Saturday, July 25, 2015

Major Wilder Dwight: September 10, 1861

pleasant Hill, September 10, 1861,
Camp near Darnestown.

I have had a day or two of horizontal contemplation, enforced by my leg, but now I am well again, and about resuming “active operations in the field.” You cannot expect that I should give you any stirring news, and had I been on my legs it would only have been for purposes of drill and discipline. After three days of scare, we subside. We keep two days’ rations cooked, ready for a march, and there comes to us every day fresh evidence that the enemy are active. Their plan, of course, we do not know, and I have wasted so many good hours in trying to guess that I now give it up. I have had, for three or four days, a chance to read and study quietly, — a thing which has not before occurred to me since I began this enterprise, in April last. I have enjoyed and improved it, and mean to get time always for some of it. Yet it is not easy, in the midst of all the active, practical duties of a life, to secure chances for study and thought, and I have been glad of this. . . . .

Colonel Andrews, who is in command, is full of life and energy. The want of progress and growth in everything military is a sore trial to him. He works hard for the regiment, and wishes every stroke to tell. I think we do grow better, but when you understand fully what a regiment ought to be, and ought to be capable of doing, you see that we are a long way off from our goal. “Peas upon the trencher,” breakfast-call, has just beaten, and here comes Colonel Andrews to go to breakfast.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 98-9

Friday, July 24, 2015

The Massachusetts Kansas Aid Committee, January 7, 1857

State Kansas Aid Committee Room,
Boston, Jan. 7, 1857.

Received of George L. Stearns, Chairman of the Massachusetts Kansas Aid Committee, an order on Edward Clark, Esq., of Lawrence, K. T., for two hundred Sharpe's rifles, carbines, with four thousand ball cartridges, thirty-one thousand military caps, and six iron ladles, — the same to be delivered to said committee, or to their order, on demand. It being further understood and agreed that I (am at liberty to distribute one hundred of the carbines, and to use the ammunition for maintaining the cause of freedom in Kansas and in the United States, and that such distribution and use shall be considered a delivery to said committee). [Have authority to use one hundred of the carbines, and all the ammunition, as I may think the interests of Kansas require. Keeping an account of my doings]; and that such delivery and use shall be considered as such delivery.1
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1 The words in parentheses are marked across in the original, evidently for the purpose of erasure; the words in brackets are in a different handwriting from the rest of the paper. There is no indorsement except the word "Boston" written twice in Brown's handwriting.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 368

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, October 13, 1864

Cedar Creek, Oct. 13, 1864.

I went into winter-quarters yesterday, that is, I abandoned thin boots for morning wear, and substituted the Guvveys1 with leather ears, which you may recollect, — you can fancy me now in all, the magnificence of them. In proposing to come home in Government clothing, I did not think of parading New York in those ears; don’t be alarmed.
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1Guvveys” means the common cavalry boots, which the Government furnishes to enlisted men.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 359, 472

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, October 14, 1864 – 4 a.m.

CEDAR CREEK, Oct. 14, 1864.
Firelight, 4 A. M.

I sent such a fat-looking envelope yesterday morning, with only one sheet after all, that I meant to have written again in the afternoon, but at dinner the Rebs began shelling the infantry camp on our right, and then the “general” sounded, and then we waited a while in the cold, and then we moved, – so I had no time at all.1
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1 The meaning of this attack was that the Confederates supposed that a great part of Sheridan's force had been now withdrawn to help Grant before Richmond, and Sheridan's troops, returning from the pursuit of Early, found themselves, on October 13, followed up to Fisher's Hill. Sheridan, who had been summoned to Washington to consult with Stanton on future movements, before the latter should visit Grant, was just setting out, when this movement made him pause and put his army in battle array along Cedar Creek. As he was getting ready to attack, he found that Early, having discovered that he was still in full force, had again withdrawn. Sheridan then went to Washington, leaving General Wright in charge of the army.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 359,473

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, October 14, 1864

CEDAR CREEK, Oct. 14, 1864.

You’re an innocent. Go on with the shoulder-straps, you needn’t be expecting any change, — those eagles will flourish a good while yet. I'm perfectly satisfied too, now that I have this Brigade; it has only been commanded before by Buford and Merritt, Colonel Gibbs had it for a few weeks at a time temporarily.1

Our movements here are so entirely dependent on Grant's success before Richmond, that I can't form the faintest idea of the prospect of a speedy rest here.
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1 Perhaps Mrs. Lowell thought that before her shoulder-straps — the silver eagles on yellow ground of a cavalry colonel — were finished, her husband would be entitled to the single star of a brigadier-general. For more than a year he had borne the responsibility and done the work of one.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 359-60, 473

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, October 15, 1864

Cedar Creek, Oct. 15, 1864.

