Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: November 30, 1862

The Yankee army ravaging Stafford County dreadfully, but they do not cross the river. Burnside, with the “greatest army on the planet,” is quietly waiting and watching our little band on the opposite side. Is he afraid to venture over? His “On to Richmond” seems slow.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 173-4

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, Saturday, April 13, 1861

Saturday, April 13.

The news is glorious for us. No one hurt on our side, and no damage of any consequence to our batteries. Your father has been at Morris's Island all yesterday, and all night. He however wrote me not to expect him and I did not feel uneasy, as Captain Hartstein told me it was utterly impossible for boats to land with such a high sea. This morning Fort Sumter is on fire (produced from the shells it is thought). They say the flag is at half mast and has been so all the morning — a sure sign of distress. The fleet will try to relieve him, of course, but it will be in vain, and thus, I trust in God, this business will end. Heaven has favored our side, and we are all grateful to a Kind Providence. I doubt if your father returns before night.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 40

Diary of Sarah Morgan: May 10, 1862

Last night about one o'clock I was wakened and told that mother and Miriam had come. Oh, how glad I was! I tumbled out of bed half asleep and hugged Miriam in a dream, but waked up when I got to mother. They came up under a flag of truce, on a boat going up for provisions, which, by the way, was brought to by half a dozen Yankee ships in succession, with a threat to send a broadside into her if she did not stop — the wretches knew it must be under a flag of truce; no boats leave, except by special order to procure provisions.

What tales they had to tell! They were on the wharf, and saw the ships sail up the river, saw the broadside fired into Will Pinckney's regiment, the boats we fired, our gunboats, floating down to meet them all wrapped in flames; twenty thousand bales of cotton blazing in a single pile; molasses and sugar thrown over everything. They stood there opposite to where one of the ships landed, expecting a broadside, and resolute not to be shot in the back. I wish I had been there! And Captain Huger is not dead! They had hopes of his life for the first time day before yesterday. Miriam saw the ball that had just been extracted. He will probably be lame for the rest of his life. It will be a glory to him. For even the Federal officers say that never did they see so gallant a little ship, or one that fought so desperately as the McRae. Men and officers fought like devils. Think of all those great leviathans after the poor little “Widow Mickey”! One came tearing down on her sideways, while the Brooklyn fired on her from the other side, when brave Captain Warley put the nose of the Manassas under the first, and tilted her over so that the whole broadside passed over, instead of through, the McRae, who spit back its poor little fire at both. And after all was lost, she carried the wounded and the prisoners to New Orleans, and was scuttled by her own men in port. Glorious Captain Huger! And think of his sending word to Jimmy, suffering as he was, that “his little brass cannon was game to the last.” Oh! I hope he will recover. Brave, dare-devil Captain Warley is prisoner, and on the way to Fort Warren, that home of all brave, patriotic men. We'll have him out. And my poor little Jimmy! If I have not spoken of him, it is not because I have lost sight of him for a moment. The day the McRae went down, he arose from his bed, ill as he was, and determined to rejoin her, as his own boat, the Mississippi, was not ready. When he reached the St. Charles, he fell so very ill that he had to be carried back to Brother's. Only his desperate illness saved him from being among the killed or wounded on that gallant little ship. A few days after, he learned the fate of the ship, and was told that Captain Huger was dead. No wonder he should cry so bitterly! For Captain Huger was as tender and as kind to him as his own dear father. God bless him for it! The enemy's ships were sailing up; so he threw a few articles in a carpet-bag and started off for Richmond, Corinth, anywhere, to fight. Sick, weak, hardly able to stand, he went off, two weeks ago yesterday. We know not where, and we have never heard from him since. Whether he succumbed to that jaundice and the rest, and lies dead or dying on the road, God only knows. We can only wait and pray God to send dear little Jimmy home in safety.

