Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 5, 1864

Cool and dry, everything suffering for rain.

All quiet about Petersburg, but later in the day a rumor sprung up that fighting had recommenced there. I doubt it, because by Northern accounts I see Gen. Early is destroying railroads beyond the Potomac, and will undoubtedly threaten Washington itself. If Grant fails to send troops there, Early may even throw shell into the Federal city.

Peter V. Daniel sends the Secretary of War a letter from Mr. Westmoreland, Wilmington, complaining that he is not allowed by government agents to transport cotton to that port, where his steamers are, in redemption of Confederate States bonds, while private persons, for speculative purposes, are, through the favor (probably for a consideration) of government officials, enabled to ship thousands of bales, and he submits a copy of a correspondence with Col. Sims, Assistant Quartermaster-General, and Lieut.Col. Bayne, who is charged with the control of the exporting and importing business. Mr. Daniel thinks there is some “bribery and corruption" even in the South. But Mr. Seddon is incredulous sometimes.

The express company has an arrangement with Col. Sims, the Assistant Quartermaster-General, by which much freight is transported.

New potatoes are selling at $4 per quart in the market.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 244-5

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 13, 1863

Rained last night—and this morning we have warm April weather and bright sunshine.

It is getting to be the general belief among men capable of reflection, that no jugglery can save the Confederate States currency. As well might one lift himself from the earth by seizing his feet, as to legislate a remedy. Whatever scheme may be devised to increase the value of the Confederate States paper money, the obligor is the same. For the redemption of the currency (now worth about five cents in specie to the dollar), every citizen, and every description of property, has been pledged; and as the same citizens and the same property must be pledged for the redemption of any newly created currency, there is no reason to suppose it would not likewise run the same career of depreciation. Nor can bonds be worth more than notes. Success in the field, only, can appreciate either; for none will or can be paid, if we fail to achieve independence.

The weather, this afternoon, is warm, calm, and clear; but the roads are too soft for military operations.

I am reading the Memoirs of Bishop Doane, by his son, Rev. William Croswell Doane. He was the great bishop truly; and his son proves an admirable biographer. I knew the bishop personally, and much of his personal history; and hence this work is to me, and must be to many others, very interesting. The coming year is to be an eventful one. We shall be able (I hope) to put 400,000 effective men in the field; and these, well handled, might resist a million of assailants from without. We have the center, they the circumference; let them beware of 1864—when the United States shall find herself in the throes of an embittered Presidential contest!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 114-5

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 24, 1862

The Louisville Journal says the defeat of Burnside is “sickening,” and that this sad condition of affairs cannot be borne long.

It is said that Confederate bonds are bringing quite as much in New York as in Richmond; and that the bonds of Southern men are freely discounted in the North. These, if true, are indications of approaching peace. Cotton at 50 cents per pound, and our capacity to produce five million bales per annum must dazzle the calculating Yankees. A single crop worth $1,000,000,000! What interest or department of industry in the United States can promise such results?

Letters were received to-day from Nassau, dated 12th December. Mr. L. Heyliger, our agent, reports a number of steamers sailing, and about to sail, with large amounts of stores and goods of all kinds, besides plates for our navy. A Mr. Wiggs has several steamers engaged in this business. Our government own some, and private individuals (foreign speculators) are largely engaged in the trade. Most of these steamers run sixteen miles an hour.

A Mr. Hart, agent for S. Isaac Campbell & Co., London, proposes to clothe and equip 100,000 men for us, and to receive certificates for specific amounts of cotton. This same house has, on this, it is said, advanced as much as $2,000,000 on our account. This looks cheering. We have credit abroad. But they are Jews.

Mr. Heyliger says he has seen letters from the United States, conveying information that Charleston is to be attacked about the holidays — the ensuing week — by four iron-clad gun-boats. Well, I believe we have three there; so let them come!

