Showing posts with label Washington DC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Washington DC. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 18, 2026

Diary of Private William S. White, September 1, 1862

Left Rapidan Station this morning for some point near Manassas. What a beautiful sight it is to see the long columns of troops fording the stream! Each man seems eager to push on until we reach the goal of our desires, and that is Washington! Nevertheless, I fear greatly that we will never be able to accomplish that, although it is within the range of possibility.

Another great battle has been fought at Manassas, and we have again been victorious. Our troops are rapidly pushing on after the enemy, and it is very probable that we will cross the Potomac into Maryland; then the Marylanders will have a chance to rid their soil of Yankee soldiery, if they desire it.

Marched all day and halted for the night at Culpeper Courthouse; had a drenching rain in the afternoon and slept on the wet ground. All this region of country has been utterly devastated by the vast quantities of troops passing through it. For miles you scarcely see a white inhabitant, and there are not a hundred barrels of corn from Rapidan Station to Manassas. The churches are defiled by the sacrilegious Yankees, who scribble and write all sorts of blasphemous epithets on the walls of buildings consecrated to God.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 127-8

Diary of Private William S. White, September 4, 1862

Reached Gainsville, Fauquier, about 1 o'clock and as it was a good place for our horses we halted for the night. This village being only some two and a half miles from the battlefield of Manassas, and as I had an abundance of time, I rode over to the battlefield. Oh, what a scene of horror it was! Hundreds and thousands of dead and dying Yankees strewn all over the field—the dead, putrefied and swollen even to bursting, made the air redolent with a smell so nauseous and disgusting that it seemed to thicken the very air. Although nearly a week had passed since the battle, the wounded were still lying on the field, and none were buried save our own men. This seems, at first glance, wholly unchristian, yet one must remember that we are contending against a powerful enemy and for our very existence; therefore, we cannot spare the time to bury the enemy's dead, nor care for his wounded, when all medical stores have been declared "contraband of war" and we are destitute of them. Ten thousand Yankees lie unburied upon the field, and every moment of time is worth millions of money to us. The wounded, we have cared for as well as circumstances would permit, though we are much in want of proper stores for our own men.

General Lee most humanely allowed the Federal Government permission to send an ambulance train from Washington City, attended by proper surgeons, to look after the Federal wounded and give them proper treatment.

I conversed for some time with a citizen of Washington and he seemed very sanguine of the ultimate success of the Federal arms—by this time, however, he has found out how terribly in earnest we are. In this Second Battle of Manassas the positions of both Federal and Confederate armies were almost exactly reversed from that of the First Battle of Manassas of last year, and yet we whipped them again. Our left wing under Stonewall Jackson, swung around upon the Federal right and struck the mighty Pope en reverse before he was aware of the Confederate movement. But, danger of dangers, Lee's army was separated and if Pope could succeed in keeping Longstreet south of Thoroughfare Gap, Jackson would be isolated and would fall an easy prey to the countless thousands of that boasting Army of the Potomac, "the finest army the world ever saw." The vainglorious boaster who had never seen anything but the "backs of his enemies," and whose "head-quarters were in the saddle," was not equal to the emergency and Longstreet quietly and easily drove away the Federal brigade guarding a gap that a corps ought to have held, whilst he, hurried on to join that Achilles of the South, the ever present Jackson, and all the while Fitz John Porter doubting whether or not he must fight or wait. He who doubts loses, the combined corps of Jackson and Longstreet make one grand dash and the dismayed Federals were swept from the field.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 128-9

Friday, June 12, 2026

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Tuesday, January 1, 1861

Washington D.C.     The old year passed away in gloom and sadness and the new one opens today without affording one hopeful ray of light in regard to the future. There seems to be a determination on the part of nearly the whole south to break up the Government. The Comrs from S.C. are still here and little is known in the City about what is taking place betwen them and the President & Cabinet. The “receptions” today as well as the “Calls” were few and rather solemn affairs. Pleasant day, just freezing.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C., image 4.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Saturday, January 5, 1861