I've only ten minutes to write to you; I was out all this morning visiting, junketing at the various headquarters, and only came home to dinner at two o'clock. Since that, has come an order to get in light marching order, and be in readiness to move. I conjecture a raid is on foot for our Division, — perhaps to Charlottesville, — if so, you will not hear from me again for a week or even ten days.

I think Sheridan will have to fight one more battle here, probably while we are gone, — I am sorry to miss it, but perhaps we shall be of more use where we are going. You will know that I am safe, at any rate, — so safe do I feel to-night that I shall be riding Berold; I rode him this morning, too, in making my calls. I heard for the first time that poor Colonel Wells of the Thirty-Fourth Massachusetts was killed in the attack the Rebs made on our camps day before yesterday, —  he was considered an excellent officer.1

What a letter this for the last one for ten days, but you know how I am when I have anything on foot, I'm all distracted.
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1 George Duncan Wells, a faithful and gallant Massachusetts soldier. He graduated at Williams College, 1846, and at the Harvard Law School, 1848, and practised law until the outbreak of the war. As Lieutenant-Colonel of the First Massachusetts Infantry, he served at Bull Run and in the Peninsular Campaign. In July, 1862, he was commissioned Colonel of the Thirty-Fourth Massachusetts Regiment, and served in Western Virginia. In July, 1863, he commanded a brigade with General Naglee, with credit. Next year, in the Shenandoah Campaign, he commanded the First Brigade, in General Crook's First Division, and did good service in many fights in the Valley. He received the personal congratulations of General Sheridan, on the field of battle at Winchester (Opequan). On October 12, 1864, he was mortally wounded, and died next day, in the hands of the enemy. His commission as Brevet Brigadier-General dated from the day of his last fight.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 360-1, 473-4

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, October 16, 1864

Cedar Creek, Oct. 16, 1864.

We started all right last evening and marched till 1 A. M., camped at Front Royal till 5.30 A. M. and were then ready for a fresh start, — waited till nearly 7 A. M. and then started back on our winding way to near our old camp, — some new information received, or some wise second thought, having changed plans. I am not very sorry, and suppose you will not be, for I cannot see any great military benefit to result from it. The destruction of a few stores or of a few miles of railroad would not have been worth the injury to horseflesh. I am glad to be back here, and I hope to get letters to-night or tomorrow, — better to-morrow, for I'm too sleepy this afternoon to enjoy them.1
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1 The explanation of the sudden march to Front Royal and the recall was this. Sheridan had reached that point on his way to Washington, when General Wright sent in haste to tell him that he had read the enemy's signal-flag on their mountain station, thus: —

To Lieut.-gen. Early: — Be ready to move as soon as my forces join you, and we will crush Sheridan.

 Longstreet, Lieut. - General.

Sheridan hesitated whether to return; but his presence in Washington was urgently desired by Secretary Stanton, and there had been many false rumours about Longstreet's coming [this proved to be one, probably a trick to keep Sheridan from detaching forces to help Grant], so he wrote back to Wright: —

general, — The cavalry is all ordered back to you. Make your position strong. If Longstreet's despatch is true, he is under the impression that we have largely detached. I will go over to Augur, and may get additional news.  . . . If the enemy make an advance, I know you will defeat him. Look well to your ground, and be well prepared. Get up everything that can be spared. I will bring up all I can, and will be up on Tuesday, if not sooner.

This message was sent Sunday, October 16.

It may seem strange that Early should advance so soon after utter defeat; but Lee had sent five thousand good troops to him and all the local reserves, and called on him for great efforts. Early was a brave man, and matters were getting desperate. Also the forage of the country had been destroyed, so he must either leave it or supply himself from the enemy.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 361, 474-5

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, October 17, 1864

Oct. 17th, Same Camp.

Good-morning. Such a night's sleep as I had — ten hours strong — only interrupted a few minutes at reveille, waking up and reflecting cosily that it was not yet time to turn out!

