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

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Post image for “I don’t remember at any time of being despondent over the war or being doubtful of the issue. Was I?”–Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, Charles Wright Wills.

“I don’t remember at any time of being despondent over the war or being doubtful of the issue. Was I?”–Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, Charles Wright Wills.

April 15, 2015

Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, Charles Wright Wills, (8th Illinois Infantry)

Raleigh, April 15, 1865.

To-day makes four years soldiering for me. It is a terrible waste of time for me who have to make a start in life yet, and I expect unfits me for civil life. I have almost a dread of being a citizen, of trying to be sharp, and trying to make money. I don’t think I dread the work. I don’t remember of shirking any work I ever attempted, but I am sure that civil life will go sorely against the grain for a time. Citizens are not like soldiers, and I like soldier ways much the best. We were to have moved out this morning but did not. Logan went out with our 4th division, report says, to confer with Johnston. Big rumors going that our campaign is over, and that Johnston’s men are going home. We have been having heavy showers during the day, but the boys feel so good over the prospect ahead that they raise the most tremendous cheers right in the midst of the hardest rains. We think Johnston is in as tight a place as Lee was, and if he don’t surrender we will go for him in a way that will astonish him. We consider our cause gained and are searching each other’s records to see who was ever doubtful of success. I don’t remember at any time of being despondent over the war or being doubtful of the issue. Was I? I did think the war might last for years yet, but take that back. I have not been in town since we came through, and think no one from the brigade has. Curiosity over captured cities is “old.”

Post image for Army letters of Oliver Willcox Norton.

Army letters of Oliver Willcox Norton.

April 15, 2015

Army letters of Oliver Willcox Norton (Eighty-third Pennsylvania Volunteers)

Baltimore, Md.,
April 15, 1S65.

Dear Brother and Sister:—

I am only so far on my way as yet, and take the opportunity afforded by my detention till this afternoon to drop you a line. I bought my ticket to Philadelphia, via Elmira, and arriving at Elmira found I could not get through that way. I return the ticket to you, Charlie. It was nothing less than a swindle to sell it to me. Take it back to the office there and demand the fare from Elmira to Philadelphia. They are obliged to take it up, as they knew that no trains had run over that road for two weeks.

I went to New York, stopped over night, got my pictures and went on to Philadelphia. Stopped there to get my pay for March and went up to Camp William Penn. Came on here yesterday and leave for Richmond this afternoon.

The news of Lee’s surrender is true. Better than all my hopes was the prospect of the end of the war. It was ended on the 9th and every one admitted it. New York, Philadelphia and Baltimore were jubilant. Joy on every face and tongue. I could not see or hear of a secession sympathizer. At the theater last night a band from Lee’s army was present and played “Hail Columbia” and the “Red, White and Blue,” and here in Baltimore those tunes were vociferously cheered. I went to bed happy, thinking of the glorious change, and came down this morning to be astounded by the news that President Lincoln was assassinated last night at Ford’s Theater in Washington and Secretary Seward and his son were stabbed at almost the same hour. The Secretary will perhaps recover, but his son cannot live. The President was shot through the head by a man who entered his private box from behind, shot him and then leaped upon the stage brandishing a dagger and disappeared behind the scenes, escaping at the back of the theater before the audience knew what had occurred. The President died at 7:22 this morning.

It is too terrible to think of, and I cannot imagine the consequences. We could have spared him better at almost any other time. What can we do with such a President as Andy Johnson? What effect will it have on the question of peace?

Well, we can do nothing but wait. The nation’s joy is changed to mourning and to mutterings of vengeance on the cowardly assassins and the infamous plotters who arranged the murders. J. W. Booth, the actor, is said to be the assassin of the President, and it is hoped he will be arrested to-day.

Post image for Downing’s Civil War Diary.–Alexander G. Downing.

Downing’s Civil War Diary.–Alexander G. Downing.

April 15, 2015

Diary of Alexander G. Downing; Company E, Eleventh Iowa Infantry

Saturday, 15th—We started at 7 a. m., marched only four miles and went into camp again. News came from the front that Johnston had stopped fighting for the purpose of surrendering his army to General Sherman. It rained hard all day, but we don’t mind that when hearing such glorious news as the surrender of Johnston. The Third and First Divisions remained in camp.

Post image for War Diary of Luman Harris Tenney

War Diary of Luman Harris Tenney

April 15, 2015

War Diary of Luman Harris Tenney.

15th. Wrote several letters and read the papers. Yesterday put in application for leave of absence. I am very anxious to see my dear mother. Would that Johnston would be wise and surrender. Think he will be. Thank God that peace is so near and a united country will live to advance religion, justice and liberty. Forage detail. Virginians thoroughly submissive.

Post image for An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones

An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones

April 15, 2015

An Artilleryman's Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones, 6th Battery, Wisconsin Artillery.

