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April 1862
Governor Richard Yates visits the battlefront On April 10, 1862, Governor Richard Yates and a handful of other state officials left Springfield for Cairo. There they would meet dozens of volunteer surgeons and nurses and proceed to Pittsburg Landing, Tennessee, to provide care for and evacuate hundreds of Illinoisans seriously wounded during the battle of Shiloh. The governor had arranged such an expedition following the fight at Fort Donelson, Tennessee, several weeks earlier, but the Pittsburg Landing project would dwarf his earlier effort.
Illinois at the battle of Shiloh
Governor Yates plunges ahead The steamer arrived late at Cairo, delayed perhaps by the necessity of purchasing and loading goods to be used in the relief effort. The State of Illinois purchased from St. Louis merchants large volumes of special foods, including rice, macaroni, vermicelli, teas, tomatoes, and other items not a part of regular army issue. An observer reported an outpouring of volunteers for the expedition, which led Yates to charter another vessel. "[C]onsiderable difficulty was had to confine the list of surgeons, nurses and assistants to anything like moderate proportions—three times as many insisting upon a passage as could be accommodated. The best was done that could be under the circumstances..." On April 13 religious services were held aboard the boat "to offer up thanks for our late victories, and prayers on behalf of our many wounded and their afflicted families." At Fort Henry the boat landed and a "brief half hour" was given to touring the fort. On April 14 the party reached Pittsburg Landing, mooring near boats sent by other state governors. "Having been so fortunate as to obtain an order to receive Illinois wounded alone," the boat began loading men at 2 p.m. and reached its full capacity by 6 p.m. On leaving from nearby Savannah (Tennessee) for Cairo, several surgeons and nurses volunteered to remain and help with wounded there and at the battlefield itself. At Cairo many of men disembarked so that they could travel home by rail. As the boat continued to St. Louis "the wounded began to improve very much—good nursing and good living had worked wonders with them." The expedition, one participant wrote, "was one of entire success. His Excellency, the Governor, was untiring in his efforts to accomplish everything possible... The wounded were full of expressions of gratitude to him for having done more for them than the Governor of any other State had been able to do for their wounded. ..."
The second voyage of the Black Hawk
Some lessons learned
A new hero Even non-Illinoisans gave thanks for Yates's efforts. A newspaper correspondent wrote that on a trip to Mississippi in May, Yates encountered the 7th Iowa Infantry. Its commander shouted to his men, "Soldiers, I have the honor to introduce to you Gov. Yates of Illinois. We are citizens of Iowa, and love her, yet to Gov. Yates... we owe a debt of gratitude for furnishing us clothing and other supplies at a time of sore need, when our government, though inability or carelessness, failed to supply us. I propose three cheers for Gov. Yates."
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MARCH 1862 Illinois boys in blue For 150 years the military service of boys has provided iconic images of Civil War memory. Stories in wartime newspapers and magazines celebrated young—and often unnamed—patriots who served their country. During the postwar period people could hear concerts of war songs by an adult "Drummer Boy of the Rappahannock." Three of the four groups of statuary placed on the tomb of Abraham Lincoln (designed in 1868) include figures of very young men. The Civil War centennial period gave birth to the 1959 novel Johnny Shiloh and its 1963 adaptation for television by Walt Disney. Boys, these images would tell us, were everywhere on the battlefield. Boys and young men certainly played a role in fighting on both sides during the war. Was it as large a role as the iconic images would lead us to think? Statistics based on military records kept during the war are notoriously slippery. Scholars over the years have estimated that boys under 18 made up anywhere from 1.0 to 1.5% of the U.S. army that fought the war. Those numbers are based on enlistment records and take at face value the statements of enlistee ages. However, many minors lied about their age in order to enter the service, though just how many cannot be known.
The law In the early days of the war a number of males under 21 years enlisted in the army. Many of them obeyed the law, sometimes serving in the same units as their fathers or adult brothers. Others entered the service fraudulently, lying about their age and the need for a parent's consent. Problems developed as the excitement of the war's early days passed and soldiers learned the drudgery and danger of army life. By late 1861 discharges from the service were being sought by many under-age soldiers and their parents. In Chicago federal judge Thomas Drummond ruled that under the law "if a minor has enlisted in the regular army, or the volunteer service, who is under the age of eighteen years, and who has been enlisted without the consent of his parents or guardian, such enlistment is illegal." Congress in February 1862 passed a new statue, that rescinded both the rule allowing young men under 18 to enter the service and the one requiring recruiting officers to "be very particular in ascertaining the true age of the recruit." The new law declared that "the oath of enlistment taken by the recruit shall be conclusive as to his age," and youngsters who lied about their age were stuck with the consequences. Judge Drummond, despite finding the new statute "a harsh, unjust and oppressive law, ignoring the authority of the father over the son, and discreditable to the Legislature," was now forced to rule differently in cases of minors seeking to leave the service. The Chicago Tribune approved of the change, commenting, "It may be thought harsh... as under the rendering of the late law a youth of ten years, if once enlisted, could not be discharged... by the usual application... It will have a good general effect upon all future enlistments. Recruiting officers will not be troubled with boys, and if boys enlist they will not be able to play soldier a few months and then beg off by pleading the baby act."
