Albert Pike

Lawyer, Poet.

Albert Pike, lawyer, poet, philologist, and for many years prior to his death the highest Masonic dignitary in the United States, was born in Boston, Massachusetts, December 29, 1809, and died in Washington City, April 2, 1891.

In early childhood he removed to Newburyport, in the same State, at which place and at Framingham he received his early education. In 1825 he entered Harvard College, supporting himself at the same time by teaching. Having studied at home for the junior class and passed the examination to enter in 1826, he found that the tuition of the two previous years was required to be paid, and, declining to do this, he completed his own education, teaching the meanwhile at Fairhaven and Newburyport, where he was principal of the grammar school, and afterwards conducted a private school of his own. In later years the degree of Master of Arts was conferred upon him by the faculty of Harvard College. In March, 1831, he went to the west, going with a trading party as far as Santa Fe, New Mexico. In September, 1832, he joined a trapping party at Taos, with which he went down the Pecos river and into the Staked Plains, where with four others he left the party and, traveling for the most part on foot, reached Fort Smith, Arkansas, December 10, 1832. His adventures during these expeditions, in which he underwent many hardships, are related in his volume of "Prose Sketches and Poems," published in 1834. While teaching in 1833, below Van Buren and on Little Piney river, he contributed articles to the Little Rock "Advocate," which attracted the attention of Robert Crittenden, through whom he was made assistant editor of that paper, of which he afterwards became owner and conducted it for upwards of two years. In 1835 he was admitted to the bar. He had read only the first volume of "Blackstone's Commentaries," but the judge of the territorial superior court said, as he gave the license, that it was not like giving a medical diploma, because as a lawyer he could not take anyone's life. He subsequently made an extensive study of the law, being his own teacher, and practiced his profession until the outbreak of the Mexican War, when he recruited a company of cavalry, and was present at the battle of Buena Vista, being attached to Colonel Charles May's squadron of dragoons In 1848 he fought a duel with Governor John S. Roane, on the occasion of an account of that battle written by him, and which Governor Roane considered reflected unjustly on the Arkansas regiment.

In 1849 he was admitted to the bar of the Supreme Court of the United States, at the same time with Abraham Lincoln and Hannibal Hamlin. A famous case pleaded by him before that tribunal was the claim of Henry M. Rector for the famous Hot Springs property in Arkansas. In 1853 he transferred his law office to New Orleans, having, in preparation for practice before the court of Louisiana, read the "Pandects," making a translation into English of the first volume, as well as numerous French authorities, and he also wrote an unpublished work in three volumes upon "The Maxims of the Roman and French Law." He resumed practice in Arkansas in 1857. In 1859, having been for many years attorney for the Choctaw Indians, in association with three others he secured the award by the United States Senate to that tribe of $2,981,247. He was the first proposer of a Pacific railroad convention, and was sent as a delegate to several conventions of the kind before the war, at one time obtaining from the Louisiana Legislature a charter for a road with termini at San Francisco and Guaymas. During the war of secession, he was sent by the Confederate government to negotiate with the five civilized tribes in Indian Territory, to secure their alliance and adhesion, and commanded a brigade of Cherokees at the battle of Pea Ridge, Arkansas. He was also for a short time on the Supreme Bench of Arkansas. In 1867 he edited the "Appeal" at Memphis, Tennessee, and in 1868 he removed to Washington City where he practiced before the courts until 1880.

From the year 1880 until his death, he devoted himself to literary pursuits and to Masonry. In his twentieth year General Pike composed the "Hymns to the Gods," poems published in "Blackwood's Magazine" in 1839, and included in "Nugae," a volume of poems privately printed in 1854. In 1873 and 1882 he printed, also privately, two other collections of poems. In 1840-45 he was the author of five volumes of Law Reports; in 1845 of the “Arkansas Form-Book;” in 1859 of "Masonic Statutes and Regulations;" and in 1870 of "Morals and Dogma of Freemasonry." Unpublished translations of the "Rig Veda," the "Zend Avesta," and other works of Aryan literature (with comments) filled seventeen or eighteen volumes of manuscript, without blemish or erasure. He composed numerous Masonic rituals, and replied to the bull of Pope Leo XIII against Masonry. In 1859 he was appointed grand commander for life of the supreme council of the thirty-third degree for the southern jurisdiction of the United States, the mother supreme council of the Masonic world. He was also at the head of the Royal Order of Scottish Rite Masonry in the United States.

SOURCE: William Richard Cutter, Editor, American Biography: A New Cyclopedia, Volume 2, p. 184-6

1st Lieutenant Charles Wright Wills: June 29, 1862, 11. p.m.