I am very glad that George is nominated for Congress, and hope that, in the great revolution which has been going on, his chance of election may be better than you describe it.1
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1 Excepting the few words of farewell to his wife, written in the last hours of his life, the three following letters, written on the same day, with which this volume closes, were the last which Colonel Lowell ever wrote. Two days later, the bullets, among which for three months he had ridden unheeding, doing his duty to the uttermost, cut short his life. Had Lowell lived through that day, it seems probable that he would have survived the war. The victory of October 19 at Cedar Creek virtually ended the Valley Campaign, and put an end to the dangerous service for the cavalry, except for the short period in spring, ending in Lee's surrender. Moreover, Lowell's commission as Brigadier-General, signed the day of his death, Sheridan intended to follow by making him his Chief of Cavalry, a position in which he would have been less exposed.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 361-2, 475

Captain Richard F. Halstead to Miss Sedgwick, July 17, 1863

Camp Near Berlin, Maryland,
July 17, 1863.
My dear Miss Sedgwick:

As you no doubt already know, from newspapers if not from letters, we have been for the past few weeks having a very active campaign, so far as marching is concerned at least. It does now and then occur that well-ordered marches as effectually beat an enemy as the most decisive battle could do, and something must be set down to the saving of life. There is not much doubt that some of our marching has been much to Mr. Lee's damage, but still the battle of Gettysburg had to be fought. No amount of marching with the forces we then had could have obviated the necessity for a fight like that one somewhere. It was a terrible fight. The losses show that. The common talk among the prisoners taken by us is that Lee lost at Gettysburg alone not less than thirty thousand men. Our own loss is about twenty thousand men. I wish I could give you an idea of the artillery fire. It was terrific. We at the 6th Corps headquarters were in a good position to judge of it, for, singular as it may seem, almost the only spot along the whole line not under fire was that occupied by us. Although there was only a small portion of the corps engaged, there is no doubt that the fight was saved by that portion. We had marched from twilight all night and, with occasional necessary rests, the following day, till about four o'clock in the afternoon of the day following Reynolds's fight, i.e., the first day's fight. We were in reserve, which meant upon this occasion that the whole corps was divided and subdivided until the General had not a man or a gun under his command, except a few orderlies. One brigade was sent to report to such a corps commander, another to such a one, another to this position, and a couple more to that, till there were no more left — till the General himself said he thought he might as well go home. I cannot tell you anything of any consequence about the fight. Some of the newspaper accounts were very good. I saw so little of it that I cannot describe it. Our progress in pursuit of Lee was necessarily slow and cautious. Two such armies, having fought each other so often, having known each other so long and intimately, cannot very well afford to play at fast and loose. At Hagerstown Lee had a very strong position, which Meade, with his certainly not superior force, could not with safety attack. He could not be morally certain of success, and dared not risk a failure which would entail such serious consequences as a defeat would not have failed to bring about.

The attack was urged by Pleasanton, Howard, and Wadsworth. Pleasanton commands the cavalry. General Newton, 1st Corps, who was detained from the council by sickness, was known to be opposed to the attack. On the other hand, there were also opposed to the attack Sedgwick, Slocum, Sykes, French, and Hays, to whose reputations I can add nothing, who need to have nothing said for them.

We are preparing to cross the river into Virginia. I know nothing at all of the plan of campaign, but I presume that we are to follow Lee as rapidly as possible.

Now, as I write, a staff-officer from headquarters comes to bring information which looks to an immediate move — to-day, if possible. We were to halt here for a day or two to resupply everything — clothing, shoes, subsistence, ammunition, forage, etc.; but something, doubtless, makes an earlier movement imperative. The officer does not know the direction in which we are to go. I wish that one small portion of the 6th Corps might move in the direction of, and have for its ultimate destination the region known as, Cornwall Hollow; and I would like to have the selection of that small party.

I must make my letter short. I wish I could have made it more interesting. I had calculated upon having almost the whole day for it; but, unfortunately, war admits of no delays. The General writes to you by this mail.

We are having a rainy day.

Very sincerely yours,
R. F. Halsted.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 133-6

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Dr. Joseph T. Webb, January 12, 1862

Sunday, January 12, 1862.

Dear Joe: — . . . Generally healthy; less sickness than ever, but more fatal. Come as soon as you safely can. Jim or I will return as soon as you get here. Can't come now.

Don't think our position an insignificant one. We make more captures and do more than any regiment I have yet heard of in Kentucky. Worrying on such subjects is simply green. It makes me laugh.