Illinois boys
Lyston D. Howe
Orion P. Howe
George R. Yost
Ransom P. Stowe
FEBRUARY 1862
Rebels come North: POWs near Springfield On February 1862, the U.S. army commanded by Ulysses S. Grant captured Fort Donelson, Tennessee. The loss to the Confederates was great—control of a portion of western Tennessee, dozens of pieces of artillery, and over 16,000 soldiers. Federal officers moved quickly to transfer the captured men to the North, away from friendly territory and potential aid. For the first time a large number of non-resident secessionist sympathizers would be residing in Illinois, at Camp Butler near Springfield, at Camp Douglas outside of Chicago, and at the old state penitentiary at Alton. Governor Richard Yates, Secretary of State Ozias Hatch, and Auditor Jesse Dubois argued with military officials against sending any number of captured Confederates to Springfield, because "there are so many secessionists at that place." Gen. Henry Halleck replied a few days later that “I shall probably be obliged” to send about 3,000 men to Springfield, and ordering that a force of guards ready to receive them. That same day a train full of prisoners from the 51st Tennessee passed through Springfield on the way to Chicago's Camp Douglas. Crowds gathered to see them during a short stop. One observer noted that they "presented rather a motley appearance, being clothed in almost every style and color, and rather the worse of the wear at that. Quite a crowd assembled at the depot to see them, and we were glad to notice that very little ill feeling was manifested toward them by the crowd. Several jokes passed between them...." The curiosity and friendly banter was noticed in other towns, too. A few days later prisoners began to arrive at Camp Butler, which still lacked a perimeter wall. A local newspaper editor "welcomed" the men. Its editor hoped that they would be treated with respect, remarking "we trust that nothing like taunt or insult will be exhibited towards them.... [L]et us treat them not as rebels, but prisoners of war. It is no part of magnanimity to crow over and, least of all, deride a conquered foe." Like many in the North, this writer saw the average Confederate soldier as a man who had been used by scheming politicians and ambitious landed elites for their own ends. "Hundreds of those soldiers come among us with less reluctance than they entered the ranks of the rebellious army. They were impressed into the service, against their wishes.... They are poor men, and they know very well that they have nothing to gain by the rebellion, even if it were successful. They know, as well as we that this rebellion means nothing more than.... the perpetuation of slave labor, to the detriment and disgrace of free labor." The sense expressed in those comments seems to have represented, at least for a time, a large part of the unionist population. Even members the Springfield Soldiers' Aid Society, which created hospital clothing and gathered other supplies for the men defending the Union, expressed feelings of good will. Sympathy of another kind soon appeared as well. Prisoners disappeared from the camp, and it was suspected that "disloyal" locals helped them on their way home through southern Illinois. Among others, six men living south of Springfield were arrested and sent to the prison at Alton on a charge of aiding a prisoner to escape. Soon a petition called for their release, Governor Yates was said to have vouched for some of the accused. Springfield's Republican Illinois State Journal suggested that two weeks in the Alton prison provided lesson enough, and that the men should be released. The feelings of many, however, soon began to change. The victory at Fort Donelson did not end the war in the West-far from it. Heavy losses on the field of battle and in hospitals continued. Numbers of prisoners refused to see the error of their ways and sought to escape back to the Confederacy. Others expressed their scorn for the Union and those who supported the war to preserve it. The Illinois State Journal, which had earlier called for Southern brothers to be treated with respect, reflected the changed attitude. In reporting about Camp Butler the newspaper began to talk of unrepentant "braggarts," and called for an end to "kindly treatment.... 'Tis time we were tired of throwing pearls before swine." Though some humanitarians and others who sympathized with the secessionists continued efforts to comfort Camp Butler's prisoners, real war, with its characteristic hardening of hearts, had come.
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JANUARY 1862
General Benjamin M. Prentiss of Quincy, Illinois Dr. David Costigan When the Civil War erupted in April 1861, Benjamin M. Prentiss of Quincy (Adams County), a colonel in the Illinois militia, was given command of seven companies with which to defend Cairo, located at the critically important junction of the Mississippi and Ohio rivers. In late April his men seized munitions aboard river steamers bound for the South, an indication of his aggressiveness. It was done four days before the War Department authorized such confiscations. The Virginia-born Prentiss received some military experience as a militia lieutenant in Illinois' Mormon "troubles" of 1844-1845 and as captain at the battle of Buena Vista during the Mexican-American War. In August 1861 Prentiss received promotion to brigadier general, one of the early generalships awarded to Illinois. Most of those named were lawyer-politicians, with the exception of former U.S. Army captain Ulysses S. Grant. When Grant received an assignment to Cairo, he gave orders to Prentiss, who balked, claiming that he was the senior officer. Grant announced that by law, because of his former rank in the U.S. service, he was the superior officer. Prentiss demurred before leaving for St. Louis to seek another command. He subsequently was assigned to oversee northern Missouri above the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad. In his Memoirs, Grant lamented Prentiss's decision to leave his command. He wrote: "General Prentiss made a great mistake.... When I came to know him better, I regretted it much.... He was a brave and very earnest soldier. No man in the service was more sincere in the cause for which we were battling; none more ready to make sacrifices or risk life on it." Dramatic events of April 1862 in western Tennessee vindicated Grant’s faith in Prentiss. The high point of Prentiss's service came as he commanded the 6th Division of Grant's Army of the Tennessee at the battle of Shiloh. Union troops encamped near Pittsburg Landing, Tennessee, were surprised by a rebel assault under the command of Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston. Prentiss's troops managed to hold off the rebels for about six hours. Prentiss's position was overrun and he was compelled to surrender. Nevertheless, some historians contend that Prentiss and his troops bought valuable time with their brave defense, which helped the Union forces on the second day turn the tables on the rebels at Shiloh, producing an important victory. Prentiss remained in Confederate prisons until October 1862, when he was exchanged. He was rewarded for his service with a promotion to major general, reassigned to Grant's command and detailed to oversee the defense of the eastern district of Arkansas. In early July 1863, news arrived in Quincy that Prentiss's troops had been attacked at Helena, Arkansas, by troops commanded by Confederate Gen. Sterling Price. The Quincy Daily Herald published Prentiss's account of the battle. Prentiss had anticipated an attack and established formidable defenses, placing four batteries of artillery on heights overlooking invasion routes. Trees were felled to block roads. The outcome was an impressive victory. Prentiss's forces were outnumbered by approximately 6,500 to 4,000. The victory, however, was overshadowed by the huge Union successes won at the same time at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and Vicksburg, Mississippi. The