And this is War! Heaven save me from like scenes and experiences again. I was wild with excitement last night when Miriam described how the soldiers, marching to the depot, waved their hats to the crowds of women and children, shouting, “God bless you, ladies! We will fight for you!” and they, waving their handkerchiefs, sobbed with one voice, “God bless you, Soldiers! Fight for us!”

We, too, have been having our fun. Early in the evening, four more gunboats sailed up here. We saw them from the corner, three squares off, crowded with men even up in the riggings. The American flag was flying from every peak. It was received in profound silence, by the hundreds gathered on the banks. I could hardly refrain from a groan. Much as I once loved that flag, I hate it now! I came back and made myself a Confederate flag about five inches long, slipped the staff in my belt, pinned the flag to my shoulder, and walked downtown, to the consternation of women and children, who expected something awful to follow. An old negro cried, “My young missus got her flag flyin', anyhow!” Nettie made one and hid it in the folds of her dress. But we were the only two who ventured. We went to the State House terrace, and took a good look at the Brooklyn which was crowded with people who took a good look at us, likewise. The picket stationed at the Garrison took alarm at half a dozen men on horseback and ran, saying that the citizens were attacking. The kind officers aboard the ship sent us word that if they were molested, the town would be shelled. Let them! Butchers! Does it take thirty thousand men and millions of dollars to murder defenseless women and children? O the great nation! Bravo!

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 25-8

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Tuesday, September 20, 1864

Rain most all day. More of the wounded from the field hospital out east of town started home today on thirty-day furloughs. The sick here are being transferred to temporary hospitals down town, while the remainder of the wounded from the field hospital are taking the places vacated by them.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 215-6

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Brigadier-General Francis C. Barlow, September 10, 1864

Ripon, Va., Sept. 10, '64.

Take care of yourself, old fellow. Just get your mother to take you to some quiet place and make much of you — don't think too much of campaigns and of elections. This isn't the end of the world, though it is so important for us. Don't mind Lincoln's shortcomings too much: we know that he has not the first military spark in his composition, not a sense probably by which he could get the notion of what makes or unmakes an Army, but he is certainly much the best candidate for the permanency of our republican institutions, and that is the main thing. I don't think even he can make the people tire of the war. What you want is rest and care; don't be foolish, my dear fellow, and neglect to take them. Unless you give yourself some time now, you will never half complete your career. What the devil difference does it make where a man passes the next six months, if the war is to last six years? If it is to be ended in one year, you have done and suffered your share in it.¹

There are better things to be done in the Country, Barlow, than fighting, and you must save yourself for them too. I remember we said to each other six months ago, that the man who wasn't in the coming campaign might as well count out. Bah! it hasn't proved. There are as many campaigns for a fellow as there are half years to his life.

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¹ The brilliant career of General Barlow was well sketched by Mr. Forbes, in a letter to a friend, written May 30, 1862, just after Barlow's wounding in the Wilderness Campaign: “You, out West, may not know about Barlow. Graduating high at Harvard some four or five years since [Mr. Forbes was mistaken; Barlow graduated in 1855], he entered one of the New York regiments either as a private or in some subordinate capacity; rose to be Colonel, led his regiment gallantly in the Peninsula and the great battle of Antietam. While lying on the field, supposed mortally wounded, he received his commission as Brigadier for his services on the Peninsula. Barely recovered from his wounds, he served at Fredericksburg, and again fell at Gettysburg, shot in several places, and pronounced by the Faculty fatally shot. He laughed at their predictions; his strong will prevailed, even under the disadvantage of a feeble frame, and he slowly recovered to be just able to head a Division in the late battles, under Hancock. He led the attack on the ‘Salient’ [Spottsylvania], when Johnston and his Brigade were captured. . . .

“From his slight frame and youthful appearance, he is often called the ‘boy-General,’ though there is about as much man to him as to any one I know; and, moreover, he is one of the few men who have achieved distinction without coming through the portals of West Point, or of politics. It is said Hancock or Meade recommended him for a Major-General’s commission the day after that assault, the credit for which Hancock distinctly gives him.”

