February 5, 1864
---Sherman’s troops are
moving eastward toward the town of Clinton, facing two brigades of cavalry
under Adams and Starke. Federal troops
loop around behind the town and attack Adams from the rear. Gen. Polk, in command of the department,
scrambles to bring up more troops, but is unable to get his reserves there in
time. The Confederates pull pack, hoping
to attack the Federals in flank. Sherman’s
troops are on the outskirts of Jackson by nightfall.
---An editorial in the Richmond Daily Dispatch argues the South’s
error in not promoting more industrial and commercial production, thus
lessening their dependence—political and economic—on the North or Britain:
Among
the most cunning devices of Yankee legislation to render the South forever a
helpless tributary, was that system of policy by which the North managed to
monopolize manufactures, and cajoled the South into the belief that the
cultivation of the soil was the only species of labor which would remunerate
her enterprise. . . . Let us trust that, in severing the last link of our
connection with the United States, we are entering a career not only of nominal
but of real independence. We must not be dependent hereafter upon. New England
or Old England for any production of human hands that human necessities
require. We must not dream of giving even our carrying trade to foreign powers.
There was a time when, in our anxiety for friends abroad we were proffering our
future commerce to England or France, but they have been deaf to all those
blandishments. This, which some among us have considered an evil for tune, may
prove the best of all fortunes.–Certainly it will if it leads us to depend upon
ourselves. We shall have no friends to reward, for the excellent reason that we
have no friends. We have been left alone to struggle with a colossal foe, and
alone, we should reap the fruits of that struggle. We have the greatest natural
facilities for becoming a great commercial and manufacturing people, as well as
mechanical labor. We must learn to exalt and dignify labor, and make it
honorable in every branch of human enterprise. . . . We should not import the
degraded manufacturing labor of Europe, but raise up artisans among our own
people, manufacture our own clothing, furniture, and agricultural implements,
build our own ships, and man them with our own seamen. Congress and the State
Legislatures should encourage Mechanics’ Institutes, like that which was
established in Richmond before the war and similar associations in England,
which the aristocracy of that country have wisely assisted by their counsels
and means, and cheered by their personal presence and co-operation at the
annual celebrations.–We shall never again have such a war as this on our hands
if we learn to provide by our own labor for our own wants. The sword has
achieved our independence, but it is only the industry’ of the artisan and the
agriculturist which can make it secure.
---Sarah Morgan of New
Orleans receives the news she has dreaded---that her favorite brother Gibbes is
dead:
Not
dead! not dead! O my God! Gibbes is not dead! Where — O dear God! Another?
Only
a few days ago came a letter so cheerful and hopeful —we have waited and prayed
so patiently — at my feet lies one from Colonel Steadman saying he is dead.
Dead! Suddenly and without a moment’s warning summoned to God! No! it cannot
be! I am mad! O God, have mercy on us! My poor mother! And Lydia! Lydia! God
comfort you! My brain seems afire. Am I mad? Not yet! God would not take him
yet! He will come again! Hush, God is good! Not dead! not dead!
O
Gibbes, come back to us!
---Jenkin Lloyd Jones, a
Union artilleryman, writes in his journal in a melancholy mood:
Huntsville,
Friday, Feb. 5. Rainy day, consequently no drill. Laid in quarters all day
reading papers received from home. No mail, no news. Poor fare makes such days
as these hang heavily and moodily, and I found it uncommon hard to keep a
cheerful face upon it. All the disagreeable things seemed to be heaped up for
my particular benefit. But I did not allow my feelings much sway and amused
myself in reading, which always has a charm for me, and went to bed at night
with a satisfied but a homesick heart.
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