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

Thursday, March 8, 2012

March 8 — To-day we moved four miles below Winchester, on the Martinsburg pike. Quartered in a house.

Saturday March 8th

The weather is now fine & the roads are drying up. Troops are coming into the City and crossing over the River. Rumors afloat of fighting today near Mt Vernon. Nothing is published and little is known publicly of War operations. The prospect now is that there will be a desperate Battle near here soon. The Rebels will try to retrieve their recent losses, and will fight with desperation. McClellan is well prepared and has an immense army near here all ready and anxious for a fight. Went up to Franklin Square with wife & the boys after dinner. Wife & myself continued our walk to Lafayette Square pass [sic] Genl McClellans home. He was standing at the Window. I did not go down to the Ave tonight, got a “Tribune” of the news boy & read Carl Shurze Speech at the Cooper Institute NY.

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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.

MARCH 8TH.—Gen. Winder has appointed Capt. Godwin Provost Marshal

Saturday, 8th—The boys are in fine spirits because we have orders to leave. All are at work getting ready—some are mending their shirts, pants or coats, others their socks or shoes, or anything which needs fixing up before leaving for the South.

March 8th. This afternoon the Brooklyn made an attempt to cross the bar, being led by a gunboat, but the Brooklyn grounded, and after persevering with commendable zeal gave it up for the day. The men are grinding their cutlasses, and making other preparations of a warlike character.

8th. Struck tents and were ready to march at 7 A. M. Enjoyed a ride of thirty miles to Butler, the burnt and deserted county seat of Butler County, once a thriving town, now but a few poor houses remaining.

Saturday, March 8. — Ground frozen; sun came out bright and warm, speedily thawing all snow. Company C and four wagons carry all the “plunder” of the company and the adjutant’s office to Raleigh.

P. M. A glorious ride to the scenery of New River at and about Long Point; a rapid ride back; Doctors McCurdy, Twenty-third, and Potter, Thirtieth, Lieutenant-Colonel Jones, and Adjutant-General Hunter for companions. How the blood leaps and thrills through the veins as we race over the hills! Physical enjoyments of this sort are worth a war. How the manly, generous, brave side of our people is growing! With all its evils war has its glorious compensations.

News by telegraph this evening very meagre. A fine, affectionate letter from my dear wife, written last Sunday. She is so distressed at my absence but would not have me do otherwise.

8th.—The family of Captain _____, of the navy, just arrived. They have been “refugeeing” in Warrenton; but now that there is danger of our army falling back from the Potomac to the Rappahannock, they must leave Warrenton, and are on their way to Danville. Their sweet home is utterly destroyed; the house burned, etc. Like ourselves, they feel as though their future was very dark.

Eliza‘s journal.

Saturday, March 8th.

The item this morning is that Colonel Davies was confirmed yesterday by the Senate as Brigadier General, so J. is now Colonel of the 16th by unanimous choice of the officers, and will take command at once.[1] He writes by the orderly that he has been with General Slocum to see the regiment pitch their new tents in the valley of Four Mile Run.


[1] Mr. Robert S. Hone to Eliza Woolsey Howland.

New York, March, 1862.

Dear Mrs. Howland: Mr. Russell has just been in my office and wishes me to say that he has just left Governor Morgan, who informed him that he had to-day signed Joe’s commission as Colonel of the 16th Regiment, and that he was delighted to hear the very high terms in which the Governor spoke of Joe.

With congratulations, I am, etc

March 8th, 1862.—I do not like Dr. Cleveland. I wonder how much longer he is going to stay? This morning while we were sitting at the breakfast table he was contending with Mother about the “sweet-briar.” It seems he has spent much time in England, perhaps he is an Englishman, but he insists that there has never been any “sweet briar,” or as he says, any “true Eglantine” in America. I think it is rude of him to be so positive with Mother, but Father says, “all scientific men love to dispute with the laity.” At last, when we were rising from the table Mother said, “Sue, show Dr. Cleveland the sweet briar by the school room.”

We went down the walk to the frame where it grew and I pointed it out to him. Now this happened to be the very tangle of vines into which I threw my algebra, on that memorable day when Miss Darner made me pick it up. The vines are all thorns and they scratched me dreadfully. Dr. Cleveland inspected the vine, pinched a leaf, smelled it, sniffing loudly and then he said, “This is the true Eglantine.”

“Mother told you it was,” I replied.

He took from his pocket a small sketch-book and pencil and proceeded to make a picture of it, not a finished drawing but just a sketch. He replaced the book and pencil in his pocket and, trying to speak very pleasantly, he said: “When I get to my drawing materials I shall make and send you a pretty picture of this Eglantine, it is very rare.”

“Do not trouble to do that, please, I have no pleasant associations with that thorny tangle,” I answered, and we returned to the house.

The mail had arrived in our absence and the family were gathered around the library table; aunt Robinson handed me a letter from Brother Junius, saying as she did so, “Here is another birthday gift for you.”

Dr. Cleveland, who was apologizing awkwardly to Mother for contradicting her so flatly as to the sweet briar, turned to Father and asked, “Her birthday, is it, how old?” “Sixteen,” said Father. “Indeed—” went on the talkative man of science, “I should never have imagined it—there is none of the `beaute du diable,’ which we naturally associate with that age.” “No,” said Father, “and I am glad of it, I do not want my baby to grow up too fast.”

Then the whole crowd proceeded to discuss me as calmly as if I had been one of my own dolls. It was embarrassing but I found out what they thought of me. Among other things, I learned that I was bluntly truthful and would have to learn that Madam de Geniis’ “Palace of Truth” was not practical and a white lie could sometimes be used to advantage. Mother’s constant teaching of the Ten Commandments will, I think, make even white lies difficult for me, though I do try to be polite.

I had some pretty presents even if it is war times, and I got a nice letter from Brother Junius, written two days ago so I would get it today. Brother Amos is here and Sister Mag is happy, we are too, for all love our jolly soldier boy, he has been at home for ten days and he has only two weeks furlough. It will be hard for Sister Mag to let him go.

There is something I have never told you, my Diary; ever since that day in August of last year, when we went to the depot to see the Howell Guards off to Virginia, Sister Mag has never failed to lock herself in her room for awhile every day to pray for her husband. I did not know just at first what she was doing, but I heard her tell him she never let a day pass without asking God to take care of him and he might know, wherever he might be, that her thoughts and her prayers were following him.

I felt real mean to have overheard this, for it was never intended for my ears, but I had sung Eddie to sleep and was holding him in my arms in the dark, waiting for Nellie to come for him, and they were talking on the porch just outside.