October 23, Friday. Only a portion of the Cabinet present and but little done. The Missouri difficulty discussed, etc.
Late this afternoon the Secretary of State made me a formal visit and introduced Mr. Bruzual, who comes to this country as Minister Extraordinary from Venezuela, and the Secretary of the Legation. Mr. Seward proceeded to say that the disturbances in Venezuela prevented our Government from recognizing Mr. B. for the present, but that he would soon be accredited. In the mean time he wishes to purchase a naval vessel for the use of his government. Mr. Seward said Venezuela was at peace with all the world, the purchase therefore would be proper and did not, in any way, compromise our Government, and he wished me to give Mr. B. a letter to Commodore Stribling at the Philadelphia Navy Yard to assist him, or to designate an officer who would. I made a suggestion or two in regard to the propriety of this proceeding, but Mr. Seward, who had to dispose of his as yet unaccredited minister, who is to receive official assistance, said it was all correct, perfectly proper, wrote me the address desired, that there should be no recognition or mention of Mr. B. as minister.
Colonel Lyons.
Stevenson, Ala., Oct. 23, 1863.—How little we know what is before us! We were ordered ten days ago to Battle Creek, on the river above Bridgeport, and a few days afterwards the place was changed to Anderson Cross Roads, way up in the mountain towards Chattanooga. The order came from General Morgan and we were to march when relieved by Gen. Hooker. The General never got ready to relieve us, and so we did not march under that order; but this afternoon the order came from Gen. Thomas, and is peremptory; and so we must go sometime tomorrow.
Adjt. Scott has gone up the railroad to see Ruger. He is at Tullahoma. Rain every day, and mud unfathomable. A nasty time to move, but soldiers must go without grumbling, when ordered.
I was mistaken when I said in my last that Gen Grant was at Gen. Hooker’s quarters. He was in town, and the three major-generals met at the cars, but Grant went on to Bridgeport. Next morning General Hooker came in and asked me to go to his quarters and see Gen. Rosecrans. I went, and was introduced. Gen. Rosecrans immediately said, ‘Gen. Hooker, this is my old Ft. Donelson commander,’ and he spoke very complimentarily of my administration of affairs there. He recollected me in Mississippi, upon my reminding him of one or two incidents that happened there.
The band of the 33d Massachusetts serenaded the generals, and they both made little speeches and both made failures. They can fight, but neither of them can make a speech.
My successor in the command of the post will be Colonel Cobham, of the 111th Pennsylvania. He will assume command in the morning. Come to think, you will want to know where we are going. We are ordered to Nashville. Aren’t you sorry? We go by railroad.
Friday, 23rd—Came on through to Calhoun and six miles below and staid all night. Raining all day and night.
Loudon, October 23d, 1863, 7 p. m.
This has been a dismal day. It reminds me of the day we crossed the Potomac last fall. It began to rain at 5 o’clock this morning, and has rained all day, and there is every prospect of a wet night.
I never think of that fearful night without a thrill of horror. I marched all that day in the pelting rain, soaked to the skin, and when night came, weary as I was, I faced the fierce northern blasts until morning. I date all my suffering from that dreadful night. Although this storm reminds me of that day, and, under similar circumstances would have been quite as unpleasant, yet I have passed it quite comfortably. My comrade and I have a good tent, each of us a blanket and rubber ponchos, which enables us to keep dry and warm. These rubbers are very useful. If overtaken by a storm while on the march, not only is the person kept dry, but his blankets and haversack. At night we spread it on the ground, and no moisture can reach the person.
But this storm; what will be its effect on military operations here? I confess to a feeling of anxiety; I fear we are to be again “stuck in the mud,” as at Fredericksburg. If this is really the beginning of the rainy season, we can do but little more. And so much remains to be done. We must occupy and hold this railroad, or evacuate East Tennessee, and that right speedily. We can get supplies in no other way. There are not mules enough in the United States to haul our supplies over the mountains in the winter. In fact, now, when the roads, are comparatively good, it cannot be done. We have been on half rations ever since we crossed the mountains.
But away with such gloomy thoughts, and let faith and hope prevail. Tomorrow may bring forth light from this pall of darkness.