Every day we have propositions to supply the army and the country with goods, for cotton; and they succeed in delivering stores, etc., in spite of the vigilance of the Federal blockading squadrons. There is a prospect that we shall have abundance of everything some of these days. But there is some wrangling. The Quartermaster-General complains to-day that Lieut.-Gen. Pemberton has interfered with his agents, trading cotton for stores. Myers is a Jew, and Pemberton a Yankee — so let them fight it out.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 223-4

Diary of William Howard Russell: June 7, 1861

The Confederate issue of ten millions sterling, in bonds payable in twenty years is not sufficient to meet the demands of Government; and the four millions of small Treasury notes, without interest, issued by Congress, are being rapidly absorbed. Whilst the Richmond papers demand an immediate movement on Washington, the journals of New York are clamoring for an advance upon Richmond. The planters are called upon to accept the Confederate bonds in payment of the cotton to be contributed by the States.

Extraordinary delusions prevail on both sides. The North believe that battalions of scalping Indian savages are actually stationed at Harper's Ferry. One of the most important movements has been made by Major-General McClellan, who has marched a force into Western Virginia from Cincinnati, has occupied a portion of the line of the Baltimore and Ohio railway, which was threatened with destruction by the Secessionists; and has already advanced as far as Grafton. Gen. McDowell has been appointed to the command of the Federal forces in Virginia. Every day regiments are pouring down from the North to Washington. General Butler, who is in command at Fortress Monroe, has determined to employ negro fugitives, whom he has called “Contrabands,” in the works about the fort, feeding them, and charging the cost of their keep against the worth of their services; and Mr. Cameron, the Secretary of War, has ordered him to refrain from surrendering such slaves to their masters, whilst he is to permit no interference by his soldiers with the relations of persons held to service under the laws of the States in which they are in.

Mr. Jefferson Davis has arrived at Richmond. At sea the Federal steamers have captured a number of Southern vessels; and some small retaliations have been made by the Confederate privateers. The largest mass of the Confederate troops have assembled at a place called Manassas Junction, on the railway from Western Virginia to Alexandria.

The Northern papers are filled with an account of a battle at Philippi, and a great victory, in which no less than two of their men were wounded and two were reported missing as the whole casualties; but Napoleon scarcely expended so much ink over Austerlitz as is absorbed on this glory in the sensation headings of the New York papers.

After breakfast I accompanied a party of Mr. Burnside's friends to visit the plantations of Governor Manning, close at hand. One plantation is as like another as two peas. We had the same paths through tasselling corn, high above our heads, or through wastes of rising sugar-cane; but the slave quarters on Governor Manning's were larger, better built, and more comfortable-looking than any I have seen.

Mr. Bateman, the overseer, a dour strong man, with spectacles on nose, and a quid in his cheek, led us over the ground. As he saw my eye resting on a large knife in a leather case stuck in his belt, he thought it necessary to say, “I keep this to cut my way through the cane-brakes about; they are so plaguey thick.”

All the surface water upon the estate is carried into a large open drain, with a reservoir in which the fans of a large wheel, driven by steam-power, are worked so as to throw the water over to a cut below the level of the plantation, which carries it into a bayou connected with the lower Mississippi.

In this drain one of my companions saw a prodigious frog, about the size of a tortoise, on which he pounced with alacrity; and on carrying his prize to land he was much congratulated by his friend. “What on earth will you do with the horrid reptile?” “Do with it! why, eat it to be sure.” And it is actually true, that on our return the monster “crapaud” was handed over to the old cook, and presently appeared on the breakfast-table, looking very like an uncommonly fine spatch-cock, and was partaken of with enthusiasm by all the company.

From the draining-wheel we proceeded to visit the forest, where negroes were engaged in clearing the trees, turning up the soil between the stumps, which marked where the mighty sycamore, live oak, gum-trees, and pines had lately shaded the rich earth. In some places the Indian corn was already waving its head and tassels above the black gnarled roots ; in other spots the trees, girdled by the axe, but not yet down, rose up from thick crops of maize; and still deeper in the wood negroes were guiding the ploughs, dragged with pain and difficulty by mules, three abreast, through the tangled roots and rigid earth, which will next year be fit for sowing. There were one hundred and twenty negroes at work; and these, with an adequate number of mules, will clear four hundred and fifty acres of land this year. “But it's death on niggers and mules,” said Mr. Bateman. “We generally do it with Irish, as well as the hedging and ditching; but we can't get them now, as they are all off to the wars.”

