Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 14, 1862

Thank God for a ship! It has run the blockade with arms and ammunition.

There are no negro sexual relations half so shocking as Mormonism. And yet the-United States Government makes no bones of receiving Mormons into its sacred heart. Mr. Venable said England held her hand over “the malignant and the turbaned Turk” to save and protect him, slaves, seraglio, and all. But she rolls up the whites of her eyes at us when slavery, bad as it is, is stepping out into freedom every moment through Christian civilization. They do not grudge the Turk even his bag and Bosphorus privileges. To a recalcitrant wife it is, “Here yawns the sack; there rolls the sea,” etc. And France, the bold, the brave, the ever free, she has not been so tender-footed in Algiers. But then the “you are another” argument is a shabby one. “You see,” says Mary Preston sagaciously, “we are white Christian descendants of Huguenots and Cavaliers, and they expect of us different conduct.”

Went in Mrs. Preston's landau to bring my boarding-school girls here to dine. At my door met J. F., who wanted me then and there to promise to help him with his commission or put him in the way of one. At the carriage steps I was handed in by Gus Smith, who wants his brother made commissary. The beauty of it all is they think I have some influence, and I have not a particle. The subject of Mr. Chesnut's military affairs, promotions, etc., is never mentioned by me.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 143

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: April 10, 1862

Spent yesterday in the hospital by the bedside of Nathan Newton, our little Alabamian. I closed his eyes last night at ten o'clock, after an illness of six weeks. His body, by his own request, will be sent to his mother. Poor little boy! He was but fifteen, and should never have left his home. It was sad to pack his knapsack, with his little gray suit, and coloured shirts, so neatly stitched by his poor mother, of whom he so often spoke, calling to us in delirinm, “Mother, mother,” or, “Mother, come here.” He so often called me mother, that I said to him one day, when his mind was clear, “Nathan, do I look like your mother?”  “No, ma'am, not a bit; nobody is like my mother.” The packing of his little knapsack reminds me of

THE JACKET OF GRAY.

Fold it up carefully, lay it aside,

Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride,

For dear must it be to our hearts evermore,

The jacket of gray, our loved soldier-boy wore.

Can we ever forget when he joined the brave band

Who rose in defence of our dear Southern land,

And in his bright youth hurried on to the fray—

How proudly he donned it, the jacket of gray?

His fond mother blessed him, and looked up above,

Commending to Heaven the child of her love;

What anguish was hers, mortal tongue may not say,

When he passed from her sight in his jacket of gray.

But his country had called him, she would not repine,

Though costly the sacrifice placed on its shrine;

Her heart's dearest hopes on the altar she lay,

When she sent out her boy in his jacket of gray.

Months passed, and war's thunders rolled over the land,

Unsheathed was the sword, and lighted the brand;

We heard in the distance the sound of the fray,

And prayed for our boy in the jacket of gray.

Ah, vain, all in vain, were our prayers and our tears;

The glad shout of victory rang in our ears;

But our treasured one on the battle-field lay,

While the life-blood oozed out on the jacket of gray.

Fold it up carefully, lay it aside,

Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride,

For dear must it be to our hearts evermore,

The jacket of gray our loved soldier-boy wore.

His young comrades found him, and tenderly bore

The cold lifeless form to his home by the shore:

Oh, dark were our hearts on that terrible day

When we saw our dead boy in the jacket of gray.

Ah, spotted and tattered, and stained now with gore,

Was the garment which once he so proudly wore;

We bitterly wept as we took it away,

And replaced with death's white robes the jacket of gray.

We laid him to rest in his cold, narrow bed,

And 'graved on the marble we placed o'er his head,

As the proudest of tributes our sad hearts could pay,

He never disgraced the poor jacket of gray.

Fold it up carefully, lay it aside,

Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride,

For dear must it be to our hearts evermore,

The jacket of gray our loved soldier-boy wore.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 104-6

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: September 11, 1862

My husband has today returned without the dear remains of Willy.  . . . “Slain in battle — Slain in battle” — he continually reiterates.  . . . He could not know certainly which was Willy's grave; had the one he supposed to be, opened; alas! for our poor humanity! when he opened the blanket in which the body was wrapped, he could not distinguish a feature of his boy on the despoiled face — he tore open the shirt, and there where I had written it was W. C. Preston! He thought to bring a lock of his hair, — it crumbled to the touch! It was impossible to have him removed, so he carefully marked the spot, and left the removal to be accomplished another time.

Such pictures of horror as Mr. P. gives! Unnumbered dead Federal soldiers covering the battle field; one hundred in one gully, uncovered, and rotting in the sun ; they were strewn all along the roadside. And dead horses everywhere, by the hundred. Hospitals crowded to excess, and loathsome beyond expression in many instances. How fearful is war! I cannot put down the details he gave me, they are too horrid.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 148-50

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, May 21, 1864

Reveille sounded at 3 o'clock and at 5 we took up the line of march, our company being rear guard for the brigade. We marched seventeen miles and went into bivouac several miles beyond Elkhorn. which we reached at 1 o'clock. Here we waded the Elkhorn¹ river, which is from three to five feet deep and two hundred feet wide. The boys had a great deal of fun in wading across. The country is very rough and rocky, and the hard turnpike over which we marched most of the day made our feet very sore.

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¹ Now called Elk river. The town which our diarist calls Elkhorn was probably what is now Aspen Hill. — Ed.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 189

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: July 15, 1864

Came off picket very early. A fine morning. The army again on the march. Our regiment in the rear, waiting for orders. Passed through Knoxville, pushing on to Berlin, Maryland. Coming to a halt discovered the advance wading the Potomac River, over into Virginia, the Loudon Valley country. At this point there was a stony ridge running diagonal across the river. At low water it could be forded. At this time the water was about waist deep and the stones were very slippery. In order to keep our ammunition and rations dry we carried our equipments and haversacks fastened to the muzzle of our muskets, over our shoulder. Some of the boys lost their footing, went down under the water, getting a ducking. There was much laughing, joking, and shouting, in spite of the wetting we were all getting. On reaching the Virginia shore no time to halt, not even to stop and pour the water out of our shoes. Must push on in our wet clothes over dusty roads which soon formed a mud covering. After a time our clothes began to dry as we marched on in the hot sun, the dirt dropping off. By night our clothes were all dry and we were all in better spirits. Many reports are in circulation that we are following on after the rebs under the command of Jubal Early, who have been raiding into Maryland. Late tonight camp near Hillsborough.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 98-9

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: March 21, 1862

Went out with a detail of twenty privates and two sergeants to cut wood for the regiment. Had twelve mule teams. Drew twenty-two loads. Saw a long overland train bound for Humboldt with crackers. Another train coming loaded with nine yoke of oxen. One wagon had 17 yokes stuck fast in the mire of the creek. California Overland Route.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 9-10

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw, June 17, 1863

Camp Brightwood, June 17, 1863.

I wonder whether I shall ever be able to repay Cousin John in any way for his many kindnesses and for the many pleasant days and evenings I have passed at Milton and Naushon. Do you know that after Chancellorsville he wrote that he had more than half a mind to come home at once to help raise a new army, and, if necessary, to take a musket himself.¹ Perhaps one of these days I may have a chance to do something to gratify him. I wonder whether my theories about self-culture, &c., would ever have been modified so much, whether I should ever have seen what a necessary failure they lead to, had it not been for this war: now I feel every day more and more that a man has no right to himself at all, that indeed he can do nothing useful unless he recognize this clearly: nothing has helped me to see this last truth more than watching Mr. Forbes, — I think he is one of the most unselfish workers I ever knew of: it is painful here to see how sadly personal motives interfere with most of our officers' usefulness. After the war, how much there will be to do, —  and how little opportunity a fellow in the field has to prepare himself for the sort of doing that will be required: it makes me quite sad sometimes; but then I think of Cousin John and remember how much he always manages to do in every direction without any previous preparation, simply by pitching in honestly and entirely, — and I reflect that the great secret of doing, after all, is in seeing what is to be done. You know I’ll not be rash; but I wish I could feel as sure of doing my duty elsewhere as I am of doing it on the field of battle, — that is so little part of an officer's and patriot's duty now.