General Barlow survived the war some thirty years, and practised law with distinction in New York. He married Mrs. Lowell's younger sister.

General Francis A. Walker, in his History of the Second Corps, tells the story of Colonel Barlow's masterly and successful tactics with his brigade at a dark moment at Antietam, and also of his desperately successful capture of the Salient at Spottsylvania. Another officer who served with him on both these fields, Lieutenant-General Miles, said, “Under the most depressing circumstances, he never was without hope and fortitude. He was apparently utterly devoid of the sensation of fear, constantly aggressive, and intensely earnest in the discharge of all duties. His integrity of purpose, independence of character, and sterling honesty in the assertion of what he believed to be right and just, made him a marked man among public men. He abhorred a coward; had a perfect contempt for a demagogue, and despised a hypocrite. He believed in the administration of public affairs with the most rigid integrity, and did not hesitate to denounce wrong as he believed it to exist, and maintain what he believed to be right under all circumstances.” The same qualities shone out in time of peace. In his short term as United States Marshal in New York he is said to have cleaned out a nest of corruption, and, given special powers by President Grant, he broke up by force a large filibustering expedition about to sail for Cuba, thus averting a war with Spain. As Attorney-General of New York, he officially instituted most of the legal proceedings ending in the impeachment of corrupt judges. Hon. Charles S. Fairchild said of him, "The State owes General Barlow more than she does any single man for results, without which the life of any honest man would have been intolerable in this State.”²

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² See an admirable sketch of Barlow's life, in the Harvard Graduates' Magazine for June, 1896, by Edwin H. Abbot.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 343-4, 461-3

Major-General John Sedgwick to his Sister, April 28, 1863

April 28, 1863.

My dear sister:

Our troops are on the move, and to-morrow we expect to meet the enemy. I have been given a large and important command, and I feel a great responsibility; God grant we may be successful. If anything happens to me, you will remember how well I have always loved you. You will always believe that I have lived and shall die true to my country and my name. I hope for the success of our arms and am confident. I leave in an hour and can write no more.

Receive my love,

John Sedgwick.

SOURCES: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 92

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Sophia Birchard Hayes, January 4, 1862

Camp Union, Fayetteville, Virginia, January 4, 1862.

Dear Mother: — I have a chance to send letters direct to Columbus by a recruiting officer this morning and write in great haste. We are still in good quarters and good health. The people we meet are more and more satisfied that it is best to return to their allegiance. Our men, pickets and outposts, are daily pushed out further into what has been the enemy's country, and everywhere they meet friends, or at least people who no longer behave like enemies. Part of our regiment is fifty miles south of here, and no signs even of hostility from anybody. Not a man has been fired at in this brigade for more than a month. If no disaster befalls our armies on the Potomac or in Kentucky, the masses of the people in Virginia are ready — would be glad — to submit. England out of the way, and a little patience and determination will crush the Rebellion.

You say you are glad I am coming home — that you didn't expect it. I hope to start the latter part of this month. All the officers but five have been home and returned or are now absent. My turn is next to the last. I shall go before Colonel Scammon. Of course, events may occur to prevent my leaving, but I don't anticipate them.

Affectionately, your son,

R. B. Hayes.

Mrs. Sophia Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 177-8

Francis Lieber to Judge Thayer, January 2, 1864

New York, January 2,1864.

. . . The constitutionality of the conscription is one of those footballs of which we have had sundry in our history.