Although the profits of sugar are large, the cost of erecting the machinery, the consumption of wood in the boiler, and the scientific apparatus, demand a far larger capital than is required by the cotton planter, who, when he has got land, may procure negroes on credit, and only requires food and clothing till he can realize the proceeds of their labor, and make a certain fortune. Cotton will keep where sugar spoils. The prices are far more variable in the latter, although it has a protective tariff of twenty per cent.

The whole of the half million of hogsheads of the sugar grown in the South is consumed in the United States, whereas most of the cotton is sent abroad; but in the event of a blockade the South can use its sugar ad nauseam, whilst the cotton is all but useless in consequence of the want of manufacturers in the South.

When I got back, Mr. Burnside was seated in his veranda, gazing with anxiety, but not with apprehension, on the marching columns of black clouds, which were lighted up from time to time by heavy flashes, and shaken by rolls of thunder. Day after day the planters have been looking for rain, tapping glasses, scrutinizing aneroids, consulting negro weather prophets, and now and then their expectations were excited by clouds moving down the river, only to be disappointed by their departure into space, or, worse than all, their favoring more distant plantations with a shower that brought gold to many a coffer. “Did you ever see such luck? Kenner has got it again! That's the third shower Bringier has had in the last two days.”

But it was now the turn of all our friends to envy us a tremendous thunder-storm, with a heavy, even downfall of rain, which was sucked up by the thirsty earth almost as fast as it fell, and filled the lusty young corn with growing pains, imparting such vigor to the cane that we literally saw it sprouting up, and could mark the increase in height of the stems from hour to hour.

My good host is rather uneasy about his prospects this year, owing to the war; and no wonder. He reckoned on an income of £100,000 for his sugar alone; but if he cannot send it North it is impossible to estimate the diminution of his profits. I fancy, indeed, he more and more regrets that he embarked his capital in these great sugar-swamps, and that he would gladly now invest it at a loss in the old country, of which he is yet a subject; for he has never been naturalized in the United States. Nevertheless, he rejoices in the finest clarets, and in wines of fabulous price, which are tended by an old white-headed negro, who takes as much care of the fluid as if he was accustomed to drink it every day.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 280-3

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: May 2, 1864

Just taken leave of J. J., who has gone to Halifax, where the Bishop resides. It seems so strange that she does not want to go to the country. If I could only get to some quiet nook, some lodge in a vast wilderness, where rumours of unsuccessful or successful war could never reach me more, I think I should be happy. The Bishop says it is too expensive here for his income, and so it is for everybody's income, but were we to leave it we should have none; our whole dependence is now upon the Government, except the interest on a small amount invested in Confederate bonds.

Our army, it is said, is fighting at or near Newbern, North Carolina. I trust they are following up the Plymouth victory.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 260-1

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: May 24, 1862

The enemy are landing at Georgetown. With a little more audacity where could they not land? But we have given them such a scare, they are cautious. If it be true, I hope some cool-headed white men will make the negroes save the rice for us. It is so much needed. They say it might have been done at Port Royal with a little more energy. South Carolinians have pluck enough, but they only work by fits and starts; there is no continuous effort; they can't be counted on for steady work. They will stop to play — or enjoy life in some shape.

Without let or hindrance Halleck is being reenforced. Beauregard, unmolested, was making some fine speeches — and issuing proclamations, while we were fatuously looking for him to make a tiger's spring on Huntsville. Why not? Hope springs eternal in the Southern breast.

My Hebrew friend, Mem Cohen, has a son in the war. He is in John Chesnut's company. Cohen is a high name among the Jews: it means Aaron. She has long fits of silence, and is absent-minded. If she is suddenly roused, she is apt to say, with overflowing eyes and clasped hands, “If it please God to spare his life.” Her daughter is the sweetest little thing. The son is the mother's idol. Mrs. Cohen was Miriam de Leon. I have known her intimately all my life.

