John M. Forbes to William Curtis Noyes, August 12, 1862

Naushon Island, August 12,1862.

My Dear Sir, — Your favor of the 7th has been sent me here, where I am established for a month or two, with a chance to visit Boston only occasionally. I am very glad that my plan strikes you favorably. Governor Andrew made me a flying visit yesterday, and seems to like the idea much; he had already made use of the slips I sent him of the “aristocracy vs. popular government” by sending them to the recruiting stations.

I sincerely hope a thorough system may be inaugurated under your personal oversight in such a manner as will shut off any attempt to use it either for personal ambition (i. e. for lauding political or military aspirants), or even for pushing the views of our most extreme Republicans. To do its best work, it needs to be broader than any one set of men, even the best, belonging to our wing of the Republican party. In other words, its aim should not be anti-slavery, except incidentally, but should be “the vigorous prosecution of the war.” How would it do to style it “the committee of correspondence upon the vigorous prosecution of the war”?

Mr. George W. Curtis, who is here, and has considerable experience with the press, thinks there is some danger of jealousy from the press at the appearance of dictation there would be in my original plan of sending with each article a circular from the committee, suggesting its republication. If this be so, perhaps the best mode would be to have our organization complete, but informal; that is to say, not appearing before the public as a committee. The articles we wish to have republished would, in most cases, if well selected, be adopted in each State, either at the individual suggestion of our committeeman for that point, or they might be sent anonymously with a printed or written line, saying, for instance, that a “fellow-countryman calls your attention to the inclosed important article as valuable for circulation.”

One of the most important ends that could be gained by a judicious organization would be to sink and obliterate the old party names and prejudices, especially those connected with the name of democrat.

You and I have fought under the Whig banner; one of our strongest allies is Mr. Bryant, the leader of the only really Democratic party which ever existed. Yet we constantly find our best Republican journals even now fighting “Democracy.” It seems to me of vast importance to sink these old distinctions, and to put before the voting and fighting masses, in the strongest light, the real issue — of the war-Democratic or Republican [government], (whichever we may call the government of the people) vs. Aristocratic government; in other words, the people vs. a class. . . .

I give you a rough sketch of an organization, and am very truly yours,

J. M. Forbes

SOURCE: Sarah Forbes Hughes, Letters and Recollections of John Murray Forbes, Volume 1, p. 326-7

John Brown to Horatio N. Rust, April 16, 1857

Springfield, Mass., April 16, 1857.

H. N. Rust, Esq.

My Dear Sir, — Your favor of the 9th is received. Please forward to me by express the pistols you have received, and also send me with them the amount you had to pay on the whole package. Be kind enough to say to my friend Blair that I expect funds within a day or two to meet my engagement, and that I mean to call on him. Please direct the package to John (not Captain) Brown, care Massasoit House, Springfield, Mass. Did you receive the package for Selden H. Brown?

Very respectfully your friend,

John Brown.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 376

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, October 6, 1862

Maryland Heights, October 6, 1862.

Everything continues quiet with us. We have a nice camp and are beginning to make ourselves comfortable. I have a floor in my tent and a patent bedstead of Hogan's invention. Our mess gets on finely; we have plenty to eat and very good too. I know you will be pleased to feel that I am no longer in danger of starvation. You'd hardly believe we had suffered any hardships lately, to see us after dinner or supper, sitting or lying around my tent, enjoying our pipes and cigars, reading the papers or having a quiet discussion on some subject.

Last week, we had a visit from President Lincoln, accompanied by Generals Sumner and Howard and a large staff of other officers. He reviewed our regiment briefly, we receiving him with the customary honors. General Sumner paid our regiment the handsomest compliment that I have heard come from any officer of high rank. He said, in our hearing, to the President, “This is the Second Massachusetts Regiment, the first regiment that volunteered for the war. I have it on good authority, General Sedgwick, that it is the best regiment in the service.”

Such praise as this, coming from the source it does, is very pleasing. After the review, I was detailed (I suppose from my knowledge of the mountain paths and the fact that I had a horse), to guide the party to the summit of the Maryland Heights. I showed the way until we got to a path where it was right straight up, when Abraham backed out. I think it must have reminded him of a little story about a very steep place; at any rate, around they turned and went down the mountain. I gave “Uncle Abe” a few parting words of advice with regard to the general management of things, bade them farewell, and went back to camp.