action at Helena, also ironically, constituted Prentiss's final combat action. On July 17, less than two weeks after his notable victory, Prentiss returned to Quincy and was feted in a reception hosted by the activist women's organization, the Needle Pickets. Prentiss sought a new command but none was forthcoming. In October 1863 he resigned from the army on grounds of health and family responsibilities. In fact, he was perturbed at being passed over for command. Gen. Stephen Hurlbut, a self-promoting officer and a fellow division commander at Shiloh, notified General-in-Chief Henry Wager Halleck that he disapproved of any position for Prentiss. Thus a "hero" of the battles of Shiloh and Helena spent the last eighteen months of the war at home. The Prentiss story reveals more about Civil War leadership than immediately meets the eye. Early in the war the huge expansion of the military required a hurried search for leaders. Prentiss had served in the Mexican-American War and had run for political office, and thus appeared to fill the bill. He acquitted himself well at Cairo, Shiloh, and Helena, but authorities now decided that other officers better suited their plans for conducting the remainder of the war. The sorting process had consigned Prentiss to the sidelines. Prentiss practiced law in his return to civilian life in Quincy. When Ulysses S. Grant became president in March 1869, he appointed his old comrade a federal pension agent. He served in this capacity for eight years. In 1881, Prentiss moved to Bethany, Missouri, where he served as general agent for the federal land office. In 1888, President Benjamin Harrison named him postmaster of Bethany and he was reappointed by President William McKinley. The government he had served had taken care of him with three separate patronage appointments. Prentiss died in 1901 at the age of 81. Was Benjamin Mayberry Prentiss a politician who became a general? The answer must be a qualified one. In the military situation brought on by the Civil War, there was need to almost instantly expand the army from about 16,000 troops to more than 75,000. Where were the officers to come from? Because of his previous military experience, Prentiss seemed a logical choice for command and acquitted himself quite well. Later in the war he was deemed of lesser competence and was deprived of additional commands. Whether this was a legitimate judgment is debatable. As a Republican politician he had advantages in receiving a significant command. His partisan posture likewise aided him in the postwar picture. Did the system work in Prentiss's case? It can be concluded that a jerry-built structure worked tolerably well, and Prentiss brought credit to himself and to his community. David Costigan is professor emeritus of history at Quincy University . He held the Aaron M. Pembleton Chair of History at Quincy University . He is a member of the advisory board of the Lincoln-Douglas Debate Interpretive Center.
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DECEMBER 1861 An end and a beginning December 1861 closed a tumultuous year that saw secession of southern states following the election of a Republican president of the United States and bloodshed after the organization of the Confederate States of America. Perhaps more so than in most years, the close of 1861 was a time to reflect on the meaning of the past and to anticipate the future.
Matters military On December 10 Fuller reported to Governor Richard Yates the number and location of Illinois troops. He noted that 60,540 men served in Illinois regiments. More than 17,400 of them were still encamped in Illinois, soon to be sent to the front. The great majority of regiments already in the field were stationed in Missouri. Fuller noted with real concern that an estimated 10,000 to 15,000 Illinois men had enlisted in regiments raised in Missouri, Kansas, or Iowa at a time when the federal government refused to accept eager offers of more troops from Illinois. On December 12 Governor Yates issued a statement calling attention to Adjutant General Fuller’s report on "the grand army of Illinois." He also noted proudly that through his efforts during the last two weeks over 6,000 "new and superior arms" had been distributed to Illinois units "most exposed to the enemy." The state was also taking delivery of a number of James rifled cannon—"obtained from the Secretary of War during my last visit to Washington"—to be issued to new companies of artillery. Illinois' "grand army" grew in size and confidence, and it was relatively unbloodied by the first months of fighting. At the end of December most counties counted a few men lost in the national service. The pace of the fighting had been slow, and few battles had been fought, most notably for Illinoisans at the Missouri towns of Lexington, Fredericktown, and Belmont. By the end of December 1861, Springfield—the state’s fourth-largest city with a population just less than 10,000—had lost two residents in battle. Most deaths occurred off the battlefield, in camps, with illness and accident claiming victims.
Christmas Still, there was a difference. An antislavery newspaper editor from Peoria likely reflected the belief of many as he wrote of a terrible judgment being responsible for the current state of affairs: "This will be a strange Christmas to a large number of American citizens . . . [as] war, horrid and unnatural, reigns supreme over the land, making hundreds of hearths desolate to-day, and thousands of happy homes sorrowful. Like all other public calamities, this is only the result of a violation of the Divine Law . . . that we must do unto others as we would have others do unto us." Illinois men in military camps felt the absence from loved ones but seem to have borne it well. Many units created celebrations around boxes of goodies shipped by friends from home. A member of the 36th Illinois Infantry wrote almost lightheartedly that "even in the rebel states of Dixie, Christmas is regarded by all as a day of feasting and pleasure. . . . But with us, living this military life of ours, all days are the same, and thus we have passed, for us, the strangest Christmas." Apparently the 36th did not receive gifts of food from home, "yet on this day almost every mess has managed to procure some extra that they might at least keep up a semblance of those not yet forgotten festivities around the family table."
New Year The end of 1861 and advent of 1862 brought high hopes to many. A perhaps typical feeling was that of George Willis of the 15th Illinois Infantry. Stationed near Otterville, Missouri, he wrote in the last days of the eventful year 1861 that "The coming year will like the present, be fraught with bright hopes and fair promises, some of which hopes, will be disappointed, and some of the promises will be forgotten, still we feel kindly towards the stranger [the year 1862], and rejoice that our acquaintance of nearly twelve months is about to bid us farewell forever." 
The opening of war with the firing on Fort Sumter in April 1861 found the northern states woefully unprepared for a military conflict. As the federal and state governments struggled to arm and equip the men who rallied to the flag, local governments and civilian groups worked quickly to aid their husbands, sons, and brothers who had enlisted in the service. These were the first steps in creating soldier-aid services that would provide crucial support through four years of war.
Creating a military look An important event in the life of many military companies was the presentation, usually just before its departure from town, of a United States flag. It appears that until at least early 1862 Illinois units carried only flags made by women of the town or purchased from a supplier located in one of the state’s larger cities, such as Chicago or Peoria. No matter what their origin, soldiers saw their flags as a special link to their home communities and promised to return them, stained perhaps with battle smoke and blood but untouched by the hands of traitors.
