Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

July 4, 1868

Gentlemen Of The Convention,—It is my privilege to-day to welcome you here in this hall, constructed with so much artistic taste, and tendered to you by the time-honored Society of Tammany. I welcome you to this magnificent temple, erected to the Goddess of Liberty by her staunchest defenders and most fervent worshippers. I welcome you to this good city of New York, the bulwark of Democracy, which has rolled back the surging waves of radicalism through all the storms of the last eight years, and I welcome you, gentlemen, to our Empire State, which last fall redeemed herself from Republican misrule by a majority of nearly fifty thousand votes, and which claims the right to lead the vanguard of victory in the great battle to be fought next November for the preservation of our institutions, our laws, and our liberties.

It is a most auspicious omen that we meet under such circumstances, and are surrounded by such associations, and I share your own confident hope of the overwhelming success of the ticket, and the platform which will be the result of your deliberations. For it is to the American people that our appeal lies. Their final judgment will be just. The American people will no longer remain deaf to the teachings of the past.  They will remember that it was under successive Democratic administrations, based upon our national principles, the principles of Constitutional liberty, that our country rose to a prosperity and greatness unsurpassed in the annals of history; they will remember the days when North and South marched shoulder to shoulder together in the conquest of Mexico, which gave us our golden empire on the Pacific, our California and our Oregon, now the strongholds of a triumphant Democracy; they will remember the days when peace and plenty reigned over the whole Union, when we had no national debt to crush the energies of the people, when the Federal tax-gatherer was unknown throughout the vast extent of the land, and when the credit of the United States stood as high in the money marts of the world as that of any other government; and they will remember, with a wise sorrow, that, with the downfall of the Democratic party, in 1860, came that fearful civil war which has brought mourning and desolation into every household; has cost the loss of a million of American citizens, and has left us with a national debt, the burden of which drains the resources, cripples the industry, and impoverishes the labor of the country. They will remember that, after the fratricidal strife was over, when the bravery of our army and navy and the sacrifices of the people had restored the Union, and vindicated the supremacy of the law, when the victor and the vanquished were equally ready to bury the past, and to hold out the hand of brotherhood and good-will across the graves of their fallen comrades, it was again the defeat of the Democratic candidates in 1864 which prevented this consummation so devoutly wished for by all.

Instead of restoring the Southern States to their Constitutional rights, instead of trying to wipe out the miseries of the past by a magnanimous policy, dictated alike by humanity and sound statesmanship, and so ardently prayed for by the generous heart of the American people, the Radicals in Congress, elected in an evil hour, have placed the iron heel of the conqueror upon the South. Austria did not dare to fasten upon Hungary, nor Russia to impose upon conquered Poland, the ruthless tyranny now inflicted by Congress upon the Southern States. Military satraps are invested with dictatorial power, overriding the decisions of the courts, and assuming tne functions of the civil authorities, the whole population are disfranchised or forced to submit to test oaths alike revolting to justice and civilization; and a debased and ignorant race, just emerged from servitude, is raised into power to control the destinies of that fair portion of our common country.

These men, elected to be legislators, and legislators only, trampling the Constitution under their feet, have usurped the functions of the executive and the judiciary, and it is impossible to doubt, after the events of the past few months, and the circumstances of the impeachment trial, that they will shrink from an attempt hereafter to subvert the Senate of the United States, which alone stood between them and their victim, and which had virtue enough left not to allow the American name to be utterly disgraced, and justice to be dragged in the dust.

In order to carry out this nefarious programme, our army and navy are kept in times of profound peace on a scale which involves a yearly expenditure of from one to two hundred millions, prevents the reduction of our national debt, and imposes upon our people a system of the most exorbitant and unequal taxation, with a vicious, irredeemable, and depreciated currency. And now this same party, which has brought all these evils upon the country, comes again before the American people, asking for their suffrages. And whom has it chosen for its candidate the general commanding the armies of the United States. Can there be any doubt left as to the designs of the Radicals, if they should be able to keep their hold on the reins of government? They intend Congressional usurpation of all the branches and functions of the government, to be enforced by the bayonets of a military despotism.


November 1st, 1866.—My dear little friend, my confidential friend of many years, I am telling you goodbye. Whatever the future may bring me of weal or woe will not he recorded. This is MY DAY, my wedding day.

“Happy is the bride that the sun shines on” and from dawn until the evening hour the sun has shone forth in all his splendor. Soon the man of God will come and with him will come “My Soldier in Gray,” and

“I’ll love him more, more,

Than wife e’er did before

Be the clays dark or bright.”

October 28th, 1866.—It has been said “the course of true love never does run smooth,” but our marriage seems to have met with the approval of all concerned. I am glad it is so. Both families are perfectly satisfied, no one comes to the front with objections as is often the case. We will live here with Father and Mother and I fail to see what more I could ask of life.

