Diary of Louise Wigfall: March 24, 1861

My mother says: “Your father has gone over to-day to Alexandria to meet McCulloch. McCulloch arrived here last night and went right to Mr. Gwin's. It was deemed imprudent by his friends for him to remain in Washington on account of the part he took about the Forts in Texas, and they advised him to go to Alexandria, so your father has gone there to see him.  . . . No news has yet come of the evacuation of Fort Sumter."

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 34

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: October 15, 1862

RICHMOND. – Yesterday morning my sister M., J. W., and myself, drove up from W. to the depot, seven miles, in a wagon, with four mules. It was a charming morning, and we had a delightful ride; took the accommodation cars at twelve and arrived here at two. We drove to the Exchange, and were delighted to find there our dear J. McI. and her little Bessie, on her way to W. to spend the winter. Poor thing, her lot is a sad one! She was excited by seeing us, and was more cheerful than I expected to see her; though she spoke constantly of her husband, and dwelt on her last days with him. She was in Memphis; her little Jemmie was excessively ill; she telegraphed for her husband in Arkansas. He came at once, and determined that it would be better to take the little boy to the house of his aunt in Louisiana, that J. might be with her sister. They took the boat, and after a few hours arrived at Mr. K's house. The child grew gradually worse, and was dying, when a telegram came to General Mcintosh from General Price, “Come at once — a battle is imminent.” He did not hesitate; the next steamer bore him from his dying child and sorrowing wife to the field of battle, Pea Ridge. He wrote to her, immediately on his arrival at camp, the most beautifully resigned letter, full of sorrow for her and for his child, but expressing the most noble, Christian sentiments. Oh, how she treasures it! The lovely boy died the day after his father left him! The mother said, “For a week H. and myself did nothing but decorate my little grave, and I took a melancholy pleasure in it; but darker days came, and I could not go even to that spot.” She dreamed, a few nights after little Jemmie's death, of being at Fort Smith, her home before the war; standing on the balcony of her husband's quarters, her attention was arrested by a procession — an officer's funeral. As it passed under the balcony she called to a passer-by: “Whose funeral is that?” “General McIntosh's, madam.” She was at once aroused, and ran to her sister's room in agony. She did what she could to comfort her, but the dream haunted her imagination. A few days afterwards she saw a servant ride into the yard, with a note for Mrs. K. Though no circumstance was more common, she at once exclaimed, “It is about my husband.” She did not know that the battle had taken place; but it was the fatal telegram. The soldiers carried his body to Fort Smith, and buried it there. To-morrow she returns, with her aunt, to W. She wishes to get to her mother's home in Kentucky, but it is impossible for her to run the blockade with her baby, and there is no other way open to her.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 166-8

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: April 10, 1865

News has come that Lee's army has surrendered! We are struck dumb with astonishment! Why then all these four years of suffering — of separations — of horror — of blood — of havoc — of awful bereavement! Why these ruined homes — these broken family circles — these scenes of terror that must scathe the brain of those who witnessed them till their dying day! Why is our dear Willy in his uncoffined grave? Why poor Frank to go through life with one arm? Is it wholly and forever in vain? God only knows!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 207-8

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: July 4, 1865

The Confederacy disowns forever as sacred the Fourth of July. I never saw a quieter day. Martial law is proclaimed.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 208

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: July 10, 1865

It seems scarcely worth while to continue my jottings. I have so few items to note. A week ago four of our servants were dismissed. Mr. P. thought it best to change, so he sent them away. Anakee has lived with him 25 years; he was grieved to give her up, and she wanted to stay. Old Uncle Young manifested no pleasure at the idea of freedom. It is astonishing how little it seems to affect them; they seem depressed rather than elated.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 208

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, September 8, 1864

Cool and cloudy with some rain today. All is quiet.¹

_______________

¹ Sherman's army went into permanent camp in the vicinity of Atlanta for a much needed rest. The camps were in the timber and the men had good water. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 214

Bayard Taylor to Richard Henry Stoddard, April 21, 1862

Cedarcroft, Sunday, April 21, 1861.