I am afraid we have lost Colonel Andrews; he was detailed day before yesterday, to take command of a brigade of four new regiments; this is probably but an intermediate step before being commissioned Brigadier. Captain Cogswell is now in command; if neither Major Savage nor Captain Quincy ever come back, he will be Colonel, making Mudge Lieutenant-Colonel, and Russell, Major, and me second Captain, Curtis' old place on the left of the line.

Has the death of Major Sedgwick been spoken of in any of the Boston papers? You remember he was formerly a first Lieutenant in our regiment; he left us last autumn to go to his cousin's, General Sedgwick's, staff, where he was made Assistant Adjutant General and promoted to be Major. We have seen a good deal of him since we left Washington. He was one of the most interesting men in conversation I ever knew, full of stories and experiences of the Peninsular campaign, in which he took an active part, having been present at most of the principal battles. The night before Antietam, he was around at our bivouac. We were discussing the probabilities as to when Richmond would be taken; I made him a bet of a basket of champagne that it wouldn't be taken the 1st of January, 1863. This wager he accepted and registered in my pocket book and signed his name to it. The next day was the battle. General Sedgwick went into it with his division in Sumner's corps; Major Sedgwick received his wound in that terrible wood where our right wing suffered its heaviest loss. The bullet went through his body, grazing his backbone, instantly paralyzing the whole lower parts. He remained on the field two or three hours perfectly conscious, though suffering the worst pain. During this time he wrote several pages in his book, requests, etc. He was removed to Frederick, Maryland, where he died two or three days ago. He was only one among many, but he was one of the original “Second,” and a man I always liked very much.

I believe I have not told you about our old flag. Sergeant Lundy is color-bearer now (the old Crimean soldier of whom I sent the daguerreotype); he's a splendid fellow and plucky as can be; all through the action, he kept the flag up at full height, waving it to and fro. Well, on examination of it after the fight was over, we found twenty new bullet holes through the colors and three through the staff. The socket in which the butt rested was shot away close to the Sergeant's belt. Our old staff was shot in two at Cedar Mountain, and is now at home being mended. While I think of it, I must tell you of one most singular incident that happened the day of the battle. As we were advancing over one part of the field, which was pretty thickly covered by our dead and wounded, a man of Company F, Captain Mudge's company, suddenly came upon the dead body of his father, who was in the Twelfth Massachusetts Regiment and had been killed early in the day. It was a terrible meeting for father and son; they had not seen each other for over a year. The next day the son got permission to bury his father in a decent manner and put a head-board at his grave.

Have you made up your mind about the Emancipation Proclamation? At first, I was disposed to think that no change would be produced by it, but now, I believe its effect will be good. It is going to set us straight with foreign nations. It gives us a decided policy, and though the President carefully calls it nothing but a war measure, yet it is the beginning of a great reform and the first blow struck at the real, original cause of the war. No foreign nation can now support the South without openly countenancing slavery. The London Times, no doubt, will try to make out slavery a Divine Institution, but its influence does not extend everywhere. I think the course of that paper, since this war began, has been more outrageous than anything I ever knew of; you wouldn't think any paper could be so base as to say, as it has just said, that the President's Proclamation was published to produce a servile insurrection. It may have the effect to cause disturbances among the troops from the extreme Southern States, who will think, perhaps, that their presence is needed more at home than up in Virginia. There is no mistake about it, if the fact becomes generally known among the slaves of the South that they are free as soon as within our lines, there will be a much more general movement among them than there has been before. It is evident that Jeff Davis is frightened by it, to judge by the fearful threats of retaliation he is making.

Yesterday, Bob Shaw and I took a fine horseback ride of about twenty miles, visiting the vicinity of Antietam. Most of McClellan's army is encamped near there. We expected to find the First Massachusetts Cavalry, but they had moved up the river to Williamsport. My horse is in fine condition, now; she seemed to enjoy the exercise yesterday as much as I did.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 95-9

Major Wilder Dwight: Friday Evening, October 25, 1861

Camp Near Conrad's Ferry, October 25,

Friday Evening.

I shall try to send you some, pictures, though I am too tired to-night for anything but sleep.