11 p. m., 29th. — There is talk among the officers that Buell with 60,000 men is en route for Atlanta, Ga., intending to occupy that city, and thus cut off connection between the eastern and western portions of the Rebel Army. It will be a bold strike and looks safe; but it seems to me, from a glance at the map, that the occupation of Montgomery, Ala. would more effectually accomplish that end, for then there would be no railroad line open to the Rebels (we holding the Memphis and Charleston) while there are two lines running east from Montgomery, only one of which a force at Atlanta could cover. A deserter came in this evening who says that they are organizing the army at Tupelo, mustering the men as five years' regulars, with promises of furloughs until this war is over. That England and France have decided that the Southern States shall all have a chance at the ballot box, and must, within 60 days, say whether they will cleave to the Government of the United States or be independent; if the latter, those governments will sustain them and thus end the war, and if the former, the war will be ended accordingly. So they are organizing a regular army upon the supposition that they will be an independent confederacy. The above shows they are able to start as huge a lie in their camps as we can in ours. I wouldn't have believed it before.

The colonel, A. D. C. and myself took tea with General Ashboth this evening. He is such a pleasant man. Has a great liking for pets. He has a tremendous large dog, who lays his head on the table right by the general's plate during meal time, and he gets his share at the first table. On the other side of him two little Indian ponies range themselves as quick as he sits down, and he lays biscuits on the corner of the table for them, which they gobble with the greatest relish. He spreads biscuits for one pony with sugar, and with salt for the other. His conversation is divided about equally between his ponies, the dog, and his other guests. The ponies he got in Arkansas, and they are the prettiest little fellows imaginable. The general is one of the most polite and kind men I ever saw. His troops all love him. He carries his right arm in a sling yet from a wound received at Elkhorn.

If you'd multiply all the bugs, say by 10,000, you'd have something near the number that visit me nightly. They are of all sizes less than a door knob, and the shapes and colors are innumerable. When they're bumping against you by candle light, if you were not acclimated, you would swear someone was brickbatting you.

We could overrun the whole West and Southwest as fast as we could travel, with the army we had here, if it were policy. Vicksburg cannot stand two hours when attacked. But it has leaked out at headquarters that we are letting them think they are holding us in check, so that they will keep all their forces in the West until after the big fight at Richmond. I have heard from Captain Nelson that Sammy Nutt distinguished himself in the skirmish yesterday. He captured that prisoner I spoke of. Captain says Sam was the head man in the chase and that no man ever behaved better. Sam's pistol went off accidentally after he had captured the secesh and the bullet came within half an inch of knocking a hole in the Rebel's head. The boys all give Sam a great deal of praise. ’Twas daring of the captain to run his handful of men almost into the enemy's camp, and 25 miles from any support; but if any company can do it, Company K can. Captain Nelson looks well but grumbles at being brought back from the front to where there is nothing to do but rest. His men feel the same way. For my part I don't consider myself in the war here any more than I would be in Canton.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 110-2

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Friday, October 17, 1862

Aroused at 3 A. M. Killed a calf for breakfast. Quite a time trying to kill a pig. Marched at sunrise. Whole command gone from old camp. Rear guard. At noon arrived at Kritsville. Stayed till 10 P. M. Marched again at 10 and moved till near morning. Lay down a few minutes by a little fire. Before daybreak passed the Arkansas line, Elkhorn Tavern, and stopped for a cold lunch on the old Pea Ridge battle ground. Interesting — trees considerably marred by bullets. Shot, grape, and shell picked up by different boys as relics of the battle.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 37

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Wednesday, September 24, 1862

After breakfast and taking care of our horses, we went to meet the command. A mile and a half out I waited for the rest to come. Got grapes to eat. Read the morning papers. Stirring news of a week for us. We three boys visited the earthworks. Saw artillery in Pea Ridge battle, one "Betsy" (howitzer) opened the battle second day. Good visit with some of the boys. Four regiments came in, Iowa, Wis., Ind., and Ill. About 25,000 troops in and about Springfield. Arriving all the time and working at entrenchments all the time. Salomon at Mt. Vernon. Hindman reported 40,000 strong at Cross Hollows.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 33

Major Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, April 13, 1862

camp Near Edinburg, Virginia, April 13, 1862.