Chattanooga, Saturday, April 15. ‘Tis night, a beautiful day has just closed. But alas! a dark pall hangs over our camp. The soldier mourns the loss of the noblest American of the day. President Abraham Lincoln has fallen by the hands of a traitorous assassin. 2 P. M. we started out to graze, each and all lighthearted and merry. But lo! while out near the foot of Mission Ridge, the stars and stripes over Fort Creighton were seen to descend to half-mast, and the news reached us as if by magic of the fall of our noble president. A gloom was cast upon every one, and silently we returned to camp, still hoping for a contradiction. But it was too true. The scene that followed was one very seldom seen in the tented field. But a soldier is not, as many think, wholly void of feeling. All regarded the loss of him as of a near and dear relative. Terrible were the oaths and imprecations uttered through clenched teeth against the vile perpetrators. The black flag of extermination would be hailed with joy by the soldiers this moment as a just retaliation. Never before did I feel in favor of such measures, but now I think they deserve no other. The “extra” containing the short account of the occurrence has gone the rounds, read in each shanty. Traitors everywhere will rejoice over this, the crowned heads of Europe will greet it with joy, but their joy will come to grief. Republican principles will vindicate their superiority, and pass through this trial wiser and better for the tribulations they undergo.

Post image for Civil War Diary of Charles H. Lynch.

Civil War Diary of Charles H. Lynch.

April 15, 2015

Civil War Diary of Charles H. Lynch, 18th Conn. Vol's.

April 15th. Early morning news from the pump. Reported the assassination of our beloved President. At first it could not be believed. I saw an orderly galloping into camp, going right to the Colonel’s quarters. He brought the official report. It was soon known through camp. It was a great shock and cast a great gloom over our camp. How sudden the change. Joy turned to sorrow, when we were rejoicing over the prospects of peace and the end of the cruel war. At first it was reported that he might recover. Later report he was dead. We could not do anything but talk over the sad event. We all became angry and hated the South worse than ever. Thought all the leaders should be condemned to death. Indignation and rage was expressed alike by citizens and the soldiers. We wondered who could do such an awful thing. Later we were informed who the assassin was. Excitement continues in our camp as this sad day comes to a close.

Post image for Rutherford B. Hayes.

Rutherford B. Hayes.

April 15, 2015

Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes

New Creek, Saturday, April 15.—8 A. M. startled by report that Lincoln, Seward and —— were assassinated. Somehow felt it was true.

Post image for Village Life in America.

Village Life in America.

April 15, 2015

Village Life in America, 1852 - 1872, by Caroline Cowles Richards

April 15.—The news came this morning that our dear president, Abraham Lincoln, was assassinated yesterday, on the day appointed for thanksgiving for Union victories. I have felt sick over it all day and so has every one that I have seen. All seem to feel as though they had lost a personal friend, and tears flow plenteously. How soon has sorrow followed upon the heels of joy! One week ago tonight we were celebrating our victories with loud acclamations of mirth and good cheer. Now every one is silent and sad and the earth and heavens seem clothed in sack-cloth. The bells have been tolling this afternoon. The flags are all at half mast, draped with mourning, and on every store and dwelling-house some sign of the nation’s loss is visible. Just after breakfast this morning, I looked out of the window and saw a group of men listening to the reading of a morning paper, and I feared from their silent, motionless interest that something dreadful had happened, but I was not prepared to hear of the cowardly murder of our President. And William H. Seward, too, I suppose cannot survive his wounds. Oh, how horrible it is! I went down town shortly after I heard the news, and it was wonderful to see the effect of the intelligence upon everybody, small or great, rich or poor. Every one was talking low, with sad and anxious looks. But we know that God still reigns and will do what is best for us all. Perhaps we’re “putting our trust too much in princes,” forgetting the Great Ruler, who alone can create or destroy, and therefore He has taken from us the arm of flesh that we may lean more confidingly and entirely upon Him. I trust that the men who committed these foul deeds will soon be brought to justice.

Post image for Three Years in the Confederate Horse Artillery — George Michael Neese.

Three Years in the Confederate Horse Artillery — George Michael Neese.

April 15, 2015

Three Years in the Confederate Horse Artillery — George Michael Neese.

April 15 — The United States flags here were all floating at half-mast to-day. This morning when the Yankee sergeant came in to superintend the roll-call he tried to look sad, but from his snappish demeanor I at once saw that the biggest bunch of his grief was entirely composed of anger. After roll-call one of the prisoners in our company ventured the question: “Sergeant, why are the flags floating at half-mast this morning?” With a scowl-covered countenance the sergeant snappishly replied: “Some of you Rebels killed President Lincoln last night.” With quick repartee our man replied: “We did not do it, for we were here in this pen all night.” Ever since early spring we have been drawing raw dried codfish about twice a month for our meat ration. The way some of them look, smell, and taste, they must have been caught by Simon Peter when he went fishing with Jesus.

Post image for A Diary From Dixie.

A Diary From Dixie.

April 15, 2015

A Diary From Dixie by Mary Boykin Miller Chesnut.

April 15th.—What a week it has been—madness, sadness, anxiety, turmoil, ceaseless excitement. The Wigfalls passed through on their way to Texas. We did not see them. Louly told Hood they were bound for the Rio Grande, and intended to shake hands with Maximilian, Emperor of Mexico. Yankees were expected here every minute. Mrs. Davis came. We went down to the cars at daylight to receive her. She dined with me. Lovely Winnie, the baby, came, too. Buck and Hood were here, and that queen of women, Mary Darby. Clay behaved like a trump. He was as devoted to Mrs. Davis in her adversity as if they had never quarreled in her prosperity. People sent me things for Mrs. Davis, as they did in Columbia for Mr. Davis. It was a luncheon or breakfast only she stayed for here. Mrs. Brown prepared a dinner for her at the station. I went down with her. She left here at five o ‘clock. My heart was like lead, but we did not give way. She was as calm and smiling as ever. It was but a brief glimpse of my dear Mrs. Davis, and under altered skies.

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