Scene, our old camp; time, evening. The regiment just getting into marching array under crisp starlight. The men gay with singing and laughter. The camp one huge bonfire of old bedding and tent-floors. Every man in fine marching condition. Again: Scene, the bank of the canal at Conrad's Ferry; time, eight o'clock the next morning. The regiment huddled in dripping groups, under a driving rain. The men tired and silent. Ambulances of wounded men passing by. Blankets swung on poles, covering the bodies of the slain, and borne along with that heavy, dull tread which betokens the presence of death. Jaded stragglers from the river hurrying back, cold and half naked, to their camps; the interchange of greetings and tidings. The Colonel and other field-officers huddled under an apple tree, breakfasting upon a hard-boiled egg, and shivering over a feeble fire, questioning stragglers about the fight. Up comes a Yankee-looking fellow, clad only in an overcoat, with that peculiar hunched-up movement which indicates shuddering cold. Dialogue between Colonel Gordon and Yankee. Colonel G. Where do you come from? Y. The river. G. What regiment? Y. Massachusetts Fifteenth. G. Did you fight? Y. Wal, I guess we did some. G. How many times did you fire? Y. Thirty or forty. G. What did you do during the day? Y. Wal, at first we was skirmishing along, and I got behind a tree, and I was doing first rate. I come out once, but I see a feller sightin' at me, and so I got in again suddin. Then, arter a while, the cavalry came down on us. I see there wa'n't much chance, and so I just dropped into a hole there was there, and stayed still. Pretty soon we retreated towards the river. We got together there, and formed a kind of a line, and then the fitin' really began. Some fellers came out near us, and says they, “We 're Colonel Baker's men.” “Guess not,” says I. “Yes we are,” says they. “I know better,” says I. “Let 'er rip, boys!” and we fired on 'em. But 't wa'n't no kind o' use. Baker got killed, and we couldn't see the enemy, and they raked us like death. I finally come down the bank with the rest on 'em. I see Colonel Devens there. Says I, “Colonel, wot's to be done now?” “Boys,” says he, “you must take care of yourselves.” “All right, Colonel,” says I. And the way my 'couterments come off was a caution. I swum the river. But I tell you there was a sight on 'em didn't get across.” G. Do you want to go back again? Y. Wal, not till I get rested. G. You 're cold, ain't you? Y. I tell you, I just am. G. Don't you want some whiskey? Y. Don't I? (Yankee takes a pull at the Colonel's flask, and expresses himself only by a long, silent, intensely meaning wink.) Yankee then turns and sees a shivering figure approaching. “Hullo, John; I never expected to see you again. Wal, I guess we'd better go to camp,” and off he moves. The drollery of the scene I cannot give. I just indicate an outline of the cool, circumstantial narratives that every other man would give you. We found none so amusing as this, which relieved our tedious breakfast. But the men showed no fear, and, only by an occasional allusion, any sense of the terrors through which some of them had passed. Their only idea seemed to be, If there only had been more of us, how we would have licked 'em! All accounts agree that the two Massachusetts regiments fought splendidly, as far as individual daring and coolness go.

I sent you off a letter yesterday; for I must continue my story without a formal introduction of each picture. I mailed the letter with the ink wet upon it, and went off on my duty to the river, to take charge of my picket-line along the canal. But as tattoo is now beating, and as I put on my clothes in Washington on Monday morning and have not yet taken them off this Friday night, I will tell the rest of my story to-morrow.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 123-4

Edwin M. Stanton to Major-General John A. Dix, June 11, 1861

Washington, June 11, 1861.

my Dear Sir, — It gives me great pleasure that in the midst of arduous duties you still bear me in kind remembrance. The meeting of the 24th of April in New York has become a national epoch; for it was a manifestation of patriotic feeling beyond any example in history. To that meeting, the courage it inspired, and the organized action it produced, this Government will owe its salvation, if saved it can be. To the general gratification of the country at your position as Chairman of the Union Committee, there was added in my breast a feeling of security and succor that until that time was unknown. No one can imagine the deplorable condition of this city, and the hazard of the Government, who did not witness the weakness and panic of the administration, and the painful imbecility of Lincoln.