Mrs. Bartow, the widow of Colonel Bartow, who was killed at Manassas, was Miss Berrien, daughter of Judge Berrien, of Georgia. She is now in one of the departments here, cutting bonds — Confederate bonds — for five hundred Confederate dollars a year, a penniless woman. Judge Carroll, her brother-in-law, has been urgent with her to come and live in his home. He has a large family and she will not be an added burden to him. In spite of all he can say, she will not forego her resolution. She will be independent. She is a resolute little woman, with the softest, silkiest voice and ways, and clever to the last point.

Columbia is the place for good living, pleasant people, pleasant dinners, pleasant drives. I feel that I have put the dinners in the wrong place. They are the climax of the good things here. This is the most hospitable place in the world, and the dinners are worthy of it.

In Washington, there was an endless succession of state dinners. I was kindly used. I do not remember ever being condemned to two dull neighbors: on one side or the other was a clever man; so I liked Washington dinners.

In Montgomery, there were a few dinners — Mrs. Pollard's, for instance, but the society was not smoothed down or in shape. Such as it was it was given over to balls and suppers. In Charleston, Mr. Chesnut went to gentlemen's dinners all the time; no ladies present. Flowers were sent to me, and I was taken to drive and asked to tea. There could not have been nicer suppers, more perfect of their kind than were to be found at the winding up of those festivities.

In Richmond, there were balls, which I did not attend — very few to which I was asked: the MacFarlands' and Lyons's, all I can remember. James Chesnut dined out nearly every day. But then the breakfasts — the Virginia breakfasts — where were always pleasant people. Indeed, I have had a good time everywhere — always clever people, and people I liked, and everybody so good to me.

Here in Columbia, family dinners are the specialty. You call, or they pick you up and drive home with you. “Oh, stay to dinner!” and you stay gladly. They send for your husband, and he comes willingly. Then comes a perfect dinner. You do not see how it could be improved; and yet they have not had time to alter things or add because of the unexpected guests. They have everything of the best — silver, glass, china, table linen, and damask, etc. And then the planters live “within themselves,” as they call it. From the plantations come mutton, beef, poultry, cream, butter, eggs, fruits, and vegetables.

It is easy to live here, with a cook who has been sent for training to the best eating-house in Charleston. Old Mrs. Chesnut's Romeo was apprenticed at Jones's. I do not know where Mrs. Preston's got his degree, but he deserves a medal.

At the Prestons', James Chesnut induced Buck to declaim something about Joan of Arc, which she does in a manner to touch all hearts. While she was speaking, my husband turned to a young gentleman who was listening to the chatter of several girls, and said: "Ecoutez!" The youth stared at him a moment in bewilderment; then, gravely rose and began turning down the gas. Isabella said: “Écoutez, then, means put out the lights.”

I recall a scene which took place during a ball given by Mrs. Preston while her husband was in Louisiana. Mrs. Preston was resplendent in diamonds, point lace, and velvet. There is a gentle dignity about her which is very attractive; her voice is low and sweet, and her will is iron. She is exceedingly well informed, but very quiet, retiring, and reserved. Indeed, her apparent gentleness almost amounts to timidity. She has chiseled regularity of features, a majestic figure, perfectly molded.

Governor Manning said to me: “Look at Sister Caroline. Does she look as if she had the pluck of a heroine?” Then he related how a little while ago William, the butler, came to tell her that John, the footman, was drunk in the cellar — mad with drink; that he had a carving-knife which he was brandishing in drunken fury, and he was keeping everybody from their business, threatening to kill any one who dared to go into the basement. They were like a flock of frightened sheep down there. She did not speak to one of us, but followed William down to the basement, holding up her skirts. She found the servants scurrying everywhere, screaming and shouting that John was crazy and going to kill them. John was bellowing like a bull of Bashan, knife in hand, chasing them at his pleasure.

Mrs. Preston walked up to him. “Give me that knife,” she demanded. He handed it to her. She laid it on the table. “Now come with me,” she said, putting her hand on his collar. She led him away to the empty smoke-house, and there she locked him in and put the key in her pocket. Then she returned to her guests, without a ripple on her placid face. “She told me of it, smiling and serene as you see her now,” the Governor concluded.

