Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 18, 1861

I am disappointed to-night, and feel sadly. I had almost no letters from home lately. None yesterday, to-day none. To-morrow I hope I shall hear from home, and get news of the returning health of my family, and then feel better. It is very hard to be shut up here, hundreds of miles from those we love most dearly, and during their sickness, can have no hope of getting to see them. I suppose the "necessities of war" demands the sacrifice, and we must submit.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 65

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 19, 1861

To-day I have received the expected letter; but it relieves no part of my sadness. My dear child at home is no better. I may never meet her again. This in another of the trials of this unholy war; but I am selfish. How many have so much more reason to complain than I?

Boxes of luxuries and comforts for the sick received from home to-day. Many of the days which we have spent in this army have been days of gloom and darkness; and, oh! how these stars of kindness do sparkle in the gloom and lighten the darkness around us! The luxuries contained in the boxes are a comfort to the sick, but these are not THE comforts which we derive from them. They come from friends at home. They tell of the interest felt by them in the cause for which we suffer, of their interest in us as the defenders of that cause, and that we are not forgotten! Names of many of those who are engaged in this work of kindness are known to us, and whenever heard will call up a thrill of grateful affection so long as memory holds a place among us.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 66

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 21, 1861

Did ever husband and father need the comforting aid of the help-meets of home as I need them this evening? See my table. Six full foolscap sheets of letters from home—read, re-read, studied, spelled, and now to be answered. I wonder if any body ever imagines the value of a letter to a soldier. His power of estimating must be large indeed, if he can appreciate it. Were it not for this value I should never have the courage to attempt answering all this pile. But then, I have no room to arrange all these with a view to replies, for my whole tent is as crowded as my table, full of evidences of the kindness—I will dare to say, of the affection of so many of my kind lady-friends. The dictates of kindness and benevolence may crowd upon you articles of comfort and utility, but it requires the affections to indicate the numerous little tokens which peep from the packages of useful things now piled around my tent. They strengthen and they cheer me. I shall endeavor, right here, to make myself worthy of all this confidence. What a field this is for the exercise of the "unseen heroism" of life!

But how in the name of Legerdemain do our friends contrive to get so many things into a little box? Why, my 10x10 tent is absolutely full. It is well, too, that the box was opened just to-day, for things in it were getting considerably "mixed." Two or three preserve and jelly jars, and a bottle of pickles had been broken. The contents had escaped, and to make amends for their long confinement, like colts let loose, they ran considerably. The pickles had "pitched into" the sugar. The jelly had made a dash at the tea. The nutmegs were luxuriating in a mixture of preserves and coffee. There seemed to be an inclination amongst these belligerents to get into "a muss" generally; but I "offered mediation." After two or three hours of back-ache work, I got the conglomerates restored to their original elements, and gave the men a look at them. They were gratified and thankful. I do not think one man looked on one of these evidences of home rememberance but felt strengthened in his resolves to perform manfully the duties which he had undertaken.

Yesterday we had the first fight worthy the name, since we joined the army. General McCall sent out a Brigade (about 4,000 men) to reconnoitre. They came upon an equal number of the enemy, and after taking a good look at each other, concluded to "go in." In this fight we gained a decided victory. No mistake this time. We fought and won.

We lost a few men—about ten killed and some thirty wounded. Amongst the latter is Lieutenant Colonel Kane of the Pennsylvania "Buck Tails." He is a brother of the late Doctor Kane, of the Arctic Expedition.*