We looked to New York in that dark hour as our only deliverance under Providence, and, thank God, it came. The uprising of the people of the United States to maintain their government and crush rebellion has been so grand, so mighty in every element, that I feel it a blessing to be alive and witness it. The action of your city, especially, filled me with admiration, and proves the right of New York to be called the Empire City. But the picture has a dark side — dark and terrible —from the corruption that surrounds the War Department, and seems to poison with venomous breath the very atmosphere. Millions of New York capital, the time, strength, and perhaps lives, of thousands of patriotic citizens will be wanted to gorge a ravenous crew. On every side the Government and the soldiers are pillaged. Arms, clothing, transportation, provisions, are each and all subjects of peculation and spoil. On one side the waves of treason and rebellion arc madly dashing; on the other is a yawning gulf of national bankruptcy. Our cause is the greatest that any generation of men was ever called upon to uphold — it would seem to be God's cause, and must triumph. But when we witness venality and corruption growing in power every day, and controlling the millions of money that should be a patriotic sacrifice for national deliverance, and treating the treasure of the nation as a booty to be divided among thieves, hope dies away. Deliverance from this danger also must come from New York. Those who are unwilling to see blood shed, lives lost, treasure wasted in vain, must take speedy measures to reform the evil before it be too late.

Of military affairs I can form no judgment. Every day affords fresh proof of the design to give the war a party direction. The army appointments appear (with two or three exceptions only) to be bestowed on persons whose only claim is their Republicanism — broken down politicians without experience, ability, or any other merit. Democrats are rudely repulsed or scowled upon with jealous and ill-concealed aversion. The Western Democracy are already becoming disgusted, and between the corruption of some of the Republican leaders, and the self-seeking ambition of others, some great disaster may soon befall the nation. How long will the Democracy of New York tolerate these things?

The navy is in a state of hopeless imbecility, and is believed to be far from being purged of the treachery that has already occasioned so much shame and dishonor.

In respect to domestic affairs, Mrs. Stanton and I hoped to visit New York last month, but the critical state of affairs made it hazardous to leave our children, and we could not take them with us. With the enemy still at our gates we cannot venture to leave home. We hoped to see you here, especially after you had accepted the appointment of Major-general. But now that the administration has got over its panic, you are not the kind of man that would be welcome. There are many details that I could give you in respect to proceedings here, but it is painful to think of them, and to write them down would be a tedious and disgusting task. I hope our cause may triumph despite the low passions and mean intellects that now weigh it down. But whatever may be our fate, I shall always be happy to be esteemed your friend. Mrs. Stanton and your pet are well, and join in expressions of regard.

Yours truly,

Edwin M. Stanton.

Hon. John A. Dix.

SOURCE: Morgan Dix, Memoirs of John Adams Dix, Volume 2, p. 18-20

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Wednesday, February 26, 1862

Spent in Gallipolis waiting for a steamboat going up the Kanawha. Quartermaster Cuthbert and I slept, walked, and watched the clouds and rain.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 200

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 22, 1862

Such a day! The heavens weep incessantly. Capitol Square is black with umbrellas; and a shelter has been erected for the President to stand under.

I walked up to the monument and heard the Inaugural read by the President. He read it well, and seemed self-poised in the midst of disasters, which he acknowledged had befallen us. And he admitted that there had been errors in our war policy. We had attempted operations on too extensive a scale, thus diffusing our powers which should have been concentrated. I like these candid confessions. They augur a different policy hereafter, and we may hope for better results in the future. We must all stand up for our country.

Mr. Hunter hajs resigned, and taken his place in the Senate.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 111

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: December 1, 1864

At Coosawhatchie Yankees are landing in great force. Our troops down there are raw militia, old men and boys never under fire before; some college cadets, in all a mere handful. The cradle and the grave have been robbed by us, they say. Sherman goes to Savannah and not to Augusta.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 336

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: July 18, 1863

This day two years ago the battle of Bull Run was fought, a kind of prelude to that of Manassas, on the 21st. Since that time what scenes have been enacted! Battles have been fought by scores, and lives, precious lives, have been sacrificed by thousands, and that, too, of the very flower of our country. Again I have heard of the death of one of our dear E. H. S. boys — William H. Robb, of Westmoreland. He was with us for four years, and was very, very dear to us all. He died of wounds received in a cavalry fight at Brandy Station. We thought he had recovered, but this evening brought the fatal tidings. The news of the New York riots, which they got up in opposition to the draft, is cheering! Oh! that they could not get up another army, and would fight each other! Fitz Lee's cavalry had a fight yesterday at Shepherdstown, and repulsed the enemy handsomely. All eyes turn gloomily to Charleston. It is greatly feared that it will have to succumb to Federal force. I trust that our Heavenly Father may avert so dire a calamity!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 231-2

Francis H. Wigfall to Charlotte Cross Wigfall, October 13, 1863

camp Near Fox's Ford,

rappahannock River, Oct. 13, 1863.