For families left behind
An ongoing, organized effort begins The experience many Illinoisans had with religious and other organizations likely made soldier-aid societies seem the obvious answer to the complaints of hometown soldiers regarding food and shortages of medical supplies. The new groups just formalized efforts that had been improvised a few months before. For months they would periodically ship Illinois state arsenalboxes of goods direct to their friends in camp, sometimes accompanied by a local civic leader who returned with a first-hand account of how the boys were doing. Women performed much of the labor. They knitted socks and mittens, sewed clothing for hospital use, and prepared foods that supplemented the army basics of salted beef or pork, beans, hard bread, and coffee. It seems that in these early days the feeling was one of excitement and rather lighthearted. The women of Middleport, however, apparently realized that their men were involved in the business of killing. In November they issued a public appeal that called especially for mittens “knit with one finger, so as to give free use of the index finger of the hand.”
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In the rush to war following the firing on Fort Sumter, Illinois Governor Richard Yates launched a crash program to arm the state’s newly enlisted troops, especially those sent to protect the strategic city of Cairo at the junction of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. While agents visited the East in hope of purchasing supplies of muskets and cannon, officials in Springfield created a factory to produce the ammunition that would be consumed by those weapons. For more than seven months in 1861 the Illinois state arsenal employed not just men but also dozens of women and children in its explosives operation.
The factory The presence of the factory brought real benefits to Springfield. The Illinois State Journal crowed in mid-June 1861 that "Altogether, this business is the means of disbursing a good quantity of gold and silver in our city." Virtually everything needed by the operation could be purchased from local vendors. At one point ten men at the foundry of John C. Lamb cast iron shot for artillery pieces, twenty more cast musket balls for the contractor Newman & Fisk, and another twenty turned lumber by the carload into shipping cases. Dozens of others earned money assembling the different elements into finished cartridges. During a period in July 1861, when officials worried about a potential attack in Cairo, the shop operated even on Sunday with eighty employees rolling musket cartridges or assembling artillery rounds. Two women sewed woolen powder bags for the artillery, while two men used lathes to turn the wooden sabots that held together the large iron shot and the explosive powder charges. At one point a day’s production reached 25,000 musket cartridges and 425 rounds of artillery ammunition.
The workers Pay rates varied by the type of work. Males engaged in skilled work such as turning sabots on lathe received $1.25 per day, while the great majority of the women and children received 50 cents or 33 1/3 cents per day. Judging by army ordnance manuals, ten hours made up a full day of work. Though officials claimed priority for women and children struggling for an income, a few of the less needy found jobs, including twelve-Beverly Herndon—the twelve-year-old son of Lincoln law partner William H. Herndon—and four children of factory superintendent Enoch Paine. For all of the enthusiasm about the benefits of employing soldiers’ wives and helping children to learn good habits, producing ammunition was inherently dangerous work. In 1864 explosions at large factories in Washington, D.C., and Springfield, Massachusetts, each killed dozens of workers. Army ordnance manuals discussed the need to be conscious of safety; for example trying to prevent sparks by ordering those in the presence of black powder to wear socks or moccasins rather than shoes, and to not drag or shuffle one’s feet while walking.
The products The artillery ammunition made at the arsenal factory consisted of a projectile, attached to a cloth bag full of explosive powder by means of a wooden sabot. The bags, sewn by women at the factory, were of wool merino or serge “closely woven” so that powder did not sift out. The sabots that brought the projectile and powder bag together were made of poplar or some other “close-grained” wood lathe-turned at the factory. Click here to see more. Surviving records show that from April 22 to August 31 the cartridge factory at the Illinois state arsenal produced about 1.4 million rounds of ammunition for muskets and rifles, just over 8,000 for artillery pieces, and 6,000 for pistols. During the four-month campaign in 1864 to capture Atlanta, Georgia, which included several major battles, General William T. Sherman’s army reported firing just short of 22 million rounds of musket ammunition and over 149,000 rounds of artillery ammunition.
The factory closes
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The capture of Illinois and Missouri regiments at the siege of Lexington, Missouri, in September 1861 added to the list of defeats suffered by Federal troops during the summer and early fall of 1861. A bit of comfort, however, was provided by a young private from Illinois who outwitted the rebels and redeemed a captured United States flag.
Missouri in 1861 In September 1861 Federal forces and loyal Missouri units attempted to hold the line of the Missouri River and protect the capitol at Jefferson City. Missouri State Guard units numbering about 8,000 men and commanded by Sterling Price moved northward following their defeat in August of U.S. forces at the battle of Wilson’s Creek, hoping to encourage support for secession. They soon headed for Lexington, a Missouri River town held by Federal troops under the command of Col. James A. Mulligan of Chicago. Lexington was targeted because of its location commanding the river, the secessionist leanings of the nearby population, and the more than $900,000 cash that had been taken from a local bank by the Federals.
The siege and battle For Mulligan and his men the defeat was a bitter one. A witness wrote that "the scenes at the capitulation were extraordinary. Col. Mulligan shed tears. The men threw themselves upon the ground...demanding to be led out and 'finish the thing.'" It was reported that some cavalrymen "shot their horses dead on the spot, unwilling that their companions in the campaign should now fall into the hands of the enemy." Officers were to be held as prisoners of war. The enlisted men were to be released on turning over their weapons and all equipment except the clothing on their backs. As the secessionist band played "Dixie" many of the defeated Federals "wept to leave behind their colors [flags], each Company in the Brigade having its own standard presented to it by their friends."
Redeeming the flag People rushed to "look at the torn banner... The contrast in the appearance of the flag when it was borne from here, and its looks on its return, indicates fully the scenes it has passed through. Then, its silken folds glistened as it waved in the breeze, bright... and unstained. Now, it still floats as proudly as ever, with its honor untarnished, but torn and defaced by cannon balls and bullets, dimmed by battle smoke, and stained here and there with spots of blood." The crowd at a public meeting held at the McLean County courthouse raised three loud cheers for the flag, three for Capt. John McNulta and the men of Co. A, "and three for private Carico, who rescued the flag and brought it safely home."
