4th. Answered Fannie’s letter. Received a package from home—letter, pocketbook, etc.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Camp Union, January 4, 1862.
Dear Doctor : — You have probably learned that Dr. McCurdy has gone home to recruit his health. If Dr. Jim does not break down (I have some fears on that score) this absence of Dr. McCurdy need not hasten your departure. Our men are generally very healthy; the sick are daily returning, for the most part well. Captain Skiles and Captain Lovejoy are to recruit in Ohio. It is possible that I may not come, if Lucy gets on well, until you return. If we do not move the Twenty-third on to Raleigh, I would prefer to wait, if possible, until you get here.
If we go on to Raleigh where Major ––. At this point, I learned that the Twenty-sixth is ordered to Kentucky. If so, it will stop our going on to Raleigh; besides, it has just begun to rain, so I suppose we are fixed. If so, I shall be coming home in two or three weeks, I think. Possibly not. You need send me nothing except newspapers. The Commercial via Gallipolis by mail comes in good time.
We have some interesting contrabands coming in daily. Eleven came in yesterday. The rain seems to be a “settled” one. If so, all movements in this quarter are at an end. Sorry, but it can’t be helped. . . .
Yours,
R.
Dr. J. T. Webb.
Camp Union, Fayetteville, Virginia,
January 4, 1862.
Dear Mother : — I have a chance to send letters direct to Columbus by a recruiting officer this morning and write in great haste. We are still in good quarters and good health. The people we meet are more and more satisfied that it is best to return to their allegiance. Our men, pickets and outposts, are daily pushed out further into what has been the enemy’s country, and everywhere they meet friends, or at least people who no longer behave like enemies. Part of our regiment is fifty miles south of here, and no signs even of hostility from anybody. Not a man has been fired at in this brigade for more than a month. If no disaster befalls our armies on the Potomac or in Kentucky, the masses of the people in Virginia are ready — would be glad — to submit. England out of the way, and a little patience and determination will crush the Rebellion.
You say you are glad I am coming home — that you didn’t expect it. I hope to start the latter part of this month. All the officers but five have been home and returned or are now absent. My turn is next to the last. I shall go before Colonel Scammon. Of course, events may occur to prevent my leaving, but I don’t anticipate them.
Affectionately, your son,
R. B. Hayes.
Mrs. Sophia Hayes.
Saturday, January 4, 1862. — Major Comly calls his camp at Raleigh “Camp Hayes.” It rained last night as if bent to make up for the long drouth. Foggy this morning; warm and muddy enough to stop all advances. Besides, yesterday the Twenty-sixth Regiment was ordered from here to Kentucky. Two other regiments go from below. Ten regiments from New York in same direction. Such an immense force as is gathering ought to open the Mississippi River, capture Memphis, New Orleans, and Nashville before the heat of summer closes operations on that line. Oh, for energy, go-ahead! With horses here we could do wonders, but such a rain as last night forbids any extensive movement.
Sent today as recruiting officers for the regiment Captains Lovejoy and Skiles, Sergeants Hicks and Powers, privates Seekins and Lowe, to report at Camp Chase to Major McCrea, U. S. A.
No rain today, but mist and clouds with occasional flakes of snow.
Saturday, 4th—Some of the boys went out today on a ‘possum hunt. They were very successful, as this is a good ‘possum country, especially over on the banks of the Missouri river.
Camp Alcorn, Hopkinsville, Ky., }
January 4th, 1862. }
Miss Pattie: It is with the purest of motives that we write you these lines. We are now in the army of our country, deprived of the enjoyment of the society of loved friends at home, and the greatest satisfaction we have is in communicating with those we have left behind, in whose company we once took delight. And though our acquaintance with you is limited, yet it is nothing but truth to say that the impression you have made upon our mind to desire to place you in the catalogue of absent friends, and to communicate with you as such.
It is true that the impression you have made upon us must last while memory exists, and though we should fall before the enemies of our country amid the smoke of battle and the clangor of arms, the last recollection of our mortal existence will be of our native Southern land and the fair and beautiful ladies that inhabit the same.
