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

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Enroute, Thursday, Aug. 28. To-day we were informed that we were to be sent on in the evening. I wrote my first letter home and in the evening we started for “Dixie” at 10 P.M. It was dark and we could not see anything to attract our attention so our minds had free scope to wander home to loved ones, and it was a saddening thought that we were to leave all of these, to meet at best a very uncertain fate. We passed on to Milton where our car was uncoupled and taken up by the Janesville R. R, and off we rocked for another four or five hours’ ride, half asleep, and by this time somewhat fatigued. At Janesville we changed cars for Chicago, it being about 1 A.M.

Tuscumbia, Ala., August 28, 1862.

The order has been issued requiring battalion adjutants to be mustered out of the service, but Colonel Mizner insists on our remaining, and being either assigned to companies or made regimental adjutant commander and quartermaster, which offices this new law provides. General Oglesby wants me very much. I was down to Corinth a few days since and saw him. Told him about this order mustering me out, and he offered to go with me to General Grant and ask for an order excepting me from muster. I knew that the wording of my commission wouldn’t allow such an irregularity and had to decline. If I stay with the regiment now, I will not be able to get on Oglesby’s staff, as I wish, for in either of the three places which I can get, I could not be detached. But General Oglesby said that he would give me plenty of time to go home and hunt a lieutenancy in the company, and then he would have me assigned to him. I could not get home in less than eight days, and by that time I think would have a difficulty in getting a position, for regiments will be so near organized that new comers will stand a poor chance. Have almost made up my mind to go home and run my chances. I know I am worth more than a lieutenancy, and that in these regiment staff places there is no chance for promotion. Would almost as lief commence again in the ranks. Am sure I would be a captain as quickly.

[He came home and raised a company in the 103d Illinois Infantry, and was elected captain.—Ed.]

Willard’s Hotel Washington, August 28, 1862

Things here look badly enough and amid this atmosphere of treason, jealousy and dissension, it requires good courage not to despair of the republic. As I said, I am going back to my regiment instead of onto Pope’s staff, and you must take it out in cursing my instability. My reasons are manifold. The regiment and Colonel think I ought to come back or resign; we are about to see active cavalry service; and finally, between ourselves, I am ashamed at what I hear of Pope. All army officers say that he is a humbug and is sure to come to grief; “as big a liar as John Pope” is an old army expression; he has already played himself out in the army of Virginia and he has got himself into such a position that he will be crushed and Washington lost, unless McClellan saves him. He may come out with colors flying, for he a lucky man; but if he does, he is a dangerous one, and I am advised not to connect my fortunes with his….

 Thursday, August 28th.

I am satisfied. I have seen my home again. Tuesday I was up at sunrise, and my few preparations were soon completed, and before any one was awake, I walked over to Mr. Elder’s, through mud and dew, to meet Charlie. Fortunate was it for me that I started so early; for I found him hastily eating his breakfast, and ready to leave. He was very much opposed to my going; and for some time I was afraid he would force me to remain; but at last he consented, — perhaps because I did not insist, — and with wet feet and without a particle of breakfast, I at length found myself in the buggy on the road home. The ride afforded me a series of surprises. Half the time I found myself halfway out of the little low-necked buggy when I thought I was safely in; and the other half, I was surprised to find myself really in when I thought I was wholly out. And so on, for mile after mile, over muddy roads, until we came to a most terrific cross-road, where we were obliged to pass, and which is best undescribed. Four miles from town we stopped at Mrs. Brown’s to see mother, and after a few moments’ talk, went on our road.

I saw the first Yankee camp that Will Pinckney and Colonel Bird had set fire to the day of the battle. Such a shocking sight of charred wood, burnt clothes, tents, and all imaginable articles strewn around, I had never before seen. I should have been very much excited, entering the town by the route our soldiers took; but I was not. It all seemed tame and familiar. I could hardly fancy I stood on the very spot where the severest struggle had taken place. The next turn of the road brought us to two graves, one on each side of the road, the resting-place of two who fell that day. They were merely left in the ditch where they fell, and earth from the side was pulled over them. When Miriam passed, parts of their coats were sticking out of the grave; but some kind hand had scattered fresh earth over them when I saw them. Beyond, the sight became more common. I was told that their hands and feet were visible from many. And one poor fellow lay unburied, just as he had fallen, with his horse across him, and both skeletons. That sight I was spared, as the road near which he was lying was blocked up by trees, so we were forced to go through the woods, to enter, instead of passing by, the Catholic graveyard. In the woods, we passed another camp our men destroyed, while the torn branches above testified to the number of shells our men had braved to do the work. Next to Mr. Barbee’s were the remains of a third camp that was burned; and a few more steps made me suddenly hold my breath, for just before us lay a dead horse with the flesh still hanging, which was hardly endurable. Close by lay a skeleton, — whether of man or horse, I did not wait to see. Not a human being appeared until we reached the Penitentiary, which was occupied by our men. After that, I saw crowds of wagons moving furniture out, but not a creature that I knew. Just back of our house was all that remained of a nice brick cottage — namely, four crumbling walls. The offense was that the husband was fighting for the Confederates; so the wife was made to suffer, and is now homeless, like many thousands besides. It really seems as though God wanted to spare our homes. The frame dwellings adjoining were not touched, even. The town was hardly recognizable; and required some skill to avoid the corners blocked up by trees, so as to get in at all.