Dear Mama.

We are once more on the campaign. We had a running fight day before yesterday fighting all day. My little grey was killed under me at the first position we went into. The battery lost four killed and wounded, three of them from my section. We crossed at Raccoon Ford that morning and camped at Brandy Station that night. We are about to move and I must close. Love to all. Goodbye, dearest Mama. In haste,

Your affectionate

Halsey.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 152

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Friday, August 8, 1862

Again last night, about nine, we heard cannon in Baton Rouge, and watched the flashes, which preceded the reports by a minute, at least, for a long time. We must have seen our own firing; perhaps we wanted to find out the batteries of the enemy. It was not the most delightful thing imaginable to watch what might be the downfall of our only home! And then to think each ball might bring death to some one we love! Ah, no! it was not pleasant! Miriam and I have many friends in Breckinridge's division, I expect, if we could only hear the names of the regiments. The Fourth is certainly there. And poor Will! I wonder if he has had his supper yet? I have been thinking of him ever since Mr. Scales told me he was there, and praying myself sick for his safety and that of the rest. I shut my eyes at every report and say, “Oh, please! poor Will! — and the others, too!” And when I don't hear the cannon, I pray, to be in advance of the next.

It is now midday, and again we hear firing; but have yet to learn the true story of the first day's fight. Preserve me from the country in such stirring days! We might as well be in Europe as to have the Mississippi between us and town.

By unanimous consent, the little lane in front of the house has been christened “Guerrilla Lane,” and the long one leading to the river, “Arkansas.” What an episode that was, in our lives! The officers go by the name of Miriam's, Ginnie's, Sarah's, as though they belonged to each!

Those girls did me the meanest thing imaginable. Mr. Talbot and I were planning a grand combined attack on Baton Rouge, in which he was to command a fleet and attack the town by the river, while I promised to get up a battalion of girls and attack them in the rear. We had settled it all, except the time, when just then all the others stopped talking. I went on: “And now, it is only necessary for you to name the day —” Here the girls commenced to giggle, and the young men tried to suppress a smile; I felt annoyed, but it did not strike me until after they had left, that I had said anything absurd. What evil imaginations they must have, if they could have fancied I meant anything except the battle!

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 158-9

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, December 3, 1864

We started off on our railroad destroying this morning at 7 o'clock. Our corps destroyed about ten miles of road, from Millen down to Station No. 70, where we went into camp for the night. The Fourteenth and Twentieth Corps are off on our left, destroying the railroad from Millen toward Augusta. At Millen there was located one of those hell-holes, a rebel prison, where the rebels kept about thirteen hundred of our men as prisoners. They rushed them off on the train for Charleston, South Carolina, just before our army arrived. I never saw a feed-yard looking so filthy and forsaken as this pen.¹ We burned everything here that a match would ignite.

_______________

¹ The treatment which our soldiers received in the Confederate prisons is the one dark, damnable stain that the South of that time will always have to carry. The North can forgive, but it cannot forget. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 234

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, September 30, 1862

Maryland Heights, September 30, 1862.

We have received, to-day, pretty conclusive evidence of the death of Major Savage; we have also heard that Quincy's chance for life is very slim. Hasn't the mortality among our old officers been dreadful? I cannot bear to think of it. If we lose Colonel Andrews, there will be very little left of the old Second.

To-morrow I go up on the mountain in charge of a large fatigue party to fell timber. I imagine there is going to be another fort built there.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 95

Major Wilder Dwight: Thursday Morning, October 24, 1861

Camp Near Conrad's Ferry, October 24, 1861,

Thursday Morning.

The violation of every rule and maxim of military law, the exaction of the extreme penalty therefor. Such is the summing up of the massacre near Leesburg. Does it awaken you to the fact that politicians are not generals?