People were startled today to hear that the U.S. Forts and Arsenals at Savannah & Mobile had been taken possession of by the Revolutionists. Where this is all to end God only knows. It looks dark for our Country at present. But there is still a strong feeling that the Government will be upheld. This City is threatened and the Citizens do fear that a Mob will have possession of it unless measures are taken to defend it; incendiary fires occur every night and we feel very unsafe.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C., image 5.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Tuesday, January 8, 1861

The weather has been moderate today M[ercury]. 44 — Streets muddy, and the crossings bad. Statements that troops have been sent to reinforce Maj Anderson at Fort Sumpter created much excitement, a collision is expected. It is reported tonight that the Sec'y of Interior Mr Thompson has resigned, and also that a collision has occured at Charleston. U. S. troops have been ordered to this City to defend it if necessary. Genl Scott is here and will remain until after 4th March. 100 guns were fired today in remembrance of the Battle of New Orleans. I was at the “National” this evening, called with wife at Mr Fenwick's on I St.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C., image 6.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Wednesday, January 9, 1861

Mr Thompson has resigned and another day has passed in the greatest anxiety of all classes to hear from Charleston, but there is no news from there today. The City is arming for self-protection and some Companys of U S troops are expected tomorrow. Fires and Burglaries occur every night. I sleep with a loaded revolver within reach. Was an hour at Willards tonight. Everything quiet but men look anxious. Met Mr Butterfield M.C. and a number of other gentlemen, all looking for news.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C., image 6.

Thursday, June 11, 2026

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Friday, January 11, 1861

Yesterdays Telegraphic news was incorrect as to Maj Anderson. The “Inteligencer” this morning publishes a letter from an ex-Congressman from the south exposing the treasonable proceedings at their Secret meetings of the Senators from the Cotton States now here. Yulee (brother of the Senator from Fla) in my room today said they were acting from patriotic motives. I denounced them as conspirators and traitors. Y “looked daggers” but was silent. Whitaker (from S.C.) looked blank. He is our 2nd assistant and is emphaticaly a “literary know nothing.” No particular news today. Treason is rife in the City, and we know not what a day may bring forth. A pretty cold day. M. about 20.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C., image 7.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Sunday, January 20, 1861

Cooler today, and quite windy, but did not freeze till night. Did not go to church today. Took care of the house while the rest of the family went. Read the “Times” “Herald” and Partons last Vol of Jackson. There are so many villinous looking fellows roaming about the City, that that [sic] it seems necessary for some one to be on the watch all the time. Burglaries and incendiary fires occur every night. I sleep with a loaded “revolver” within reach every night. Took a walk with the boys round Lafayette Square this evening and did not go out again. The air was cool and bracing. It freezes tonight.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C. , image 10.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Tuesday, January 22, 1861

The fact there exists an extensive conspiracy to break up the Government, one of long standing, is growing more apparent every day. The Secession of Virginia and Maryland is a part of the program and the securing of this City accomplishes the desired end. Nothing but concessions on the part of the north will prevent the secession of those States. If no compromise is made, then nothing but a large force will ensure the Inauguration of Mr Lincoln on the 4th March. The next month must settle a great question for this country.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C. , image 11.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Wednesday, January 23, 1861

United States troops are quietly being brought here and are now quartered in different parts of the City. The President is undoubtedly informed of all the movements of the Traitors, and preparations are being made for the reception of any such visitors. The conspiracy has its ramifications through all the departments without a doubt. Men receiving pay from the Govt (as Clerks &c) but ready to turn against it at a moments warning. I can hardly hope that that [sic] all will be well six weeks hence. Heaven grant that it may be. Was at Willards an hour tonight.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C. , image 11.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Saturday, January 26, 1861