Everything here is upside down. We live almost in a state of siege, with the rumors of war flying about us. At present we don't know what is going on. We have reckless secessionists within twelve miles of us. Everybody is arming. The women are at work night and day, making clothes for the volunteers. Fred has raised sixty riflemen, and goes off in two days. The people of Kennett have contributed four thousand dollars to equip them. All the young Quakers have enlisted. The excitement and anxiety is really terrible. We are so near the frontier that if the damnable Maryland traitors are not checked within three days we may have to meet them here. I never knew anything like the feeling — earnest, desperate, sublime — which the people exhibit. There are no parties any more. All are brothers, drawn together by the common danger. Chester County will furnish one thousand men, and dangerous men to meet. Of course we can't think of going to Europe now, nor until this immediate crisis is over. The danger is too near and too great. Our departure is postponed until some decisive action occurs. I cannot leave home now, though I want to go to New York to raise money. I shall have to sell one share of Tribune stock immediately, to pay Fred's pressing debts and let him go. C— L— has enlisted, W— C—, G—'s boys; everybody that can be spared, in fact. The old men are forming a home guard for the defense of their households.

I never had such a day as last Thursday in Washington. I had a private interview with Lincoln, which was very satisfactory. I passed through Baltimore just before the attack on the Massachusetts men, — four hours only. Wilmington is loyal, I think; the news to-day is favorable, but we live from hour to hour in a state of terrible excitement. Show this letter to Putnam immediately (I have no time to write to him), and let me ask him in this way immediately to send me a check for one hundred dollars, or fifty dollars, or twenty-five dollars, any sum he can spare, to buy arms. We are unarmed; that is our great danger. Just let him read this, as if written to him. Go to his house; if you don't find him at home, tell Fiske my situation. I will send him a letter as soon as I can. Seward was not to be seen when I was in Washington, and Sumner had just left. We are courageous here, and full of hope for the final result, but the next few days will decide our fate. I will write again soon. God and Liberty!

SOURCE: Marie Hansen-Taylor and Horace E. Scudder, Editors, Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor, Volume 1, p. 375-6

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Anna Jackson Lowell, September 4, 1864

Summit Point, Sept. 4, 1864.

You must not feel despondent about public affairs. Lincoln is going to be reelected. Every officer ought to show double zeal, and every citizen double interest in recruiting, if any military success is to have an effect on the result. I think that four years under McClellan would destroy what is left of the Republic. I am very, very sorry that his name is to be used by men like Wood, Vallandigham, and Cox.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 334

Major-General John Sedgwick to his Sister, August 30, 1862

Camp Alexandria, August 30, 1862.

My dear sister:

We hurried here yesterday and immediately received orders to move to the front at nine o'clock this morning. Although the orders have not been countermanded, we have not gone, and the presumption is we shall not for a day. Everything is in the utmost consternation, as much so as after Bull Run. Washington people seem to lose their senses at the most unfounded rumours, but there may be some cause for it now. The enemy are not far off, and things here are not in the best state to receive them. A few days must make some great changes; God grant they may be favourable ones. I am in camp near the one I occupied last winter. The men are tired and to some degree dispirited, but a few days' rest will bring them up. I know but little of what is going on ; no one does but General Halleck and the enemy. All correspondence is prohibited, and telegraphic communication cut off. We were landed at Aquia Creek, and were on our way to Fredericksburg when orders came to reimbark and proceed to Alexandria. You may direct your letters to Washington.

With much love, I remain, as ever,

Your affectionate brother,

J. S.

SOURCES: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 78-9

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Friday, December 27, 1861

A cold and windy but clear morning — good winter weather. It was warm last night until 2 [A. M.], wind veered around from south to north and [it was] cold as blazes (why blazes?). Rode with Major Comly down to Captain McIlrath's. He preferred remaining in his quarters to a trip to Raleigh. Five companies to be sent to Raleigh to occupy it, — to push further if best to do so.