My Dear Mother, — We have been stirred by the news from Grant's and Buell's armies since I wrote, and even more, perhaps, by the attitude of McClellan's forces near Yorktown. This letter can hardly have a rapid flight enough to reach you as soon as decisive news from the Army of the Potomac. I hope large results; yet, in doing so, I must shut my eyes to everything around me, torpid as it is with the paralysis of — incapacity, shall I say? or mischance? To-day we obey the order of the War Department, and give thanks for our victories. The regiment will shortly be formed for that purpose. The time is a fitting one. It is the anniversary of that sombre Sunday of the dishonored flag which brought us the news of the fall of Sumter. It is also a fit time for McClellan's coup de grace. I received yesterday your copy of Howard's letter from Pea Ridge. Its clear description of what he saw and heard and did there is very interesting. After all, I was wiser for him than for myself, and urged him to go to the field where victory has come to be almost monotonous.

Our life here since I wrote is full of emptiness. Picket duty and occasional shelling. Now and then I go down and let the enemy's pickets fire at me, just by way of keeping up the illusion of war. One of our pickets the other day got hit, but the miss is the rule. Out of this nettle safety we will pluck the flower danger one of these days, but not yet. . . . .

Since I laid down my pen our service has taken place. I watched the faces of the men, and missed the light which gladdens them whenever they are called to action. Veterans in everything but conflict, it only quickens their impatience to hear of other achievements.

We shall stay here some days longer, I think. Subsistence, clothing, transportation, all limp and halt and stagger.

We are the most timid and scrupulous invaders in all history. It must be delicious to the finer feelings of some people to watch our velvet-footed advance. It keeps me in a state of chronic contempt.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 232-3

Major Wilder Dwight: March 31, 1862

Camp Near Strasboro, Virginia, March 31, 1862.

I was glad to hear, from your letter of the 23d, that you have been doing something, and leading others to do, for the wounded and suffering from Pea Ridge. You will never appreciate, except feebly and by conjecture, the relief and soothing of which you may be the happy cause. If, on Monday evening last, you had gone with me into the courthouse at Winchester, and seen the wounded and dying lying upon the bare floor, “heads and points,” as the surgeon expressed it, the victims at once of hunger and cold and wounds, you would know what could be done with the heart to do and the things to do with.

Of those people who make a luxury of good works, and are, so to speak, epicures in benevolence, I know not how they could get so much for their money as by coming upon one of these recent battle-fields.

I rejoice in Howard's safety more than I can bring myself to do in my own. While you are thinking of the bodily security of your sons, there is one of them who is jaded and depressed by the inglorious military drudgery to which “the best regiment in the service” is hopelessly condemned.

I have just returned from twenty-four hours’ picket duty in a cold rain-storm. The enemy's line of pickets is about a mile from our own. Ashby brought up his cannon, and threw a few shells at our outposts. They whistled through the air and fell near us, but were only bravado and insolence. When we go on he will run faster than we can follow. Meantime, the large movements and the decisive actions of the Potomac campaign are probably taking place, and we are stupidly trailing after an evanescent and puny, but resolute, foe. Bah! One of our companies is in Centreville, I suppose; one at Snicker's Ferry; the rest here, drying themselves in the sun after twenty-four hours' hard, wet, useless work, unrecognized and unknown. Whenever the division wants a commissary, or an acting assistant-adjutant, or what not, he is detailed from us. We have not a single full brigadier in the whole corps d’armée. Five brigades all commanded by colonels, — unorganized and undisciplined, except a few regiments.

Do you wonder that I get down in the mouth? It will soon be a year that we have been in service, with nothing to show for it but the effects of the hardest possible work.

You see I am in no mood for letter-writing. I write because there is a mail going. I shall not write again till I feel better. You need not feel concerned at not hearing from me. I almost feel as if I would not take up a pen again till I could speak of something else than the inglorious details of our present life. Love to all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 223-4

Major Wilder Dwight: March 21, 1862

camp Near Winchester, Virginia, March 21, 1862.

If you had looked upon our camp at sunrise reveillé, this morning, you would have seen a dreary, wintry picture. The mules gathered closely about their wagons in the scourging snow-storm with sullen endurance, their tails drawn tightly down, and standing in a vicious attitude of expectant kicking. The horses crossly laying back their ears with half-closed eyes and hanging necks. The soldiers standing up to their roll-call in the attitude of the traveller in the spelling-book, against whom the wind is striving to gain the victory of the fable. The ground whiter than the morning's early light, but only serving to darken the tents into a cheerless and gloomy hue. The air itself thick with snow and sleet. The camp-fires just beginning to smoke, and men hopelessly endeavoring to allure a blaze from black coals and dripping wood. The camp-kettles and mess-pans crusted with ice, suggestive of anything else than a warm breakfast. Would you not expect every mind of the thousand men, remembering also their two thousand wet feet, to be in harmony with the scene? Yet, I know not how it is, from some inherent perverseness perhaps, I was in excellent spirits.