Dickson Station, Ala., Friday, Oct. 23. Reveille before daylight. Raining very heavy. Orders to march at 7 A. M. We were on the advance of the column, and an order came to hitch up and strike tents before the cooks had breakfast started. The rain was very cold and my fingers were numb before I got my team harnessed and hitched. It was very disagreeable work. “Stand to Horse” was sounded before we were fairly hitched up, and we started out on a trot to pass the regiments as we were behindhand. The road was muddy and rough, the horses all trembling from cold, and the drivers with wet clothes and cold hands, shivering and wishing they could go to the stove and warm—(that is, in Wisconsin). But we moved on lively passing over several ridges, then the valley widened into a very pretty cultivated country. Our road lay along the railroad, the track of which was badly destroyed. All the trestle work burned, and a fire built at the end of each rail crooking it so as to destroy it. The column halted at Dickson Station, a tiny depot building with a fine farming country on each side and extensive buildings. The fence was torn down, and we came into battery in a field of clover. A large fire of rails was started, and we warmed while the General looked for camping ground and water. In half an hour Dillon’s orderly came back and we moved to the right half a mile, and came into camp nearly on the bluffs, unharnessed, tied our horses to the trees and stuck up our tents in the mud, but found boards to floor it and plenty of rye straw to lie on. We built a fire in front of it, and got partly warmed by 1 P. M. I was soon called on guard and I suffered very much from the cold.
Henry Adams to Charles Francis Adams, Jr.
London, October 23, 1863
I write and read, and read and write. Two years ago I began on history, our own time. I labored at financial theories, and branched out upon Political Economy and J. S. Mill. Mr. Mill’s works, thoroughly studied, led me to the examination of philosophy and the great French thinkers of our own time; they in their turn passed me over to others whose very names are now known only as terms of reproach by the vulgar; the monarchist, Hobbes, the atheist Spinoza and so on. Where I shall end, das weiss der liebe Gott! Probably my career will be brought up at the treadmill of the bar some day, for which, believe me, philosophy is as little adapted as war. Who will lead us back to the pleasant pastures and show us again the rich grain of the lawyer’s office! Verily I say unto you, the time cometh and even now is when neither in these mountains nor in Jerusalem ye shall worship the idols of your childhood.
Did you ever read Arthur Clough’s Poems? the man that wrote that pastoral with the unpronounceable name, the Bothie of Toper-na-Vuolich. If you have not, I would like to send them to you. Young England, young Europe, of which I am by tastes and education a part; the young world, I believe, in every live country, are reflected in Clough’s poems very clearly. Strange to say, even Oxford, that most Catholic of conservative places, has become strongly tinged with the ideas of the new school. John Stuart Mill ranks even there rather higher than the authorities of the place itself, with which he is waging internecine war. Whether this gentle simmering will ever boil anything, who can say?
Meanwhile we wait still for the result of your military evolutions. I cannot imagine that Lee means to attack you, and yet I am equally unable to comprehend how he can maintain himself. I don’t think his report on the Gettysburg campaign has raised his reputation here. There is such a thing as too candid confession of defeat, and he certainly does n’t conceal his blunders.
23rd. Cloudy, started out at 8. Commenced raining. Slippery and nasty roads. Passed the train. When 6 miles from Jonesboro stopped at a big house for dinner and feed. Old rebel wanted Confederate money for pay. Let the boys stay over night. Went on and found all regiment but stragglers gone to Watauga River. Two letters from home, seemed good.
Friday, 23d—It rained all day, but that did not affect our camp routine. I was on camp guard, and large details were out at work, as every day, on the fortifications.
Unidentified soldier in Union shell jacket and forage cap with holstered sword
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Sixth-plate tintype, hand-colored ; 9.4 x 8.1 cm (case)
Liljenquist Family Collection of Civil War Photographs; Ambrotype/Tintype photograph filing series; Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.
Record page for image is here.
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Note – This image has been digitally adjusted for one or more of the following:
- fade correction,
- color, contrast, and/or saturation enhancement
- selected spot and/or scratch removal
- cropped for composition and/or to accentuate subject matter
- straighten image
Civil War Portrait 071
October 23d. Left Auburn Mills at 7 A. M. to-day and marched towards Warrenton, bivouacking four miles north of it, at a place called Turkey Run bridge; weather very fine, no enemy in sight. Remained in this position until November 7th; are laying the railroad, rebuilding bridges, putting up telegraph wires, etc.
