate flag flying, and Commodore Tatnall, pointing to a young officer in a naval uniform, told me he had just “come over from the other side,” and that he had pressed hard to be allowed to hoist a Commodore or flag-officer's ensign in honor of the visit and of the occasion. I was much interested in the fine white-headed, blue-eyed, ruddy-cheeked old man — who suddenly found himself blown into the air by a great political explosion, and in doubt and wonderment was floating to shore, under a strange flag in unknown waters. He was full of anecdote too, as to strange flags in distant waters and well-known names. The gentry of Savannah had a sort of Celtic feeling towards him in regard of his old name, and seemed determined to support him.

He has served the Stars and Stripes for three fourths of a long life — his friends are in the North, his wife's kindred are there, and so are all his best associations — but his State has gone out. How could he fight against the country that gave yhim birth! The United States is no country, in the sense we understand the words. It is a corporation or a body corporate for certain purposes, and a man might as well call himself a native of the common council of the city of London, or a native of the Swiss Diet, in the estimation of our Americans, as say he is a citizen of the United States; though it answers very well to say so when he is abroad, or for purposes of a legal character.

Of Fort Pulaski itself I wrote on my return a long account to the “Times.”

When I was venturing to point out to General Lawton the weakness of Fort Pulaski, placed as it is in low land, accessible to boats, and quite open enough for approaches from the city side, he said, “Oh, that is true enough. All our seacoast works are liable to that remark, but the Commodore will take care of the Yankees at sea, and we shall manage them on land.” These people all make a mistake in referring to the events of the old war. “We beat off the British fleet at Charleston by the militia — ergo, we'll sink the Yankees now.” They do not understand the nature of the new shell and heavy vertical fire, or the effect of projectiles from great distances falling into works. The Commodore afterwards, smiling, remarked, “I have no fleet. Long before the Southern Confederacy has a fleet that can cope with the Stars and Stripes, my bones will be white in the grave.”

We got back by eight o'clock, P. M., after a pleasant day. What I saw did not satisfy me that Pulaski was strong, or Savannah very safe. At Bonaventure, yesterday, I saw a poor fort, called “Thunderbolt,” on an inlet from which the city was quite accessible. It could be easily menaced from that point, while attempts at landing were made elsewhere, as soon as Pulaski is reduced. At dinner met a very strong and very well-informed Southerner — there are some who are neither — or either — whose name was spelled Gourdin, and pronounced Go-dine — just as Huger is called Hugee—and Tagliaferro, Telfer, in these parts.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 155-7

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: June 27, 1864

Again on the march. I will be thankful if I can hold out until we get rations. Progress is very slow over these mountains. Roads are badly washed by the heavy rains. This is no time to repair roads. They are very dangerous, not only for the men, but also for the poor horses and mules drawing the cannons and heavy army wagons. Very few houses and not much settlement along these mountain roads, so that we see very few people.

After a forced march, about eighteen miles, came to a halt at the foot of the mountains. In the distance we saw what looked like wagons coming towards us. It proved to be farm wagons. The farmers offered their services to bring us rations. How thankful we were to meet them. Each man received two hardtack and a small piece of fresh meat. We were a foot-sore, hungry, ragged, dirty crowd of Uncle Sam's soldiers. Our suffering has been intense, over the mountains. The farmers informed us it was reported that Hunter's army was starving in the mountains. Raining very hard tonight.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 87

Taxation

Since the days of Cesar Augustus, when the edict went forth that all the world should be taxed, the subject of taxation has been one that has found no favor in the eyes of the people.  There is an innate principle in man, that rebels against the idea of giving money for the general good.  Even in his charities, he wishes his benevolence confined to a specific object.  A subscription for the universal brotherhood of mankind would have few signers.  As you narrow down the object, to our country, our State, our county, our city, our society, our relatives, our family, in proportion does man’s liberality expand.  The man who gives grudgingly to his own family is a niggard, and  will rarely be found contributing to any charitable object, and only then in the hope of subserving some selfish interest.  How such men screw and twist in view of taxation.  They regard it as money thrown away, and are ever ready to complain of the excess of their taxation over that of others.  Next to the self-evident truth, that “all men are born free and equal,” is the right of every man to grumble at his taxes!

Our people have so long lived under a mere nominal taxation, that the idea of an increase sufficient to meet the heavy additional expenses, incurred by the war forced upon us by the South, has caused many to fancy they see ruin staring them in the face.  Secretary Chase says, that the total national debt on the first of July next will not be over six hundred millions.  Looking at this amount in the light of their own private resources, many persons are led to conclude that we shall never be able to liquidate such heavy indebtedness.  Uncle Sam has a large number of children, and, compared with the amount of wealth in his family, this is but a small sum.  After all, it’s his own children who are his creditors, and they will not be unnatural as to oppress him for the amount; so that they get the interest, they will be content to let the principal remain.

But before we conclude that all is lost let us compare our condition with other countries.  There is Old England, for instance, one of the richest, proudest, most haughty and overbearing nations on the face of the globe.  It is true that her children are the best taxed people on earth, and that she drove her son Sam away from her by her cruel and excessive taxation, but she will do for an example; for if she lives under the taxes she finds it necessary to impose upon her people, the United States can grow rich, every mother’s son of us, under the comparatively insignificant taxes that will be necessary to oil the machinery of the Government, and make its wheels run smoothly.

