Frederick Douglass (1818-1895). Address at the Graves of the Unknown Dead at Arlington, Virginia, May 30, 1871. Frederick Douglass Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

If we ought to forget a war which has filled our land with widows and orphans, which has made stumps of men of the very flower of our youth, and sent them on the journey of life armless, legless, maimed and mutilated; which has piled up a debt heavier than a mountain of gold—swept uncounted thousands of men into bloody graves—and planted agony at a million hearthstones; I say that, if this war is to be forgotten, I ask, in the name of all things sacred, what shall men remember?

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.

Frederick Douglass (1818-1895). Address at the Graves of the Unknown Dead at Arlington, Virginia, May 30, 1871. Frederick Douglass Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

We are sometimes asked, in the name of patriotism, to forget the merits of this fearful struggle, and to remember, with equal admiration, those who struck at the nation’s life, and those who struck to save it—those who fought for slavery, and those who fought for liberty and justice. I am no minister of malice. I would not strike the fallen. I would not repel the repentent, but may my right hand forget its cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I forget the difference between the parties to that terrible, protracted, and bloody conflict.

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.

John Chase, 5th Maine Artillery. Left-handed penmanship entry, submitted December 1865. William Oland Bourne Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

I lost my right arm near the shoulder, and left eye, and have forty other scars upon my brest and shouldr caused by peaces of fragments of a Spharical case shot, at the battle of Gettersburg, july the seccond 1863. I have been in the rebbels hands a number of times, and like a true yankee all ways escaped before carryed of too the prison pens.

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.

Edmund Ruffin (1794-1865). Diary entry, June 18, 1865. Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

I here declare my unmitigated hatred to Yankee rule—to all political, social & business connection with Yankees—& to the Yankee race. Would that I could impress these sentiments, in their full force, on every living southerner, & bequeath them to every one yet to be born! May such sentiments be held universally in the outraged & down-trodden South, though in silence & stillness, until the now far-distant day shall arrive for just retribution for Yankee usurpation, oppression, & atrocious outrages—& for deliverance & vengeance for the now ruined, subjugated, & enslaved Southern States!

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.

Varina Davis (1826-1906) to Montgomery Blair (1813–1883), June 6, 1865. Blair Family Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress (202.00.00)

Just before day the enemy charged our camp yelling like demons. Mr Davis received timely warning of their approach but believing them to be our own people, deliberately made his toilette and was only disabused of the delusion when he saw them deploying a few yards off. He started down to the little stream hoping to meet his servant with his horse and arms, but knowing he would be recognized, I plead with him to let me throw over

Varina Davis (1826-1906) to Montgomery Blair (1813–1883), June 6, 1865. Blair Family Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress (202.00.00)

him, a large water-proof wrap which had often served him in sickness during the summer season for a dressing gown, and which I hoped might so cover his person, that in the grey of the morning he would not be recognized. As he strode off I threw over his head a little black shawl, which was round my own shoulders, seeing that he could not find his hat, and after he started sent my colored woman after him with a bucket for water, hoping that he would pass unobserved. He attempted no disguise, consented to no subterfuge but if he had, in failure is found the only matter of cavil.

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.

James Suydam Knox (1840–1892) to Rev. J. P. Knox, April 15, 1865. Abraham Lincoln Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

Yesterday morning the president died. At 8 1/2 o’ck, the kindest, noblest, truest heart ceased to beat, and Abraham Lincoln was dead. Let no man ever speak to me again of Southern Chivalry, or talk in sympathy with trattors—The events of last night can never be forgotten and while there is strength in my arm, I never can, never will endure it— Nor stand I alone—The nation is aroused and terrible will be its vengeance. Treason, pardoned, forgiven, patiently dealt with by our president, viper like, has stung the breast, that kindly treated it, and the traitor south, has slain its truest, noblest friend. Bitter, bitter will be the tears of repentance. But I cannot write of it—Andrew Johnson has been sworn.

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.

James Suydam Knox (1840–1892) to Rev. J. P. Knox, April 15, 1865. Abraham Lincoln Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

The whole theatre was paralyzed. But two men sprang for the stage, a Mr. Stewart & myself. Both of us were familiar with the play, and suspected the fearful tragedy. We rushed after the murderer and Mr. Stewart being familiar with the passages, reached the rear door, in time to see him spring on his horse and ride off—I became lost amid the scenery and was obliged to return. My roommate had followed me and secured the murderers hat. The shrill cry of murder from Mrs. Lincoln first roused the horrified audience, and in an instant the uproar was terrible. The silence of death was broken by shouts of “kill him,” “hang him” and strong men wept, and cursed, and tore the seats in the impotence of their anger, while Mrs. Lincoln, on her knees uttered shriek after shriek at the feet of the dying President. Finally the theatre was clear

James Suydam Knox (1840–1892) to Rev. J. P. Knox, April 15, 1865. Abraham Lincoln Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

and the President removed. Still greater was the excitement in the city. Rumors of the murder of Secy Seward and his son reached us as we gained the street—Mounted patrols dashed every where, bells tolled the alarm, and excited crowds rushed about the avenues.

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.

James Suydam Knox (1840–1892) to Rev. J. P. Knox, April 15, 1865. Abraham Lincoln Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

It is with sad feelings that I take up my pen & address you. Last Friday night at 10 oclock, I witnessed the saddest tragedy ever enacted in this country. Notwithstanding my promise to you not to visit the theatre, I could not resist the temptation to see General Grant and the President, and when the curtain at Ford’s rose on the play of Our American Cousin my room mate and I were seated on the second row of orchestra seats, just beneath the presidents box. The President entered the Theatre at 8 1/2 o’ck, amid deafening cheers and the rising of all. Everything was cheerful, and never

James Suydam Knox (1840–1892) to Rev. J. P. Knox, April 15, 1865. Abraham Lincoln Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

was our magistrate more enthusiastically welcomed, or more happy—Many pleasant allusions were made to him in the play to which the audience gave deafening responses, while Mr. Lincoln laughed heartily and bowed frequently to the gratified people—Just after the 3d Act, and before the scenes were shifted, a muffled pistol shot was heard, and a man sprang wildly from the national box, partially tearing down the flag, then shouting “‘sic semper tyrannis’, the south is avenged” with brandished dagger rushed across the stage and disappeared.

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.

William T. Sherman (1820–1891) to Caroline Carson (1820–1892), January 20, 1865. James Louis Petigru Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress

I thank you for the expression of confidence in me and repeat that you do me but justice in thinking that I am not the scourge and monster that the Southern Press represents me but that I will take infinitely more delight in curing the wounds made by war, than in inflicting them.

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.

David Homer Bates (1843–1926). November 1863–June 1865 diary, December 26, 1864 entry. Alfred Whital Stern Collection, Rare Book and Special Collections Division, Library of Congress

Monday, Dec. 26, 1864
This morning was ushered in with a booming of cannon, 300 having been fired in honor of the capture of Savannah. Fireworks have been going off all day. Every other person you meet has a pistol in his hand with which he occasionally fires a salute.

This blog complements the Library of Congress exhibition, “The Civil War in America.” This series of posts chronicles the sacrifices and accomplishments of those—from both the North and South—whose lives were lost or affected by the events of 1861–1865. To learn more about the object featured in this blog entry, visit the online exhibition.