Yesterday a few Surgeons met in my tent and gave expressions to their feelings against a self-constituted organization calling itself the "U. S. Sanitary Commission." I have had very little acquaintance with its members, or with its mode of doing business. From the almost universal prejudice which the Surgeons have against it, I infer that it must possess many bad or troublesome traits of character. I have naturally enough imbibed impressions which are anything but favorable in regard to it. At our little talk, yesterday, it was determined amongst us that the Commission must be "written down." I am selected to do the writing, my professional brothers to furnish the data. This morning I commenced my first article, but before it was finished, the roar of cannon and the bursting of shells arrested my attention, and I left my writing to watch the progress of the battle of Drainesville [sic]. In a little while, the wounded began to be brought in, and the whole being new to us, the Surgeons, now, for the first, began to examine their stores and appliances for wounded men. We had very few things which we needed, and whilst mourning over the delay necessary to procure them from Washington (some 9 miles distant) the agents of this Commission, having got wind of the progressing fight, had loaded up light wagons with their sanitary stores and rushed to the scene of suffering with the very things most needed. I confess that I feel a little ashamed to have been caught in the act of writing such an article, under such ci[r]cumstances. Something good may come out of Nazareth yet. I think I shall wait and see, rather than be induced by the prejudices or opinions of others, to commit an act, perhaps a wrong, which I may be sorry for.

_______________

* Battle of Dranesville.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 66-9

Congressman Horace Mann to Reverend Cyrus Pierce, March 27, 1852

WASHINGTON, March 27, 1852.

C. PIERCE, Esq.

DEAR SIR,— . . . I found I was doing no good here, and that it seemed impossible for me to effect any; and therefore I took a short excursion into the State of New York, in hopes to redeem a little of my time from worthlessness by preaching the gospel of temperance and education. I spoke on these themes to willing or unwilling ears for about twenty-five successive nights, and returned in better health.

I find people in the western part of the State of New York more alive to the importance of thorough female education than we are in Massachusetts. They are seeking to reach the true point, however, not by public and free institutions for all, but by private institutions for those who can afford it. I spoke on this point to some social parties, not in the way of a lecture, but of a private conversation, with liberty of catechism. At Rochester, a meeting was held for the establishment of a female college whose curriculum of studies should be equal to that of other colleges; and some very sensible and energetic women are engaged in the enterprise. At Lima, about twenty miles from Rochester, they have a college for both sexes; and I was invited and present at two or three social parties where the young lady-students composed a part of the company. They have here a preparatory school of some six hundred or seven hundred pupils, whom I addressed. At M'Grawville, a little farther in the interior, is another college, whose doors are open not only for both sexes, but avowedly for all colors. Another college, already largely endowed,* is about to be opened at Yellow Springs, Ohio. Sixty thousand dollars are to be expended the ensuing summer for buildings. This is established with especial reference to the education of females. (Confidentially, what should you think of your humble servant's complying with a request to preside over this?) I think the young ladies of the West are stronger, larger, and better developed in every way, than those in Boston and its vicinity. A few miles out of Rochester, I attended an examination of a boarding-school, kept by Mrs. Brewster, formerly Miss Bloss, the historian; and I think I never saw twenty young ladies together to be compared to that number in her first class. There was not an ordinary looking person among them; and twenty such foreheads I never beheld before "all in a row." I saw a great many intelligent and earnest people. Doubtless the character of my mission selected this class from among the masses as a magnet will pick out steel filings from sand, and brought them around me; but their existence and their affinities were the main thing to rejoice at. I advocated the Maine Law with the zeal of one crying in the wilderness.

I felt very deeply indebted to you for the pains you took to set me right in the matter of the Normal schoolhouse and premises. I was so much disturbed by the apparent course of, that I wrote him a letter of inquiry, putting the thing in a not unfriendly and uncomplaining manner, and making no reference to any sources of information. He replied at some length, solemnly declaring that he had never given any impression that the property belonged to the school, the Board, or the State; but, on the other hand, had showed Mr. Quincy's letter to all the people of West Newton and elsewhere who had any interest in knowing the facts. What think you of this? If his letter were by me, I would send it to you, that you might know how broad his denials are. It is enough to say they are as broad as language can make them.