A regular snow storm today, snow four or five inches deep. Nothing important occurs from day to day here. But the Govt is posting troops in different parts of the City for its protection. We were just startled by hearing two pistol shots and a cry of Watch Watch on Franklin Square near our house. Did not go down to the “Avenue” this evening on account of the snow. Usualy do go down to the Hotels and get the “Herald” or “Times,” sometimes the “Tribune.” I take the City papers (two). The Balt “Sun,” Home J[ournal]l, N.Y. Lyons paper, Scientific American, &c. I read daily a number of other papers and a good deal in Books, mostly relating to Steam. Business in the Pa[ten]t office is very dull this winter as might be expected.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C. , image 12.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Tuesday, January 29, 1861

There are indications today that the Republicans are “coming down” from the Chicago Platform and that something like the Crittenden proposition will be accepted by them. Secession seems to be now a fixed fact and we have to look Disunion in the face, while a subversion of the Government is threatened. This City is still considered in danger. There is a thousand U.S. Soldiers now quartered here. An armed guard now tramps through the Halls of the Patent Office every night and the other Public Buildings are guarded in the same way. Warm & pleasant today.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C. , image 13.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Wednesday, January 30, 1861

A pleasant cold day, freezing in the shade, Streets muddy. Another Company of Flying Artillery arrived last night — 90 men & four “pieces.” They are quartered in the old Wm Wirt House where Mrs Smith had her Young Ladies Select School or “Institute,” something of a change on those premises. The southerners here are greatly offended and pretend innocence. But in truth these preparations thwart their plans for seizing the City. No news of importance today, but some compromise seems more likely to be made now than heretofore. Did not go down to the Ave tonight.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C. , image 13.

Wednesday, May 13, 2026

Diary of Private William S. White, August 7, 1862

We camped within a few miles of Malvern Hill last night, and to-day our forces reoccupied the hill without any opposition, capturing some seventy-five or a hundred prisoners. This move, on the part of McClellan, is only a feint to hide some other move of greater importance, and it is the general impression that he is about to evacuate his position at Harrison's Landing, taking his forces nearer Washington to calm the fears of Lincoln and his Cabinet.

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

Tuesday, May 12, 2026

Daniel S. Dickinson to Lydia Knapp Dickinson, February 12, 1858

WILLARD'S HOTEL, WASHINGTON,}
February 12, 1858. }

MY DEAR LYDIA—I was delighted last evening to receive your letter, with one from Lydia enclosed, and this morning a beautiful one from dear Mary at Cortland. I reached here Tuesday evening quite well, and was greeted with many a cordial welcome. Finding that it was levee evening, I went to the White House, and on Wednesday evening to Mrs. Floyd's reception. Yesterday all the Cabinet ladies "received," and I submitted to the infliction of going all round.

I dined with Mr. Corcoran, with rather a brilliant party, at six; returned at half past nine, and went to Marshall Hoover's party, and stole away at half past eleven and returned to the hotel.

All our acquaintances inquire for you, Lydia, and Mary, with much interest. I dine with the President to-day at six; Miss Lane, whom I saw at the levee and sat next at Mr. Corcoran's, sends you her kind regards, also to Mary. I have not yet reached my cause, and may not until the middle of the week. I am quite glad Mary did not come now. Washington has improved much in its externals, as you saw last spring; and its parties are far more showy and pretentious than formerly, but the gaiety is so much allied to dissipation that it is absolutely alarming. It is deplored exceedingly by the reflecting and sensible; but there is no arresting it, and no escape. What society has gained in show it has lost in heart, and is fast copying the worst forms of European extravagance. The ladies look worn and jaded; I have conversed with some who view it as I do. I would not have our darling Mary in this maelstrom of dissipation without her mother or some discreet lady friend, for any consideration I could name. I have seen nothing so well calculated to disturb and derange the rational moral sense of the young in my whole life.

I shall not be able to write you often, for I am terribly run down, and you must take the will for the deed. Give much love to all, particularly Charlotte and the little boys.