No man, I venture to say, Copperhead or not, would be so bold as to assert that the government had not the power or the solemn duty of raising an army by conscription, if need be, should an English or French army march into our country to the tune of some two hundred and fifty thousand men. The question, therefore, of raising an army by conscription in the present case, is simply one of the magnitude of the danger, and of the hearty sincerity in those who desire, or pretend to desire, to carry out the war successfully. If a man thinks that anything else than victory in the field can now decide our great question, let him say so. The issue will then be on quite a different ground. If a man thinks that we want an army of five hundred thousand, and to keep it up, but that volunteering will be the best method of raising such an army, let him say so, and the question will be one of expediency; but to say that the Constitution prohibits this nation from doing that which Nature commands every creature to do, man or beast, — to defend its own skin, — would be simply laughed at were such folly uttered by any one not backed by party power. Suppose I had said so in one of my books, without reference to any pending and existing question, every reviewer would have set me down as a fool. . . .

SOURCE: Thomas Sergeant Perry, Editor, The Life and Letters of Francis Lieber, p. 337

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: November 1, 1861

There is an outcry against the appointment of two major-generals, recommended, perhaps, by Mr. Benjamin, Gustavus W. Smith and Gen. Lovell, both recently from New York. They came over since the battle of Manassas. Mr. Benjamin is perfectly indifferent to the criticisms and censures of the people and the press. He knows his own ground; and since he is sustained by the President, we must suppose he knows his own footing in the government. If defeated in the legislature, he may have a six years' tenure in the cabinet.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 89-90

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: January 25, 1864

The President walked home with me from church (I was to dine with Mrs. Davis). He walked so fast I had no breath to talk; so I was a good listener for once. The truth is I am too much afraid of him to say very much in his presence. We had such a nice dinner. After dinner Hood came for a ride with the President.

Mr. Hunter, of Virginia, walked home with me. He made himself utterly agreeable by dwelling on his friendship and admiration of my husband. He said it was high time Mr. Davis should promote him, and that he had told Mr. Davis his opinion on that subject to-day.

Tuesday, Barny Heyward went with me to the President's reception, and from there to a ball at the McFarlands'. Breckinridge alone of the generals went with us. The others went to a supper given by Mr. Clay, of Alabama. I had a long talk with Mr. Ould, Mr. Benjamin, and Mr. Hunter. These men speak out their thoughts plainly enough. What they said means “We are rattling down hill, and nobody to put on the brakes.” I wore my black velvet, diamonds, and point lace. They are borrowed for all “theatricals,” but I wear them whenever they are at home.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 283-4

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: November 29, 1862

Nothing of importance from the army. The people of Fredericksburg suffering greatly from the sudden move. I know a family, accustomed to every luxury at home, now in a damp basement-room in Richmond. The mother and three young daughters cooking, washing, etc.; the father, a merchant, is sick and cut off from business, friends, and every thing else. Another family, consisting of mother and four daughters, in one room, supported by the Work of one of the daughters who has an office in the Note Signing Department. To keep starvation from the house is all that they can do; their supplies in Fredericksburg can't be brought to them — no transportation. I cannot mention the numbers who are similarly situated; the country is filled with them. Country houses, as usual, show a marvellous degree of elasticity. A small house accommodating any number who may apply; pallets spread on the floor; every sofa and couch sheeted for visitors of whom they never heard before. If the city people would do more in that way, there would be less suffering. Every cottage in this village is full; and now families are looking with wistful eyes at the ball-room belonging to the hotel, which, it seems to me, might be partitioned off to accommodate several families. The billiard-rooms are taken, it is said, though not yet occupied. But how everybody is to be supported is a difficult question to decide. Luxuries have been given up long ago, by many persons. Coffee is $4 per pound, and good tea from $18 to $20; butter ranges from $1.50 to $2 per pound; lard 50 cents; corn $15 per barrel; and wheat $4.50 per bushel. We can't get a muslin dress for less than $6 or $8 per yard; calico $1.75, etc. This last is no great hardship, for we will all resort to homespun. We are knitting our own stockings, and regret that we did not learn to spin and weave. The North Carolina homespun is exceedingly pretty, and makes a genteel dress; the only difficulty is in the dye; the colours are pretty, but we have not learned the art of setting the wood colours; but we are improving in that art too, and when the first dye fades, we can dip them again in the dye.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 172-3

Louis T. Wigfall to Charlotte Cross Wigfall, April 12, 1861

head Quarters,

Morris Island,

April 12th.