As to politics, I do not know as there is any thing here that you do not know as well as we do. Congress does little else but intrigue for the respective candidates. The partisans are now so zealously at work for their respective favorites, that they have little time for assailing their opponents. As soon, however, as the nominations are made, the battle will be set in array, and the batteries will be played with Napoleon-like energy. I did not go to the North at all on a political mission; but still, where there was so much said, I could not but hear some of it. The hostility to Mr. Fillmore, throughout the northern and western parts of New York, is very intense. It is not merely an opposition of principle for his abandonment of all the great doctrines of freedom, but it is personal. The objections to Mr. Webster, so far as principle is concerned, are very much the same as those urged against Mr. Fillmore. As to the candidates of the other party, all you can say is, that one is as bad as possible, and the other a good deal worse. Any idea of getting a man who is as he should be is out of the question. I fear the only resource left us will be to get rid of the worst. But here you will say I touch on the expediency doctrine, which I shall not now attempt to discuss.

M. sends very much love to you both. If R. were here, I know she would do the same; for she has it in her heart. So has

H. MANN.

_______________

* Mr. Mann proved to be mistaken about the endowment of this college. - ED.

SOURCE: Mary Tyler Peabody Mann, Life of Horace Mann, pp. 360-2

Congressman Horace Mann to Dr. Edward Jarvis, April 24, 1852

WASHINGTON, April 24, 1852.

DR. JARVIS.

DEAR SIR,— I have just received your favor of the 19th instant, and the accompanying volumes; for which I am greatly obliged to you. If, as Adam Smith said, a man who makes two blades of grass grow where but one grew before be a "public benefactor," of what honor is he worthy who diffuses ideas regarding health and life among the people? The doctrines of human physiology have come in just in season to save the race from destruction. Had their advent been delayed much longer, it is doubtful whether men would have been able to discover them at all. They might have gone, like our Western Indians, beyond the gravitating point. You have done your part to save them.

Political parties here seem crystallizing about Fillmore and Scott. Our debates lately are mostly on the Presidential question; but I don't think Mr. Webster's name has been mentioned for three weeks in reference to the matter.

What are you doing at home? From what I hear, the coalition is not making headway. If they are not, then I suppose Hunker Whiggery is. When Mr. Webster is dead, will Hunkerism die? I hope so.

You must see Kossuth. He has the best sort of greatness; that is, goodness. . . .

Yours very truly,

HORACE MANN.

SOURCE: Mary Tyler Peabody Mann, Life of Horace Mann, pp. 362-3

Congressman Horace Mann to George Combe, May 8, 1852

WASHINGTON, May 8, 1852.

MY DEAR MR. COMBE,— We are on the verge of a Presidential election. Our political caldron is beginning to seethe vehemently. Macbeth's witches had nothing in theirs so baneful as that which gives character to ours. The political leaders desired to make it palatable to the South; and hence they have saturated its contents with proslavery. Even under the application of the three-fifths basis of the Constitution in regard to the slave-representation in Congress, we can give nearly two-thirds of the Presidential votes. Could we only unite for freedom as the South do for slavery, all would be well; but the lower and hinder half of the brain rules, and we do not. The acquisition of our new territory from Mexico, by robbery under the form of a treaty, gave opportunity for competition between our leaders for Southern support. Mr. Fillmore, the present President, goes for what is called the "finality" of the compromises, and makes himself acceptable to the South by issuing proclamations, and giving instructions to marshals and prosecuting attorneys to enforce the Fugitive-slave Law. Mr. Webster tries to get some new popularity in the same quarter by lauding the same accursed law, and by maintaining that it is not only constitutional, but "proper" in itself. The only Whig candidate who is not fully committed on all these proslavery measures is Gen. Scott; and towards him, therefore, the antislavery part of the Whigs are looking as their only hope. Portions, indeed, of the antislavery men, — the abolitionists and no-government men, who vote nowhere; the Liberty-party men, who will vote for no one who does not represent their views in full; and the extreme men, perhaps, of the Free-soil party, — are as violent against Gen. Scott as against Gen. Cass. This repellency of bigots and partisans seems to act on the law of the "inverse ratio of the squares of the distances;" for they are much more violent against those who almost agree with them than against those who are at the opposite moral pole. How the contest will eventuate, it is impossible to foresee. Should the Whigs indorse the "compromise measures " of 1850, or should they nominate Mr. Fillmore or Mr. Webster, or should Gen. Cass, if nominated, come out in favor of the “compromise measures," the Democrats will certainly prevail. There seems to be but one chance for the Whigs to succeed; namely, the contingency of their nominating Gen. Scott, and then of his non-indorsement of the compromises." Of course, the greater portion of the antislavery people are hoping for this result.