Very affectionately,
D. S. DICKINSON.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, pp. 508-9

Daniel S. Dickinson to Mary S. Dickinson, February 12, 1858

WASHINGTON, February 12, 1858.

MY BELOVED DAUGHTER—I received your beautiful note from Cortland this morning, and was pleased with your affectionate remembrance. Washington is full to overflowing; gay, to dissipation; swollen, to extravagant dimensions; sleepy, to stupidity; and rouged, to redness. Your friends and acquaintances inquire for you cordially. I would not have you here in this intoxicating whirl of party-going for anything I could name. It has proceeded to a pass which is destructive of physical and moral health. I am glad you are at home to comfort and console your dear mother with the affectionate attentions of the only darling child left us there.

The mail is about to close. In haste.

Your affectionate father,
D. S. DICKINSON.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, pp. 509-10

Friday, March 27, 2026

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 4, 1861

The story of yesterday's fight is all bosh. There were no two hundred prisoners taken—no fifteen killed—no fight—not a rebel seen! Munchausen must have been the legitimate son of a camp, or rather, the camp must be the legitimate progenitor of the whole race of Munchausen.

But it is surprising how camp life enhances the capacities of some men. I left home in July a dyspeptic. I came to Camp Griffin, in October, weighing one hundred and thirty-nine pounds. I record here, as something worth my remembering, an extract of a letter written to-day to a friend inquiring how camp life affected my health:

“ * * * I weigh now one hundred and fifty pounds. I have almost recovered my appetite. With other things in proportion, I now take three cups of coffee for breakfast, three cups tea at dinner, two cups at tea, and eat five meals a day, or suffer from hunger. My last meal is usually taken at 11 to 12 o'clock at night, and consists of one or two chickens, or a can of oysters, with a pot of English pickled cauliflower. With that I contrive to get through the night.

"But with the morrow's rising sun
The same dull round begins again."

"Last night, however, I was so unfortunate as to have no chickens. My can of oysters was sour, and I had to put up with a single head of boiled cabbage, half a dozen cold potatoes, and some cold boiled beef. I wonder what I shall do when we get away from the neighborhood of Washington to where there is no market, no oysters, no chickens, no cabbage, no cauliflower, 'no nothin'.' I shall be compelled to settle back to dyspepsia, and have no appetite."

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 59

Sunday, January 18, 2026

Diary of Adam Gurowski, October 1861

As in the mediæval epoch, and some time thereafter, anatomists and physiologists experimented on the living villeins, that is, on peasantry, serfs, and called this process experientia in anima vili, so this naïve administration experiments in civil and in military matters on the people's life-blood.

McClellan, stirred up by the fools and peacocks around him, has sent to the War Department a project of a showy uniform for himself and his staff. It would be to laugh at, if it were not insane. McClellan very likely read not what he signed.

The army is in sufficient rig and organization to take the field; but nevertheless McClellan has not yet made a single movement imperatively prescribed by the simplest tactics, and by the simplest common sense, when the enemy is in front. Not a single serious reconnoissance to ascertain the real force of the enemy, to pierce through the curtain behind which the rebels hide their real forces. It must be conceded to the rebel generals that they show great skill in humbugging us. Whenever we try to make a step we are met by a seemingly strong force (tenfold increased by rumors spread by the secessionists among us, and gulped by our stupidity), which makes us suppose a deep front, and a still deeper body behind. And there is the humbug, I am sure. If, on such an extensive line as the rebels occupy, the main body should correspond to what they show in front, then the rebel force must muster several hundreds of thousands. Such large numbers they have not, and I am sure that four-fifths of their whole force constitutes their vanguard, and behind it the main body is chaff. The rebels treat us as if we were children.

McClellan fortifies Washington; Fremont, St. Louis; Anderson asks for engineers to fortify some spots in Kentucky. This is all a defensive warfare, and not so will the rebel region be conquered. We lose time, and time serves the rebels, as it increases their moral force. Every day of their existence shows their intrinsic vitality.