October 16th, 1866.—Father has given me a beautiful little book to read, “The Ribbon of Blue.” It tells of the necessity of love and forbearance in the married state and is full of selections from poets, who have written on that subject. And yet, after all, there is no advice better than was given to us by an old negro preacher, when we met him on the road.

He stopped us and said, “I done hear dat you chilluns is gwine ter git marri’d.”

“That is so,” said my Soldier. “What do you think of it, Uncle Caesar?”

“I thinks well of it, but I got suppin’. fur ter tell de bofe of you, Trus’ in de Lord, dat is needful, but dere’s anurer thing: don’t you nebber, de two er you, git mad at de same time.”

Now, if that is not matrimonial wisdom I cannot see where you will find it.

October 5th, 1866.—My dress has been bought and Mrs. Kinnebrough says she will have all my things ready; the dress is of plain white silk, to be trimmed with pearl bandings and illusion. With it I am to wear Sister Mag’s lovely set of pearls. I like time-honored customs, so have ordered a wreath and corsage bouquet of orange blossoms from Paris. They will come on the next steamer. There is one time-honored custom, however, which will not be observed. There is to be nothing intoxicating served to the guests at my wedding. No wife nor mother shall look back with mortification to my wedding night. Another custom also has been prohibited by Mother’s orders: She has let all our friends know that “no wedding presents must be sent.” She says the South is impoverished, there are few who can afford to give a handsome gift and yet almost every one will spend that which they can ill-afford, rather than be outdone in generous giving. I am well satisfied with this arrangement. I would not like to think our friends had deprived themselves to give to us. Mother is quite right.

We have company most of the time these days, coming and going, day by day. Sometimes I think I would like the quiet home life just now.

September 25th, 1866.—Nearly a month since I have opened my diary, but I am busy these fall days. There are so many stitches to take, so many plans to make and remake; visitors coming and going; rides with my Soldier in Gray; long talks with Father in the twilight and helping Mother with the housekeeping, for she has not felt quite well of late. All this keeps me busy but I am happy. One of Father’s favorite sayings is “Happiness is a road-side flower growing on the highway of usefulness.”

Mrs. Kinnebrough is making some dresses for me. She is a good dressmaker and a pleasant lady; a real lady, the daughter of an English clergyman, she is quite pretty, too. It is time to be deciding just what my wedding dress is to be. Sister Mart will soon come home from Tennessee and she will help me to plan.

August 27th, 1866.—The grapes are a little late in ripening this year, they are at their best now and today we have had a couple of dozen friends to feast on them. They brought baskets and took home a goodly share. It is very pleasant to share what we have.

When we were children Mother used to read us stories from “A Father’s Tales to His Daughter,” a lovely little book, now out of print. It was printed in the last century and my copy is worn and old. What I remember best is this, “The Bunch of Cherries,” and the lesson taught (every story in those days had a moral) was “what you possess becomes doubly valuable when you are so fortunate as to share it with another.” A kindly thought, is it not?

August 26th, 1866.—We have to look ahead and plan for the fall wedding which My Soldier pleads for. He was born on All Saints’ Day and he is asking for a birthday gift. It is almost two months off and I have been talking with Mother this morning. I do not want a grand wedding such as my sisters had; circumstances are so different now. Father’s fortune has been swept away by the results of the war. It is true, he still has his land but that is almost valueless at present and it may never bring in anything again as land without labor is a poor proposition.

Father has aged since the surrender and he will never be able to recoup his losses. All this show and expense is wholly unnecessary. What I would like would be a pretty wedding dress, every girl wants that, but I want a quiet wedding with my family and his family present and some of his friends and some of my friends for attendants. Beautiful flowers from Mother’s garden, some of Hattie’s lovely japonicas, simple refreshments and NO WINE.

The Rev. William Esten Eppes, whom both families love, is our choice of a minister. Mother listened to all I had to say and then she said, “I will talk to Mag and Martha about it,” and I knew my cause was lost. Even so it was and I can do no more. Something less grand would suit us better for we are beginning life with “stout hearts an’ willin’ hands but nae siller.”

August 25th, 1866.—This is Father’s birthday and Mother always makes a “Red-letter Day” of it, with the delicacies of which he is most fond. Each of us had a present, selected with reference to his taste. He is sixty-eight today and so handsome.

August 20th, 1866.—This is a quiet neighborhood just now, so many of our number are away for the summer. Uncle Richard and Father do not feel the need of other company, they are so devoted to each other but I am sure Mother feels a little lonely sometimes.

Jordan has gone long ago and she has no regular carriage driver. She misses her drives around the country and the visits to the neighbors. She misses the large force of servants she used to manage so skilfully. Like the rich man in the Bible, she could “say to one go and he goeth and to another come, and he cometh,” and now all is different. The few servants we have are no longer cheerful and willing, they are given to grumpy spells, when they go around muttering to themselves and looking as cross as two sticks. Then, too, we never know at night if we will find any servants at all the next morning; all this is very trying to a housekeeper of the ancient regime.