We are still at our old camp, and with less prospect of an immediate move than there was three days ago. Did I tell you poor Ruksh had been sent to a hospital in town, — to be turned out to pasture if he lives. I am going to town to pick out a Government horse to take his place as well as maybe.

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¹ The subject of this letter's just praise was Mr. John Murray Forbes. He was not “Cousin John” to Lowell, but the bond of friendship and trust was so strong between the men that, as he was Miss Shaw's kinsman, Lowell liked to take advantage of the kinship, before his marriage should entitle him to it. Mr. Forbes was at this time in England, a private citizen sent by his government on a mission of vital importance. I copy from his Reminiscences, privately printed, the same story I have heard from his own lips: —

“All through the early months of 1863 the alarm in regard to the Laird ironclads had been increasing until, one Saturday morning in March, I received a telegram from Secretary Chase of the Treasury asking me to meet him the next morning, Sunday, in New York, where Secretary Welles of the Navy would also be. I was half ill, but could not refuse, and so met the two Secretaries and W. H. Aspinwall at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, as requested. They wished Aspinwall and me to go at once to England, and see what could be done in the way of selling United States bonds, and stopping the outfit of Confederate cruisers, and especially ironclads. We agreed to go, and we were asked to draw our own instructions, which we did, making them very general in their terms, the main features being a very wide discretion and the unrestricted use of ten million of 5-20s then just being prepared for issue to the public on this side, but not yet countersigned. It was thought necessary that I should embark by the Cunard steamer of Wednesday from Boston, and that Aspinwall should follow with the bonds in a week. I returned home that night, packed up my baggage, left my business, and started, as arranged on Wednesday, the 18th of March.  . . . Aspinwall agreed to bring one of his old steamship captains as an expert, to help us in our examination of the British shipyards, then reported to be swarming with the outfitting Rebel cruisers.” Mr. Forbes went to the Barings “and suggested, as a first want, that they should put at my disposal £500,000, for which they were to have perhaps $4,000,000 of 5-20S as security.” This required consideration. Mr. Joshua Bates, of the firm, “was the best of Americans, and he was always for the strongest measures. His consultation with Mr. Baring resulted in their handing me a bank-book with £500,000 at my credit, subject to cash draft; and so, when Aspinwall arrived, a week later, our finances were all right, and he deposited the 5-20S in Baring's vaults, part as security for the money, and the rest subject to our orders.” Mr. Forbes used every effort to show the English where “their sympathy was due, and that, as neutral, it was their duty to stop the sailing of the ironclads known to be built for the Confederacy.” The Society of Friends and the Peace Society were friendly, but cold; and, bad as things were, he wrote, “Bright, Cobden, W. E. Forster, the Duke of Argyle, and a few others were with us heartily and took bold ground in our cause; but, generally speaking, the aristocracy and the trading classes were solid against us. Gladstone . . . had not found out the merits of our cause, and Lord John Russell, called a liberal member of the Cabinet, was with official insolence sneering, even in a public speech, at what he called ‘the once United States.’” Mr. Forbes worked hard to quicken the sympathies of the Society of Friends. His coming was welcomed by our brave minister, Charles Francis Adams, whose task had become indeed anxious and heavy. The work of selling the 5-20s in England and on the Continent was pushed, the purchase of the most threatening ironclads, which had been contemplated, proved impracticable. Then Mr. Adams took the final step. On the 5th of September he wrote to Lord Russell: “At this moment, when one of the ironclad vessels is on the point of departure from this kingdom on a hostile errand against the United States, it would be superfluous for me to point out to your lordship that this is war.”

The answer (Sept. 8) was: “Instructions have been issued which will prevent the departure of these two ironclad vessels from Liverpool.”

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 258-60, 424-6

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, November 2, 1861

Camp Tompkins, Virginia, November 2, 1861.

Dearest Lucy: — I am about to return to my regiment, six or eight miles up New River at Camp Ewing. I shall probably be comfortably settled there tonight.

Colonel Matthews having been promoted to the colonelcy of the Fifty-first, I have been promoted to the lieutenant-colonelcy of the Twenty-third and relieved, for the present at any rate, of the duties of judge-advocate. I of course regret very much the loss of Colonel Matthews. But you know we have been separated more than half the time since we came to Virginia; so it is more a change in name than in fact. I hope he has a good regiment. If he has decent materials he will make it a good one. I am pleased, as people in the army always are, with my promotion. I confess to the weakness of preferring (as I must hereafter always be called by some title) to be called Colonel to being styled Major.

We had a noisy day yesterday. A lot of Floyd's men (we suppose) have got on the other side of the river with cannon. They tried to sink our ferry-boats and prevent our crossing Gauley River at the bridge (now ferry for Wise destroyed the bridge). They made it so hazardous during the day that all teams were stopped; but during the night the ferry did double duty, so that the usual crossing required in twenty-four hours was safely done. Both sides fired cannon and musketry at each other several hours, but the distance was too great to do harm. We have two wounded and thought we did them immense damage. They probably suffered little or no loss, but probably imagined that they were seriously cutting us. So we all see it. Our side does wonders always. We are not accurately informed about these Rebels, but appearances do not make them formidable. They can't attack us. The only danger is that they may get below on the Kanawha and catch a steamboat before we drive them off.

I wish you could see such a battle. No danger and yet enough sense of peril excited to make all engaged very enthusiastic. The echoes of the cannon and bursting shells through the mountain defiles were wonderful. I spent the day with two soldiers making a reconnaissance — that is to say trying to find out the enemies' exact position, strength, etc., etc. We did some hard climbing, and were in as much danger as anybody else, that is, none at all. One while the spent rifle balls fell in our neighborhood, but they hadn't force enough to penetrate clothing, even if they should hit. It's a great thing to have a rapid river and a mountain gorge between hostile armies. . . .

Affectionately,

R. B. Hayes.

P. S. — I have been paid half of my pay, and will send you two or three hundred dollars at least, the first chance. I wish you would get Dr. Jim to buy one or two pairs of lieutenant-colonel's shoulder-straps to send with the privilege of returning if they don't suit. We expect Dr. Clendenin daily.

Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 134-5

Brigadier-General John A. Rawlins to Mary Emeline Hurlburt Rawlins, April 17, 1864

Culpepper C. H., Va., April 17, 1864.

. . . I do hope soon for settled weather and the commencement of active operations. I begin to feel that quite now is more advantageous to the enemy than to us. Already there are indications that Lee's army will be strengthened from Johnston's. One battalion and one regiment of regulars have already gone from the latter to the former. If such is the case it will be the policy of Lee to take the initiative and defeat this army before Sherman is able to move against Johnston. Unless he does this, his reenforcing his army from Johnston's would only expose the latter to certain defeat by Sherman. At any rate I am anxious for a move as soon as the roads will permit it.¹

Oh, how terribly our Government stands in its own light in not enforcing the conscription law. If it had done this last January we should now have at least 200,000 additional men in the field, and an army would be at General Grant's command that could not be successfully opposed in any quarter. But why talk over these things? Plain as they are, they have been unheeded, and to-day we have no more force than the enemy is able to oppose to us, and our liberties are still left to be decided by the skill of contending Generals instead of by the great superiority of our resources in materials and more especially in men. God has been most merciful to us as a people. He has preserved us this far, in spite of ourselves, from overthrow and utter ruin. We certainly have not helped ourselves as we might have done. In God therefore patriots must put their trust. I have great and abiding faith in our final triumph. I believe General Grant's plans in the coming campaign will win. Still it might have been put beyond the possibility of doubt by enforcing the draft. . . .