I was much interested in your account of the boys; very glad to have such favorable stories of them all. Love to 'em.

Sincerely,
R. B. Hayes.
Dr. J. T. Webb.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 186

Francis Lieber to Senator Charles Sumner, June 11, 1864

New York, June 11,1864.

A passing thought. You, my dear Sumner, have read Mr. Seward's communication on the globe-encircling telegraph, no doubt with the same reflections and feelings in every respect with which I perused it, the globe by my side. Do you remember that an agreement existed between the United States and Great Britain, when the Atlantic Cable was laying, that the Sub-Atlantic Telegraph should be protected, even in case of war between the two powers? It struck me as a noble item in the history of the Law of Nations. Could not the United States, Great Britain, and Russia agree upon something of the kind regarding the Pan-spheric Telegraph, or however the encircling wire may be called? Of course the interruption of messages cannot be prevented; but the destruction of the telegraph might be placed beyond the war, as the Greek communities swore by all the gods never to cut off each other's water-pipes — their Croton aqueducts — even should they go to war with one another. I write this on the supposition that Congress will readily respond to Mr. Seward's letter. It would be noble to do such work in the midst of a vast civil war. How is the telegraph to be preserved those many thousand miles in distant and semi-barbarous countries? I suppose, pretty much as ours to California. “Go ahead and trust,” does a good deal in bringing about the desired state of things. . . .

SOURCE: Thomas Sergeant Perry, Editor, The Life and Letters of Francis Lieber, p. 347

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 3, 1861

Several members of Congress came into my office and denounced the policy which the government seemed to have adopted of permitting Yankees, and those who sympathize with them, to be continually running over to the enemy with information of our condition, and thus inviting attacks and raids at points where we are utterly defenseless. They seemed surprised when I told them that I not only agreed with them entirely, but that I had really written most of the articles they had read in the press denunciatory of the policy they condemned. I informed them, moreover, that I had long since refused to sign any such passports as they alluded to, at the risk of being removed. They said they believed the President, in his multiplicity of employments, was not aware of the extent of the practice, and the evil effects it was certain to entail on the country; and it was their purpose to wait upon him and remonstrate against the pernicious practice of Mr. Benjamin.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 96-7

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 8, 1864

Mrs. Preston's story. As we walked home, she told me she had just been to see a lady she had known more than twenty years before. She had met her in this wise: One of the chambermaids of the St. Charles Hotel (New Orleans) told Mrs. Preston's nurse — it was when Mary Preston was a baby — that up among the servants in the garret there was a sick lady and her children. The maid was sure she was a lady, and thought she was hiding from somebody. Mrs. Preston went up, knew the lady, had her brought down into comfortable rooms, and nursed her until she recovered from her delirium and fever. She had run away, indeed, and was hiding herself and her children from a worthless husband. Now, she has one son in a Yankee prison, one mortally wounded, and the last of them dying there under her eyes of consumption. This last had married here in Richmond, not wisely, and too soon, for he was a mere boy; his pay as a private was eleven dollars a month, and his wife's family charged him three hundred dollars a month for her board; so he had to work double tides, do odd jobs by night and by day, and it killed him by exposure to cold in this bitter climate to which his constitution was unadapted.

They had been in Vicksburg during the siege, and during the bombardment sought refuge in a cave. The roar of the cannon ceasing, they came out gladly for a breath of fresh air. At the moment when they emerged, a bomb burst there, among them, so to speak, struck the son already wounded, and smashed off the arm of a beautiful little grandchild not three years old. There was this poor little girl with her touchingly lovely face, and her arm gone. This mutilated little martyr, Mrs. Preston said, was really to her the crowning touch of the woman's affliction. Mrs. Preston put up her hand, “Her baby face haunts me.”

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 295-6

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: February 22, 1863

Ashland.—A very deep snow this morning. The cars are moving slowly on the road, with two engines attached to each train. Our gentlemen could not go to Richmond to-day. Washington's birthday is forgotten, or only remembered with a sigh by his own Virginia. Had he been gifted with prophetic vision, in addition to his great powers, we would still remain a British colony; or, at least, he would never have fought and suffered for seven long years to have placed his native South in a situation far more humiliating than the colonies ever were towards the mother-country; or to have embroiled her in a war compared to which the old Revolution was but child's play.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 194

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, Friday Night, June 27, 1862

Friday night, 27th.