But how shall I tell you the story of these trying days? I wrote a hasty word as our line was forming on Monday night. We marched gayly and willingly off in the moonlight towards Poolesville, at nine o'clock in the evening.

We supposod we were to cross at Edward's Ferry, to aid in a victorious advance upon Leesburg. The men marched splendidly. At Poolesville we first met the faint shadows of the coming gloom, — a few stragglers of the Fifteenth Massachusetts. “Our companies are all cut to pieces. Our captain is shot; our lieutenant-colonel has lost his leg; we have all been cut up,” &c. On we went, more earnestly, and took the road to Conrad's Ferry. Then we began to meet the flying and scattered soldiers. One with only an overcoat, another with only a blanket, another with even less. They all told one story, of flight and death and despair. Still we pressed on. Our men were eager to reach the Ferry. We got there at about three o'clock in the morning. Eighteen miles in between six and seven hours. Then came the rain, and then came the order to stay where we were. The morning broke, — a wild, gusty, rainy morning, — upon our shelterless and weary regiment. The only house near where the regiment stopped was filled with the wounded. As soon as I could get away, I galloped down to the place of crossing. I saw them letting down a wounded man on a stretcher into the canal-boat. It was Captain John Putnam, a clever fellow, of the New England Guards. I turned and went down to the river, meeting on my way a dead one, and, as I passed, one of the soldiers who carried him turned up the face, and said, “Yes, this is one of the Tammany boys.” I went to the river, to a flat-boat full of wounded; found Dr. Hay ward, of the Twentieth. He said that Lieutenant Putnam, Mrs. Sam Putnam's son, was in the boat, badly wounded. I spoke to him; he was bright, but evidently sinking. I asked him if I could do anything for him, telling him who I was. He said, eagerly, “I should like to see Lieutenant Higginson.” I said I would bring him. Then I asked about Caspar Crowninshield, Abbott, Lowell, Holmes. Caspar, they thought, was wounded. Abbott, safe. Lowell and Holmes, both wounded. A little while after Caspar turned up. Ho was in the primitive costume of his overcoat and drawers, but full of cheery pluck, calm, clear, and a young hero in bearing and aspect. He gave a clear account of himself. I was compelled to go back to the regiment. I sent Lieutenant Higginson down, and did what I could for the men.

I had been in the saddle about twenty-four hours, and without sleep, and I got into the house among the wounded, and fell asleep on a camp-stool. Soon we were off again to put the regiment in camp under cover of a wood. Just as we got in camp, General Hamilton ordered five companies to go on picket along the river-bank The next morning at daylight, still raining, we were ordered to strike our tents, and move back out of cannon range from the river. We came to our present camp. General Hamilton then ordered me to take three companies to the river, and post pickets and keep a lookout. I started. At about three o'clock I returned to report to the General the position of things on the river, when I found General Banks and General McClellan in his quarters. I enjoyed hearing McClellan talk for half an hour. One good remark of his I recall. “Well,” said he, “so far we seem to have applied a new maxim of war, always to meet the enemy with an inferior force at the point of attack.” General Hamilton then ordered me to return, and cross to the island at night, and remove some stores which had been left there. I started off again. I got my preparations all made, when an order came, at about eight, P. M., “Take your companies at once to Edward's Ferry to cross. The enemy is in force there.” I drew in my pickets, and got ready to move promptly, when I was met, just as I started, by a mounted orderly, with a note addressed to the officer in command moving towards Edward's Ferry. “Return to your camp, and await further orders.” I turned back. The orderly had orders for General Hamilton, and did not know how to find him. It was dark, and I took my horse and rode with him to General Hamilton's quarters. Our regiment had started for Edward's Ferry before the orderly arrived. When they got there, they were ordered to return, and did so. This made the third night of fatiguing marching or guard duty, and to-day they are just done up. My three companies got their rest, however, at the river. It turns out that we were to support Stone, but McClellan suddenly determined to withdraw him, and so the countermanding order. To-night I go back to the river, and go over to the island to remove the government stores. That will give me a lively night again. I ought to be very tired, but excitement makes me feel the fatigue very little. . . . .