The order has now come to march. Our destination is Centreville, en route, perchance, for the enemy. At any rate, I have grown philosophical again.

I buried hope yesterday, had a glorious wake, and resolved to sink every other wish in the absorbing one of the progress of the war without or with the Massachusetts Second, as it may happen.

We cross the Shenandoah at Snicker's Gap. The march is one of about sixty miles, and will occupy at least four days.

General Banks, who has just returned from Washington, seems in good spirits. He gives, however, a depressing account of the Congressional and political folly which continues to assail McClellan. If McClellan were all they charge him to be, their lips should be sealed.

Every good man will now seek to strengthen the hand and animate the purpose of the General under whose guidance the decisive campaign begins

The weather is breaking away, and promises no very severe penance for our march, though it is not fun that is before us next week. No news yet of Howard, I suppose. It is clear that he has been in one of the hottest battles of the war. You will not hear from me again till Centreville probably.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 214-5

Major Wilder Dwight: March 20, 1862

camp Near Winchester, Virginia, March 20, 1862.

I have no sympathy with the strains of peace which come to me in your last letters. Indeed, I am so much dispirited by our inaction, that I have hardly energy for letter writing or elasticity for effort of any kind. McClellan's order, which should be a clarion, is simply an irritant. Here we are, and it is a week since we pitched our tents near Winchester. Daily duty comes with every day. We have had our seed-time and our harvest season, but no fruit. . . . .  I presume I love life and home and friends as much as any one, but I would sooner give them all up to-day than have our regiment go home empty. . . . .

As for Howard, if he closed his eyes honorably on Pea Ridge he has only my envy.

I hope we may get orders of some kind soon. Even long marches and picket duty, of which we have done too much already, are better than this hopeless idleness in the rear of the vaunted Army of the Potomac.

If you have any prayers to give, give them all to the supplication that the Second Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers may find a field whereon to write a record of itself. Do not spend your days in weakly fearing or regretting this or that life, — lives whose whole sweetness and value depend upon their opportunities, not on their length.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 213-4

Major Wilder Dwight: March 13, 1862

Camp Near Winchester, March 13, 1862.

At last! My prophecy of yesterday found its fulfilment rapidly enough. Half an hour after my letter went on its way, Colonel Andrews brought the news that Hamilton's and Williams's brigades were in Winchester, as quietly and easily as if no hostile force had ever held it. Jackson left the night before, having held Hamilton and us in check all the previous day by slight demonstrations of cavalry. It is as I have always supposed, though this general exodus from Manassas and the whole line is more sudden than I believed possible. It gives us a stern chase, perhaps a long chase. After lunch the Colonel and I determined to gallop down from Berryville to Winchester to call on Hamilton and see the place, — a pleasant ride of ten miles. We approached the town from the east. The only symptom of fortification was a long rifle-pit, with a few platforms for guns, and one broken gun “truck,” or ship carriage. We found General Hamilton in command, and in tranquil possession. Jackson cleverly slipped away, carrying with him everything, — guns, stores, men. He had been moving for a fortnight, and has gone to the railway at Strasburg. I think we have lost time uselessly in our over-caution. Our own twenty-four hours' delay at Berryville is inexplicable to me. The effort, I think, should have been made by a movement to Millwood, and so across to the Strasburg pike, to cut off Jackson. A bold game would, perhaps, have bagged him. Still, while the position at Manassas was held, a bold game was too full of hazard. After the broad hint furnished us by the evacuation of Leesburg, however, I think we might have pushed on our intercepting column fearlessly. At any rate, the movement is without brilliancy or effectiveness or fruit, and only postpones and unsettles the time of our success. We got into the saddle again at half past five to return.

Just at dusk we came near Berryville. Whom should we meet but General Abercrombie. “The whole brigade is moving,” said he. “I have a telegraphic despatch from General Banks, that Hamilton is engaged with the enemy at Winchester. Shields has been taken prisoner, and the loss, on our part, is very heavy. We are ordered to march at once to his support.” “But it's all a mistake,” said we. “We just left General Hamilton safe and happy at Winchester, and no enemy within twenty miles.” “Never mind,” said the General; “I have my orders.” It was no use; he would not let us turn the regiment back, as we desired. There was nothing for it but to yield. We stopped and got some supper, and then followed the regiment, overtaking it at about eight o'clock, as it was crossing a stream. At about ten o'clock, wet and cold, we turned into a field near Winchester to bivouac for the night. A cold time we had of it. To-day we have got into camp near the town. I rode out this afternoon to see their vaunted fort on the road toward Bunker Hill; a poor affair enough. Everything tells me that if Patterson had had courage instead of caution, an army instead of a mob, we should have walked into Winchester last July as we have to-day. But we needed the lessons of that campaign to prepare for this.