The theory of starving the rebels out is got up by imbeciles, wholly ignorant of such matters; wholly ignorant of human nature; wholly ignorant of the degree of energy, and of abnegation, which criminals can display when firmly decided upon their purpose. This absurdity comes from the celebrated anaconda Mississippi-Atlantic strategy.

Oh! When in Poland, in 1831, the military chiefs concentrated all the forces in the fortifications of Warsaw, all was gone. Oh for a dashing general, for a dashing purpose, in the councils of the White House! The constitutional advisers are deaf to the voice of the people, who know more about it than do all the departments and the military wiseacres. The people look up to find as big brains and hearts as are theirs, and hitherto the people have looked up in vain. The radical senators, as a King, a Trumbull, a Wade, Wilson, Chandler, Hale, etc., the true Republicans in the last session of Congress — further, men as Wadsworth and the like, are the true exponents of the character, of the clear insight, of the soundness of the people.

McClellan, and even the administration, seem not to realize that pure military considerations cannot fulfil the imperative demands of the political situation.

October 6th. — I met McClellan; had with him a protracted conversation, and could look well into him. I do not attach any value to physiognomies, and consider phrenology, craniology, and their kindred, to be rather humbugs; but, nevertheless, I was struck with the soft, insignificant inexpressiveness of his eyes and features. My enthusiasm for him, my faith, is wholly extinct. All that he said to me and to others present was altogether unmilitary and inexperienced. It made me sick at heart to hear him, and to think that he is to decide over the destinies and the blood of the people. And he already an idol, incensed, worshipped, before he did anything whatever. McClellan may have individual courage, so has almost every animal; but he has not the decision and the courage of a military leader and captain. He has no real confidence in the troops; has scarcely any idea how battles are fought; has no confidence in and no notion of the use of the bayonet. I told him that, notwithstanding his opinion, I would take his worst brigade of infantry, and after a fortnight's drill challenge and whip any of the best rebel brigades.

Some time ago it was reported that McClellan considered this war had become a duel of artillery. Fools wondered and applauded. I then protested against putting such an absurdity in McClellan's mouth; now I must believe it. To be sure, every battle is in part a duel of artillery, but ends or is decided by charges of infantry or cavalry. Cannonading alone never constituted and decided a battle. No position can be taken by cannonading alone, and shells alone do not always force an enemy to abandon a position. Napoleon, an artillerist par excellence, considered campaigns and battles to be something more than duels of artillery. The great battle of Borodino, and all others, were decided when batteries were stormed and taken. Eylau was a battle of charges by cavalry and by infantry, besides a terrible cannonading, etc., etc. McClellan spoke with pride of the fortifications of Washington, and pointed to one of the forts as having a greater profile than had the world-renowned Malakoff. What a confusion of notions, what a misappreciation of relative conditions!

I cannot express my sad, mournful feelings, during this conversation with McClellan. We spoke about the necessity of dividing his large army into corps. McClellan took from the table an Army Almanac, and pointed to the names of generals to whom he intended to give the command of corps. He feels the urgency of the case, and said that Gen. Scott prevented him from doing it; but as soon as he, McClellan, shall be free to act, the division will be made. So General Scott is everywhere to defend senile routine against progress, and the experience of modern times.

The rebels deserve, to the end of time, many curses from outraged humanity. By their treason they forced upon the free institutions of the North the necessity of curtailing personal liberty and other rights; to make use of depotism for the sake of selfdefence.

The enemy concentrates and shortens his lines, and McClellan dares not even tread on the enemy's heels. Instead of forcing the enemy to do what we want, and upturn his schemes, McClellan seemingly does the bidding of Beauregard. We advance as much as Beauregard allows us to do. New tactics, to be sure, but at any rate not Napoleonic.