Yesterday afternoon I took a drive with Halsey and as soon as we got on Church Hill we heard the cannon and it seems the fight had begun at 3 o'clock in the afternoon instead of at daylight as it had been arranged. Your father got back after twelve last night. The news was all good, as you have seen, I suppose. We had driven them from Mechanicsville and taken several batteries, etc. The battle was to be renewed this morning at daybreak, and accordingly, off went Papa, and I don't expect to see him again until midnight or maybe to-morrow. Robert Nicholas, however, told me about sundown that he had left him well an hour or two before and that the Yankees had been driven back six miles. All the accounts we have yet received, altho' meagre, yet agree that we are in hot pursuit and the enemy trying to get away. God grant that our victory may be complete! I will write more to-morrow when I can tell you what your father says. Good night.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 81-2

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Sunday, June 8, 1862

These people mean to kill us with kindness. There is such a thing as being too kind. Yesterday General Williams sent a barrel of flour to mother, accompanied by a note begging her to accept it “in consideration of the present condition of the circulating currency,” and the intention was so kind, the way it was done so delicate, that there was no refusing it. I had to write her thanks, and got in a violent fit of the “trembles” at the idea of writing to a stranger. One consolation is, that I am not a very big fool, for it took only three lines to prove myself one. If I had been a thundering big one, I would have occupied two pages to show myself fully. And to think it is out of our power to prove them our appreciation of the kindness we have universally met with! Many officers were in church this morning, and as they passed us while we waited for the door to be opened, General Williams bowed profoundly, another followed his example; we returned the salute, of course. But by to-morrow, those he did not bow to will cry treason against us. Let them howl. I am tired of lies, scandal, and deceit. All the loudest gossips have been frightened into the country, but enough remain to keep them well supplied with town talk. ... It is such a consolation to turn to the dear good people of the world after coming in contact with such cattle. Here, for instance, is Mr. Bonnecase on whom we have not the slightest claims. Every day since we have been here, he has sent a great pitcher of milk, knowing our cow is out; one day he sent rice, the next sardines, yesterday two bottles of Port and Madeira, which cannot be purchased in the whole South. What a duck of an old man! That is only one instance.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 70-1

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Friday, October 7, 1864

Weather clear and pleasant. Our division, now the Fourth of the Seventeenth Army Corps, started out to reconnoiter. We went in light marching order without teams or artillery and marching out about twenty miles to the southwest of Marietta came upon the rebels' pickets, at a place called Powder Springs. We drove them about four miles to the south, they not caring for a fight, and camped for the night. Our division was sent to find out whether or not the rebels are out in force along this road.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 220

Thursday, July 23, 2015

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, May 14, 1862

Strasburg, May 14, 1862.

1 never expected to write another letter from this place during the war, but so it is. After ten days' marching and countermarching, crossing the mountains into the other valley and coming back again, we have got here again, after an absence of nearly two months, without having accomplished the first thing during the whole of that time. We line officers have drawn up a paper to be sent to the Secretary of War, begging to be transferred to another division; one copy to be forwarded to Charles Sumner, and another to Judge Thomas. A somewhat similar one is going to Governor Andrew asking his assistance. They are all ably written, and I hope they will help us out of this.

The other day, when we were over the other side of the mountains, one of Captain Abbott's men disappeared from his company. Last night he came into camp in secesh uniform. His story was that he was taken about fifty rods from our bivouac by two of Ashby's cavalry and two infantry: that they carried him about twenty miles to Jackson's main force, and then promised him they would send him to a place where he would never see Yankee-land again, but he balked them by escaping their guard one night and keeping in the woods until he got inside of Colonel Geary's lines.

I dare say you have noticed, in the paper, that our Adjutant's clerk was shot, the other day, as he was marching between Mount Jackson and Edinburgh. He was a long distance ahead of the regiment; there were three shots fired; one minié ball struck him, passing through his right arm into his body, grazing his lungs, coming out the other side: he is still living, but his recovery is doubtful. We have had three other men disappear lately, very likely shot in this same way. An orderly was fired on, the other day, but not hit; he chased the bushwhacker, wounded him and caught him.

I had one piece of good luck when we were over in the other valley. I was out with the company on picket; early in the morning, I discovered three contrabands with as many horses just outside our lines. I had them brought in before me; one of them had a beautiful brown mare which took my eye amazingly: I offered the darkey five dollars for her, and he took me up. I sent the other horses in to brigade headquarters by the contrabands.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 56-7

Major Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, September 7, 1861

pleasant Hill, Camp Near Darnestown,
Saturday, September 7, 1861.