I must not omit to mention the arrival of the boxes of clothing, from Mrs. Ticknor, on Saturday last at Charlestown. They came, like their predecessors, most opportunely. It was the morning after our night march over rough and muddy roads. Our camp was scourged by a blustering and piercing March wind. The boxes opened their warmth upon men who longed for it. Give our cordial thanks to all the ladies whose kindness has done so much for us.

Great news from Arkansas! Howard is in luck.

My last night's bivouac, after so many previous sleepless nights, has made me rather sleepy. Our regiment turned into a thick pine wood. Colonel Hackleman's Indiana regiment was just in our rear. They brought along with them the hens and chickens of the neighboring farms, and the feathers flew briskly about their beds. Old Hackleman calls them his “boys,” and they, in turn, call him “pap”; and he has a happy, noisy family about him. As they lay by our side last night, I was led to the remark, that Hackleman's babes were in the wood, and Robbin Henroosts had covered them with softer covering than leaves. Our regiment is in perfect condition, and the men have really become practised and expert soldiers. Our train came up this morning, and at about one o'clock we went into camp. Before sunset ovens were built, and we had a perfectly organized camp. We may not stay here a day, but everything takes shape at once. The men march easily and rapidly, and I am more than ever pleased and contented with the Second Regiment.

Have we not a Monitor afloat? Was not her providential arrival at Norfolk an effective admonition to the Rebels? Check to their king. Private enterprise has done what our Navy Department could not. What a glorious trial trip!

Just beyond the field in which we are encamped are the remains of the camp of the Second Virginia. An omen, perhaps; but this peaceable succession to vacant camps has in it little of the element that feeds martial ardor or rewards the ecstasy of strife! But how silently and surely we are dealing with slavery. The post at which I placed my grand guard yesterday was near a fine old farm-house. Its Rebel owner left with haste, as threw his shells with brilliant courage at four men and a threshing-machine which his distempered fancy had imagined and exaggerated into some new engine of destruction. All the negro servants were left in charge of the other property. This leaving one kind of property in possession of another kind of property hath in it a certain logical and natural inconsistency, which doth not fail to show itself in the practical result. “Massa's gone to Winchester. He in a big hurry. Yer's welcome to the hams and the other fixins. Massa very hospitable man.” So the negro makes free with his fellow-property with every right of succession and enjoyment that belongs to a next of kin. Why will he not also learn to make free with himself?

If he fails to do so, it will not be for the want of a good deal of rough but sage counsel from the “boys” of the Sixteenth Indiana Regiment, who were posted there. The Hoosiers have very vague notions of property and Rebel ownership at the best. They have not the capacity to rise to the height of contemplating human ownership. A long row of beehives were humming their peaceful labors in the front-yard. I hear that they soon fell into disorder, and that the Hoosiers had a ration of honey! Sic vos non vobis mellificatis apes! My Latin may be lame, but the sense is clear.

I send you a Richmond Enquirer, from the Winchester mail, seized yesterday; I send you also a paper published by the Twelfth Indiana on their advent to town. It is dull enough, but an odd institution, — a sort of turning of the Rebel batteries against themselves

The origin of General Banks's error about a battle at Winchester, which gave us our night stampede, is supposed to have been in the signal corps. Some one blundered a signal or forged one, we have not yet learned which; an investigation is going on.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 206-10

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Wednesday, March 12, 1862

A bright warm day. I go to Raleigh, bidding good-bye to Fayetteville. We entered Fayetteville either the 13th or 14th of November; four months in one home, not unpleasant months, considering the winter weather of this region. Rode to Fayetteville [slip of pen for Raleigh] on my new bright bay — a good ride. Reached Fayetteville [Raleigh] just as our regiment was forming for dress parade. Eight companies in line looked large. Was greeted warmly. I gave them the news of the evacuation of Manassas and the victory in Arkansas. Three cheers given for the news; three more for General Curtis, and three for the colonel! All seemed pleased to be again together. How well they looked. The band is in capital condition. How I love the Twenty-third. I would rather command it as lieutenant-colonel than to command another regiment as colonel.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 205-6

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Tuesday, March 11, 1862

A warm bright day. Dined at the hospital with our excellent assistant surgeon, Dr. McCurdy. Sent Company E to Raleigh. The last of the Twenty-third quartered in Fayette is gone. Camp Hayes, Raleigh, headquarters henceforth.