The fighting in the West and some small successes here are obtained by rough levies; and those imbecile, regular martinets surrounding McClellan still nurse his distrust in the volunteers. All the wealth, energy, intellect of the country, is concentrated in the hands of McClellan, and he uses it to throw up entrenchments. The partisans of McClellan point to his highly scientific preparations his science. He may have some little of it, but half-science is worse than thorough ignorance. Oh! for one dare-devil in the Lyon, or in the old-fashioned Yankee style. McClellan is neither a Napoleon, nor a Cabrera, nor a Garibaldi.

Mason and Slidell escaped to Havana on their way to Europe, as commissioners of the rebels. According to all international definitions, we have the full right to seize them in any neutral vessel, they being political contrabands of war going on a publicly avowed errand hostile to their true government. Mason and Slidell are not common passengers, nor are they political refugees invoking the protection of any neutral flag. They are travelling commissioners of war, of bloodshed and rebellion; and it is all the same in whatever seaport they embark. And if the vessel conveying them goes from America to Europe, or vice versa, Mr. Seward can let them be seized when they have left Havana, provided he finds it expedient.

We lose time, and time is all in favor of the rebels. Every day consolidates their existence — so to speak, crystallizes them. Further — many so-called Union men in the South, who, at the start, opposed secession, by and by will get accustomed to it. Secession daily takes deeper root, and will so by degrees become un fait accompli. Mr. Adams, in his official relations with the English government, speaks of the rebel pirates as of lawful privateers. Mr. Seward admonished him for it. Bravo!

It is so difficult, not to say impossible, to meet an American who concatenates a long series of effects and causes, or who understands that to explain an isolated fact or phenomenon the chain must be ascended and a general law invoked. Could they do it, various bunglings would be avoided, and much of the people's sacrifices husbanded, instead of being squandered, as it is done now.

Fremont going overboard! His fall will be the triumph of the pro-slavery party, headed by the New York Herald, and supported by military old fogies, by martinets, and by double and triple political and intellectual know-nothings. Pity that Fremont had no brilliant military capacity. Then his fall could not have taken place.

Mr. Seward is too much ruled by his imagination, and too hastily discounts the future. But imagination ruins a statesman. Mr. Seward must lose credit at home and abroad for having prophesied, and having his prophecies end in smoke. When Hatteras was taken (Gen. Scott protested against the expedition), Mr. S. assured me that it was the beginning of the end. A diplomat here made the observation that no minister of a European parliamentary government could remain in power after having been continually contradicted by facts.

Now, Mr. Seward devised these collateral missions to Europe. He very little knows the habit and temper of European cabinets if he believes that such collateral confidential agents can do any good. The European cabinets distrust such irresponsible agents, who, in their turn, weaken the influence and the standing of the genuine diplomatic agents. Mr. S., early in the year, boasted to abolish, even in Europe, the system of passports, and soon afterwards introduced it at home. So his imagination carries him to overhaul the world. He proposes to European powers a united expedition to Japan, and we cannot prevent at home the running of the blockade, and are ourselves blockaded on the Potomac. All such schemes are offsprings of an ambitious imagination. But the worst is, that every such outburst of his imagination Mr. Seward at once transforms into a dogma, and spreads it with all his might. I pity him when I look towards the end of his political career. He writes well, and has put down the insolent English dispatch concerning the habeas corpus and the arrests of dubious, if not treacherous, Englishmen. Perhaps Seward imagines himself to be a Cardinal Richelieu, with Lincoln for Louis XIII. (provided he knows as much history), or may be he has the ambition to be considered a Talleyrand or Metternich of diplomacy. But if any, he has some very, very faint similarity with Alberoni. He easily outwits here men around him; most are politicians as he; but he never can outwit the statesmen of Europe. Besides, diplomacy, above all that of great powers, is conceived largely and carried on a grand scale; the present diplomacy has outgrown what is commonly called (but fallaciously) Talleyrandism and Metternichism.