Dear Mother, — Twice within three days we have been abruptly summoned to get into marching array. Twice has the order been countermanded. This morning at three o'clock I was waked to open my eyes upon the misty starlight by an orderly from head-quarters.

He brought the order: “The enemy have broken up their camp at Manassas, and are moving. Get everything in readiness to start. If a signal-light is exhibited at headquarters, let the long roll be beaten and the regiment get under arms at once.” Colonel Gordon is in Washington. Colonel Andrews gave quietly the necessary orders, and then both he and I composed ourselves to sleep. We have learnt that excitement is useless and unprofitable. Besides, composure is so graceful, and withal comfortable, at that hour. But, seriously, these successive alarms have become the habit of our lives. One of these days perchance the wolf will come. But this morning there are no new orders, and no immediate prospect of a start. Movement must come, however, shortly, and I confess I am impatient for its coming. Just now, perhaps, I can be content to wait. My horse did me the ill turn to fall with me the other day. I was urging him hastily down hill, and he stumbled and went down. He chafed my leg a little, and so I am lying still to-day to get well. To-morrow both he and I will be firmly on our legs again, and it may well happen that we shall both need them. I was sorry to hear of your cold. It is such a bad companion for August. You should come and live in a tent, and then you would cease to have any of the ills that follow close rooms, warm beds, coal fires, and the other accidents of civilized life in times of peace. . . . . It is a sultry morning, and the air moves listlessly through my tent. I am reclining orientally, and the Doctor has just been making an application to my bruise. He has also been chatting pleasantly for half an hour, and so has broken what little thread belonged to my story. It is well that it is so, for the life of the past few days does not need a chronicler. We all expect something coming, but do not know what or when. I confess I enjoy a few days for the study of tactics and attention to military matters. The theory slips out of sight in the tread-mill of daily duty.

I glanced at an article in the Atlantic Monthly this morning on “The Advantages of Defeat.” I cannot agree to its positions. American soldiers, — let the fact be plainly stated,— American soldiers will only become efficient in proportion as they abandon their national theories and give themselves up obediently to the military laws which have always governed the successful prosecution of war. “The incurable habit of insubordination of the citizen,” as the Saturday Review has it, in a capital article, “cannot be transferred to the soldier.” To-day our army is crippled by the ideas of equality and independence which have colored the whole life of our people. Men elect their officers, and then expect them to behave themselves! Obedience is permissive, not compelled, and the radical basis is wrong. We have to struggle against the evil tendencies of this contagion. When this defect is cured, and men recognize authority and obey without knowing why, — obey from habit and instinct, not from any process of reasoning or presumed consent, — we shall begin to get an army. It is only necessary to appreciate the fact that, in war, one will must act through all the others, to see that American soldiers, with all their presumed intelligence and skill, have the one lesson yet to learn. So for my preachment. Here appears Colonel Gordon, returned suddenly from Washington. The enemy are moving somewhither, and of course he rejoins his regiment The obvious weaknesses of delay may drive the Rebels to offensive action. If so, Heaven send them across the river between us and Washington, so that we may have a part in the great battle that crushes them. And yet I cannot believe that any such chance will come to us. Speculation, however, is worthless, on a matter which will have decided itself long before the speculation can reach you.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 96-8

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, October 12, 1864

Cedar Creek, Oct. 12, 1864.

We 've gone into a pleasant camp to-day (last evening), directly upon the Shenandoah, and are likely to stay for a week, I think, — our horses needing rest sadly. I am glad it is not nearer Winchester, for then I should be tempted to wish you might come down for a few days, or I might go home, but now we are still in the front, and it is out of the question.

How shall you like to have me come home in Government clothing? — they 're so much cheaper, I hope you won't object. I like them better too, think them more respectable, when tailors charge $32 for trousers, and Government only $5; or $75 for coats, and Government only $4. This is a poetic letter, isn't it? You must keep your eyes open for opportunities for both of us after the war, — I mean, be thinking about the matter. You see I talk quite rationally now about “after the war,” — it may be ten years, in which case I shall probably never leave the army, but it may be only ten months, and then we don't want to be taken by surprise. I'm galloping over this and the officer is waiting at the tent door, so Good-bye.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 356-7