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AUGUST 1861
On August 1, 1861, many African Americans in Illinois joined others throughout the Union in celebrating Emancipation Day, marking the anniversary of the August 1, 1834, abolition of slavery in most of the British Empire. For many African Americans, August 1 seemed more appropriate for celebration than the Independence Day anniversary just weeks before. They certainly sensed more than their white countrymen the contradiction between the ideals of the Declaration of Independence and the reality of millions of their fellows being regarded as a form of property. Even for those blacks residing in free states, daily life involved limitations that brought into question the "self-evident" truths of the Declaration.
Emancipation Day celebrations were first held in eastern states during the 1840s. In larger towns and cities they included large, organized parades, much like those of Independence Day. The events, planned by local black community leaders including ministers, usually began with prayer and included long, formal speeches that often included a history lesson highlighting the role Africans had played in building the nation. The planners aimed for an atmosphere of religious and educational uplift and restrained celebration, in part, to prove to white neighbors that African Americans were “respectable”—an important attribute among those aspiring to the growing middling class—and as capable of carrying civic responsibility as any other American. Many participants seem to have looked forward more to the picnic lunch and a chance to spend a peaceful day meeting and relaxing with friends.
Emancipation Day in Illinois
In Galesburg, a center of antislavery activity, African Americans from several counties gathered on property owned by white antislavery activist George W. Gale. The event opened with "a fervid prayer," followed by singing of a women's choir. Joseph H. Barquet then made a speech lasting over an hour, "full of burning eloquence, deep thorough and historical research... recurring the bloody scenes that were being enacted in the State." Joseph D. Allen of Knoxville followed with a sermon. After an elaborate picnic lunch the meeting resumed, formally adopting statements that condemned the U. S. Supreme Court's Dred Scott decision, which ruled that blacks were not, and never could be, citizens of the United States. Another resolution officially invited Frederick Douglass to lecture in central Illinois. The last action thanked Gale for use of his grounds, "and the citizens of Galesburg, for their liberality and protection," the altter an important point since African American civic events were sometimes disrupted by disapproving whites. At Galesburg, "the meeting then adjourned; every body in the best of humor."
Emancipation Day 1861
Emancipation Day 1862
Emancipation Day ceremonies in Bloomington emphasized the promise of the hour. Local blacks were reported to have celebrated "in the usual style, though we think with something more than the usual spirit and interest." E. Hutchens, "a man of many years, whose life has been spent amidst slavery," made a speech in which he "dwelt at length upon the duty of his brethren in the free states, to educate their children, elevate their moral and religious character, and fit them for the higher position which he dared to hope they would soon be allowed to enjoy." J. W. Hill of Peoria spoke on temperance and education, "and the importance of the African demonstrating that he is capable of self government." The white reporter in attendance commented that "if any one is impressed with the idea that the negro cannot enjoy freedom, a few moments spent on the ground yesterday would have dispelled it... and it seemed pleasant to reflect that the fond dreams of freedom so long indulged by this oppressed people, promise a speedy realization."
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In the months from April 1861 to the summer of 1865 more than forty military camps dotted Illinois. Most were temporary and served as places where individual companies from a small region gathered and organized into regiments, received arms and uniforms, and experienced the first doses of military discipline. A few permanent facilities, notably Camp Butler (near Springfield) and Camp Douglas (Chicago), served as training, staging, and processing stations throughout the war. Other camps in Illinois served fully trained and equipped units as jumping off points to the nearby scenes of conflict in western Kentucky and eastern Missouri.
The response to the Illinois legislature's April 1861 call for ten infantry regiments set a pattern for dealing with the organization, equipping, and training of regiments later in the war. A temporary camp was established in each of the state's nine congressional districts. There, the units raised in that district would be organized and begin their military lives and the transition from home, family, and friends to the battlefront. Officials helped to ease the movement of units by locating most campsites within an easy march of a river landing or a town on the growing network of railroads, which in 1860 consisted of about 2,800 miles of track.
Many of these camps occupied the fairgrounds owned by county agricultural societies. In fact, officials cancelled the 1862 state fair to be held in Peoria because of occupation of the site by troops undergoing training. Fairgrounds proved to be almost perfect for use as military camps. They contained shelter in the form of animal sheds and other buildings, plentiful water supplies, large open areas that could be used for marching and drilling, and, usually, a well-established boundary that could be policed. Will County historian George Woodruff later recalled Camp Goodell, which in 1861 on "the old fair grounds on the well-known Stevens' place, having on it fine, shady oak openings, an abundant spring of water, and buildings already erected... To these, company barracks were quickly added." He also noted sadly that military use of the grounds meant that "men were now reversing the prophetic scripture, and turning their scythes in to swords and their pruning-hooks into bayonets."
In other cases officials raised camps from scratch, constructing buildings and establishing parade grounds on what before has been open land. Camp Butler (near Springfield), Camp Douglas (Chicago), and Camp Fuller (Rockford) quickly rose on old farms or local picnic grounds. One recruit at Camp Fuller described the newly constructed barracks as having "bunks from floor to ceiling and two men would occupy a bunk... When any of the boys were out on guard two hours in the night, he would declare when he returned that the barracks stank enough to knock him down."
The establishment of a camp often helped the economy of the nearby town, especially in those cases where all of the buildings had to be constructed by local labor using locally produced lumber. Even when camps occupied already existing buildings on a fairground, local vendors received orders for necessaries such as bread, pork or beef, firewood, straw for bedding, and feed for horses. Soldiers visiting town on passes visited photograph studios, saloons, and restaurants.
For most men, life in camp after enlistment provided their first encounter with military discipline and the transition from civilian to soldier was not an easy one for many men. Camp Scott (Freeport) provided several examples of recent inductees having difficulties with military discipline. In May 1861 a circus visited Freeport. Many soldiers decided to attend, quietly slipping out of camp without a pass. A man gave his friends the password that would allow them back into the camp before roll call. When officers got wise to the scheme and suddenly changed the password "you had better think there was some swearing about the time they wanted to come in... There were some 40 or 50 put in the guard house..." Later in the month the camp commandant placed almost two hundred men under arms as a guard to crush the threatened mutiny of one of the companies.