My cough is still getting better and my appetite is being restored. Unless I do get much better I cannot think of trying to remain here, for I had better quit the service than to permanently injure my health. Permanent injury of my lungs would of course be certain death; this, however, I do not seriously apprehend. . . .

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¹ On the Chattanooga-Atlanta line.

SOURCE: James H. Wilson, The Life of John A. Rawlins, p. 418-9

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, November 18, 1864

November 18, 1864

Warm it is this morning — too much so; I would prefer it frosty, but remember the farmer whom Jupiter allowed to regulate the weather for his own farm, and who made very poor crops in consequence. As Albert¹ came last night, I honorably discharged the ebony John this morning, giving him a character, an antique pair of trousers and a dollar or two extra wages, whereat John showed his ivory, but still remarked, standing on one leg: “Er ud like er pass.” “What do you want a pass for?" asked I, in that fatherly voice that should always be used to a very black nig. “Go a Washington.” “If you go to Washington they’ll draft you, if you don't look out.” “Oh,” said John, with the grave air of a man of mundane experience, “dem fellers what ain't travelled none, dey gets picked up: but I's travelled a right smart lot!” Whereupon the traveller departed. It should be stated that his travels consist in having run away from his master, near Madison Court House, and in having since followed the army on the back of a spare horse. We were favored with a batch of two J. Bulls (lately they have taken to hunting about here, in couples and singly). These were a certain legation person, Kirkpatrick, and an extraordinary creature named H–––, who is said to have been once in the British army and to be now in Oxford — rather a turning about. He had a sort of womanish voice and a manner of sweet sap; his principal observations were: “Ao, inde—ed”; “Ao, thank you”; and “Ao, I wish you a good morning.” He had an unaccountable mania for getting shot through the head, and insisted on going to Fort Hell, and staring through embrasures; from which I judge he was more idiotic than he seemed. He was also, it would appear, very fond of fresh air, while his companion (who also disagreed with him on the shooting-through-the-head matter) rather liked a door shut. They were put in a log cabin to sleep, and H––– secretly opened the door at night; whereupon it came to rain and blow, and the Bulls awaked in the morning to behold their shoes and stockings sailing about the room! Really, General Hunt, to whom these creatures are usually billetted, ought to get board free from his many former guests for the rest of his life.

In the evening we had a charge on the enemy under a new form, or rather a very old one, for it was after the fashion of Samson's foxes. A number of beef cattle, in a pen near Yellow Tavern, were seized, in the night, with one of those panics for which oxen are noted, and to which the name “stampede” was originally applied. They burst out of the enclosure and a body of them, forty strong, went, at full gallop, up the Halifax road, towards Petersburg! What our pickets did does not appear; one thing they did not do — stop the fugitive beef. On they went in wild career through the dark, with no little clatter, we may be sure. The Rebel videttes discharged their pieces and fled; the picket sentries opened fire; the reserves advanced in support, and fired too; heedless of killed and wounded, the oxen went slap through the whole of them; and, the last that was heard from that drove was the distant crash of a volley of musketry from the enemy's breastworks! When the gray morn lifted, the first sight that greeted our disgusted pickets was a squad of grey-backs comfortably cutting savory steaks from a fat beef, the quarry of their bow and their spear! The evening brought us warm rain; also, as toads fall in a shower, one military Englishman, and one civilian Blue-nose. The Briton was a Major Smyth, of the Royal Artillery — a really modest, gentlemanly man, with a red face, hooked nose, and that sure mark of greatness, a bald head. The Blue-nose was modest also (the only one I ever saw) and was of the class of well-to-do, honorable Common-Councilmen; his name was Lunn, suggestive of “Sally Lunns.”

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¹ The servant, whom he had brought from Brookline, who had been absent on sick leave.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 273-6

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 4, 1861

These simple things provoked some remarks from the young gentlemen in the department, and gave rise to predictions that he would soon supplant us all in the affections of the Secretary. And he is nimble of foot too, and enters the Secretary's room twice to Col. B.'s or Major T.'s once. I go not thither unless sent for; for in a cause like this, personal advancement, when it involves catering to the caprices of functionaries dressed in a little brief authority, should be spurned with contempt. But Col. Bledsoe is shocked, and renews his threats of resignation. Major Tyler is eager to abandon the pen for the sword; but Congress has not acted on his nomination; and the West Pointers, many of them indebted to his father for their present positions, are inimical to his confirmation.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 58

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 13, 1862

Mr. Chesnut fretting and fuming. From the poor old blind bishop downward everybody is besetting him to let off students, theological and other, from going into the army. One comfort is that the boys will go. Mr. Chesnut answers: “Wait until you have saved your country before you make preachers and scholars. When you have a country, there will be no lack of divines, students, scholars to adorn and purify it.” He says he is a one-idea man. That idea is to get every possible man into the ranks.

Professor Le Conte¹ is an able auxiliary. He has undertaken to supervise and carry on the powder-making enterprise — the very first attempted in the Confederacy, and Mr. Chesnut is proud of it. It is a brilliant success, thanks to Le Conte.

Mr. Chesnut receives anonymous letters urging him to arrest the Judge as seditious. They say he is a dangerous and disaffected person. His abuse of Jeff Davis and the Council is rabid. Mr. Chesnut laughs and throws the letters into the fire. “Disaffected to Jeff Davis,” says he; “disaffected to the Council, that don't count. He knows what he is about; he would not injure his country for the world.”

Read Uncle Tom's Cabin again. These negro women have a chance here that women have nowhere else. They can redeem themselves — the “impropers” can. They can marry decently, and nothing is remembered against these colored ladies. It is not a nice topic, but Mrs. Stowe revels in it. How delightfully Pharisaic a feeling it must be to rise superior and fancy we are so degraded as to defend and like to live with such degraded creatures around us — such men as Legree and his women.

The best way to take negroes to your heart is to get as far away from them as possible. As far as I can see, Southern women do all that missionaries could do to prevent and alleviate evils. The social evil has not been suppressed in old England or in New England, in London or in Boston. People in those places expect more virtue from a plantation African than they can insure in practise among themselves with all their own high moral surroundings — light, education, training, and support. Lady Mary Montagu says, “Only men and women at last.” “Male and female, created he them,” says the Bible. There are cruel, graceful, beautiful mothers of angelic Evas North as well as South, I dare say. The Northern men and women who came here were always hardest, for they expected an African to work and behave as a white man. We do not.

I have often thought from observation truly that perfect beauty hardens the heart, and as to grace, what so graceful as a cat, a tigress, or a panther. Much love, admiration, worship hardens an idol's heart. It becomes utterly callous and selfish. It expects to receive all and to give nothing. It even likes the excitement of seeing people suffer. I speak now of what I have watched with horror and amazement.

Topsys I have known, but none that were beaten or ill-used. Evas are mostly in the heaven of Mrs. Stowe's imagination. People can't love things dirty, ugly, and repulsive, simply because they ought to do so, but they can be good to them at a distance; that's easy. You see, I can not rise very high; I can only judge by what I see.