Before the war shut him in, General Preston sent to the lakes for his salmon, to Mississippi for his venison, to the mountains for his mutton and grouse. It is good enough, the best dish at all these houses, what the Spanish call “the hearty welcome.” Thackeray says at every American table he was first served with “grilled hostess.” At the head of the table sat a person, fiery-faced, anxious, nervous, inwardly murmuring, like Falstaff, “Would it were night, Hal, and all were well.”

At Mulberry the house is always filled to overflowing, and one day is curiously like another. People are coming and going, carriages driving up or driving off. It has the air of a watering-place, where one does not pay, and where there are no strangers. At Christmas the china closet gives up its treasures. The glass, china, silver, fine linen reserved for grand occasions come forth. As for the dinner itself, it is only a matter of greater quantity — more turkey, more mutton, more partridges, more fish, etc., and more solemn stiffness. Usually a half-dozen persons unexpectedly dropping in make no difference. The family let the housekeeper know; that is all.

People are beginning to come here from Richmond. One swallow does not make a summer, but it shows how the wind blows, these straws do — Mrs. “Constitution” Browne and Mrs. Wise. The Gibsons are at Doctor Gibbes's. It does look squally. We are drifting on the breakers.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 165-9

Special to New York Papers

(Times Special.)

WASHINGTON, April 8. – Gen. T. W. Sherman just relieved by Gen. Hunter, arrived here to-day from Port Royal and reported himself at the War Department.  He expresses the opinion that before this Fort Pulaski has been attacked and has no doubts of its final capture.

A General who arrived here from Port Royal yesterday says several contrabands who came within our lines a few days since and reported that they were direct from Charleston, and that the people of that city were fearing an attack from our forces, and complained bitterly that nearly all their troops were in Virginia, and in the west.

Maj. S. W. Crawford was nominated by the President to-day, to the Senate as Brigadier General of Volunteers.

The Times correspondent writes from Liverpool Point, April 8th, that several Virginians belonging to Falworth, Fredericksburg, and Stafford, have come over to Liverpool Point.  They say that the reconnoissance created the most intense excitement at Fredericksburg.  Every vehicle capable of transporting goods was bro’t into requisition; while whole families left for Richmond, leaving everything behind them.  Orders were given by Gen. Walker, commandant at Fredericksburg, for all his available force to leave immediately for Brookstown, along the line of the railroad, and repel the advance of the invaders.  They also report a battle having been fought between 500 Texas cavalry and Sickles’ entire forces, just before entering Stafford; they put down Sickles’ loss at 350 and their own as only 13.  The effective force of the rebels between Fredericksburg and Acquia Creek is less than four thousand; beyond Fredericksburg to Richmond, probably ten thousand including a few batteries of artillery.

There was no scarcity of provisions.

Confederate bonds can be bought for 5 cents on the dollar.  Shin plasters issued by banks and private parties are of more value, commanding a hundred dollars in specie for every thousand dollars.

It is said to be the intention of the Confederate Government to abandon Virginia unless the people of the State render more aid of men and money.

Gen Wigfall commands a brigade five miles from Fredericksburg.  He has had a serious misunderstanding with the General commanding Holla, and has accordingly forwarded to Richmond his resignation.

All men supposed to be for the Union are relieved of their property with impunity, and no redress can be had.  In consequence of this most Union men are very quiet.

During the embarking of our troops from Liverpool Point a large number of Maryland slave holders lined the shore on horseback, said to be looking for lost slaves.

No slaves from Maryland or Virginia were allowed to go on board our transports.  Some few negroes were taken as servants.  There were about 800 female slaves left at Liverpool Point and Mulatto Woman Creek without any protection.  Some of the slave owners threaten to make trouble.

(Special to World.)

WASHINGTON, April 9. – The World’s correspondence at Warrenton brings the following to-day:

The advance forces are now resting on the Rappahannock, our pickets extending to that stream.  The railroad is now in running order to Cedar Run, within two miles of Warrenton Junction and thirteen miles from the Rappahannock River.  It will take several days to complete the bridge over Cedar Run, as the recent storm has swollen all the streams very much. – Neither Bull nor Cedar Run can be forded at present, and no troops can move except by rail.