Visits to camps by friends from home softened the sting of new and unfamiliar discipline. Visitors often brought delicacies and picnic foods to the hometown boys, one of whom described army food as "none of the fancy kitchen fixings." An especially important moment of connection with friends from home came with the presentation to the unit of a United States flag. Until early 1862 the state government did not issue flags, and friends were more than happy to fill the need. Presentation ceremonies were very public affairs, often including hundreds of outside spectators. The program usually included a short speech, often by a young woman, on behalf of the donors, who were often women. The company or regimental commander responded with a speech of thanks, followed by the cheering of the men and the singing of patriotic songs.
The final parting from the home folk came when the new regiment left for one of the state's large permanent camps, or for one of the battlefronts in the South. John King of the newly created 92nd Illinois Infantry recalled the regiment’s 1862 departure by train from Rockford: "We all realized that it would be a last good-bye for many of us; we could not tell who would fall or who would return... Tears were gradually dried as we sped along towards Chicago... What was going to be our future?"
Camps and Musters
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Think of Illinois and the Civil War and what quickly comes to mind for most of us? Abraham Lincoln, man of the people risen from modest means to perhaps the greatest President, saved the nation from dismemberment in the bloody Civil War. He further added to the United States' unique idealism in the family of nations by promoting an end to slavery. Yet, nearby, during Lincoln’s years in central Illinois, a lesser known man matured deserving memory too---Benjamin Grierson (1826-1911).
Born of Scots-Irish immigrants in Pittsburgh who later moved west to Youngstown, Ohio, Grierson's moorings typify many who fought for the Union---finding his way in the world according to his talents. In 1851, Grierson relocated to Jacksonville, Illinois. The city was founded but a few years earlier (1825) as a speculative venture on the Illinois frontier but, it rapidly grew into a sophisticated city for its time and was well connected to the world beyond. The seat of Morgan County, Jacksonville quickly attracted many professionals, one of Illinois' first public care facilities, a medical school, two colleges, and a railroad. A man of many talents, including music and the written word, Grierson recorded in his autobiography that "During my residence in Ohio, I had composed and arranged a considerable amount of music for bands and orchestras, and after my arrival in Illinois much additional music was written and arranged for the excellent band and orchestra in Jacksonville, of which I was the leader." After marrying an early sweetheart from Ohio, whom he became reacquainted with during her visits to relatives in nearby Springfield, he decided that his income as a music teacher was insufficient to start a family and moved to nearby Meredosia. There, in 1855, he and a partner opened a store that was lucrative until the financial crash of 1857 but remained open until 1860. Grierson, who gave up his homestead to pay his debts, was, by his own accounting, "virtually left without a dollar" and moved back to Jacksonville.
By no means a quitter, his reflection on why he had spent five years in Meredosia exemplified his faith "that the experience thus gained in sustaining what I deemed a just and righteous cause was absolutely necessary to enable me to put forth greater efforts in the memorable struggle which was soon to follow." This 'memorable struggle' referred to in Grierson's cryptic note began with his decision to join and support a new political party In an overwhelmingly Democratic county and at seemingly physical peril to himself, he joined the new Republican Party. He campaigned for and helped organize the fledgling party and its first presidential candidate Abraham Lincoln. He also remembered that during this time he "composed a great many songs which were widely sung and published throughout the country, and, often met and was intimately acquainted with Mr. Lincoln."
1863 was the year that saw Grierson's reputation vaulted to new heights. The raids of April 17th to May 2nd--some 15 days--mark a turning point in the Civil War and represent the legacy of Benjamin Grierson. Might it have ever been guessed that his background prepared him for it?
At his mother's request, he had refused an appointment to the United States Military Academy at West Point. Years later, in April 1861, when southern secessionists bombarded Fort Sumter, he resolved to go to war. He was initially an aide de camp, later rose to major in the Sixth Illinois Cavalry , in April 1862 to a colonel and in November of that year to brigadier cavalry commander in the Army of the Tennessee. Grierson's assignments were limited to comparatively small operations but, in them, he had earned his men's respect. General Sherman recommended him to General Grant to command 1700 men in a diversion slicing approximately 600 miles southwestward from the southern tip of Tennessee through Mississippi to Union-held Baton Rouge, Louisiana. This feint would distract the Confederate army, permit Grant's conquest of Vicksburg, split the Confederate forces to enable Union control along the entire length of the Mississippi River, and end the Confederacy's flow of material eastward. This bold strategy was successful during a particularly low ebb in Union fortunes. With both Union and Confederate forces bogged down in the East, however, hope glimmered in the West. As skill and as luck would have it, Grierson accomplished his mission. He and his exhausted men were surprised to be greeted as heroes and opinion rose that the Confederacy could be defeated. Even a beaten Confederate commander praised him: "Grierson was here; no, he was there, sixty miles away. He marched north, no, south, or again west... The trouble was, my men ambushed you where you did not go; they waited for you till morning while you passed by night."
In time, Grierson's miraculous reputation dimmed, and, after the Civil War, he went on to a long military career in the West where he organized a unit of the black cavalry known as the Buffalo Soldiers . A century later, the Grierson's Raid rekindled imaginations when Dee Brown, head librarian of the University of Illinois and later famous for Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, wrote an account of the raid and Harold Sinclair, a lesser known novelist and creative non-fiction writer from Bloomington, wrote a fictional account, The Horse Soldiers . Hollywood adapted it for a star-studded movie cast.
Grierson---an historian too---penned a true and idealistic testimony deserving memory: "It is said that whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings, and as we can only at most, form a vague conception of the future, the time may not be unprofitably employed in glancing through the past, even if we gain nothing thereby beyond a better acquaintance with the history of our ancestors." He meant it about his family; but it can just as easily stand for our collective history.