Heard of the evacuation of Manassas by the Rebels. If so, it is evidence of a breaking away that almost decides the contest. But how did they do it undisturbed? What was McClellan doing? A great victory over the combined forces of Van Doren, Price, McCulloch, and McIntosh reported to have occurred in Arkansas.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 205

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.

_______________

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 13, 1862

Our hearts are overwhelmed to-day with our private grief. Our connection, Gen. James Mcintosh, has fallen in battle. It was at Pea Ridge, Arkansas, on the 7th, while making a dashing cavalry charge. He had made one in which he was entirely successful, but seeing the enemy reforming, he exclaimed, “We must charge again. My men, who will follow me?” He then dashed off, followed by his whole brigade. The charge succeeded, but the leader fell, shot through the heart. The soldiers returned, bearing his body! My dear J. and her little Bessie are in Louisiana. I groan in heart when I think of her. Oh that I were near her, or that she could come to us! These are the things which are so unbearable in this war. That noble young man, educated at West Point, was Captain in the army, and resigned when his native Georgia seceded. He soon rose to the rank of Brigadier, but has fallen amid the flush of victory, honoured, admired and beloved by men and officers. He has been buried at Fort Smith. The Lord have mercy upon his wife and child! I am thankful that he had no mother to add to the heart-broken mothers of this land. The gallant Texas Ranger, General Ben McCulloch, fell on the same day; he will be sadly missed by the country. In my selfishness I had almost forgotten him, though he doubtless has many to weep in heart-sickness for their loved and lost.

Bishop Meade is desperately ill to-day — his life despaired of.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 100-1

Colonel Grenville M. Dodge to Sylvanus Dodge, April 2, 1862

St. Louis, Mo., April 2, 1862.

DEAR FATHER: — I know there is no one who would like to have a word from me more than you. I write but little — am very weak from my wounds; do not sit up much; but I hope ere long to be all right again. Nothing now but the battle will interest you. It was a terrible three days to me; how I got through God only knows. I got off a sick bed to go to the fight, and I never got a wink of sleep for three days and three nights. The engagement was so long and with us so hot that it did not appear possible for us to hold our ground. We lacked sadly in numbers and artillery, but with good judgment and good grit we made it win. My officers were very brave. Little Captain Taylor would stand and clap his hands as the balls grew thick. Captain Burton was as cool as a cucumber, and liked to have bled to death; then the men, as they crawled back wounded, would cheer me; cheer for the Union; and always say, “Don't give up Colonel, hang to em;” and many who were too badly wounded to leave the field stuck to their places, sitting on the ground, loading and firing. I have heard of brave acts, but such determined pluck I never before dreamed of. My flag-bearer, after having been wounded so he could not hold up the colors, would not leave them. I had to peremptorily order him off. One time when the enemy charged through my lines the boys drove them back in confusion. Price fought bravely; his men deserved a better fate, but although two to one they could not gain much. Their artillery was served splendidly — they had great advantage over us in this. Mine run out of ammunition long before night and left me to the mercy of their grape and canister. Had I have had my full battery at night I could have whipped them badly. After the Fourth Iowa's ammunition gave out or before this all the other Regiments and Brigades had given way, leaving me without support, and when I found my ammunition gone I never felt such a chilling in my life. It is terrible right in the midst of a hot contest to have your cartridges give out. We had fired forty-two rounds, and had but a few left. I saved them and ceased firing, falling back to my supports. The enemy charged me in full force. I halted and they came within fifty feet. We opened on them such a terrible fire they fled. General Curtis rode into the field then and asked me to charge. This would have blanched anybody but an Iowa soldier. No ammunition and to charge! We fixed bayonets, and as I gave the order the boys cheered and cheered, swinging their hats in every direction. CHARGE! and such a yell as they crossed that field with, you never heard — it was unearthly and scared the rebels so bad they never stopped to fire at us or to let us reach them. As we marched back, now dark, nearly one-half the entire Army had got on the ground and the black-coats (Fourth Iowa) had got their fame up. The charge without ammunition took them all, and as we passed down the line the whole Army cheered us. General Curtis complimented us on the field, and what was left of the Fourth Iowa held their heads high that night, though a gloomy one for those who knew our situation. The next morning it fell to my lot to open the battle with my artillery again, and for one hour we poured it into them hot and heavy. We opened with thirty-two guns; they answered with as many, and such a roar you never heard. The enemy could not stand it and fled. Our whole army deployed in sight that morning and it was a grand sight with the artillery playing in open view. I had read of such things, but they were beyond my conception. This closed the battle and we breathed free. I escaped most miraculously. A shell burst right in front of me, and, tearing away my saddle holsters and taking off a large piece of my pants, never even scratched me. My clothes were riddled and I got a hit in the side that is serious, but did not think of it at the time.