McClellan and the party which fears to make a bold advance on the enemy make so much fuss about the country being cut up and wooded; it proves only that they have no brains and no fertility of expedients. This country is not more cut up than is the Caucasus, and the woods are no great, endless, primitive forests. They are rather groves. In the Caucasus the Russians continually attack great and dense forests; they fire in them several round shots, then grape, and then storm them with the bayonet; and the Circassians are no worse soldiers than are the Southrons.

European papers talk much of mediation, of a peaceful arrangement, of compromise. By intuition of the future the Northern people know very well the utter impossibility of such an arrangement. A peace could not stand; any such peace will establish the military superiority of the arrogant, reckless, piratical South. The South would teem with hundreds of thousands of men ready for any piratical, fillibustering raid, enterprise, or excursion, of which the free States north and west would become the principal theatres. Such a marauding community as the South would become, in case of success, will be unexampled in history. The Cylician pirates, the Barbary robbers, nay, the Tartars of the 12th, 13th, and 14th centuries, were virtuous and civilized in comparison with what would be an independent, man-stealing, and man-whipping Southern agglomeration of lawless men. The free States could have no security, even if all the thus called gentlemen and men of honor were to sign a treaty or a compromise. The Southern pestilential influence would poison not only the North, but this whole hemisphere. The history of the past has nothing to be compared with organized, legal piracy, as would become the thus-called Southern chivalry on land and on sea; and soon European maritime powers would be obliged to make costly expeditions for the sake of extirpating, crushing, uprooting the nest of pirates, which then will embrace about twelve millions, — every Southern gentleman being a pirate at heart.

This is what the Northern people know by experience and by intuition, and what makes the people so uneasy about the inertia of the administration.

Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Seward, Gen. Scott, and other great men, are soured against the people and public opinion for distrusting, or rather for criticising their little display of statesmanlike activity. How unjust! As a general rule, of all human sentiments, confidence is the most scrutinizing one. If confidence is bestowed, it wants to perfectly know the why. But from the outset of this war the American people gave and give to everybody full, unsuspecting confidence, without asking the why, without even scrutinizing the actions which were to justify the claim.

Up to this day Secesh is the positive pole; the Union is the negative, — it is the blow recipient. When, oh, when will come the opposite? When will we deal blows? Not under McClellan, I suspect.

SOURCE: Adam Gurowski, Diary from March 4, 1861, to November 12, 1862, pp. 104-114

Saturday, October 18, 2025

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 14, 1861

This morning our Brigade Surgeon ordered me to leave the hospital for a few days, on account of my fatigue and prostration. He said that a regard for my health demanded it, and I must go where I pleased. I rode to Arlington, the headquarters of General King. The Arlington house, I believe, is (unless confiscated) the property of Gen. Lee. It is a magnificent mansion, overlooking Georgetown, Washington, Alexandria, and miles of the beautiful Potomac. In a room of this house, said to have been a favorite room of General Washington, I found my old friend Surgeon ———,badly broken by the fatigue and excitement of the campaign. I called on him, in company with Doctor A——, and after talking of his illness for half an hour, Doctor A. proposed to him to have my advice, to which he replied "Yes! if he will not medicate me too much." I said, "Doctor, I will prescribe for you, and with a single dose will medicate every fibre of your body, and by a healthy shock, restore you to health at once." With a look as if he thought me a hyena, he asked: "What do you mean to do with me?" "To take you out of this place and put you for thirty days under the care of your wife and family." The poor suffering man grasped my hand, burst into tears and sobbed aloud, "My Colonel won't consent to it." For a moment, forgetting his religion, and not having the fear of military commanders before my eyes, "Your Colonel may go to the d-vil, and you shall have a furlough." I rode immediately to medical headquarters in Washington, procured him the promise of a furlough as soon as his papers could be sent in, returned, informed him of it, and had the pleasure on my long night ride back to camp, of feeling that I had contributed something to the happines, and, perhaps, had saved the life of a good and worthy man. How easy for any man, however humble his position, to find opportunities of doing good, if he will only wear the "spectacles of benevolence."

