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

Friday, April 24, 2015

City Point, April 24, 1865.

Dear Hannah, — I received several letters from you last night, several of them complaining of my short letters and my want of enthusiasm for Lee’s surrender. To tell the truth, we none of us realize even yet that he has actually surrendered. I had a sort of impression that we should fight him all our lives. He was like a ghost to children, something that haunted us so long that we could not realize that he and his army were really out of existence to us. It will take me some months to be conscious of this fact.

In regard to the brevity of my epistle, I can only say that I have nothing to tell about. I have got a splendid mule, which I am going to take home with me, if I can. He is the finest animal I have ever seen.

Last Thursday we received orders to move to City Point, and from there to Washington. Part of our corps has already moved and we are waiting for transportation. We shall probably move to-morrow, having reached here yesterday afternoon. Last Wednesday, the day before we moved, I went up to General Miles’s headquarters. First I went to Second Corps headquarters and then with Charlie Whittier to General Miles’s. While there, about forty negroes came in from Danville. General Miles ordered the band out, and told the negroes that he would hang every one who would not dance. About seven refused to dance, saying they were church members. The rest went at it tooth and nail, gray-headed old men and young boys. I never laughed so hard in my life. From General M.’s we went to General Barlow’s, who commands the 2d Division. We amused ourselves with a galvanic battery which General B. has for his health. From there we went to General Meade’s headquarters, where I had a very pleasant talk with General M. Saw Theodore Lyman, who is probably home by this time. He was very kind to me indeed, and gave me several articles of clothing which were very acceptable. Had a very nice time there indeed, and had a very pleasant reception from the staff. When my men saw me on my arrival, they gave me 9 cheers and then 9 more, etc., etc. I tell you this because you asked me.

We had quite hard marching, making 63 miles in a little over 3 days. The story is that we are going to Texas, that we are to be sent home for 6 months to be disbanded by that time, in case we are not wanted, etc., etc. No one seems to know what we are going to do. If we have a good camp in or near Washington, perhaps I will let you come down there.

Monday, 24th—The Seventeenth Army Corps marched to Raleigh this afternoon and was reviewed by Lieutenant-General Grant and Major-General Sherman. Their reviewing stand was in front of the governor’s mansion. The army was glad to see their old commander once more. We received orders to move forward in the morning, since the terms of the surrender of Johnston’s army were not approved by the War Department at Washington. This is not good news for us, but we are hoping that Johnston will surrender without more fighting.

24th. Spent the morning at home. In the P. M. went with the girls to Monthly Rhetoricals. Charley Fairchild had an exercise entitled, “One Year with Red Tape.” Good. After his exercise we walked about town.

Chattanooga, Monday, April 24. Heavy hoar frost on the ground this morning. Drilled in mounted detachments this morning by Lieutenant A. Sweet. It is quite pleasant, the horses learn almost as fast as the men. Everything passed off very pleasantly. Harmony in the Company to-day as well as every other day. Brotherly kindness exists amongst all, still and quietly.

But the contrast between officers and privates is sickening, and I grieve to write it. —— returned with six months’ pay, thereby establishing a whiskey fund. —— I understand, has placed him under arrest in a fit of intoxication, I suppose. He seeks consolation in the “flowing bowl.” —— was reported in his quarters a little dryer Saturday. After supper——, ——, with our —— and a neighboring lieutenant staggered into camp beastly drunk, an open insult to the boys whom they command. Words ran high amongst them and a drunken brawl was imminent while the boys flocked around to see the “example set.” My feelings were those of indignation. Here was our —— and two —— in the depth of drunken degradation in broad daylight. I longed to see an officer ride through camp who despised such things, and at once relieve us from such disgrace. But, Oh, where is there an officer that is not a similar slave? Echo answers where? But I am proud of our exceptions. We have two officers who hold such things in proper disgust. They are Men.

Mrs. Lyon’s Diary.

 

April 24, 1865.—Last night while we were waiting for the cars there came up as hard a thunder storm as I almost ever heard, and so many of us were driven into the depot that the men went into empty cars. The train did not come until after midnight, and as it was then raining so hard and was so muddy, the question was raised as to how I was to get to the cars, but Jerry said that he could “tote” me, which he did. It was nearly night when we got to Knoxville. We were delayed by trains ahead of us being off the track.

Alexandria, Va., April 24th, 1865.

One year ago we passed through this city on our way to Richmond. Today we tread its streets with buoyant feet, on our way home, our work accomplished.

I am filled with gratitude that I am permitted to see this day. ‘Tis a long, weary road, the one we traveled, but what matter now? A year’s campaign! Surely it has few parallels in history. Eleven months, lacking nine days, the Ninth Corps occupied the trenches before Petersburg, under fire both night and day; but the grand results more than compensate for all our sufferings.

We are going home, soon as the coils of red tape that bind us hand and foot can be unwound.

W., 24th.—On Saturday evening my brother’s wagon met us at the depot and brought us to this place, beautiful in its ruins. We have not been here since the besom of destruction swept over it, and to us, who have been in the habit of enjoying its hospitality when all was bright and cheerful, the change is very depressing. We miss the respectful and respectable servants, born in the family and brought up with an affection for the household which seemed a part of their nature, and which so largely contributed to the happiness both of master and servant. Even the nurse of our precious little J., the sole child of the house, whose heart seemed bound up in her happiness, has gone. It is touching to hear the sweet child’s account of the shock she experienced when she found that her “mammy,” deceived and misled by the minions who followed Grant’s army, had left her; and to see how her affection still clings to her, showing itself in the ardent hope that her “mammy” has found a comfortable home. The army had respected the interior of the house, because of the protection of the officers. Only one ornament was missing, and that was the likeness of this dear child. Since the fall of Richmond, a servant of the estate, who had been living in Washington, told me that it was in the possession of a maid-servant of the house, who showed it to him, saying that she “looked at it every day.” We all try to be cheerful and to find a bright side; and we occupy the time as cheerfully as we can. The governess having returned to her home in Norfolk, I shall employ myself in teaching my bright little niece here and the dear children at S. H., and feel blessed to have so pleasant a duty.

April 24.—Fannie Gaylord and Kate Lapham have returned from their eastern trip and told us of attending the President’s funeral in Albany, and I had a letter from Bessie Seymour, who is in New York, saying that she walked in the procession until half past two in the morning, in order to see his face. They say that they never saw him in life, but in death he looked just as all the pictures represent him. We all wear Lincoln badges now, with pin attached. They are pictures of Lincoln upon a tiny flag, bordered with crape. Susie Daggett has just made herself a flag, six feet by four. It was a lot of work. Mrs. Noah T. Clarke gave one to her husband upon his birthday, April 8. I think everybody ought to own a flag.