Another great moral question is profoundly agitating the people of the Northern and Eastern States: it is the question of temperance. Between one and two years ago, such a concentration and pressure of influence was brought to bear upon the Legislature of the State of Maine, that though it is said that body was principally composed of anti-temperance men, yet it passed what has now become famous, and will forever be famous in the moral history of mankind, — the MAINE LIQUOR LAW. Its grand features are the search for and the seizure of all intoxicating liquors, and their destruction when adjudicated to have been kept for sale. It goes upon the ground that the Government cannot knock a human passion or a depraved and diseased appetite upon the head, but it can knock a barrel of whiskey or rum upon the head, and thus prevent the gratification of the passion or appetite; and after a time the unfed appetite or passion will die out. The author of this law was Neal Dow, the mayor of the city of Portland. He enforced it, and it has worked wonders. The alms-house ceased to be replenished with inmates; assaults and batteries became rare; the jail-doors stood open; and the police officers held almost sinecures. The success was so great, that the temperance party in other States have made it an element in popular elections; and though in most instances they have been defeated at the first trial, yet they are resolved to return again to the contest. The Legislature of the Territory of Minnesota passed the law, but provided that it should be submitted to the people for ratification; and it has been ratified by a popular vote! And, what is still more important, the Legislature of Massachusetts, now in session, has this very week, after one of the most earnest and protracted contests ever waged, passed a similar law. It is to be submitted to the people next month. If a majority vote for it, it is forthwith to become the law of the State. If a majority vote against it, then it is to be suspended in its operation, and we will agitate anew. But this, perhaps you will say, is an heroic remedy for the evils of intemperance. I acknowledge it. But, when a disease becomes so desperate, I go for heroic remedies. I would resort to surgical practice, and lose a limb to save a life, or deplete the whole body to reduce a topical inflammation that threatens to be fatal. When I saw you, I believe I used occasionally to take a very little wine; and I sometimes, though rarely, drank tea. I believe I had left off coffee long before. But, for many years past, I have abjured wine, coffee, tea, and every thing of a stimulating nature. I confine my beverage to the pure element," and am a great deal better in health for the practice.

My whole family has been in Washington since the commencement of the session. How I wish you could come here and see them! for then one of the greatest desires of my life would be answered; that is, I should see you.

How goes on the work of educating in your island? I had a printed account of an examination in your school; but how is it for the million? . . .

Your friend and disciple,

HORACE MANN.

SOURCE: Mary Tyler Peabody Mann, Life of Horace Mann, pp. 363-5

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 9, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky.     Again has the note of preparation sounded in our camp, and all hands are busy getting ready for another campaign. In all probability we will soon be on our winding way among the Cumberland Mountains, en route for East Tennessee to assist in driving treason from that unhappy State. Orders have not been issued, but our artillery and ambulances have come, clothing has been issued, knapsacks, haversacks, canteens and tents have been distributed, and, more ominous still, forty rounds of cartridges have been dealt out to every man—in fact, we are ready to take the field at a minute's notice, and only await the order.

"Be ready to march tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock," is the order that greets me as I write. It is one hundred forty miles to Knoxville, our objective point, and will take us fourteen days if unopposed.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 90

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 13, 1863

London, Ky.     We broke camp last Thursday morning, the tenth of September, bound for Cumberland Gap, ninety miles distant. The first day we marched eleven miles over a rough, broken country, and encamped for the night. The next morning we started at 5 o'clock and made eighteen miles; yesterday, nine miles — thirty-eight miles in three days, with eight days' rations and our accoutrements. The second day we marched rapidly, making few halts, our business being urgent, for Burnside's left was threatened, and we were hastening to the rescue. But, thanks to a kind Providence, a messenger met us at this place with the intelligence that the Rebels had suddenly left East Tennessee to join Bragg's army at Lafayette, and the Gap was already in possession of our forces. There being no cause for haste, our commander decided to spend the Sabbath here, and give the poor, tired mules a chance to rest. We will probably resume our march in the morning and proceed leisurely to the Gap—perhaps to Knoxville. We have borne the fatigue thus far better than I expected.