. . . I take a moment to write you a line to say that I am well and that all is well. I cannot return till General Beauregard comes. I am very busy examining the position of the different batteries and arranging Infantry to support them in case a landing should be attempted. They are, you know, entirely out of the reach of the guns of Sumter. I have not been to Cummin's Point, but hear a good report. The Iron Battery stands fire admirably, and has dismounted two of Sumter's barbette guns. Not a single accident up to this time on our side. Thought that Sumter suffered this morning from the effect of shells — as Anderson is keeping his men at the casemates. He has thrown no shell, and probably has none; or perhaps, no guns from which to throw them. He has been throwing 32 solid shot at the iron battery, and they break to pieces, and fly off without making the slightest impression. Dr. St. Julien Ravenel has just come in and says that up to this time no one has been hurt. The wind is very high and I cannot hear the firing, but they still keep it up. I have been on the upper part of the Island, and am about to mount my horse again. We have just held a council to distribute the forces for the night, and before mounting I write to make you easy and assure you that all is well.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 39-40

Diary of Sarah Morgan: May 5, 1862

Vile old Yankee boats, four in number, passed up this morning without stopping. After all our excitement, this “silent contempt” annihilated me! What in the world do they mean? The river was covered with burning cotton; perhaps they want to see where it came from.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 22

Diary of Sarah Morgan: May 9, 1862

May 9th.

Our lawful (?) owners have at last arrived. About sunset, day before yesterday, the Iroquois anchored here, and a graceful young Federal stepped ashore, carrying a Yankee flag over his shoulder, and asked the way to the Mayor's office. I like the style! If we girls of Baton Rouge had been at the landing, instead of the men, that Yankee would never have insulted us by flying his flag in our faces! We would have opposed his landing except under a flag of truce; but the men let him alone, and he even found a poor Dutchman willing to show him the road!

He did not accomplish much; said a formal demand would be made next day, and asked if it was safe for the men to come ashore and buy a few necessaries, when he was assured the air of Baton Rouge was very unhealthy for Yankee soldiers at night. He promised very magnanimously not to shell us out if we did not molest him; but I notice none of them dare set their feet on terra firma, except the officer who has now called three times on the Mayor, and who is said to tremble visibly as he walks the streets.

Last evening came the demand: the town must be surrendered immediately; the Federal flag Must be raised; they would grant us the same terms they granted New Orleans. Jolly terms those were! The answer was worthy of a Southerner. It was, “The town was defenseless; if we had cannon, there were not men enough to resist; but if forty vessels lay at the landing, — it was intimated we were in their power, and more ships coming up, — we would not surrender; if they wanted, they might come and Take us; if they wished the Federal flag hoisted over the Arsenal, they might put it up for themselves, the town had no control over Government property.” Glorious! What a pity they did not shell the town! But they are taking us at our word, and this morning they are landing at the Garrison.

“All devices, signs, and flags of the Confederacy shall be suppressed.” So says Picayune Butler. Good. I devote all my red, white, and blue silk to the manufacture of Confederate flags. As soon as one is confiscated, I make another, until my ribbon is exhausted, when I will sport a duster emblazoned in high colors, “Hurra! for the Bonny blue flag!” Henceforth, I wear one pinned to my bosom — not a duster, but a little flag; the man who says take it off will have to pull it off for himself; the man who dares attempt it — well! a pistol in my pocket fills up the gap. I am capable, too. This is a dreadful war, to make even the hearts of women so bitter! I hardly know myself these last few weeks. I, who have such a horror of bloodshed, consider even killing in self-defense murder, who cannot wish them the slightest evil, whose only prayer is to have them sent back in peace to their own country, — I talk of killing them! For what else do I wear a pistol and carving-knife? I am afraid I will try them on the first one who says an insolent word to me. Yes, and repent for it ever after in sackcloth and ashes. O! if I was only a man! Then I could don the breeches, and slay them with a will! If some few Southern women were in the ranks, they could set the men an example they would not blush to follow. Pshaw! there are no women here! We are all men!