Grant, a West Point graduate and former captain of infantry, had fallen on hard times, and was working in his father's Galena leather-goods store when secessionists fired on Fort Sumter. Though Grant was a relative newcomer, local leaders including U.S. Congressman Elihu B. Washburne invited "Captain Grant" to preside over a meeting to enlist volunteers, and later to assist in their organization and to ride with them to the capital.
The day after arriving in Springfield, Grant wrote to his wife, Julia, that Washburne persuaded him to stay for a time, though he had intended to return immediately to Galena. Governor Yates hoped that Grant would organize and train additional volunteer companies to be accepted under the terms of legislation moving through the General Assembly. On April 29, Grant carried out his first military task for the governor— an inventory of weapons stored in the state arsenal. This and other duties did not seem challenging - "I am on duty with the Governer, at his request, occupation principally smoking and occationally giving advice as to how an order should be communicated &c." Still, Grant's knowledge of military organization allowed him to serve Yates as a troubleshooter. He wrote to Julia, "I don’t see really that I am doing any good. But when I speak of going it is objected to...." On May 4 he was placed in command of Springfield's Camp Yates, and a few days later departed for southern Illinois, where he assisted in organizing regiments and mustering them into service.
Though he recognized the importance of his civilian service, Grant hoped for command of a regiment with the rank of colonel. To accept lesser rank would not be acceptable, given his West Point training and previous army service. Achieving the rank, however, required his being elected by a regiment's volunteer officers or favored by "log rolling" political leaders, "and I do not care to be under such persons," wrote Grant. Still, he recognized that "the time I spend here [in Springfield]... has enabled me to become acquainted with the principle men in the state... I do not know that I shall receive any benefit... but it does no harm." He offered his services to army officials in Washington by letter and in Ohio in person. No offer resulted.
While in Indiana, returning from the fruitless Ohio visit, Grant learned of his appointment as colonel in the Illinois volunteer force. Governor Yates had appointed him to command an infantry regiment that had been mustered at Mattoon but had since fallen into chaos due to incompetent leadership. Officials moved the regiment to Springfield and on June 18 Grant took command. His process of quiet but firm discipline and military instruction soon paid off. When officials asked the men, who had volunteered for a term of one month, to extend their enlistment for three years, the response was overwhelming. The regiment came into the service as the Twenty-first Illinois Infantry. Within weeks they headed for the front, to guard rail facilities in northern Missouri. While most regiments moved by rail, Grant decided that his would pick up some experience by marching the ninety-odd miles to the Mississippi River town of Quincy.
In mid-July Col. Grant received orders to deal with secessionist Missouri State Guard troops under Thomas Harris. After days of marching, Grant and his men finally closed in on their objective. He recalled later that
Legislation and bureaucracy
With the opening of war the state's adjutant general, who administered the skeletal militia, became a lead player in organizing the state’s war effort. Men volunteered by the thousands, and the adjutant had to decide who to accept and who to turn away. Regiments then had to be organized, fed, clothed, and armed. A Springfield newspaper noted that on April 15 the "Adjutant General's office, in the State House, began ... to assume quite a military appearance, an orderly in full uniform being stationed outside the door, and military men constantly coming and going." Two days later "Adjt. Gen. Mather, with several aids, was busy all day registering the companies as they were reported, receiving and answering dispatches, and in the transaction of other business pertaining to his department." The chaotic situation calmed somewhat late in the month when a former U.S. army captain, Ulysses S. Grant, "took supervision of the muster rolls and assignments of companies, and before a week had expired had brought order out of chaos in the papers."
Keeping weapons from rebels
On April 20 Secretary of War Simon Cameron instructed Governor Yates to send Illinois troops "to support the garrison of the St. Louis Arsenal, and to receive their arms and accoutrements there," with an additional 10,000 muskets for later distribution. Captain James Stokes moved on April 24, steaming from Alton, Illinois, on the steamboat City of Alton. Stokes hatched a plan with arsenal commander Captain Nathaniel Lyon to haul the guns to the steamer under cover of night and then move quickly to the Illinois side of the river. A decoy shipment of broken weapons diverted the attention of secessionist scouts, and wagons carrying about 20,000 muskets reached the City of Alton without being detected.
The removal of arms from the St. Louis arsenal and their provision to troops enlisted to defend the Union provided a boost to Illinoisans in the weeks after the surrender of Fort Sumter. The operation provided weapons for several Illinois regiments, while others were soon ordered shipped to Ohio and Wisconsin, much to the disappointment of Governor Yates. Newspapers described the exploit to their readers, and the Illinois General Assembly voted its thanks to Captain Stokes "for the tact and energy displayed by him” in capturing the " arms and munitions requisite for equipping the volunteer forces of this state."
Holding Cairo for the Union
Governor Richard Yates immediately ordered Richard K. Swift of Chicago to move without delay all available men to carry out the War Department's instructions. About 600 troops departed Chicago on April 21. Others joined the force as it moved south on the Illinois Central Railroad, finally totaling about 900. The men, "indifferently armed with rifles, shot-guns, muskets and carbines, hastily gathered from stores and shops in Chicago," reached Cairo on the morning of April 23. Troops continued to arrive, establishing what would be a major base throughout the whole war.
The following day, orders came from Governor Yates to stop the steamboats C. E. Hillman and John D. Perry, said to be carrying "large quantities" of weapons and munitions south from St. Louis. The ships were stopped, boarded, and the military goods confiscated. Though the seizure was not ordered or authorized by the War Department, federal officials soon gave their approval for this act and issued orders that made Cairo a crucial point in attempting to choke off the flow of goods to the South.
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Lincoln chose for these missionsStephen A. Hurlbut of Belvidere (Boone County), and
Ward H. Lamon of Danville (Vermilion County). A Republican politician and acquaintance since the mid-1840s, Hurlbut had been born into a family of New Englanders living in Charleston, and spent most of his first thirty years living in the city. His professional mentor, attorney James Pettigru, in 1861 was the most vocal (some would say only) unionist in South Carolina. The Virginia-born Lamon had worked with Lincoln during the 1850s on Illinois’ Eighth Judicial Circuit. The burly attorney accompanied his friend on the inaugural journey to Washington, D.C., acting informally as bodyguard.