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¹ Joseph Le Conte, who afterward arose to much distinction as a geologist and writer of text-books on geology. He died in 1901, while he was connected with the University of California. His work at Columbia was to manufacture, on a large scale, medicines for the Confederate Army, his laboratory being the main source of supply. In Professor Le Conte's autobiography published in 1903, are several chapters devoted to his life in the South.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 141-3

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: March 29, 1862

After much anxiety, more authentic information from the “Valley” received this morning. We gave them a good fight, but the field was left in the enemy's hand. Poor, noble Winchester, to what degradation is she brought! Our dear W. B. C.^[1] was shot through the hip; the wound painful, but not mortal; he was carried to Staunton, and his mother has gone to him. The rest of our own peculiar “boys” are safe, but many lives were lost. It is thought that a great crisis is at hand. The Peninsula is the place appointed by rumour for a great battle. The croakers dread much from their numbers; my trust is in One who can save by many or by few.

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^[1] William Brockenbrough Colston, son of Judith W. (Brockenbrough) McGuire’s sister, Sarah Jane Brockenbrough and her husband, Edward Colston.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 103-4

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Monday Night, September 8, 1862

A note today from Mr. P. at Gordonsville, written Thursday evening; not a word had he yet heard of dear Willy's death; he would probably hear nothing, until he reached the place and was shown his grave! We are enduring the painful suspense of waiting for the coming home of his father with the sad remains; it will be a torturing thing. He may come tonight.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 148

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Friday, May 20, 1864

We are having nice weather. We lay here at Pulaski all day in order to draw rations and to rest. We spent the day in washing clothes and cooking navy beans and fresh beef. The troops of our corps were ordered to pack all extra clothing in their knapsacks and turn them over to the quartermaster, who would then send them by rail to Huntsville, where they are to be stored. We are to go in light marching order from now on, having but a blanket apiece. There is but little sickness in the corps and the men are in fine spirits. All are anxious to get through to the main army.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 189

Brigadier-General John A. Rawlins to Mary Emeline Hurlburt Rawlins, April 16, 1864

April 16, 1864.

. . . I have been very busy, so much so that up to this hour, 10 P. M., I have just found a moment to write to you, and while I write Colonel Bowers is waiting for my assistance in fixing up General Grant's old report of the battle of Belmont, Mo., for his new record book, and I have no idea of getting to bed before one or two A. M. You see I am never where work is not referred to me. Among the letters I wrote to-day was an official letter to General Butler on the subject of the exchange of prisoners. It requires a full acknowledgment of the validity of the Vicksburg and Port Hudson paroles, and a release to us of a number of officers and men equal to those we captured and paroled at those places, before another one of theirs will be exchanged, and also exacts the same treatment for colored soldiers while prisoners and the same conditions in their exchange and release as for white soldiers. I wrote this document with great care, I assure you, and although it is plain and clear in its meaning and seems to be written without labor, yet I measured it with my best judgment. I expect it to end further exchanges for the present.

I am recovering from my recent very sick turn slowly, and hope in a few days to feel as well as I did just preceding it. ...

SOURCE: James H. Wilson, The Life of John A. Rawlins, p. 418

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, November 16, 1864

November 16, 1864

They have made Sheridan a Major-General in the Regular Army. I think he deserves it for that remarkable battle of Cedar Creek. Those of Opequon and of Fisher's Hill were joyous occasions; but he ought to have won those, because his forces were probably at least as two to one, and his cavalry immeasurably superior; but this last battle was the thing that brought out his high merit. The language of the order is not to be commended, as it makes Sheridan a cat's-paw to give McClellan an insulting hit. It is hard on Meade, and I think he feels it; during a long campaign, in many respects unprecedented in military history for its difficulties and its grandeur, he has handled an army, which has at times considerably exceeded 100,000 men; and that too under circumstances very trying to a man who has had a chief command; that is to say, obliged to take the orders and tactics of a superior, but made responsible for all the trying and difficult performance, which indeed is more than one half the game of war.

1 undertake to say that his handling of his troops, when a mistake would be the destruction of the entire plan, has been a wonder: without exaggeration, a wonder. His movements and those of Lee are only to be compared to two exquisite swordsmen, each perfectly instructed, and never erring a hair in attack or in defence. Of course, it is idle to tell such facts to people at large; they don't understand, or care, or believe anything about it. It is true, the army has played what seems its destined ro1e, to kill and to be killed without decisive actions, until both sides pause from mere exhaustion; but do people reflect what a tremendous effect all this has on the Rebels? that by wearing ourselves, we have worn them down, until they are turning every teamster into the ranks and (of all things) are talking of arming the negroes. Suppose there had been no army capable of clinging thus for months in a death-grapple, and still clinging and meaning to cling; what would have become of Sherman and his great work?¹ The record of General Meade is a remarkably clear one. He has risen from a brigadier of volunteers to all the higher commands, by hard fighting and an experience that dates from the first days of McClellan. He has done better with the Army of the Potomac than McClellan, Pope, Burnside, or Hooker; and — I will add boldly and without disparagement to the Lieutenant-General — better than Grant! and you would agree with me did you know what power and what men Grant has had to command. Meade's great virtue is, that he knows when to fight, and when not to fight. Taking up an army on the march, he fought and won the greatest battle of this war — Gettysburg — 100,000 men against 110,000 — a battle that saved Baltimore, Washington, and Philadelphia, and nobody knows what besides. He wouldn't fight (assault) Lee at Williamsport, and immediately he was “timid, timid, timid!” Now look here: we assaulted at Spotsylvania, at Cool Arbor, at Petersburg, and were repulsed with perfect slaughter; after all that, if Lee had assaulted us in position what would, what would have become of him? Why, we would have used him up so, that he wouldn't have known himself. Just turn this about and apply it to Gettysburg and reflect how “the people” are frequently semi-idiotic! He followed Lee to the Rappahannock and got orders to stop. In September he was to move and attack Lee on the Rapid Ann; the day before this move they took 20,000 men from him and sent West: it couldn't be done to Grant. Then Lee marched on Centreville; Meade beat him and got there first; Lee wouldn't fight and retreated (he also knows when not to fight). It was in just such a move that Pope was smashed all to pieces and driven into Washington. Then Meade forced the Rappahannock, and drove Lee in haste over the Rapid Ann. The Mine Run expedition followed; we did not go fast enough — that was unfortunate; but it would have been more unfortunate to have left 10,000 men on the slopes there. If Meade had lacked the great moral courage to say “retreat,” after having been called “timid” by the papers, and having been hounded on by Halleek and Stanton to “do something,” he would not only have got a disastrous defeat, but would have destroyed the plan of re-enlistments by which we obtained the very backbone of our army for this campaign. His “timidity” lies in this, that he will not try to build a house without enough of tools and timber. Lately, they have turned round, 180 degrees, and now call him “butcher”; but that does just as well — blow hot, blow cold. This is a fair statement. I don't say he is Napoleon, Caesar and Alexander in one; only that he can handle 100,000 men and do it easy — a rare gift! Also, as Sherman and Sheridan, commanding the two other great armies, have been made regular Major-Generals, he too, who is doing his part, and has fought more than both of them put together, ought to have equal rank.² General Grant, as far as I can hear, thinks everything of General Meade, and it is said will have him promoted like the others. I believe it will turn out that Sherman is our first military genius, while Sheridan is most remarkable as a “field fighter,” when the battle is actually engaged. Bless my soul! quelle lecture on my commanding General! Never mind, variety is the spice of life.

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¹ Sherman was just leaving Atlanta in his march to the sea.

² Meade was then a Major-General of Volunteers.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 270-3

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 3, 1861

The Secretary said to me to-day that he desired my young friend, the classical teacher, to assist me in writing letters. I told him I needed assistance, and Mr. Jacques was qualified. Major Tyler's ill health keeps him absent half the time. There was abundance of work for both of us. Mr. J. is an agreeable companion, and omitted no opportunity to oblige me. But he trenches on the major's manor, and can write as long letters as any one. I would never write them, unless the subject-matter demanded it; and so, all the answers marked “full” by the Secretary, when the sum and substance is to be merely an affirmative or a negative, will fall to my co-laborer's share.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 58

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 12, 1862

In the naval battle the other day we had twenty-five guns in all. The enemy had fifty-four in the Cumberland, forty-four in the St. Lawrence, besides a fleet of gunboats, filled with rifled cannon. Why not? They can have as many as they please. “No pent-up Utica contracts their powers”; the whole boundless world being theirs to recruit in. Ours is only this one little spot of ground — the blockade, or stockade, which hems us in with only the sky open to us, and for all that, how tender-footed and cautious they are as they draw near.

