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

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

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

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

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

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

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

April 16, 1864.

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

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

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

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

November 16, 1864

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

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

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

² Meade was then a Major-General of Volunteers.

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

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 3, 1861

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

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

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 12, 1862

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: March 27, 1862

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

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

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: September 6, 1862

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Camp Brightwood, June 17, '63.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

November 14, 1864

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

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

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 2, 1861

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

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

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 11, 1862

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: March 24, 1862

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

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

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: September 4 1862

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Culpepper C. H., April 14, 1864.

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

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

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

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

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

November 13, 1864

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

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

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