Our house could not be reached by the front, so we left the buggy in the back yard, and running through the lot without stopping to examine the storeroom and servants’ rooms that opened wide, I went through the alley and entered by the front door.

Fortunate was it for this record that I undertook to describe the sacking only from Miriam’s account. If I had waited until now, it would never have been mentioned; for as I looked around, to attempt such a thing seemed absurd. I stood in the parlor in silent amazement; and in answer to Charlie’s “Well?” I could only laugh. It was so hard to realize. As I looked for each well-known article, I could hardly believe that Abraham Lincoln’s officers had really come so low down as to steal in such a wholesale manner. The papier-maché workbox Miriam had given me was gone. The baby sacque I was crocheting, with all knitting needles and wools, gone also. Of all the beautiful engravings of Annapolis that Will Pinckney had sent me, there remained a single one. Gentlemen, my name is written on each! Not a book remained in the parlor, except “Idyls of the King,” that contained my name also, and which, together with the door-plate, was the only case in which the name of Morgan was spared. They must have thought we were related to John Morgan, and wreaked their vengeance on us for that reason. Thanks for the honor, but there is not the slightest connection! Where they did not carry off articles bearing our name, they cut it off, as in the visiting-cards, and left only the first name. Every book of any value or interest, except Hume and Gibbon, was “borrowed” permanently. I regretted Macaulay more than all the rest. Brother’s splendid French histories went, too; all except “L’Histoire de la Bastille.” However, as they spared father’s law libraries (all except one volume they used to support a flour barrel with, while they emptied it near the parlor door), we ought to be thankful.

The dining-room was very funny. I looked around for the cut-glass celery and preserve dishes that were to be part of my “dot,” as mother always said, together with the champagne glasses that had figured on the table the day that I was born; but there remained nothing. There was plenty of split-up furniture, though. I stood in mother’s room before the shattered armoir, which I could hardly believe the same that I had smoothed my hair before, as I left home three weeks previously. Father’s was split across, and the lock torn off, and in the place of the hundreds of articles it contained, I saw two bonnets at the sight of which I actually sat down to laugh. One was mother’s velvet, which looked very much like a football in its present condition. Mine was not to be found, as the officers forgot to return it. Wonder who has my imperial? I know they never saw a handsomer one, with its black velvet, purple silk, and ostrich feathers.

I went to my room. Gone was my small paradise! Had this shocking place ever been habitable? The tall mirror squinted at me from a thousand broken angles. It looked so knowing! I tried to fancy the Yankee officers being dragged from under my bed by the leg, thanks to Charles; but it seemed too absurd; so I let them alone. My desk! What a sight! The central part I had kept as a little curiosity shop with all my little trinkets and keepsakes of which a large proportion were from my gentlemen friends; I looked for all I had left, found only a piece of the McRae, which, as it was labeled in full, I was surprised they had spared. Precious letters I found under heaps of broken china and rags; all my notes were gone, with many letters. I looked for a letter of poor ——, in cipher, with the key attached, and name signed in plain hand. I knew it would hardly be agreeable to him to have it read, and it certainly would be unpleasant to me to have it published; but I could not find it. Miriam thinks she saw something answering the description, somewhere, though.

Bah! What is the use of describing such a scene?[1] Many suffered along with us, though none so severely. Indeed, the Yankees cursed loudly at those who did not leave anything worth stealing. They cannot complain of us, on that score. All our handsome Brussels carpets, together with Lydia’s fur, were taken, too. What did they not take? In the garret, in its darkest corner, a whole gilt-edged china set of Lydia’s had been overlooked; so I set to work and packed it up, while Charlie packed her furniture in a wagon, to send to her father.

It was now three o’clock; and with my light linen dress thrown off, I was standing over a barrel putting in cups and saucers as fast as I could wrap them in the rags that covered the floor, when Mr. Larguier sent me a nice little dinner. I had been so many hours without eating — nineteen, I think, during three of which I had slept — that I had lost all appetite; but nevertheless I ate it, to show my appreciation. If I should hereafter think that the quantity of rags was exaggerated, let me here state that, after I had packed the barrel and china with them, it made no perceptible diminution of the pile.