An anonymous letter purports to answer Colonel Chesnut's address to South Carolinians now in the army of the Potomac. The man says, “All that bosh is no good.” He knows lots of people whose fathers were notorious Tories in our war for independence and made fortunes by selling their country. Their sons have the best places, and they are cowards and traitors still. Names are given, of course.

Floyd and Pillow¹ are suspended from their commands because of Fort Donelson. The people of Tennessee demand a like fate for Albert Sidney Johnston. They say he is stupid. Can human folly go further than this Tennessee madness?

I did Mrs. Blank a kindness. I told the women when her name came up that she was childless now, but that she had lost three children. I hated to leave her all alone. Women have such a contempt for a childless wife. Now, they will be all sympathy and goodness. I took away her “reproach among women.”

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¹ John [B.] Floyd, who had been Governor of Virginia from 1850 to 1853, became Secretary of War in 1857 He was first in command at Fort Donelson. Gideon J. Pillow had been a Major-General of volunteers in the Mexican War and was second in command at Fort Donelson. He and Floyd escaped from the Fort when it was invested by Grant, leaving General Buckner to make the surrender.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 140

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: March 27, 1862

This has been a day of uneasiness to us all. General Jackson has had a fight at Kernstown, near Winchester. No particulars, except that the enemy were repulsed, and our loss heavy. Many that are so dear to us are in that “Stonewall Brigade;” and another day of suspense must pass before we can hear from them. Our Western army under Beauregard are fighting at Island No. 10, with what success we know not. The enemy presses us on every side.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 103

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: September 6, 1862

Our grief has sorrowed itself down to calmness; but how sad the household! Dear Willy was the darling of all. His unselfish nature led him to be considerate to a most remarkable degree of every one's comfort. Never have I seen so devoted and thoughtful a son. His love and care for his father had a womanly tenderness in it. I have need to miss him! He was ever gentle and kind to me, and loving to my children. A more faultless character I think I have never known. And then he was so consistent a Christian; that is the crowning blessedness of all. When he was struck down on the battle field, friends gathered around him with expressions of sympathy (we are told), when he said, “Don't distress yourselves about me, I am not afraid to die.” To the surgeon he said, “I am at peace with God and with all the world.” My heart aches for his poor father; he will stagger under the blow. His poor sisters are heart-wrung. Nothing could exceed his brotherly love to them. Alas! what sorrow reigns over the land! there is a universal wail of woe. Dr. White's family is stricken just as this one is. Hugh, their most cherished one, is killed, and today Professor White went with a hearse to try to recover his body. Henry Paine, the Dr.'s son, is killed; Col. Baylor killed; Major Patrick killed. It is like the death of the first born in Egypt. Who thinks of or cares for victory now!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 147-8

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, May 19, 1864

We started our drove of cattle early this morning and the brigade broke camp at 8 o'clock and followed. We reached Pulaski at 2 o'clock, a distance of sixteen miles, and went into camp. Our road, rough and rocky, followed a winding creek which I think we had to wade twenty-four times during the day. I was corporal guard last night and having had no sleep, the hard day's march has almost worn me out.

Good news came from the Eastern army, also from the Cumberland army. The report is that General Grant has had a six days' fight at Richmond and that the rebels are whipped and on the retreat.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 189

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Anna Jackson Lowell, June 17, 1863

Camp Brightwood, June 17, '63.

I have been expecting orders for some days past — but the raid into Pennsylvania seems to be blowing over — and they haven't come. I hope Hooker will seek to get a battle out of Lee at once —  he will never have a better chance, with the six months' troops called for; he will be able to reap the fruits of a victory if he gains one, and a defeat would not be very disastrous.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 258

Diary of Major Rutherford B. Hayes: November 1, 1861

Camp Tompkins. — Cold, gusty, but sunshiny. The fine band of the Second Kentucky does discourse glorious music. A dapper little fellow with a cane, “a nice young man,” fit for Fourth Street in piping times of peace, walked by my tent just now. Not a fellow in camp with his army blue, tattered or not, who does not feel above him.

The enemy have just begun to fire on the ferry and on the teams and passers between here and Gauley Bridge. They have cannon and riflemen on the opposite side of New River. Went with Sweet scouting to ascertain exact position of enemy. Followed up rills and ravines, running imminent risk of breaking necks; discovered tolerable views of the enemy. The echoes of the cannon and bursting shells were grand in these defiles. Two of our men slightly wounded. The ferry stopped during daylight (but doing double duty at night), is all that was accomplished. Great waste of ammunition, great noise, excitement among soldiers. Vox praterea nihil. Got home at night, tired enough, in the rain.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 134

Brigadier-General John A. Rawlins to Mary Emeline Hurlburt Rawlins, April 15, 1864

Culpepper C. H., Va., April 15, 1864.

. . . The General returned this afternoon from his Annapolis visit. The railroad guards at one of the stations between this and Washington were attacked by a party of the enemy, whom they repulsed a few minutes before the arrival of the train the General was on. So you see his good luck still sticks to him. I have not yet talked with him of the result of his visit to Burnside. We have received bad news from the Mississippi Valley, and will continue to receive just such to cheer us, while timid Generals, who have been time-serving politicians, are retained in command. I hope soon to see such changes made as will give at least confidence that all will be done that can be with the forces given to keep matters quiet on the Mississippi River. I am not one of those who think it probable that we will be able to give perfect peace along the banks of that great river until we have entirely defeated the rebel armies elsewhere. . . .

General Grant's official report of Chattanooga is being published all over the country, and is receiving the most favorable notice in all the leading papers. You know I told you it would do much for his reputation. And you know, too, the manner in which I labored for weeks with Bowers on that report to make it show the real truths, the plans and conceptions which matured into the splendid victory of Chattanooga.  . . . Enclosed I send you what the New York Times says of it. The General fully appreciates the services of Bowers and myself in this matter. He writes his own reports, but they need a great deal of comparing with orders and much rearranging to make them the complete reports that are shown in his reports of Vicksburg and Chattanooga. Few men write with greater terseness that which fills their minds than Grant. . . .