On arriving in Charleston on March 24, Hurlbut and Lamon parted to perform their separate missions. Hurlbut began visiting old acquaintances, playing the role of "a private person upon my last visit to my relatives." A few days of conversation with Charleston lawyers, merchants, and tradesmen brought a disappointing conclusion—no unionist sentiment existed. Hurlbut wrote to Lincoln that "I have no hesitation in reporting... that Separate Nationality is a fixed fact... that there is an unanimity of sentiment which is to my mind astonishing—that there is no attachment to the Union." In scanning the harbor, "I regret to say that no single vessel in port displayed American colours... the Flag of the Southern Confederacy and of the State of South Carolina were visible everywhere..." Even men who supported President Andrew Jackson against South Carolina's secession movement in 1832 "are now... ready to take arms if necessary for the Southern Confederacy."
Although everyone Hurlbut spoke with supported secession, they split over whether to actually begin a war. He wrote that power in South Carolina and the Deep South states "is now in the hands of Conservatives—of men who desire no war, seek no armed collision, but hope & expect peaceable separation." Others though, "desire to precipitate collision, inaugurate war & unite the Southern Confederacy by that means. These men dread the effect of time & trial upon their institutions... These are the men who demand an immediate attack upon the forts." Summing up, the outlook for sending supplies to and holding Fort Sumter was bleak. "I have no doubt that a ship known to contain only provisions for Sumpter would be stopped & refused admittance Even the moderate men who desire not to open fire, believe in the safer policy of time and Starvation." Moving on to offer Lincoln his opinion and advice, the Belvidere attorney declared, "If Sumpter is abandoned it is to a certain extent a concession of jurisdiction which cannot fail to have its effects at home and abroad," and thus, "At all hazards and under all circumstances ... any Fortress accessible by the Sea, over which we still have dominion, should be held & if war comes, let it come."
As Hurlbut worked to determine public opinion, Ward H. Lamon held conversations that misled both U. S. and Confederate officials about Lincoln’s thoughts regarding Fort Sumter. He informed South Carolina governor F. W. Pickens and U. S. Army major Robert Anderson that the fort would be abandoned by the United States. Confederate general Pierre G. T. Beauregard reported to his secretary of war on March 26 that "Mr. Lamon left here last night, saying that Major Anderson and command would soon be withdrawn from Fort Sumter in a satisfactory manner," but that the general continued to mount additional cannon, just in case. Anderson reported later in the week that "remarks made to me by Colonel Lamon ... have induced me ... to believe that orders would soon be issued for my abandoning this work." When informed that an attempt would be made to resupply Sumter by ship, the confused major responded to his superior in Washington, "Colonel Lamon's remark convinced me that the idea ... would not be carried out." Still, Anderson wrote, whatever the Lincoln administration decided, "We shall strive to do our duty."
As southern states declared independence from the United States, many in Illinois thought that they should be allowed to leave. Some antislavery men did so with an attitude of "good riddance" to what they saw as a way of life that made a mockery of American ideals of freedom. Others saw secession as the only way that slaveholding states could react to a radical party taking power in Washington. A Democratic editor in Belleville wrote shortly after the election that the choice of a Republican president proved "that the North is hopelessly abolitionized," and that the question "to submit...or secede, is forced upon the South... Thus far, they have justice and right on their side." The Rockford Register disapproved of secession but worried over the idea of forcing states to remain in the Union- "If a separation must come, let it be a peaceful one."
Others thought secession to be disruptive of business, misguided, or downright illegal. Some farmers and others who shipped produce and other goods via New Orleans, worried about a foreign power controlling the Mississippi River. However, most Illinois Democrats, though disappointed over the Republican election victory, thought that seceding before Abraham Lincoln was even inaugurated would be foolish. Democratic leader and Illinois Senator Stephen A. Douglas argued for the principle of majority rule—that the constitutional election of a president provided no excuse for disunion. Beyond that, he believed that no state could on its own decide to leave the Union. The Constitution, he reasoned, is a contract between all of the states, and a state can break from that contract only with the agreement of all the other parties.
Prairie State Republicans tended to be of one mind concerning secession. They had won an election and would not compromise their policies in order to quiet southern radicals. This view was expressed by W. H. Hanna of Bloomington, who wrote to Senator Lyman Trumbull: "I am in favor of 20 years of war rather than the loss of one inch of territory or the surrender of any principal that concedes the right of secession, which is the disruption of the government."
As the crisis deepened with the secession of more states, many hoped for some compromise. Senator Douglas, a strong nationalist who believed secession to be illegal, seems to hope for a cooling-off period. He feared that if war began it could end only with the complete, crushing defeat of one side or the other. Even if the Union was maintained by such a war, he thought that bitterness between the sections would be felt for years. Illinois Republicans continued to refuse serious consideration of compromise. Abraham Lincoln’s inaugural speech, denying the right of states to leave the Union and promising to "hold, occupy, and possess" federal property throughout the United States, suited them perfectly
The firing on U. S. troops and their flag at Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861, forced Americans to take sides after months of discussion about the wisdom or the legality of secession. The majority of Illinois residents saw the attack as an outrage that could not be justified. A few Democrats continued to strongly support a right of secession, and others remained unsure as to just what stand they should take, looking to Senator Douglas for an answer. He gave it to them in speeches in Springfield and Chicago, calling on all, regardless of party, to stand for the Union and the preservation of majority rule through the ballot box. Douglas died weeks later, with his last words telling his sons to "obey the laws and support the Constitution of the United States."
Fort Sumter brought Illinoisans together in support of Abraham Lincoln's effort to preserve the Union. As time passed, as costs in blood and treasure grew, and as African Americans became more visible players in the conflict, the united front of Spring 1861 broke. The state's residents again divided, this time over exactly how the nation should be preserved.
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This program is made possible in part by a grant from the Illinois
Humanities Council, the National Endowment for the Humanities and the Illinois General Assembly. | ||