Drilled in a clear, brisk air. Colonel Scammon is preparing to send to Raleigh in the hope that a party of the enemy at Princeton may be surprised; also that railroad bridges near Newbern may be destroyed.

Harvey Carrington and T. S. Dickson, Company C, complain of Sergeant Keen and Thomas Mason for keeping two hundred and ten dollars won at “Honest John.” They say the agreement was that whatever was lost or won was to be returned and that they played merely to induce others to play. I told them that as they, by their own stories, were stool-pigeons, they were entitled to no sympathy. They admitted that much of the money had been won gaming. I declined to order the money returned to them. I sent for Sergeant Keen and Mason, who denied the story of Carrington and Dickson, but admitted winning the money. I ordered them to pay the money into the company fund of Company C where it will be used to buy gloves and such other comforts as the Government does not furnish for all the company.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 170

Francis Lieber to Senator Charles Sumner, April 1, 1862

New YorK, April 1, 1862.

. . . Regarding slavery, I repeat, let us compress it as much as we can. Let us free, in actual war, as many negroes that come to us as we can; let us emancipate the District; let us keep free every Territory; let us contrive and adopt some bonus for emancipation; let us distinctly emancipate the negroes of the open, avowed traitors; and what with increased cotton culture elsewhere, and the blow which the institution must receive from our victory, after having proclaimed itself a divine institution, it will dwindle and die out, — not perhaps without asking us to pay for the emancipation.

SOURCE: Thomas Sergeant Perry, Editor, The Life and Letters of Francis Lieber, p. 326

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 15, 1861

I have been requested by Gen. Winder to-day to refuse a passport to Col. M–––r to leave the city in any direction. So the colonel is within bounds! I learn that he differed with Gen. Winder (both from Maryland) in politics. But if he was a Whig, so was Mr. Benjamin. Again, I hear that Col. M. had some difficulty with Col. Northrop, Commissary-General, and challenged him. This is a horse of another color. Col. N. is one of the special favorites of the President.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 85

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: January 12, 1864

To-night there will be a great gathering of Kentuckians. Morgan gives them a dinner. The city of Richmond entertains John Morgan. He is at free quarters. The girls dined here. Conny Cary came back for more white feathers. Isabella had appropriated two sets and obstinately refused Constance Cary a single feather from her pile. She said, sternly: “I have never been on the stage before, and I have a presentiment when my father hears of this, I will never go again. I am to appear before the footlights as an English dowager duchess, and I mean to rustle in every feather, to wear all the lace and diamonds these two houses can compass” — (mine and Mrs. Preston's). She was jolly but firm, and Constance departed without any additional plumage for her Lady Teazle.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 276

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: October 8, 1862

Mr. N. joined us this morning, and we all gathered here for the day. It seemed so much like old times, that C. broke a war rule, and gave us pound-cake for supper.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 165-6

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: October 9, 1862

A very pleasant day at S. H. The ladies all busily knitting for our soldiers — oh, that we could make them comfortable for the winter!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 166

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: October 10, 1862

Bad news! The papers bring an account of the defeat of our army at Corinth. It was commanded by General Van Dorn—the Federals by Rosecranz. They fought Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The fight said to have been very bloody — great loss on both sides. The first two days we had the advantage, but on Sunday the Yankees “brought up reinforcements,” and our men had to retire to Ripley. The Northern papers do not brag quite so much as usual; they say their loss was very great, particularly in officers; from which, I hope it was not quite so bad with us as our first accounts represent. This bringing up of reinforcements, which the Yankees do in such numbers, is ruinous to us. Ah! if we could only fight them on an equal footing, we could expunge them from the face of the earth: but we have to put forth every energy to get rid of them, while they come like the frogs, the flies, the locusts, and the rest of the vermin which infested the land of Egypt, to destroy our peace.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 166

John T. L. Preston to Margaret Junkin Preston, January 24, 1865

Richmond, Tuesday, January 24th, 1865.