The cavalry pickets extend some distance south-east of Brentsville, and skirmishes with the rebel scouts are of daily occurrence.

As the army proceeds south the country begins to present fewer of the ravages of the enemy, though in no vicinity has there yet been discovered sufficient supplies to support either the men or horses for more than one day.

The reports of the enemy’s position are indefinite and uncertain.  Contrabands and refugees from Fauquier and Culpepper say that the rebel army have dwindled greatly in its proportions, and that it is retreating upon Richmond as fast as possible, leaving nothing but scouts and guerrillas in its rear to watch our movements.  It would seem from this that the rebels are not reinforcing Magruder, and intend to make a stand this side of Richmond.

(Tribune’s Dispatch.)

It is understood that the Department of the South, of which Gen. Hunter has been put in command, will be thoroughly re-organized.  Gen. Sherman will be followed North by his Brigadier Generals Wright and Viele; but it is unknown who will fill the place they vacate.

It is also believed that Gen. Hunter will rightfully treat South Carolina and Georgia as rebels, and not as sovereign States.

The Senate to-day ratified two treaties, the commercial treaty with the Ottoman Porte, and the Mexican extradition treaty, negotiated by Minister Corwin.

The former, which is extremely liberal in its provisions, provides for its continuance for 50 years.  One stipulation of the latter is to the effect that the frontier States, the respective parties shall deliver up persons for whose surrender application is made without delay and expense of an appeal to Washington or the City of Mexico, elicited much discussion, and finally passed by barely one more than the constitutional majority, 27 to 13.

– Published in the Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 12, 1862, p. 3

Brownlow makes Another Speech

At a meeting of the Pioneer Association of Cincinnati, held on Saturday last, Parson Brownlow made another characteristic speech.  We find it reported in the Gazette:

GENTLEMEN:  I feel called upon to respond to the document read by the honorable secretary, and also the address of the gentlemen from the General Assembly who has just taken his seat.  I authorize the gentleman and the honorable Secretary to say, that I shall be proud and happy to visit the capital as the guest of the General Assembly; but I cannot say when I shall be able to accept their kind invitation. – The truth is, I have completely taken in my friend, the host of the Gibson House, who on my arrival here in this city, came to meet me on the steamboat, and invited me to make his house my home during my stay here.  I fear he will get more than he bargained for.  I am very comfortable there, and shall certainly enjoy his hospitality some while longer yet.  But still, I want to visit the capital of your State, to undo the machinations and refute the sayings of a certain bogus nephew of mine, whom, if God does not know anything more about him than I do, will be inevitably and irretrievably lost in a coming day.

My mind has been variously exercised while I have been sitting here.  This is not a society of young men and boys, but a society of old men; men who are true to the backbone – loyal, faithful, patriotic men, who old as they are would lay down with eager joy a life almost worn out under the beneficent protection of the best Government ever established on God’s beautiful earth.  They are honest men – none of your mean, pitiful, swindling, God-forsaken, rascally demagogues, who have used the strength God endowed them with to endeavor to overturn his most sacred institution – our Government.  I am no candidate for popular favor – I want no office, although I did take a tilt against Isham Harris. [Laughter.]  I am not adapted for an office, and as I said before, I don’t want one; but I am a Federal, and I believe in a strong Government – one that has the power and the ability and the energy to put down treason – to crush out traitors; and in short, gentlemen, to take care of itself.  I think that your present Government is the right kind of Government, but still not entirely so, inasmuch as it is hardly in earnest enough in the stupendous work it is now occupied in; but I hope and believe that with God’s help and our backing, that this Government will soon put down the most diabolical treason that has ever been seen in any part of the world.

I have fought many battles; religious battles, political battles and every other kind of battles, and I have encountered the devil, Tom Walker and the Southern Confederacy, [Laughter and applause,] and it has gone hard with one to be called after, and pointed at so long, as a traitor, by all the miserable, sneaking, cowardly rascals who have torn and rent this glorious Union apart.  My father was a volunteer in my country’s army and my uncle lived and died in the service of his country, and thank God their graves are still in possession of the Federals.  My mother’s relatives also shed their blood at their country’s call at Norfolk, and yet I am called a traitor, and by such despicable men as compose the Southern Confederacy.