It is a long time since I carried a knapsack, but the more I have to do, the more strength I have to do it with.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 90-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 14, 1863

We were aroused this morning at 3 o'clock and ordered to be ready to march at 5 o'clock. In a very few minutes hundreds of fires were brightly glowing, striving by their feeble rays to dispel the gloom of night. At the appointed hour we were up and away with hearts as light and buoyant as though privations, toil and danger were unknown. The morning was delightfully cool, and before the god of day had risen to scorch us with his burning rays, nearly half our day's march was done. The rest of the day was made easy by frequent halts, and when, at 2 o'clock p. m., we filed into line and stacked arms, all were agreeably surprised. We had marched twelve miles.

Today is the anniversary of our first battle—our baptism. The mind naturally reverts to that trying time, and all its scenes pass rapidly in review. Then, for the first time, we met face to face our country's foe. The chivalry of the South then met the mudsills of Michigan and learned to respect them. Today we met them again, but not in battle array. As we were starting, this morning, we came upon 2,300 prisoners taken at Cumberland Gap. They were free to talk, and a more ignorant lot of semi-savages I never met. We could not convince them that Vicksburg or Port Hudson were in our possession. They were very "frank," and indulged freely in epithets and pet names.

9 o'clock p. m.     Our camp is in a beautiful grove, on the banks of a "babbling brook." A cool, delicious breeze is gently blowing from the west. The sky is cloudless, and the bright, scintillating stars shine out in unwonted brilliancy, and the pale moon is pouring down upon the earth a flood of silvery light. It is an ideal night in which to rest after a fatiguing march-an ideal night, so seem to think our boys, in which to celebrate the anniversary of our first battle. The Sutler came up about sundown with the "accessories." The preliminaries have been gone through with, and the "celebration is in full blast." Pandemonium reigns. This quiet glen has been transformed, for the time being, into the council hall of demons. Men fall upon each other's necks and weep, and laugh, and drivel, and shout "’Rah for Seventeenth Michigan." It was an impressive ceremony, and one in which all allusions to the brave men who fell and sympathy for their bereaved families were considerately left out, lest they wound the tender sensibilities of the living.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 91-3

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 15, 1863

We marched fifteen miles to Barboursville and encamped on the banks of the Cumberland River. Many of the men fell out by the way and came straggling into camp until after dark. I am too tired to write, and will lie me down and rest.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 93

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 16, 1863

I was so completely exhausted yesterday I did not expect to be able to march at all today, but, thanks to my recuperative powers, I arose this morning "good as new." The distance is nothing; it is the load we carry, and the rough, hilly country, winding up, higher and higher, that fatigues. Rough and hilly as it is, this country is thickly settled by a people who raise barely enough to keep soul and body together. We have marched only nine miles today, and will lay over until the day after tomorrow.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 93

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 20, 1863

Cumberland Gap.     We are now in East Tennessee, one mile south of the famous Gap in the Cumberland Mountains.