Yours, etc.,

G. M.

SOURCE: Grenville M. Dodge, The Battle of Atlanta: And Other Campaigns, Addresses, Etc., p. 35-6

Governor Samuel J. Kirkwood to Brigadier-General Francis J. Herron, January 6, 1863

Executive Office, Iowa,

Iowa City, Jan. 6, 1863.

General: — I wish I could shake hands with you and express to you verbally my thanks and congratulations for the well fought battle and dearly won victory of Prairie Grove. I have transmitted to the 19th and 20th letters of thanks, which I hope will be read to them. They have proved themselves worthy to be called “Iowa boys.”

General, you are surpassing yourself. Your name is in all men's mouths, and the people delight to speak the praises of our plucky little Iowa general. Wilson's Creek, Pea Ridge and Prairie Grove make a record of which any man may well be proud, and I assure you you can't feel more pride in that record than I do.

Very respectfully your obedient servant,

SAMUEL J. KIRKWOOD.

Brig.-Gen. J. F. Herron,

Commanding 2nd Division Army Frontier

SOURCE: Henry Warren Lathrop, The Life and Times of Samuel J. Kirkwood, Iowa's War Governor, p. 234

Governor Samuel J. Kirkwood to Governor Israel Washburne Jr, April 3, 1862

Executive Office, Iowa, April 3, 1862.

Hon. Israel Washburne, Jr., Governor of Maine, Augusta, Maine:

Sir: — I have just received a certified copy of the resolution of the general assembly of your state in reference to “our victories in the west.”

Please accept my thanks for the compliment paid to our western troops.

Permit me, however, to state that in my judgment strict justice has not been done to the troops from Iowa. The troops of Illinois are specially selected in the resolution for commendation for their gallant conduct at Fort Donelson. Too much honor cannot be given to the Illinois men for their gallantry there, unless, as in this case, it is done by preferring them to the troops of other states. The men of Illinois did bravely and well, and I shall never seek to pluck one leaf from the wreath of honor they there so nobly won; but it is not true, as is implied in the resolution, that they did more bravely or better than the men of Iowa. There was not any better fighting done by any of our troops at Fort Donelson than at the right of their entrenchments. There the crest of a long and steep hill was covered by well built rifle pits, defended by three of the best regiments in the rebel service. To their left, some 1,500 yards, was a rebel battery that swept the face of the hill with a cross fire. The face of the hill had been heavily timbered, but every standing tree had been cut down and thrown, with the tops down hill, in such manner as most effectually to retard the approach of an attacking force. At that point, through the fallen timber, exposed to that cross fire, and in the face of the three rebel regiments behind the rifle pits, a regiment of western men, with fixed bayonets, with guns at the trail, and without firing a shot, steadily and unswervingly charged up the hill and over the entrenchments, and planted the first union flag on that stronghold of treason. The men who did this were men of Iowa. The flag borne by them and the first planted on Fort Donelson now hangs over the chair of the speaker of the house of representatives, and will soon be deposited in our State Historical Society as one of the most sacred treasures of the state.

I cannot, therefore, by my silence, acquiesce in the implied assertion of the resolution of your general assembly that any other troops did better service at the capture of Fort Donelson than the troops of Iowa.

Three other Iowa regiments were engaged in the same fight, and although our gallant second, from the fact that they led the charge, deserved and received the greater honor, all did their duty nobly. Elsewhere than at Donelson — at Wilson's Creek, at Blue Mills, at Belmont, and at Pea Ridge — our Iowa men have been tried in the fiery ordeal of battle, and never found wanting. Their well earned fame is very dear to our people, and I trust you will recognize the propriety of my permitting no suitable occasion to pass of insisting upon justice being done them.

I have sent a copy of this letter to his excellency the governor of Illinois.

Very respectfully, your Obdt. Sevt.,

Samuel J. Kirkwood

SOURCES: State Historical Society of Iowa, Iowa Historical Record, Volumes 1-3, Volume 2, No. 3, July 1886, p. 327-8;  Henry Warren Lathrop, The Life and Times of Samuel J. Kirkwood, Iowa's War Governor, p. 180-1, which I believe incorrectly dates this letter as April 8, 1862, since this letter does not mention the Battle of Shiloh, which took place on April 6th & 7th, it is likely that April 3rd is the correct date for this letter.

