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

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Madison, Wis., Monday, Aug. 25. I bade good-bye to friends, relatives and companions most dear, and at 8 o’clock embarked for Madison to begin my soldier’s life. Arrived at camp at 12 M. and slept my first night on the lap of mother earth with Uncle Sam’s blanket for a coverlid and a few rough boards raised about four feet in the center for a roof. I laid down; my eyelids were heavy and demanded sleep but the mind wandered and the stars shone bright and it was long ere sleep threw her curtain over the scene.

August 25th. After a short drill by officers of the 48th Regiment, I was detailed for guard duty. A large number of Confederate prisoners were confined in one of the old buildings near which I was posted. That kind of duty I did not like. It had to be done.

The fort was located on a point of land extending out into the Patapsco Bay. A high stone wall from water to water enclosed it. Company drill during the forenoon, battalion drill and dress parade in the afternoon, and all other duties incident to camp life had to be done as each day came along. By our stopping at the fort we escaped the battle of Antietam, at which time we had to do extra duty and be ready to march at any time, if wanted.

August 25 — The sharpshooters were firing at one another across the river all night. The Yanks made three attempts during last night to burn the bridge, but our sharpshooters drove them back every time.

This morning the Yanks on the hill near the bridge were firing swivels at us. A swivel is a species of young cannon, light, and mounted on a tripod that looks something like a surveyor’s compass. The barrel is fixed on a swivel or turning point. The ones the Yanks fired at us this morning threw a shot about the size of a walnut. However, I did not see any of them. I judge the size only by the keen whiz they made as they sped past us. I wonder what these Pope Yanks will try on us next — shoot a blacksmith shop or a buzz saw at us, I expect.

This forenoon we moved back to our wagons, about three miles from Waterloo bridge. When we left, the sharpshooters were still firing at one another across the river. In coming back to camp we passed some of General Hill’s infantry going toward the bridge. This evening we cooked three days’ rations.

August 25th. About 12 at night.

Sleep is impossible after all that I have heard, so, after vainly endeavoring to follow the example of the rest, and sleep like a Stoic, I have lighted my candle and take to this to induce drowsiness.

Just after supper, when Anna and I were sitting with Mrs. Carter in her room, I talking as usual of home, and saying I would be perfectly happy if mother would decide to remain in Baton Rouge and brave the occasional shellings, I heard a well-known voice take up some sentence of mine from a dark part of the room, and with a cry of surprise, I was hugging Miriam until she was breathless. Such a forlorn creature! — so dirty, tired, and fatigued, as to be hardly recognizable. We thrust her into a chair, and made her speak. She had just come with Charlie, who went after them yesterday; and had left mother and the servants at a kind friend’s, on the road. I never heard such a story as she told. I was heartsick; but I laughed until Mrs. Badger grew furious with me and the Yankees, and abused me for not abusing them.

She says when she entered the house, she burst into tears at the desolation. It was one scene of ruin. Libraries emptied, china smashed, sideboards split open with axes, three cedar chests cut open, plundered, and set up on end; all parlor ornaments carried off — even the alabaster Apollo and Diana that Hal valued so much. Her piano, dragged to the centre of the parlor, had been abandoned as too heavy to carry off; her desk lay open with all letters and notes well thumbed and scattered around, while Will’s last letter to her was open on the floor, with the Yankee stamp of dirty fingers. Mother’s portrait half-cut from its frame stood on the floor. Margret, who was present at the sacking, told how she had saved father’s. It seems that those who wrought destruction in our house were all officers. One jumped on the sofa to cut the picture down (Miriam saw the prints of his muddy feet) when Margret cried, “For God’s sake, gentlemen, let it be! I’ll help you to anything here. He’s dead, and the young ladies would rather see the house burn than lose it!” “I’ll blow your damned brains out,” was the “gentleman’s” answer as he put a pistol to her head, which a brother officer dashed away, and the picture was abandoned for finer sport. All the others were cut up in shreds.

Upstairs was the finest fun. Mother’s beautiful mahogany armoir, whose single door was an extremely fine mirror, was entered by crashing through the glass, when it was emptied of every article, and the shelves half-split, and half-thrust back crooked. Letters, labeled by the boys “Private,” were strewn over the floor; they opened every armoir and drawer, collected every rag to be found and littered the whole house with them, until the wonder was, where so many rags had been found. Father’s armoir was relieved of everything; Gibbes’s handsome Damascus sword with the silver scabbard included. All his clothes, George’s, Hal’s, Jimmy’s, were appropriated. They entered my room, broke that fine mirror for sport, pulled down the rods from the bed, and with them pulverized my toilet set, taking also all Lydia’s china ornaments I had packed in the wash-stand. The débris filled my basin, and ornamented my bed. My desk was broken open. Over it was spread all my letters, and private papers, a diary I kept when twelve years old, and sundry tokens of dried roses, etc., which must have been very funny, they all being labeled with the donor’s name, and the occasion. Fool! how I writhe when I think of all they saw; the invitations to buggy rides, concerts, “Compliments of,” etc. —! Lilly’s sewing-machine had disappeared; but as mother’s was too heavy to move, they merely smashed the needles.