Since we have left our friends and peaceful homes we have learned by experience what we knew from reason before, that is, that the soldier’s life is very hard. But who with one drop of patriotic blood in his veins could refuse to respond to the call of his invaded country? Our once happy country is now bleeding at every pore. A mighty host of vandals and infidels have seized the reins of Government and trampled under their unhallowed feet the Constitution of our fathers, and in their madness have set at defiance the holy edict of sacred write, and declare that there is a higher law that must govern the actions of the free people of America. A tyrant more odious than ever reigned in the kingdoms and empires of Europe, is now enthroned in the cerulean chair of state, and his anathematical denunciation (that the South must submit to him) has gone forth and is irrevocable. And now to carry out his nefarious designs, he has called out the largest armies ever drilled in modern times, and has sent them forth, for our subjugation and everlasting ruin as a people, and they are pouring down upon us like mighty gathering avalanches, and threatening to overwhelm us in one grand destructive wreck. Under these circumstances I would ask again, what patriotic Southern son could refuse to go and drive away the invaders of his country’s liberty? Our country called us to leave our homes to defend and preserve untarnished and untouched by the hand of the invader, her fair escutcheon. Our duty said to us, go, young soldiers, and prove yourselves to be the sons of immortal sires. Nature, with all her ten thousand tongues, seemed to say to all the brave of Southern climes, go to the field of battle and preserve for yourselves and future generations, political and religious liberty. So we have determined that come what may, weal or woe, death or prosperity, our country must be free. That the South will prevail, that her arms will prove invincible, and that the enemy will fly before them like chaff before the wind of heaven.
And in conclusion, fair Miss Cone, permit us to say that we scarcely hope that after the smoke of battle and the noise of war shall have passed away; that when peace shall have hovered over our fertile land, like ministering angels over the returning prodigal, to see you and enjoy your company and society again.
There is no rest or enjoyment for us until the land we love the most is cleared of our enemies. But our hopes and prayers now are, that the God that holds the sceptre and controls the destiny of the vast universe, will bring this war to a speedy and peaceful termination, and that we may yet live to see all our friends again in a state of happiness and prosperity; and that universal peace, like a mighty river, pure as the fountain that was opened in the House of David may spread over the plains of earth and that the rider of the white horse may again pass over this war distracted continent, followed by the Angel that has the everlasting gospel to preach to the fallen of Adam’s race.
Geo. McLeod.
He was wounded at Fort Donelson and died at the hospital at Mound City, Illinois, February 3d, 1862.
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Daily Missouri Republican, February 27, 1862
Saturday Jany 4th 1862
Nothing in particular has occured today. The morning was the coldest yet this winter. M. stood 23. At [sic] little sleet in the night with a little snow. The ground was nearly covered, it has been quite wintry. Lieut Swan called just before dark and staid about an hour. Col Merrick was out and Swan did not see him. I went with Swan dow[n] to “Willards,” Quarter Master Hamilton was there waiting for him. Col Bartlett of the 27th was also there on his return from home after a severe fit of sickness, invited him up to spend Sunday with me. The Hotel was quite full, saw some officers of the “Buck Tail” Regt (P.A.) who were in the Drainsville fight. The Capt I saw gave quite a graphic description of that brilliant affair. The Burnside Expedition is now about ready to leave Annapolis and the public is on the “qui vive” to know its destination. Much is expected from it. I came home, went to market and then called down to Mr Hartlys fro [sic] Julia who had been spending the evening there, to bed at 11 o’clock.
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The three diary manuscript volumes, Washington during the Civil War: The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865, are available online at The Library of Congress.
January 4th.—It is just as I feared. Gen. T. J. Jackson, supposing his project to be a profound secret, marched on the 1st instant from Winchester, intending to surprise a force of the enemy at Romney. But he had not proceeded half the distance before he found a printed account of his intended expedition in a Baltimore paper at an inn on the roadside. This was treason of the blackest dye, and will cost us a thousand men. The enemy, of course, escaped, and our poor soldiers, frost-bitten and famished, must painfully retrace all steps of this fruitless march.
January 4 — Snowed last night, and our hog nest shelter did nothing but sift snow on us all night. We did not leave our camp till nearly midday, then marched over a rough mountainous country. We crossed one mountain over a rough steep road. At some places it meandered through deep and wooded ravines and at others it wound along the craggy sides of steep rocky ridges, like a huge serpent feeling its way around insurmountable barriers.
On top of the mountain we had a grand and imposing view of wild and picturesque scenery, mountains piled up in every direction, ridged and ravined and covered with new-fallen snow, the rocks and trees all mantled in the crystal garb of winter. Looking to the north, ridge succeeds ridge and mountain follows mountain, like mighty waves on some storm-swept ocean, until way in the dim distance the snowy crests touched the bending sky and softly blended with the dull leaden wintry haze that hung along the horizon.
There are people living all through these mountains and uplands. Here and there I saw little cleared spots, hanging along the hill and mountain slopes, with small, low wooden houses on them, weather-stained, gray with age, that constitute the homes of these dwellers in the highlands.