After the vandalism I have witnessed in the destruction of property, in and about the houses of rebels and elsewhere, it was a pleasurable relief to find here, that General King, in the goodness of his always good heart, had enforced respect for the property and furniture. The garden, with its fences, is preserved, and the walls of almost every room in this immense old building, are covered with the rich paintings and old family pictures, left hanging when this favorite of rebeldom left his home. The garden is fine, but I think does not compare with that of Kalorama. The antique bureaus and [s]ide-boards calling up impressions of generations long passed away, are still tenants of the building; and the halls recall Scott's fine description of the Halls of the Douglass, where the arms of the hunters, and the trophies of the hunt, mingled with the trappings of the warrior, constituted the attractive features of the chieftain's forest home. Over the halls, and at every angle in the stairs, were the antlers of the elk and the red-deer fastened to the walls and nearly interlocking their branches over my head as I walked through. They were hung, too, with the arms of the hunter and the warrior. So perfectly does this position command Washington, that had the rebels there secretly collected a dozen mortars, they might have fired the city before a gun could have been brought to bear on them. Everybody is talking of a prospect of a move within three days, but the origin of the reports I know not; perhaps in the impatience of the army to be led forward.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 53-5

Thursday, October 9, 2025

Judge I. T. Bosworth to Daniel S. Dickinson, March 9, 1857

BINGHAMTON, March 1, 1857.

MY DEAR JUDGE—Your favor of the 27th came duly to hand, and, as the merchants say, "contents noted." I penned you my "incomprehensible" note while in the tedious attendance upon rather a beggarly circuit. It is said that when a pun or witticism needs explanation to give it point, it is a sorry manifestation, and I do not see why what our old and departed friend Judge S. was wont to call a "sarcasm" does not fall within the same category. However, at the hazard of coming within the rule, I will translate my Greek.

My eye, at the moment of writing, fell upon the movements of the Corruption Committee at Washington, and seeing that the Hon. ——— was to be expelled, reminded me of how much I had enjoyed, some twenty-three years ago, laughing at you for turning the same individual out of your law office for stealing a large pane of glass out of the door of E——'s newly fitted up house over the Chenango Bridge, to supply one that he had broken out of the door of your office; and to complete the joke he got a light too large by three inches one way and one the other. The fun I had at the time over it all came back to me, and hence my revival of it to you thus obscurely;—not thinking that the brick and mortar, excitement and turmoil, and judicial care of the city, had shut you out from keeping track of individuals, as we do in the country.

*          *          *          *          *

Yes, my dear Judge, I might wear out life as you do. I have enjoyed some rather gratifying triumphs in my day, both political and professional; but never anything has so much drawn out my anxiety and solicitude in advance, has so much mortified and vexed me when adverse, nor afforded me the same satisfaction in success, as the matter to which you allude.

I still like professional pursuits better than official life. If I had money to spend profusely, I could enjoy myself in rural occupations; but eternal, like internal improvement, is too expensive a luxury for a poor man.

I like excitement, and as I also want income, it would work well if we did not have so much mere litigation over subjects where the parties cannot pay very large fees, and, if able, no counsel could have the face to charge them. These cases, as you know, are fought out with a pertinacity almost unknown in the city, or if known, would command a thousand dollars to our one hundred. If you do not engage in them, others will, and hey block up the courts and delay other business at home, and prevent you from going abroad to attend to business of more importance if you have it. The present system is far less pleasant for the country than the former. There is, or rather would be enough good business to engage me constantly if it were not impeded by this profitless litigation, and much time is wasted in this, in working or in waiting, to the prevention of more important business. If I was within four or five hours ride of the city, instead of nine or ten, I would open an office there.

Mrs. Dickinson and daughters join me in regards to yourself and Mrs. Bosworth and family

Sincerely yours,
D. S. DICKINSON.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, pp. 500-2