Governor Samuel J. Kirkwood to Senator James W. Grimes, March 24, 1862

How about our Brigadiers? You know I long ago recommended Crocker, Dodge and Perczel and I yet think them among our best colonels as you will find when they are tried. Dodge has been tried at Pea Ridge and has turned out just as I expected. I think him one of the very best military men in the State. Has Lauman been appointed? He acted manfully at Belmont and deserves it. Tuttles charge at Donelson is one of the most brilliant of this or any other war. I have been on the ground he charged over, and I believe that none but Iowa troops could have done it. Vandever did nobly at Pea Ridge, so far as I have learned, and all our colonels and all our men will do the same as they get the chance.

Can't we get some more Brigadiers? What is the situation about Washington generally? Don't things look more hopeful? Take time to write me a long letter showing just how things stand. I thank you for your speech on the navy and the gallant Foote. He is a man all over.

SOURCE: Henry Warren Lathrop, The Life and Times of Samuel J. Kirkwood, Iowa's War Governor, p. 214

Beauregard’s Address

The following address has just been issued to our troops, who are confident of victory:

HEADQUARTERS OF THE FORCES AT

CORINTH, Miss, May 8, 1862.

Soldiers of Shiloh and Elkhorn:

We are about to meet once more, in the shock of battle, the invaders of our soil, the despoilers of our homes, the disturbers of our family ties, face to face, hand to hand, we are to decide whether we are to be freemen or vile slaves, of those who are only free in name, and who but yesterday were vanquished, although in largely superior numbers, in their own encampments, on the ever memorable field of Shiloh.  Let the impending battle decide our fate, and add a more illustrious page to the history of our revolution – one to which our children will point with noble pride, saying, “Our fathers were at the battle of Corinth.”  I congratulate you on your timely junction.  With your mingled banners, for the first time during this war, we shall meet our foe in strength that should give us victory.  Soldiers, can the result be doubtful?  Shall we not drive back in Tennessee the presumptuous mercenaries collected for our subjugation?  One more manly effort, and trusting in God and the justness of our cause, we shall recover more than we lately lost.  Let the sound of our victorious guns be re-echoed by those of the army of Virginia on the historic battlefield of Yorktown.

G. T. BEAUREGARD,

General Commanding.

J. M. OTEY, Acting Ass’t Adj. Gen.

– Southern Paper.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Tuesday Morning, May 20, 1862, p. 2

Mrs. Margaret D. Drips has been appointed . . .

. . . postmaster at Maquoketa, Jackson county, in this state, in the place of her husband Captain A. W. Drips, who was killed at the battle of Pea Ridge.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Friday Morning, May 16, 1862, p. 2

The Vallandigham Democracy

The edict has gone forth; the leaders of the Vallandigham Democratic party in Iowa, have called upon the debris of the secesh element in this State, to assemble in Convention at Des Moines on the 17th of July, for the purpose of nominating candidates of their own kidney for State officers.  The Democrat, of this city says, “the call purports to be authoritative, and that being the case there is no other course for Democrats to pursue, but to commence the work of the campaign.”  Democrats will take notice and act accordingly, there is no alternative left to them.  The question arises, who are Democrats?  Our neighbor seems to be slightly exercised in mind in respect to this question, and wishes to “know at the outset whether the Democracy of the State feel inclined to work together or not.”

That the old Democratic party is dead, we have the authority of some of its leaders for asserting, and the political history of the nation for declaring.  The attempt of Vallandingham [sic] and others of that stripe to resurrect it, has virtually proven a failure.  How it will succeed in Iowa remains to be seen.  In the language of a cotemporary, it is impossible to restore the Democratic party to power upon a platform disconnected from slavery.  The party relies upon its devotion to slavery for all its success in the future, for it very well knows that success depends on its ability to rally the extremists in the south to its aid, with the help of Vallandigham, on a pro-slavery platform.  It has already been declared to them, through Vallandigham, who is an extreme pro-slavery man, that if they will join forces with the conspirators, all projects for emancipation shall be opposed, and not even the plan suggested by the President shall be entertained. – The Union men in the South who may think well of the project for the emancipation of slaves, by the States in which slavery exists, are to be put down by this Great National, Conservative, Union, Democratic party, and slavery established forever.  It is not this what the Washington conference declared through Vallandigham when it made opposition to the President’s plan a doctrine of the proposed creed?

Can this dead body live again, clothed in its old garb?  Let those who fought at Pea Ridge, at Donelson and at Pittsburg answer.  Shall we again place slavery in power?  Not until the memory of the great rebellion fades from the memories of men.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Thursday Morning, May 15, 1862, p. 2