Mr. Eggelston alluded to the crushing out of my paper.  Yes, gentlemen, the office from which came the last sheets in defense of the Union, ever published in Knoxville, was cleaned out and converted into a workshop for repairing and altering all the arms stolen by that accomplished thief and runaway, Floyd.  All my ambition now, is to go back once more to Knoxville to establish another office.  Once more to spread abroad the glorious truths of the Union; and once more to take from a drawer in my own house, the flag which so long waved defiantly in the breeze, while these hellhounds were longing, and yet not daring to tear down and trample it in the dust.

I would never have taken down that flag but for the females in my own house, who besought and entreated me to do so, lest the house should be torn down about their ears.

One day a crowd surrounded my house and threatened to tear down my flag; but I warned them they would have to do it in the face of six loaded muskets, which would be used by men who would never flinch from their duty.  They took sober second thought, and marched away, but presently about fifteen came back again, drunker than ever, led by a young officer who was desired to tear the d----d thing of a flag down.  In the meanwhile, I had left my house and gone to the office, leaving my wife in charge.  She came forward and expressed her intention of shooting the first man who attempted to haul down the flag.  The officer was slightly scared, and said:

“Madam, you won’t shoot, will you?”

“You had better try the experiment,” said she.

“Go on, go on!” shouted the crowd, “She daren’t shoot!”

She instantly drew from her pocket one of the Colt’s revolvers and cocking leveled it at the officer’s head.  “Never mind her, she’s only a woman,” cried the mob.  “By God! look at her eye,” said the officer as, as he made a low bow, scraped the ground and toddled off, followed by the whole crowd.  The gentleman addressed me expressing his regret that my paper is stopped and my office is closed, and I reply to him that all my ambition is to go back to Knoxville and resurrect my old paper.  To go back with new presses and new type, and with a soul renewed and revived by a baptism in the glorious liberty of northern States.  And I also want to go back there, and repay a debt of gratitude I owe to about one hundred and fifty of the most unmitigated scoundrels that can be found on the face of the earth.  To liberate a people oppressed and defrauded by the most Satanic conspiracy ever consummated.  Defrauded and duped by Southern confederacy bonds.  Bonds having on one side a full length portrait of Jeff. Davis and a picture of a henroost on the other, bearing on them the words: “I promise to pay, six months after declaration of peace between the Southern Confederacy and the United States of North America, $50.”

They have fixed a time which never can and never will come.  The only treaty of peace which we can have will be accomplished with powder and ball and river gunboats.  There is nothing which fills a rebel with so much horror as gunboats.  They would rather meet Old Nick, horns and all, than to meet our gunboats.  But this is not strange, perhaps, when we recollect their near relationship to that sable individual.

Some time since, I stood alone amidst 2,000 rebel soldiers, and I said, in my address to them: “It is you of the South that are to blame.  The North have not precipitated this war on us; it is you who have done it.  You complained of an infringement of Southern rights when there was no infringement.  You complained of Northern encroachments when there were none, and you have rushed into a war of the most wicked kind, without the shadow of reason.”

But, gentlemen of Ohio, I do not and cannot exonerate the North, and I say in brief to you, that if, fifty years ago, we had taken 100 Southern Fire-eaters and 100 Northern Abolitionists and hanged them up and buried them in a common ditch and sent their souls to hell, we should have had none of this war. [Immense applause.]  I am speaking too long [Cries of “No! no!”  “Go on!”  “Don’t allow that talk.”]  But in looking around on this assembly I notice that Time has written his mark unmistakably on the countenances of a large proportion of this audience.  Many are growing gray; I am getting old myself, and I know not how soon the span of our existence may be shortened and the spirit take its flight to realms of eternal joy and happiness or everlasting misery.  It behooves us all then, to see to it that we are prepared for this change wherever and whenever it may come, and may God in his infinite mercy bless and keep us all.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 5, 1862, p. 1