SOURCE: James H. Wilson, The Life of John A. Rawlins, p. 417-8

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, November 14, 1864

November 14, 1864

If doctors and quartermasters had not quarrelled, I should not have come unto sorrow; thus, a hospital was placed nigh to a place on the railroad where the quartermasters would fain have a platform. “Move your tents,” said the quartermasters. “We won't,” said the doctors. “You shall,” retorted the quartermasters. “We shan't,” reiterated the M.D's. The strife waxed hot. Inspectors were called: they inspected much and shook their heads; that being a negative conclusion, the Major-General Commanding the Army of the Potomac was appealed to, and he rode out to enter a fiat. In riding out he took me, and I took a chill. So confusion to all doctors and quartermasters! But the former shall be forced to cure me and the latter to make me comfortable in mine house. There came over, for a visit, the Colonel Russell, of the funny turn, who commands now a brigade of negro troops. He has always something funny to relate of their manners and customs. It would appear that his nigs were once relieved by troops of the 2d Corps, and, as both parties had just been paid off, the ivory and the ebony sat down to play poker, wherein the ebony was rapidly getting the better of their opponents. The enemy meanwhile began to fire shells over the woods, but the players were too interested to leave off. At last one cute Yankee, who, despite his cuteness, had been entirely cleaned out, wandered off and found an empty shell, which he carefully filled with damp gunpowder, adding a paper fuse. Approaching the group that seemed to have most money on the board, he lighted the innocent combustible, screamed “Look out!” and threw it into the midst of them, following up himself, to secure the greenbacks left by the fugitives. Russell said when the recruits first come down they get into all sorts of snarls. As, for example, two of them found what they call “one er dese ere mortisses,” by which they would say mortar shell. “Hullo, dar's er mortiss: s'pose dat ar’ll ’splode?” “Splode! ‘corse it'll ’splode.” “No, it wun't; how's gwine to 'splode, when's been shot out uv er cannon?” “Bet yer five dollars '11 'splode.” “Bet yer it wun't!” The next thing the Colonel knew was a tremendous report, and two or three bits of iron flying through his tent. He rushed forth and collared a handful of the darks, and demanded immediate explanation. Whereunto one replied, with the utmost simplicity: “Didn't mean nuphin, Kernul; all fault er dat ar stupid nigger — said er mortiss wouldn't 'splode!” This day was further remarkable by the erection of a stately flagstaff, which seemed to imply that General Williams thought we should stay some time; but I think it will doubtless make us move at once; just as building log huts has a similar effect.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 269-70

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 2, 1861

There has been some brilliant fighting by several brothers named Ashby, who led a mounted company near Romney. One of the brothers, Richard, was slain. Turner Ashby put half a dozen Yankees hors du combat with his own arm. He will make a name. We have accounts of an extraordinary exploit of Col. Thomas, of Maryland. Disguised as a French lady, he took passage on the steamer St. Nicholas at Baltimore en route for Washington. During the voyage he threw off his disguise, and in company with his accomplices, seized the steamer. Coming down the Bay, he captured three prizes, and took the whole fleet into Fredericksburg in triumph. Lieut. Minor, C. S. N., participated in this achievement. Gen. Patterson, who conciliated the mob in Philadelphia, which had intended to hang me, seems to be true to his pledge to fight the Southern people. He is now advancing into Virginia at the head of a brigade.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 57-8

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 11, 1862

A freshman came quite eager to be instructed in all the wiles of society. He wanted to try his hand at a flirtation, and requested minute instructions, as he knew nothing whatever: he was so very fresh. “Dance with her,” he was told, “and talk with her; walk with her and natter her; dance until she is warm and tired; then propose to walk in a cool, shady piazza. It must be a somewhat dark piazza. Begin your promenade slowly; warm up to your work; draw her arm closer and closer; then, break her wing.”

“Heavens, what is that — break her wing?” “Why, you do not know even that? Put your arm round her waist and kiss her. After that, it is all plain sailing. She comes down when you call like the coon to Captain Scott: ‘You need not fire, Captain,’ etc.”

The aspirant for fame as a flirt followed these lucid directions literally, but when he seized the poor girl and kissed her, she uplifted her voice in terror, and screamed as if the house was on fire. So quick, sharp, and shrill were her yells for help that the bold flirt sprang over the banister, upon which grew a strong climbing rose. This he struggled through, and ran toward the college, taking a bee line. He was so mangled by the thorns that he had to go home and have them picked out by his family. The girl's brother challenged him. There was no mortal combat, however, for the gay young fellow who had led the freshman's ignorance astray stepped forward and put things straight. An explanation and an apology at every turn hushed it all up.

Now, we all laughed at this foolish story most heartily. But Mr. Venable remained grave and preoccupied, and was asked: “Why are you so unmoved? It is funny.” “I like more probable fun; I have been in college and I have kissed many a girl, but never a one scrome yet.”

Last Saturday was the bloodiest we have had in proportion to numbers.¹ The enemy lost 1,500. The handful left at home are rushing to arms at last. Bragg has gone to join Beauregard at Columbus, Miss, Old Abe truly took the field in that Scotch cap of his.

Mrs. McCord,² the eldest daughter of Langdon Cheves, got up a company for her son, raising it at her own expense. She has the brains and energy of a man. To-day she repeated a remark of a low-country gentleman, who is dissatisfied: “This Government (Confederate) protects neither person nor property.'” Fancy the scornful turn of her lip! Some one asked for Langdon Cheves, her brother. “Oh, Langdon!” she replied coolly, “he is a pure patriot; he has no ambition. While I was there, he was letting Confederate soldiers ditch through his garden and ruin him at their leisure.”

Cotton is five cents a pound and labor of no value at all; it commands no price whatever. People gladly hire out their negroes to have them fed and clothed, which latter can not be done. Cotton osnaburg at 37½ cents a yard, leaves no chance to clothe them. Langdon was for martial law and making the bloodsuckers disgorge their ill-gotten gains. We, poor fools, who are patriotically ruining ourselves will see our children in the gutter while treacherous dogs of millionaires go rolling by in their coaches — coaches that were acquired by taking advantage of our necessities.

This terrible battle of the ships — Monitor, Merrimac, etc. All hands on board the Cumberland went down. She fought gallantly and fired a round as she sank. The Congress ran up a white flag. She fired on our boats as they went up to take off her wounded. She was burned. The worst of it is that all this will arouse them to more furious exertions to destroy us. They hated us so before, but how now?

In Columbia I do not know a half-dozen men who would not gaily step into Jeff Davis's shoes with a firm conviction that they would do better in every respect than he does. The monstrous conceit, the fatuous ignorance of these critics! It is pleasant to hear Mrs. McCord on this subject, when they begin to shake their heads and tell us what Jeff Davis ought to do.

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¹ On March 7 and 8, 1862, occurred the battle of Pea Ridge in Western Arkansas, where the Confederates were defeated, and on March 8th and 9th, occurred the conflict in Hampton Roads between the warships Merrimac, Cumberland, Congress, and Monitor.

² Louisa Susanna McCord, whose husband was David J. McCord, a lawyer of Columbia, who died in 1855. She was educated in Philadelphia, and was the author of several books of verse, including Caius Gracchus, a tragedy; she was also a brilliant pamphleteer,

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 138-40

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: March 24, 1862

Our people continue to make every effort to repel the foe, who, like the locusts of Egypt, overrun our land, carrying the bitterest enmity and desolation wherever they go. Troops are passing through Richmond on their way to Goldsborough, N. C, where it is said that Burnside is expected to meet them. Everybody is busy in supplying their wants as they pass through. On Sunday, just as the girls of one of the large seminaries were about to seat themselves at table, the principal of the school came in: “Young ladies,” said he, “several extra trains have arrived, unexpectedly, filled with troops. The committee appointed to attend them are totally unprepared. What can we do to help our hungry soldiers?” “Give them our dinner,” cried every young voice at once. In five minutes baskets were filled and the table cleared. When the girls reached the cars, the street was thronged with ladies, gentlemen, children, servants, bearing waiters, dishes, trays, baskets filled with meats, bread, vegetables, etc. Every table in Richmond seemed to have sent its dinner to Broad Street, and our dear, dusty, hungry gray coats dined to their hearts' content, filled their haversacks, shouted “Richmond forever!” and went on their way rejoicing.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 102-3

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: September 4 1862

The worst has happened — our fearful suspense is over: Willy, the gentle, tender-hearted, brave boy, lies in a soldier's grave on the Plains of Manassas! This has been a day of weeping and of woe to this household. I did not know how I loved the dear boy. My heart is wrung with grief to think that his sweet face, his genial smile, his sympathetic heart are gone. My eyes ache with weeping. But what is the loss to me, compared to the loss to his Father, his sisters, his brothers! Oh! his precious stricken Father! God support him to bear the blow! The carriage has returned, bringing me a note from Mr. P. saying he had heard there was faint hope. Alas! the beloved son has been five days in his grave. My poor husband! Oh! if he were only here, to groan out his anguish on my bosom. I can't write more.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 147

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Wednesday, May 18, 1864

The troops in advance of us started early this morning, but our brigade did not move until 11 o'clock. We had a hard day's march, having to cross a large swamp, wade four creeks, and cross one river twice: yet we covered fourteen miles with the cattle, and got into bivouac near Clarenceville¹ at 9 o'clock at night. Many of the men got sore feet, as a result of being in the water so much and then having to walk the rough, stony roads. The town of Clarenceville, they say, is almost deserted, only a few of the meaner sort of people remaining.