You will get this by General Smith. He goes up to rest, leaving me to discharge his duties as well as my own as professor. I will not underrate the laborious nature of the work, as I mean to make it the foundation of a claim for furlough when he gets back!

I send you as the principal item, Thackeray's last novel, “Philip.” Remember when you read it to return your thanks for it to Colonel Crutchfield. I have read it with much satisfaction. As a story it is a mere framework, hastily and inartistically run up, and scarce aims to excite much interest by the events. It is a book of characters, and of characters by no means perfect. In fact there is but one actor introduced (Mrs. Pendennis) who does not require the veil of charity to conceal very considerable flaws. The staple of the book is a merciless exhibition of the badness of human nature. D. and the preacher Hunt are two of the most unmitigated evildoers on the records of fiction. Other characters you will find in the book that are strong types of bad men, each in his peculiar line, but the analysis will bring out from all the root evil of supreme selfishness. The philosophy of his book is to make selfishness odious, or at all events, in a cynical way, to show how prevalent it is. His female characters are not quite as bad as his men, but they are hard cases indeed. I have not time to individualize. But you will relish, I know, the picture of true married love in Pendennis and his wife. It is so exquisite and so natural and of course so true. And what art there is in the way in which he just opens the gates of Eden for us as we stand outside, not permitting us to enter, and not describing its beauties, but only allowing us to get a view along one vista of the trees in the heavenly garden, to hear one song of the birds of Paradise, to inhale the perfume wafted to the gate from the banks of ever blooming flowers, and to see at a distance Adam and Eve in loving talk and quiet bliss! And then the gates close upon our eager eyes, to be opened again when we do not expect it, and to furnish some other scene, differing in features, but the same in entrancing loveliness. I have hardly ever met with anything more charming than this fragmentary vision of perfect wifehood. The author gives us different colored bits of glory, and says to our imagination, “Put them together, and see what they will make.”

Somebody has undertaken to restore the lost books of Livy, by his profound and minute acquaintance with history: I think if we were together, we know enough about the subject matter of Mrs. Pendennis' story, to fill up the gaps in it! The story falls off decidedly at the end, and the denouement is as manifest, commonplace, and clap-trap as ever a lazy man of genius was guilty of. But take it altogether, it is so sharp and witty, and, from its standpoint, so true, that I enjoyed it amazingly. How much better it would have been if Phebe had read it aloud to us, so that we could have exchanged criticisms! By the time I see you I will have forgotten all about it. Indeed it would cost me some trouble to recall its particulars even now. But at all events, I have had my talk with you about it.

Item second is a pair of rubber shoes. I don't think Cinderella's foot can get into them, but they are the only pair I have been able to find, and maybe they will answer. If they are too small, write me word; you can give them away, or sell them. I gave $30. for them. Perhaps by further search I may pick up another pair.

Also, a ream of paper for you, like this I am writing on. It will try your eyes less than that you have been writing on. As it is much better than what we get ordinarily, you had better send to Captain Polk and get some of a larger size for the use of the household. . . .

Also, a piece of stuff for Phebe which Sister gave me at Oakland; this is the first opportunity I have had to send it.

Also, one orange. Some lady gave this ostentatious piece of blockade goods to Frank, and he (after eating another, I believe), brought this to me two weeks ago. Of course I was not child enough to eat it, but saved it for you all.

Also, a number of illustrated papers for G. and H. — Bless their hearts — I wish I had something better to send them!

There now is my invoice. Very small, but it is my little all, and represents more love than many a bride's trousseau, or rich man's legacy. I wish I could have procured something for all the household, but it is impossible. You have no idea how meagre all the shops look, and how absolutely unesthetic in things great and small the metropolis is. Absolutely, there is nothing grand about here but General Lee, and nothing beautiful but the music at the Monumental Church. (Dinner Drum!)