In the pillaging of the armoirs, they seized a pink flounced muslin of Miriam’s, which one officer placed on the end of a bayonet, and paraded round with, followed by the others who slashed it with their swords crying, “I have stuck the damned Secesh! that’s the time I cut her!” and continued their sport until the rags could no longer be pierced. One seized my bonnet, with which he decked himself, and ran in the streets. Indeed, all who found such, rushed frantically around town, by way of frolicking, with the things on their heads. They say no frenzy could surpass it. Another snatched one of my calico dresses, and a pair of vases that mother had when she was married, and was about to decamp when a Mrs. Jones jerked them away, and carried them to her boarding-house, and returned them to mother the other day. Blessed be Heaven! I have a calico dress! Our clothes were used for the vilest purposes, and spread in every corner — at least those few that were not stolen.

Aunt Barker’s Charles tried his best to defend, the property. “Ain’t you ‘shamed to destroy all dis here, that belongs to a poor widow lady who’s got two daughters to support?” he asked of an officer who was foremost in the destruction. “Poor? Damn them! I don’t know when I have seen a house furnished like this! Look at that furniture! They poor!” was the retort, and thereupon the work went bravely on, of making us poor, indeed.

It would have fared badly with us had we been there. The servants say they broke into the house crying, “Where are those damned Secesh women? We know they are hid in here, and we’ll make them dance for hiding from Federal officers!” And they could not be convinced that we were not there, until they had searched the very garret. Wonder what they would have done? Charles caught a Captain Clark in the streets, when the work was almost over, and begged him to put an end to it. The gentleman went readily, but though the devastation was quite evident, no one was to be seen, and he was about to leave, when, insisting that there was some one there, Charles drew him into my room, dived under the bed, and drew from thence a Yankee captain, by one leg, followed by a lieutenant, each with a bundle of the boys’ clothes, which they instantly dropped, protesting they were only looking around the house. The gentleman captain carried them off to their superior.

Ours was the most shockingly treated house in the whole town. We have the misfortune to be equally feared by both sides, because we will blackguard neither. So the Yankees selected the only house in town that sheltered three forlorn women, to wreak their vengeance on. From far and near, strangers and friends flocked in to see the ravages committed. Crowds rushed in before, crowds came in after, Miriam and mother arrived, all apologizing for the intrusion, but saying they had heard it was a sight never before seen. So they let them examine to their hearts’ content; and Miriam says the sympathy of all was extraordinary. A strange gentleman picked up a piece of mother’s mirror, which was as thick as his finger, saying, “Madame, I should like to keep this as a memento. I am about to travel through Mississippi, and having seen what a splendid piece of furniture this was, and the state your house is left in, should like to show this as a specimen of Yankee vandalism.”

William Waller flew to our home to try to save it; but was too late. They say he burst into tears as he looked around. While on his kind errand, another band of Yankees burst into his house and left not one article of clothing to him, except the suit he had on. The whole talk is about our dreadful treatment at the Yankees’ hands. Dr. Day, and Dr. Enders, in spite of the assertions of the former, lost nothing.

Well! I am beggared! Strange to say, I don’t feel it. Perhaps it is the satisfaction of knowing my fate that makes me so cheerful that Mrs. Carter envied my stoicism, while Mrs. Badger felt like beating me because I did not agree that there was no such thing as a gentleman in the Yankee army. I know Major Drum for one, and that Captain Clark must be two, and Mr. Biddle is three, and General Williams —God bless him, wherever he is! for he certainly acted like a Christian. The Yankees boasted loudly that if it had not been for him, the work would have been done long ago.

And now, I am determined to see my home, before Yankee shells complete the work that Yankee axes spared. So by sunrise, I shall post over to Mr. Elder’s, and insist on Charlie taking me to town with him. I hardly think it is many hours off. I feel so settled, so calm! Just as though I never meant to sleep again. If I only had a desk, — a luxury I have not enjoyed since I left home, — I could write for hours still, without being sleepy; but this curved attitude is hard on my stiff back, so good-night, while I lie down to gain strength for a sight they say will make me faint with distress. Nous verrons! If I say I Won’t, I know I’ll not cry. The Brunots lost nothing at all from their house, thank Heaven for the mercy! Only they lost all their money in their flight. On the door, on their return, they found written, “Ladies, I have done my best for you,” signed by a Yankee soldier, who they suppose to be the one who has made it a habit of continually passing their house.