It is hard to comprehend how these mountaineers can be contented to spend their lives in these isolated, solitary, dreary spots in this mountain wilderness, but I suppose they, like all highland dwellers, love the lofty slopes that lift their humble homes to the storm.
It was nearly sunset when we arrived at Bath, and General Jackson’s men had already driven the enemy away an hour before our arrival.
Bath is the county-seat of Morgan County, and also noted as a summer resort and watering-place, bearing the name of Berkeley Springs. It is almost entirely surrounded by steep little mountains close by, and on top of the nearest one to the little village the Yanks had a few pieces of artillery in position, from which they fired a few rounds at Jackson’s infantry when it first approached the town. The Yanks, without making much resistance, fled toward Hancock, Md., which is six miles away due north from Bath. Jackson’s men pursued them, and just at nightfall we started from Bath toward Hancock.
It was drawing toward midnight when we arrived near the river opposite Hancock. Some Yankee sharpshooters in or near the town were firing at the dark hills on the Virginia side of the river, and some of Jackson’s batteries were replying to the Yankee fireworks at midnight. The scene was grand. The light that flashed from the cannon darted around the hills and lighted the frosty landscape just like regular old-time lightning would do it when it is playing from the clouds.
The troughy road is crowded with Jackson’s shivering infantry, standing in the cold and dark. The snow is about four inches deep, and the night is very unfavorable for an outdoor performance; and to add to the disagreeableness of the situation, an icy breeze is creeping over the frozen hills and feels like a breath from the North Pole.
At last, about two hours after midnight, an order came around permitting us to make fires, and I never before saw fences disappear so fast. In twenty minutes after the “You may make fires” was spoken there were a hundred friendly camp-fires cheerfully blazing along the snowy hillside.
Jane Stuart Woolsey to Joseph Howland.
Saturday Evening, January, ‘62.
I received yesterday from Mr. Stephen Williams thirty dollars, on the part of Mr. Alexander Van Rensselaer, “for a soldiers’ library.” Stephen, good old soul, said, “ Oh! I’ve got this commission; now won’t you help me? I don’t know about libraries; you can consult Howland,” etc., etc. . . . It will buy about forty plain books for a hospital or regiment. Would the 16th or any regiment in the brigade like one? . . .
Lizzie Greene sent a box of flannel shirts to a Connecticut regiment lately, and put a dozen cigars and a paper of tobacco in a pocket in each— “true Christian philanthropy,” William Bond says;— “send them something they ought not to have.” . . . We have been trying to persuade Mother to go down to Washington with Hatty and Charley, and take a look at things, but she is not to be prevailed on, I am afraid. Charley’s lame hand will prevent him from going for a while, but I think he and H. will go on while Carry is in Boston. Carry goes on Wednesday to Mrs. Huntington Wolcott’s and afterwards to Miss Parsons’, (lately engaged to a tall Captain Stackpole in a Massachusetts regiment now at Annapolis, expecting to go up the York river with Burnside’s expedition). Abby saw Mrs. George Betts to-day, who says her husband (in Hawkins’ Zouaves) expects to join the same expedition immediately. Transports are to take them at once from Hatteras to the rendezvous at Fortress Monroe. They have suffered severely at Hatteras; the mortality in George Betts’ regiment has been very great….
Malvina Williams says she hears G. and E. are known in Washington as the “Angels!”
Mr. Prentiss came in just now for a little call, cheery and bright, asking for your photograph to put in a book he had given him for Christmas. So you can send him one. It’s a good book to be in, Mr. Prentiss’ good book. . . .
William Wheeler, who has been very ill with camp fever, writes home that he has received great kindness from Miss Jane Woolsey, meaning G., and “was delighted with her.” I begged his friends not to mention it; it was but little I could do! But tell Georgy. . . .
Would you like three or four dozen more gloves for your men, lonely and cold sentinels, for instance? Spake the wurred. Mr. Gibson sends a lot of London papers all deep-edged with black for the Prince Consort (rest his soul) and their own sins (bad luck to them) I should hope. The “whirligig of time will no doubt bring in its revenges.” . . .
I had a vision of you to-day, as might be a year ago, sitting on the box seat of a sleigh, with a fur cap with ears, and, shall I say it, a roseate nose, visible when you turned around, skirrying over the crusty roads with the blue bloomy hills lifting, and the white fields rolling away, with the wonderful sparkling rime on everything and the heavy snow breaking down the fir-branches. The vision passed, as Cobb would say, and I tried to make another out of your present circumstances and didn’t succeed at all, which proves that your normal state is not warlike.
Young people at home could not be kept on the nervous strain all the time, and an occasional festivity served as a breathing place, though the regular occupation of the family followed hard upon it.