When we left Crab Orchard we expected a fight here, as it was then in possession of the Rebels. I cannot say I am sorry they gave us possession without a struggle, for it is an ugly looking place, and "hard to take" without opposition. Our route, for the last sixty miles, has been over, around and among mountains, but this is the "back bone," or main ridge, which rises in a direct line high above the isolated peaks on either side. The Gap is a slow, gradual ascent that rises to about half the altitude of the mountain on each side; is very crooked, and, at places, barely wide enough for a wagon to pass. At the summit it widens out into a small plain, or basin, containing about five acres, and shut in by a solid wall of rock two or three hundred feet in height. Near the center of the basin is a large spring of crystal water. Here are the fortifications, and a stronger position can hardly be imagined. One thousand men can hold it against any force that can be sent against it, so long as provisions and ammunition holds out. On the summit is a marble shaft that marks the corners of Virginia and Kentucky and the north line of Tennessee. By taking two steps I was in three different States. We are awaiting orders, and may remain over tomorrow. It is yet undecided whether we go to Knoxville or to Morristown, thirty miles above the former place, on the Richmond & New Orleans Railroad.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 93-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 24, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.     We left the Gap on the twenty-first and made twenty miles, climbing up one side of a mountain two or three miles, then down the other side. It was a toilsome march, and, when we halted at night, my feet seemed pounded to a jelly. We reached Morristown the twenty-second, and immediately took cars for Knoxville, as we supposed, but the engine coupled to the wrong end of the train, and away we dashed to Greenville, thirty miles up the valley. We arrived there about sundown, stacked arms, unslung knapsacks, made a dash for rails with which to build our camp fires, but, while we were engaged in making them fly again, the bugle sounded "fall in"—the rails were abandoned, we were ordered on board the cars, and took the back track for Knoxville. We arrived here at 4 o'clock this morning and marched directly to the Fair Ground, three-fourths of a mile from the city, where we are now encamped.

The boys are somewhat worn by heavy marches, and a few days' rest will do them good.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 95

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 25, 1863

The Fair Ground, on which we are encamped, is simply a clearing in the wood, without buildings, fence or shade. But it is a pleasant place, near a spring of good water, and bordering on the Holston River. I have just returned from the city, where I have spent most of the day. These are glorious days for the people of Knoxville. They tell me the day of their deliverance has come at last. The story of their sufferings has been but feebly told. Even a Brownlow cannot do it justice. Hundreds of citizens followed us to their homes, from which they had been driven a year or more ago. They are flocking in by fifties and by hundreds and are organizing for their own defense. We have given them the oportunity, and they are eager to embrace it. One lady told me it was with difficulty she could repress a shout of joy as she saw our blue coats filing down the streets. Loyalty here is pure and unalloyed, as proven by the sacrifices they have made.

We are objects of much curiosity. An old gentle man, a preacher, walked six miles to see us. We were the first Northern men he ever saw. He said he could not express his gratitude to us for their timely deliverance.

Parson Brownlow is expected here soon. I saw his son today. He is a noble-looking fellow, about 21 years of age; is Lieutenant Colonel of a regiment that has been raised since Burnside came here. Burnside is the hero of the hour in East Tennessee.

It is twenty days since I received my last mail. During all that time I have not seen a newspaper, therefore am totally ignorant of what is taking place in other parts of the world.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 95-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 27, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.     We are again under marching orders. It is rumored we go to Rosecrans' support tomorrow morning. Our boys are quite as enthusiastic as when they first left home, and for the same reason. They are ready to go anywhere—do anything to hasten the end. They have borne with wonderful fortitude the excessive fatigue of marching through a mountainous country. Burnside does not like to spare them—will not unless absolutely necessary. He owes something to the Ninth Army Corps. Those stars upon his epaulets that shine so brightly, and which he wears so jauntily, were won for him by the Ninth Army Corps. General Burnside is truly a noble man. We respect him for his honesty and frankness in acknowledging his mistakes as well as for his great administrative ability.

Our orders to march have just been countermanded. General Burnside told Colonel Luce he had received a despatch from Rosecrans that we are not needed at present. That seems to confirm the rumor of his success. We are having delightful weather, clear and cool.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 97

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 29, 1863

It was rumored this morning that we march tomorrow at 5 a. m. Little attention was paid to this, however, and the men were enjoying themselves as usual, gathered in groups around their camp fires, which the cool mountain breezes rendered grateful, singing songs, spinning yarns or writing letters to loved ones at home. About 9 o'clock the official order came: "Reveille at 3; march at 5." Rations were to be drawn, which occupied us until nearly midnight, and left little time for sleep. Again was there a change of program, and we were notified that reveille would sound at the usual hour. At last we retired to rest, thinking to get two or three hours of quiet sleep. Alas, the "glorious uncertainties of war," I had hardly closed my eyes in sleep or so it seemed to me ere our Orderly Sergeant came around to every tent "Fall out, boys; pack up; we are off immediately." We have soldiered too long to stop and ask questions, be our curiosity ever so great, so out we fell, packed our traps in silence, and awaited orders.