Postscript item: Since dinner has come in another important addition; this time for Johnny — a bridle! A regular army bridle, from the Ordnance Department. I give this to him upon condition that he puts mine away, and keeps it safe until I get back. Mind, he must not lose anything about it, not even a bit! Poor pun, but like my presents, the best I can make in these Confederate times.

And now good-bye to you all. I send no news, though there are a great many rumors on the street today. You will see them all in the papers before this reaches you.

Your Husband.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 204-7

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Wednesday, September 7, 1864

The weather is still quite pleasant. There is nothing of any importance. All is quiet. Ward E is on the ground floor of the same building as Ward D, but at the rear of the building, and is a poor place to put sick men for any length of time, as it is poorly ventilated.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 214

Catharine Maria Sedgwick to Susan Higginson Channing, March 10, 1860

Woodbourne, March 10, 1860.

My Dear Friend, — I have not written to you since the death of Eliza,^* an event in which our hearts were blended. Her affection has been a precious boon to both our lives, her life full of rich memories, her character a light from heaven — an assurance of immortality, so much is there in it of that vitality which death can not touch. I have not experienced in her death any thing of that tremulousness, that clouded perception, that failure of faith, that recoiling from the extinguishing touch of death that I sometimes am haunted with; partly, perhaps, because I did not witness the process of mortality. I heard of her illness only the day before I heard of her death, and I would not look at her after the light of her glowing eye was veiled, so that to my perception she passed over the gulf and into her inheritance. I did not see her after I came to Woodbourne. I was purposing to go over to Brookline, but put it off with that reckless delay which, in spite of experience, clings to us to the last, as if we had a secure grant of the future. She wrote to me an earnest invitation to go with her to her annual festival.^† I declined it, assigning to her the true reason, that I shrunk from being with her on an occasion to her of the most elevating excitement which I did not partake. My feelings (perhaps I should say my judgment) would recoil when hers flowed on with the force of ocean waves to high-water mark. The last time she ever put pen to paper — the pen that has done so much blessed work — was with the intention of kindly convincing me I was wrong. Her frame was then shivering with premonitory ague, her hand was weak, and after writing one common note-paper page she could write no farther, and stopped at “our festival” — words fitly her last, for her heart was in them. You will not misunderstand me, my dear Susan, nor imagine that I do not feel heartily in the great question of humanity that agitates our people. It seemed to me that so much had been intemperately said, so much rashly urged on the death of that noble martyr, John Brown, by the Abolitionists, that it was not right to appear among them as one of them.  * * * *  I wish I could know that you were as well and strong as I am, we so much need health in our old age. As the Irishman said of the sun, “What is the use of it in the day?” So youth might spare a little of what is so essential to age. But if we can learn to resign contentedly, to live cheerfully in our narrowed quarters, and to await in tranquillity our Father's last dealings on earth with us, we may still hear those blessed words, “She hath done what she could.” You have doubtless the two last great books, Hawthorne's and Florence Nightingale's — the last, one that will scatter blessings through the land. Like light and air, it is for universal good. It is rare for a person who has Miss Nightingale's wonderful powers of execution to write with such force, directness, and pithiness. I have but just begun the “Marble Faun.” I am sure you will feel, as I do, that it pours a golden light into the dim chambers of memory, and revivifies the scenes that we, too, once enjoyed. * * * *

_______________

^* Mrs. Eliza Cabot Follen.

^† The meeting of the Anti-slavery Society.

SOURCE: Mary E. Dewey, Editor, Life and Letters of Catherine M. Sedgwick, p. 377-8

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, Sunday, September 4, 1864 – 6 a.m.

Sunday, Sept. 4, Summit Point, 6 A. M.

We are on the right flank of the Army again — indeed, are the only cavalry there — and are constantly on the go. By the way, Billy got another bullet yesterday; it struck the ring of his halter and shivered it, — has bruised and cut him a little, but we cannot decide where the bullet is.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 334