Providence seems to have watched over the Massachusetts Second, does it not? It has saved us from Bull Run, and now, from a worse blunder. For what has it reserved us? I hope and pray for the guidance of a good general, unhampered. I must go back to the Ferry. Good by. Love to all. God bless you.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 120-2

Resolutions of the Union Defence Committee of the City of New York

Resolved, That this Committee tender their warmest thanks to Hon. John A. Dix for the prompt, efficient, courteous, and patriotic discharge of his arduous duties as chairman of this Committee; that, while we deeply regret his resignation and the consequent loss of his counsels, we nevertheless rejoice ourselves, and congratulate the Government, that the services of Major-general Dix have been secured in the army for the defence of the integrity, the glory, and the liberties of our country.

Resolved, That in General Dix we recognize a patriot worthy of his patriot sires. That we desire to express our confidence in the eminent ability and fitness of General Dix to fill the high command to which he has been called, and that there will go with him to the field of conflict the pride, the hopes, the sympathies, and the prayers of every member of this Committee.

SOURCE: Morgan Dix, Memoirs of John Adams Dix, Volume 2, p. 16-7

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Tuesday, February 25, 1862 – 8:30 a.m.

Cincinnati. — A. M., 8:30, bright, cold, gusty, started in cars on Marietta Railroad; reached Hamden, junction of railroad to Portsmouth, about 2 P. M.; twenty-five miles to Oak Hill on this railroad; Cuthbert, in quartermaster department under Captain Fitch at Gauley Bridge, my only acquaintance. Took an old hack — no curtains, rotten harness, deep muddy roads — for Marietta [Gallipolis]. The driver was a good-natured, persevering youngster of seventeen, who trudged afoot through the worst holes and landed us safely at Gallipolis [at] three-thirty A. M., after a cold, sleepless, uncomfortable ride. He said he had joined three regiments; turned out of two as too young and taken out of the third by his father. Poor boy! His life is one of much greater hardship than anything a soldier suffers.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 200

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 21, 1862

All our garrison in Fort Henry, with Gen. Tilghman, surrendered. I think we had only 1500 men there. Guns, ammunition, and stores, all gone.

No news from Donelson — and that is bad news. Benjamin says he has no definite information. But prisoners taken say the enemy have been reinforced, and are hurling 80,000 against our 15,000.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 110-1

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: November 28, 1864

We dined at Mrs. McCord's. She is as strong a cordial for broken spirits and failing heart as one could wish. How her strength contrasts with our weakness. Like Doctor Palmer, she strings one up to bear bravely the worst. She has the intellect of a man and the perseverance and endurance of a woman.

We have lost nearly all of our men, and we have no money, and it looks as if we had taught the Yankees how to fight since Manassas. Our best and bravest are under the sod; we shall have to wait till another generation grows up. Here we stand, despair in our hearts (“Oh, Cassandra, don't!” shouts Isabella), with our houses burning or about to be, over our heads.

The North have just got things ship-shape; a splendid army, perfectly disciplined, with new levies coming in day and night. Their gentry do not go into the ranks. They hardly know there is a war up there.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 335-6

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: July 15, 1863

In Richmond, to-day, I saw my old friend, Mrs. E. R. Cocke, looking after her sons. One was reported “wounded;” the other “missing.” This sad word may mean that he is a prisoner; it may mean worse. She can get no clue to him. His company has not come, and she is very miserable. Two mothers, one from Georgia, another from Florida, have come on in pursuit of their sons, and are searching the hospitals for them. They were not in our hospital, and we could give them no information, so they went on to others. There is more unhappiness abroad among our people than I have ever seen before. Sometimes I wish I could sleep until it is over — a selfish wish enough; but it is hard to witness so much sorrow which you cannot alleviate.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 231

Lieutenant-General James Longstreet to Louis T. Wigfall, September 12, 1863

richmond, Sept. 12th, 1863.

Dear General,

I am on my way to join Bragg, but have some hope that I may not visit your friends at Camp Chase. If I should get that far in the enemy's country, however, I hope that I may be able to bring your friends to see you!  . . . Hood's Division are en route and the most of my command are rapidly moving on to Bragg. I hope that we may be with him in ten days more.

Do not forget me because I have gone so far away from you.

I would write more, but if I should start to go further into matters I should write more than I have time to write or you would be inclined to read. I will reserve it for a general talk.

Most sincerely yours,

J. LONGSTREET.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 148-9