We had not long to wait. Colonel Luce soon came around to each company and said, in his mild, quiet way, "Put on your things, men, and fall in on the color line without further orders."

In less than fifteen minutes from the time we were first aroused our brigade was in motion, filing down the ravine silently as a band of Indians upon the warpath. We marched directly to the ferry, south of the city, crossed over, and a little after daylight formed in line about two miles from the landing.

The road from the city followed a ravine running south about a mile, then turned abruptly to the right, winding around the hills in a southwesterly direction. At or in rear of this angle a cannon was placed in position to sweep the road for about half a mile. This piece was supported by the Twentieth Michigan. In advance half a mile, and on the left of the road, the Second Michigan was concealed in a cornfield, while on the right, and a little in advance of them, another gun was masked and supported by the Seventeenth. Still further on, and to the left, were two more pieces of artillery, supported by the One Hundredth Pennsylvania. Not a sign of these movements could be seen from the road. Here, then, is a most ingeniously contrived trap. Where is the game? And what?

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 97-9

Senator Charles Sumner to George Sumner, April 23, 1852

You are right in regarding both the old parties as substantially alike. I do not think that one who looks at principles and seeks to serve his fellowman can have much satisfaction in becoming the hack of one of these combinations; nor would I recommend you to enlist in any public efforts unless for the sake of a cause which you have at heart, or under an impulse too strong to resist. The consciousness of duty done must be your support under the load of misrepresentation and falsehood which are the lot of all in conspicuous stations. I have been tempted to say this by your note. I could not say less; I have not time now to say more.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 280

Senator Charles Sumner to George Sumner, April 26, 1852

If you are conscious that you can speak an effective word for Kossuth's Hungarian career, I should regret not to have it done, though I commend you to the prudence of careful preparation. Boston society, to which you allude, is of course the other way; but your point of view will enable you to look with indifference upon its criticisms. Remember this: while I counsel all caution and a proper reserve, particularly at the beginning, I would not have you sail by the meridian of Boston. Your own soul would rebuke you if you did.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 280

Senator Charles Sumner to John Bigelow, June 9, 1852

I longed to see you. When you called I was at Eames's, discoursing on Baltimore and its scenes. This nomination¹ makes me lament anew the fatal '49, when the Barnburners and the Hunkers coalesced. Had they kept apart, we should all have been together,—perhaps in a minority, but powerful from our principles and character. For myself, I am left alone. The political fellowships I had hoped to establish are vanishing. Of course I can have nothing to do with Pierce or his platform,—probably nothing with Scott or his. How I wish we had all stuck together! Should Pierce be elected, with a Democratic Senate and House, we should have the iron rule of the slave-power.

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¹ Of Franklin Pierce, as Democratic candidate for President.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, pp. 280-1

Senator Charles Sumner to Charles Francis Adams Sr., June 21, 1852

We hear that Scott is nominated at last. I tell you confidentially how Seward regards it. He thinks that his friends have been defeated, that Scott is made to carry weight which will probably defeat him, and that the campaign can have little interest for the friends of our cause. He will take an opportunity, by letter or speech, to extricate himself from the platform. Seward's policy is to stick to the Whig party; no action of theirs can shake him off. But the cause of freedom he has constantly at heart; I am satisfied of his sincere devotion to it. Major Donaldson says that there is now no difference between the Whigs and Democrats; their platforms, he says, are identical. This is the darkest day of our cause. But truth will prevail. Are there any special words of your grandfather against slavery anywhere on record, in tract or correspondence? If there are, let me have them. I wish you were here.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 281