We will select, for example, two articles of luxury, those most generally used in our country and against which the most fault has been found with Congress for taxing so high in its tax bill, viz; spirituous liquors 15 cents per gallon; in England the tax is $2.50 per gallon!  Quite a difference, say ye.  In our bill tobacco is taxed 1-3 per alb.; the English tax it 40 cts. per lb. on unmanufactured, and $2.30 on cigars!  Another difference.  In this way Englishmen pay for their Government $360,000,000 annually. – This may seem to be an enormous sum to our inexperienced eyes, yet it is not one-half the taxes the people there have to pay for the privilege of being the subjects of Victoria, Dei gratia, Queen of England.  Before they begin to pay this amount, or for leave to toil and earn it, they are subjected to $300,000,000 taxes in the shape of rent and tithes, and $40,000,000 poor rate, making a total of 700,000,000!  Then there are the game laws and other peculiarly English regulations that in themselves amount to an enormous tax, perhaps more than the aggregate tax of which we complain.

Talk of taxation, look at that picture, note these facts and ask yourselves, if Englishmen can live and thrive under such a system of onerous and oppressive taxation, is there any fear that we shall sink under the modicum of taxes that it is proposed to impose on us?  No, as the rich resources of our country are developed, and our people become more numerous, the entire debt of the nation, incurred in the prosecution of this war will be cancelled and we will gain become the most prosperous as the most powerful people on the face of the globe.  Until then, let us bear our share of the public burden, meekly, and even though the traitors who have inflicted it upon us escape the just confiscation of their property to assist in lightening the load, yet let us shoulder it manfully and show to the monarchists of the old world that we, as a Republic, have the stamina to meet one of the exigencies that are common to the history of all nations.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Tuesday Morning, May 6, 1862, p. 2

From The 11th Iowa Regiment

FULTON, Mo., Feb. 4.

EDITOR OF GAZETTE. – Dear Sir: The portion of the 11th Iowa stationed here, are finally quartered in the deaf and dumb asylum – the hospital, commissary department, and prisoners’ room being all under the same roof. This building is large enough to accommodate comfortably a regiment of soldiers with their officers. The insane hospital near by, and standing empty, is large enough to hold four or five regiments. – These buildings were erected by the State, at an expense of perhaps three-fourths of a million dollars, and were occupied as designed until Claib Jackson undertook to fight Uncle Sam, and wanted money. The funds of these institutions being of more easy access than those in the pockets of the people, the unfortunate patients and pupils were left without support, and soon hurried off – some to comfortable homes and others to hovels or jail. These fine buildings standing empty and desolate, perhaps for years to come, will silently utter long and loud curses on the heads of those who dared to prostitute these sacred funds to purposes of rebellion. The hundreds of suffering ones who recently peopled these costly structures, now scattered all over the State, will follow the rebel governor with their maledictions wherever he may wonder, or attempt to hide.

The duties of the 11th Iowa at this post consist in holding the place, protecting the property and lives of Union families, taking and guarding the persons and property of rebels, &ct. The four companies of the Iowa 3d Cavalry – also stationed here have late done most of the scouting, and right earnest and hard working men are they. Scarcely a day passes in which they do not bag more or less game. I am happy to say, however, that these fearless men from Iowa do not steal, burn and kill as they go. So far as I can learn, they abuse nobody, but under the able direction of their commander – Maj. Caldwell – require all of suspected treason to take the oath or accompany them to headquarters. It speaks well for the forbearance and self control of these daring horsemen, that during all the excitement of their scouting and taking prisoners, they have shot but one man, and he a prisoner making his third attempt to escape from his captors.

There are, or were, in this county, many noted secession sympathizers and bridge burners. One of these – Henry Larimore – known to have been a ringleader at the recent destruction of property on the North Missouri railroad, deserted his home not long since, and his splendid property is now in possession of one company of the 11th Iowa, in behalf of Uncle Sam. His farms, stock, &c., are thought to be worth from sixty to one hundred thousand dollars. It is quite possible, however, that he has creditors enough among good Union men to require a large portion of this property to liquidate their claims.

How long the 11th will remain here is very uncertain. It seems to be the plan, so far as we can discover, to leave this State to the care of the Home Guards or State Militia, while troops from other States are moved farther South. It is thought by Union men here, that this plan will be disastrous for such localities as Calloway Co., inasmuch as it would revive domestic quarrels and embolden the rebels to new and desperate acts of aggression. I am told that the citizens of this place, through Maj. Caldwell, have petitioned to have the Iowa troops remain; but whether Gen. Halleck will heed the petition is not certain.

We have still considerable sickness, but have had no death since my last, and so far as I know, only one in the regiment for nearly two weeks. The whole number now dead is 26. At one time we were greatly in want of comforts and delicacies for the hospital. We are now well supplied by the kindness of friends and Aid Societies in Iowa. And from what we hear of boxes and packages on the way, the presumption is that we shall soon have more than enough, while possibly other Iowa regiments may be suffering, as we were at one time, for want of many good things found at home, but not found among Uncle Sam’s allowances to his soldiers. It is a pity that from the first a more perfect system was not devised for providing and distributing these good things. But, as in all things else, wisdom must be learned by experience, and experience requires time. – The benevolence and good sense of the soldiers friend will soon rectify all mistakes. Let me, however, correct one mistake, wherever your paper can reach it, i.e., that of sending fruit from Iowa to Missouri. We can buy apples – green and dried – and dried peaches here, and send them to Iowa for about the money that such things cost there; perhaps for less. Jellies, preserves, cordials and the like, so far as they are needed, will pay for sending. For our present good supply of these delicacies for the sick, as also for bedding, socks, &c. Our hospital inmates are under great obligations to the many donors in Iowa.

Enough for this time. I send you a picture of Fulton and of several public buildings in this vicinity.

Yours,
CHAPLAIN.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Wednesday Morning, February 12, 1862, p. 2