Forgot to say Miriam recovered my guitar from the Asylum, our large trunk and father’s papers (untouched) from Dr. Enders’s, and with her piano, the two portraits, a few mattresses (all that is left of housekeeping affairs), and father’s law books, carried them out of town. For which I say in all humility, Blessed be God who has spared us so much.

August 25, Monday. Wrote Wilkes, preparatory to discontinuing the organization of the James River Flotilla as a distinct organization. Received from him, after it was written, an unofficial letter communicating a plan of offensive operations. Directed him in reply to engage in no scheme whereby the gunboats would be detained in James River longer than the army absolutely needed them to divert the attention of the Rebels and prevent them from sending their whole force against General Pope before General McClellan could reach him. The change of the plan of operations is a military movement, suggested and pushed by Chase and Stanton. It will be a great disappointment to Wilkes as well as others, but there is no remedy. As soon as the gunboats can be released we want them elsewhere. They have been locked up in James River for two months, when they should have been on other duty. McClellan’s tardy policy has been unfortunate for himself and the country. It has strengthened the combination against him. Faxon[1] showed me a letter from Admiral Foote which I was sorry to read, evincing a petulance that is unworthy of him, and proposing to relinquish his bureau appointment, if he cannot control the selection of certain clerks.


[1] William Faxon, Chief Clerk of the Navy Department.

25th.—At 1 o’clock this morning we stopped two miles from Alexandria, on the Fairfax Pike, and bivouaced. I threw myself on the ground and slept an hour or two; woke up shivering with cold. I arose, walked a mile to start the circulation, then found a large gutta percha bed cover, wrapped myself in it, and contrived to sleep warmly till the bright rays of the sun in my face called me to consciousness again. Our regiment is very much dispirited, and almost reckless.

Monday, 25th—Companies E and K went out on railroad guard, to the deep cut about four miles east of our camp. We went to relieve Companies C and H and are to stay out two days. We have to patrol about five miles of the track to the east of our reserve post, making nine miles of track to guard. Our reserve stays in a schoolhouse located on a high piece of ground close by the railroad. We have to keep a strong picket line all night. Our drinking water here is excellent, and we have all the peaches and apples that we can eat. Some rain this evening.

Washington City, August 25, 1862.

Dearest: — We arrived here after ten days’ marching and travelling, this morning. We go over to Alexandria in an hour or two to take our place in General Sturges’ Army Corps of General Pope’s Command. Colonel Scammon leads the First Brigade of General Cox’s Division in the new position. If the enemy press forward, there will be fighting. It is supposed they are trying to push us back. Reinforcements for us are pouring in rapidly.

In case of accident, Joe and I will be reported at the Kirkwood House in this city. I feel a presentiment that all will be right with us. If not, you know all the losing things I would say to you and the dear boys. My impression is that the enemy will be in no condition to hurry matters fast enough to get ahead of the new legions now coming in. They must act speedily or they are too late.

Direct to me as in my last.

Affectionately ever,

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

25th. Monday. Went over to Capt. Nettleton’s tent and borrowed Longfellow’s “Hyperion.” Charlie came over in the morning and read Will’s last journal and my letter from Fred. Enjoyed both and a first-rate visit about home and “B. F.” and other friends. Like Fred’s course. Read in “Hyperion.” Enjoyed it pretty well. In the evening commenced a letter to Sarah Felton. John Devlin and two other boys of Co. F came in. Were in the late brush on Drywood. One of the corporals was wounded. Had a clever visit with Newt. Adams. Bill tolerably drunk, yelling as usual. Lively talk before sleeping.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] August 25, Monday.

Ellen, Mr. Soule and I drove over to see Miss Thompson at Thorpe’s, near the village. She was just teaching her school, which is pretty large. She was very pleasant. Every night she suffers terror for fear of an attack by the rebels, as that point is somewhat exposed.

Mr. Barnard was there and showed us his people and their quarters, seeming to feel keenly their deprivations. He is not just like himself, though, more quickly impatient, and I think he holds unsound opinions lately — quite different from his old ones. He thinks the guns granted to the plantations mischievous, and drilling the men wrong; and he is very much opposed to forming companies — says it will teach the men to be insubordinate. I was astonished, and asked whether he did not think it would civilize them, make them manly, and teach them order and systematic obedience. We disagreed in opinions, but we are good friends always.

Great talk of evacuation of these islands. General Saxton thinks of making Lands End[1] his headquarters. I think all this troubles Mr. Barnard.


[1] Lands End was nearly opposite Hilton Head, and a considerable distance from the Oaks.