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¹ This must have been Lawrenceburg, the county seat of Lawrence county, and on a direct line between Waynesburg and Pulaski. — Ed.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 188

Brigadier-General John A. Rawlins to Mary Emeline Hurlburt Rawlins, April 14, 1864

Culpepper C. H., April 14, 1864.

. . . Spring seems really to be here, but it has brought with it no ploughman to “turn the glebe afield.” All is barrenness and desolation. The houses of the happy people who once enjoyed their possessions here, stand solitary and alone. No fences surround them to turn aside the horseman from his path of pleasure or of war. How blessed are the people of the North compared to these. Of this you have had personal experience. Would to God that the lessons war teaches a people whom it visits could be truly appreciated by those who have not seen its footprints on their own farms. They could then better understand what we are fighting for, and would with greater alacrity rally to the support and maintenance of the Government left them by Washington and his compeers.

Be assured, I am not one of earth's gloomy children, looking ever to the dark clouds. I am among the most hopeful. When a boy none pictured life more fair and full of pleasure, none looked forward to hope for happiness, with more eagerness or boyish glee, than I. In all this I have not changed. The pleasures of home and the happiness to be found in the bosom of my family alone I estimate above all earthly goods. . . .

Enclosed I send you the telegraphic despatch from the Honorable E. B. Washburne, informing me of my confirmation by the Senate. It is just received, and I have no doubt will make your heart glad. I assure you it pleases me, for while I never sought the rank, yet after having had it conferred upon me by appointment, I should have felt badly if I had been rejected by the Senate, especially when I have striven with whatever ability I possess to serve my country. You can see in all this Mr. Washburne's warm friendship for me. Enclosed also I hand you two letters from him to me, one dated December 21st, 1861, in reference to General Grant, and one written January 6th, 1862, in reply to mine answering his of December 21st.s My letter was a detailed statement on the subject to which his alludes. These letters you will not fail to preserve.  . . . I confide in you everything. The General is still in Washington, but telegraphs he will be here to-morrow. I am much better than for two or three days past, but not yet well. My appetite is returning, and when it is good I am generally in fair health. . . .

SOURCE: James H. Wilson, The Life of John A. Rawlins, p. 416-7

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, November 13, 1864

November 13, 1864

We had a Lieutenant-Colonel C––– , a Britisher, up for a visit; he is commander of the forces in that tropical climate of New Brunswick. In aspect Colonel C––– was not striking; he had done injustice to what good looks he had by a singularly shapeless suit of city clothing, which I judge must have been purchased ready made from a village tailor in New Brunswick. He had a sort of soft cloth hat, an overcoat of a grey-rhubarb tint and trousers which once might have had a pure color, but seemed to have become doubtful by hanging in the sun outside a shop. I don't think the gallant Lieutenant-Colonel was much interested in matters military. Perhaps he had read out, perhaps he had no natural taste that way, or perhaps he felt cold and uncomfortable. At any rate he looked bored, and his only military remark did not indicate deep reflection. “This,” said I, “is what we call a corduroy road.” “Oh! ah! Indeed; yes, well, it's very well now, you know, but what will you do when it comes wet weather?” I was too much overcome at this putting the cart before the horse, to inform him that the corduroy was built for no other purpose than for wet weather. After this I confined myself to considerations of the state of health of the Hon. Mr. Yorke (he who came back with us from Liverpool). He is under the command of the Colonel, it would appear, and afforded an innocent topic of conversation. Since then two other English officers have been entrusted to the fatherly care of Rosencrantz, and diligently shown round. When they got near the end, they said: “Now we are much pleased to find you are a foreigner, because we can frankly ask you, what you consider the general feeling towards the English in this country.” To which Rosie (who don't like to miss a chance) replied: “Vell, I can tell you that, so far as I have observed, some Americans do just care nothing about you, and many others do say, that, when this war is over, they will immediately kick you very soon out from Canada!” When the horrified Bulls asked: “Aw, aw, aw; but why, why?” Rosie replied in the following highly explanatory style: “Be-cause they say you have made for the Rebs very many bullets.”

General Gibbon dined with us and was largely impressed by our having oysters on the shell, which he pitched into with the fervor of a Baltimorean long separated from his favorites. Gibbon is by birth a Pennsylvanian, but lived, since boyhood, in North Carolina. When the Rebellion broke out, two of his brothers went into the Rebel service, but he remained loyal. One of his sisters was in the South but could not escape, and it was only the other day that they allowed her to come on board the flag-of-truce boat and come down the river to our lines, where her brother met her and took her North. He had sent word to his younger brother to meet him on the same occasion, but the young gentleman sent word, “It would not be agreeable”; which shows they are pretty bitter, some of them. Gibbon has an Inspector named Summerhayes, who is of the 20th Massachusetts, and who has got so used to being shot at, that he seems not to be able to do without it, and so gallops along the picket line to rouse the foe to pop at him. Which reminds me of what Grant said (either by accident or on purpose). He had come out, with a great crowd of civilians, to ride round the lines. Someone proposed to go out and visit the pickets. “No,” said Grant, innocently, “no; if I take a crowd of civilians, the enemy may fire and some of the soldiers might get hurt!”

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 267-9

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 1, 1861

My family are gone. We have moved the department to Mechanics' Hall, which will be known hereafter as the War Department. In an evil hour, I selected a room to write my letters in, quite remote from the Secretary's office. I thought Mr. Walker resented this He had likewise been piqued at the effect produced by an article I had written on the subject of the difficulty of getting arms from Georgia with the volunteers from that State. One of the spunky Governor's organs had replied with acerbity, not only defending the Governor, but striking at the Secretary himself, to whom the authorship was ascribed. My article had been read and approved by the Secretary before its insertion; nevertheless he now regretted it had been written — not that there was anything improper in it, but that it should have been couched in words that suggested the idea to the Southern editor that the Secretary might be its author. I resolved to meddle with edged tools no more; for I remembered that Gil Bias had done the same thing for the Duke of Lerma. Hereafter I shall study Gil Bias for the express purpose of being his antithesis. But I shall never rise until the day of doom brings us all to our feet again.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 57

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 10, 1862

Second year of Confederate independence. I write daily for my own diversion. These mémoires pour servir may at some future day afford facts about these times and prove useful to more important people than I am. I do not wish to do any harm or to hurt any one. If any scandalous stories creep in they can easily be burned. It is hard, in such a hurry as things are now, to separate the wheat from the chaff. Now that I have made my protest and written down my wishes, I can scribble on with a free will and free conscience.

Congress at the North is down on us. They talk largely of hanging slave-owners. They say they hold Port Royal, as we did when we took it originally from the aborigines, who fled before us; so we are to be exterminated and improved, à l'Indienne, from the face of the earth.

Medea, when asked: “Country, wealth, husband, children, all are gone; and now what remains?” answered: “Medea remains.” “There is a time in most men's lives when they resemble Job, sitting among the ashes and drinking in the full bitterness of complicated misfortune.”