As soon as I had finished my task, Charlie was ready to leave again; so I left town without seeing, or hearing, any one, or any thing, except what lay in my path. As we drove out of the gate, I begged Charlie to let me get my bird, as I heard Charles Barker had him. A man was dispatched, and in a few minutes returned with my Jimmy. I have since heard that Tick deserted him the day of the battle, as I so much feared she would; and that Charles found him late in the evening and took charge of him. With my pet once more with me, we drove off again. I cast many a longing look at the graveyard; but knowing Charlie did not want to stop, I said nothing, though I had been there but once in three months, and that once, six weeks ago. I could see where the fence had been thrown down by our soldiers as they charged the Federals, but it was now replaced, though many a picket was gone. Once more I stopped at Mrs. Brown’s, while Charlie went on to Clinton, leaving me to drive mother here in the morning. Early yesterday, after seeing Miriam’s piano and the mattresses packed up and on the road, we started off in the buggy, and after a tedious ride through a melting sun, arrived here about three o’clock, having again missed my dinner, which I kept a profound secret until supper-time.

By next Ash Wednesday, I will have learned how to fast without getting sick! Though very tired, I sat sewing until after sunset, dictating a page and a half to Anna, who was writing to Howell.


[1] In her book, From Flag to Flag, Mrs. Eliza McHatton Ripley gives a vivid description of Judge Morgan’s house as she herself saw it after the sacking. — W. D.

28th.—The news of the morning confirm the rumors of yesterday in reference to our disgrace at Manassas. The enemy caught the garrison there asleep, took eight guns, and captured or routed our force there almost without a fight. The Jersey Brigade, which left here yesterday morning, having no knowledge of the taking of the place, went up and were captured. Pope’s communication with Washington is entirely cut off. If I am not mistaken in the character of Gen. Pope and his army, Jackson and Longstreet will have a lively dance before they succeed in capturing him. McClellan, they say, is in high glee. Significant!

Thursday, 28th—Nothing of importance. We are enjoying a well-earned rest in camp today, after having been without sleep for forty-eight hours. Our camp ground is getting dryer and more settled, and the weather is more pleasant.

Position of troops at sunset August 28th, 1862. [Second Manassas battle]

–  Scale 1:126,720 (“half an inch to the mile”).-  LC Civil War Maps (2nd ed.), 573.7-  From U.S. Congress. Joint Committee on the Conduct of the War, in two volumes. Supplemental to Senate report no. 142, 38th Congress, 2d session (Washington, Government Printing Office, 1866). v. 2, fol. p. 190.-  Accompanies “Report of Major General John Pope to the hon. Committee on the Conduct of the War.” 217 p.-  “No. 4” is in the upper right margin.-  Map indicates roads, railroads, place names, drainage, and troop positions.Library of Congress map

To Mrs. Lyon.

Iuka, Gen. Hospital, Friday, Aug. 28, 1862.—Here I am, flat on my back with remittent or intermittent fever, I do not know which. I am slowly recovering, the fever growing less and less every day and the doctor says it will entirely disappear in a few days more. I have had typhoid fever, the doctor now tells me. I suffer no pain now, but for the first few days I suffered a great deal. I was taken down Saturday evening, the 9th inst., very suddenly and severely. Our regiment has gone to Tuscumbia, thirty miles east of here. If I should get worse I will try to go to Columbus and send for you, as no woman is allowed to travel this side of Columbus without a special permit from General Grant.

Dr. Thornhill, our surgeon, is in charge here, and is very attentive to me. Dr. Murta took most excellent care of me until he had to leave with the regiment. I am taking large quantities of quinine. Have had no appetite.

I received my commission about the time I was taken sick. An order has been made by General Rosecrans relieving me from duty here and directing me to report to General Grant for further orders. My intention is, as soon as it is proper for me to leave here, to go to the regiment and close up some company business there; then report to General Grant and if possible get permission to go home to purchase horse, equipments, etc. If I succeed and get there by the 1st of October I shall do well.

Thursday, 28th. In the morning came the detail for the 2nd Kansas Battery. Heretofore officers had said that such a detail should not be made. But the order came to the Colonel for 150 men and the Colonel gave orders to Batt. commanders for the detail and they to their companies. The detail was made but not a man would go. Three or four companies marched to guard house. Finally after several Orderly calls and speeches by Majors to Battalions, the detail submitted. The wrangle about the to-be colonel of the regiment continues. Papers went on signed by ten in favor of Doubleday and nine against. Miner, Burnett and Ratliff rascals— selfish. Major P. sent in his resignation.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] August 28.

The chaplain at St. Augustine’s has written to General Saxton that the soldiers there sympathize more with “Secesh” than with the North.

The President is out with a colonization scheme. They say McClellan is to be relieved.

Ellen and I drove Jimsebub to Oaklands and we crossed to Palawana, being bogged — that is, sitting in the boat and being pushed over the soft, slippery mud by a man behind the “dug-out.”