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 22-5

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Sunday, September 18, 1864

Have had a week of very pleasant weather. Our store of supplies here is small, as the army is to evacuate the place as soon as possible.¹

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¹ This proved to be my last Sunday at Rome, Georgia, for which I was very thankful. While there I saw more sick and wounded men than I ever wish to see again. While I was a convalescent working among the sick, giving out different kinds of medicine to forty or fifty men, I was under great responsibility, and it cost me many a night's sleep and rest. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 215

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Monday, September 19, 1864

The sick in the hospitals are getting along well. Part of the men here received two months' pay today, $32.00. The pay of soldiers has been raised to $16.00 per month since May 1, 1864.¹

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¹ The 32.00 I received was the first pay I got since leaving Davenport on Sunday, April 24, 1864. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 215

Richard Hackley* to John Albert Broadus, November 5, 1860

UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA, Nov. 5, 1860.

My Dear Master: As I feel like writing a few lines, and to show you that I think of you very often, I take the present opportunity of doing so. I am quite well now, thank the Lord, and we are all so far as I know, and I hope when these lines reach you that you and yours may be quite well. I heard from Mr. Saint Clair's yesterday — all well. My dear master, I hear much of the coming election. I hope that Mr. Lincoln or no such man may ever take his seat in the presidential chair. I do most sincerely hope that the Union may be preserved. I hear through the white gentlemen here that South Carolina will leave the Union in case he is elected. I do hope she won't leave, as that would cause much disturbance and perhaps fighting. Why can't the Union stand like it is now? Well do I recollect when I drove a wagon in the old wars, carrying things for the army; but I hope we shall have no more wars, but let peace be in all the land.

I have been wanting to go up to see my wife, but have not been able, but will do so soon, I hope. Next year I should like to live nearer her. With my best respects to you and mistress, I am as ever, your devoted servant.

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* Servant of John A. Broadus, the well-known “Uncle Dick.”

SOURCE: Archibald Thomas Robertson, Life and Letters of John Albert Broadus, p. 177

Catharine Maria Sedgwick to Catharine Sedgwick Minot, December 7, 1860

New York, December 7, 1860.

Never, in my lifetime, have we been at so interesting a point in our political history; and if you and William did not talk on the volcanic topic before breakfast and after supper, I should think the blood of your fathers had lost all moral vitality in your veins. Oh, for the spirit of Wisdom and of Love! But alas! what hope of it, or what desert of it! I suppose you will think it quite consonant to my cowardly character if I tell you that I feel most deeply interested in the poor mothers and maidens that are trembling in the midst of their servile enemies. As for that bullying State of South Carolina, one would not much care. As C. (cousin C.) says,”Let the damned little thing go!” or as C. B. (two of the most humane men I know) says, “Plow them under, plow them under! It has been a little wasp from the beginning!”

SOURCE: Mary E. Dewey, Editor, Life and Letters of Catherine M. Sedgwick, p. 387

Bayard Taylor to George William Curtis, October 31, 1861

Cedarcroft, Kennett Square, Pa., October 31,1861.

I hoped to have fallen in with you when I was in New York t'other day, but my stay was so short that I could not go down to the Island.

How are you, and how are wife and children? I am living here in comparative seclusion, and know the world only by the newspapers. But I see that you are to lecture in Philadelphia, which is a great satisfaction to me, and I presume it is a greater to you. Who could have foreseen the changes of this year? I do not despair of lecturing in Richmond before I die.