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 137

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: March 15, 1862

Our army has fallen back to the Rappahannock, thus giving up the splendid Valley and Piedmont country to the enemy. This, I suppose, is right, but it almost breaks our hearts to think of it. Winchester was occupied last Wednesday! Lord, how long shall our enemies prosper? Give us grace to bear our trials.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 102

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: Monday Night, March 17, 1862

This morning I was at the funeral, at St. Paul's Church; the service was read by the Rev. J. P. McGuire and Rev. C. J. Gibson. Bishop Johns made a most solemn address. The procession, long and sad, then wended its way to Hollywood Cemetery.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 102

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: September 3, 1862

Yesterday asked the price of a calico dress; “Fifteen dollars and sixty cents!” Tea is $20. per lb. A merchant told me he gave $50. for a pound of sewing silk! The other day our sister, Mrs. Cocke,^[1] purchased 5 gallons of whiskey, for which, by way of favor, she only paid $50.! It is selling for $15. per gallon. Very coarse unbleached cotton (ten cent cotton) I was asked 75 cts. for yesterday. Eight dollars a pair for servants' coarse shoes. Mr. P. paid $11. for a pair for Willy. These prices will do to wonder over after a while.

10 o'clock P. M. Little did I think, when I wrote the above, that such sorrow would overtake this family so soon! News came this afternoon of the late fearful fight on Manassas Plains, and of Willy Preston^[2] being mortally wounded — in the opinion of the surgeons! His Father was not at home, and did not hear the news for some time. Oh! the anguish of the father-heart! This evening he has gone to Staunton; will travel all night in order to take the cars tomorrow morning. I am afraid to go to bed, lest I be roused by some messenger of evil tidings, or (terrible to dread) the possible arrival of the dear boy — dead! Father in Heaven! Be merciful to us, and spare us this bitterness!

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^[1] Elizabeth Randolph Preston Cocke, sister of John Thomas Lewis Preston and the wife of William Armistead Cocke

^[2] William C. Preston, son of John Thomas Lewis Preston and his first wife Sarah Lyle Caruthers.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 146-7

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Tuesday, May 17, 1864

We marched fifteen miles today. Our brigade had the cattle in charge and at 10 o'clock we had to stop and let them rest, the heat and rough stony roads being too much for them. The other brigades of our corps passed us, going on ahead. We started again at 4 o'clock, but did not catch up with our corps and go into bivouac until late at night. In the country we passed through, only now and then are there small clearings with log huts. The people are poor and schoolhouses are very scarce through here.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 188

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Monday, May 16, 1864

Reveille sounded at 3 o'clock and at 5 we started on our way to Waynesburg. We reached the place at noon and went into camp for the rest of the day. The troops kept coming in from Clifton all the afternoon.¹ Our corps, the Seventeenth, is all together again, and now in command of General F. P. Blair. We have fine weather for marching, but the roads are very rough and stony, making it hard on our feet. The water is plentiful and very good, there being some healthful springs about here.

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¹ They all left Clifton for Huntsville, Alabama. —A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 188

Diary of William Francis Bartlett: Monday, July 1, 1861

Palfrey came to me and said, “Charley Peirson has been offered the adjutant's office for the Twentieth Regiment. If he does not accept it, would you like it?” I was rather taken aback. I told him I would accept it if he thought me capable of qualifying myself for it. He said he thought I was.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 4

Diary of Gideon Welles: Monday, August 25, 1862

Wrote Wilkes, preparatory to discontinuing the organization of the James River Flotilla as a distinct organization. Received from him, after it was written, an unofficial letter communicating a plan of offensive operations. Directed him in reply to engage in no scheme whereby the gunboats would be detained in James River longer than the army absolutely needed them to divert the attention of the Rebels and prevent them from sending their whole force against General Pope before General McClellan could reach him. The change of the plan of operations is a military movement, suggested and pushed by Chase and Stanton. It will be a great disappointment to Wilkes as well as others, but there is no remedy. As soon as the gunboats can be released we want them elsewhere. They have been locked up in James River for two months, when they should have been on other duty. McClellan's tardy policy has been unfortunate for himself and the country. It has strengthened the combination against him. Faxon¹ showed me a letter from Admiral Foote which I was sorry to read, evincing a petulance that is unworthy of him, and proposing to relinquish his bureau appointment, if he cannot control the selection of certain clerks.

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¹ William Faxon, Chief Clerk of the Navy Department.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 91-2

Diary of Salmon P. Chase: Friday, August 29, 1862

The Secretary of War called on me in reference to Genl. McClellan. He has long believed and so have I, that Genl. McClellan ought not to be trusted with the command of any army of the Union; and the events of the last few days have greatly strengthened our judgment. We called on Judge Bates, who was not at home. Called on Genl. Halleck, and remonstrated against Gen. McClellan commanding. Secy, wrote & presented to Genl. H. a call for a report touching McC's disobedience of orders & consequent delay of support to Army of Va. Genl. H. promised answer to-morrow morning.

SOURCE: Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 62

Congressman Israel Washburn, Jr. to James S. Pike, January 31, 1860

Washington, January 31, 1860.

My Dear Pike: I am rejoiced to hear you talk so sensibly. I am for Pitt, and hope our State will be for him in good faith, and secure his nomination. But if, after all, this cannot be done, I am for Seward. No indiscriminate admirer of the governor, I cannot forget how much he has done for the great cause, how brave and logical hare been his words, nor the trials and struggles of the last eight years in this Golgotha. May Maine be firmly and honestly for Fessenden; but let her not be used to defeat not alone her noble son, but every genuine Republican.

I have no doubt that you are entirely right in your apprehensions that there is a deep, widely extended, and formidable movement to nominate Bates, or some one like him, and to this fact, in my honest opinion, is it due that John Sherman was not elected Speaker weeks ago. The effect of electing our first and only candidate, and a Helper signer, after all the clamor made on that subject, was seen, and it was also surmised what would be the argument if, driven from a straight Republican nominee, a non-Helper, non-representative candidate should be chosen. Hence sundry diversions from Sherman to South Americans, hinting to the Democrats to hold on and our line would break soon. Hence the movements of at least one Bates man, who professes strong Republicanism, of whom I may speak hereafter. Sherman permitted the campaign to be directed in the main by these men, and was persuaded by them to favor the diversions I have referred to, or some of them, and to make what I regard as unfortunate speeches. There is not, that I know of, a single correspondent here who has understood the ground we were travelling, or who, if he understood it, has not been laboring in the interest of the “opposition” party rather than of the Republican party.

With our “Peck” of troubles in Maine, and anybody for the Republican nominee who is not a live and true Republican, we shall have a campaign such as I hope not to be obliged to labor in, and which would not promise the most happy results.

Put us on the defensive, set us to explaining and apologizing, give us a candidate of whom we only know that he is an old line Whig and never a Republican, and the canvass will be the hardest we ever had.

When are you coming on?

Yours truly,

I. Washburn, Jr.

J. S. Pike, Esq.

SOURCE: James Shepherd Pike, First Blows of the Civil War: The Ten Years of Preliminary Conflict in the United States from 1850 to 1860, p. 482-3

Major Robert Anderson: December 14, 1860*

When I inform you that my garrison consists of only sixty effective men, that we are in a very indefensible work, the walls of which are only about fourteen feet high, and that we have within 100 yards of our walls, sand-hills which command our work, and which afford admirable sites for their batteries and the finest covers for sharpshooters, and that besides this there are numerous houses, some; of them within pistol-shot — you will at once see that if attacked in force, headed by any one not a simpleton, there is scarcely a probability of our being able to hold out long enough to enable our friends to come to our succor.

Trusting that, etc.,

(Signed.)

Robert Anderson.

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* From the Richmond Whig, December 24, 1860.

SOURCE: Samuel Wylie Crawford, The Genesis of the Civil War: The Story of Sumter, 1860-1861, p. 100