Now, my object in writing is twofold: first, and most important, to ask you to come out here for a day or two, if you possibly can, when you lecture in Philadelphia; you shall have pen, ink, and silence, if you need 'em. Secondly, what is to be the state of our business this winter? I get precious few invitations, and from widely scattered places. What is your experience? Am I, the individual, passed over, or has the institution “suspended”? As I have no other dependence for this winter, I am curious to know what calculations to make. (Tribune dividends and copyrights silent inter arma.)

I am writing a lecture on the “American People, in their Social and Political Aspects,” being sufficiently cosmopolitan in my experience to judge objectively, — at least, I so flatter myself. What is your subject? I wish you could give us a lecture here, but the place is rather too small in these times. Our young men are all away fighting. My wife sends love to you. . . .

SOURCE: Marie Hansen-Taylor and Horace E. Scudder, Editors, Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor, Volume 1, p. 382

Lieutenant William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, August 11, 1861

Meridian Hill, Washington.

Aug. 11th, 1861.

My dear Mother:

I have been overjoyed by a visit from Hunt, who has now probably returned home and reports me hearty and well. I have been fortunate in meeting several friends most unexpectedly during the last few days. Miss Woolsey was at our encampment on some errand of mercy yesterday evening. I saw her for a few moments, and promised to call upon her and Mrs. Howland soon, which I shall do if allowed to leave the camp. The laws are very strict though now, and I doubt whether I shall be able to leave the camp for some time to come. We are now going through a stage dreaded by all officers in the army, viz: that immediately following upon pay-day. Notwithstanding the utmost precautions the men contrive to obtain liquor, and when intoxicated are well-nigh uncontrollable, so that the utmost vigilance is needful. As the number of our officers is but small we are kept almost constantly active. When the money is once spent we will then breathe more freely. To-morrow I am to be the officer commanding the Guard, so I am scribbling a few lines rapidly to-night, as I shall be too busy to attend to such things to-morrow, and the following day too exhausted to do much after twenty-four hour's exertion. You see all the labors of an officer generally are compressed into short seasons of unexampled labor, and long periods of repose. We have now a new Colonel — Governor Stevens of Washington Territory. He seems to be a first class man. His advent among us was inaugurated by an order for us young officers to leave the pleasant rooms we occupied when Hunt was with us, and to return to our tents. This was as it should be; and other strict measures toward officers and men show that he is the right sort of a commander for a Regiment like ours, requiring a strong firm hand to govern it. I trust we may continue to be satisfied with him as our chief officer.

I begin to regard it as a little doubtful as to whether we really return to New York. Military men regard such a movement as unprecedented, and as affording a dangerous example. We will see how it is to end. You ask me regarding Gen’l Tyler! I will answer with all candor that he acted with the utmost bravery on the day of the fight. It was owing to his prompt and energetic action that once, after our Regiment was scattered, when weary and exhausted, having also (Elliott assisting) the additional burden of our wounded Captain to bear away, we escaped a cavalry charge in which many of our men were taken prisoners. When the cavalry came in sight, and all was in confusion, you could hear his quick, sharp voice rallying the disheartened to make such a stand as alone would ensure them victory. The men rallied, poured a volley of musketry into the foe galloping upon us, at the same time giving them two fatal shots from a couple of artillery pieces which luckily were in our possession — at which time I must mention the activity displayed by Ned Harland too. The fire was effective, the cavalry retreated and we marched on unharmed. Such things should shut the mouths of slander. Gen'l Tyler unfortunately played a leading part in a fatal engagement, and consequently must bear an undue share of blame. His great fault seems to have been an overweening confidence in our strength, and a great undervaluation of the enemy. Since the fight I regret to say a spirit of bitterness pervades his conversation as well as his official report of the battle.

I have just seen Lieut.-Col. Elliott, and feel more reason to hope we may return, as was before promised. Give the best of love to all,

And believe me,

Very Affec'y.,

William T. Lusk.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 70-2