June 1st. Thursday. At breakfast met an old friend of the 2nd. Raised Co. F. Comfortably settled in the cars at 8. Melissa enjoyed the Cheat River and Cheat Mountain scenery first rate. Bellaire at dark. Some country lads and lassies on board. Met Birge on Central Ohio sleeping car.
Monday, June 1, 2015
Thursday, 1st—The weather is quite sultry. There is nothing of importance. Our camp duty is very light here. The ground is rough, and it would be impossible to find a place for a drill ground or even a parade ground.
June 1st. Fine weather. All is very quiet. The country has on its summer dress. Looks fine. The most important question with us is, home, sweet home, when do we go. Soldier’s life at this time is a dull one. Our only interest is our dress parades. We have many visitors from town.
June 1st.—The New York Herald quotes General Sherman as saying, “Columbia was burned by Hampton’s sheer stupidity.” But then who burned everything on the way in Sherman’s march to Columbia, and in the line of march Sherman took after leaving Columbia? We came, for three days of travel, over a road that had been laid bare by Sherman’s torches. Nothing but smoking ruins was left in Sherman’s track. That I saw with my own eyes. No living thing was left, no house for man or beast. They who burned the countryside for a belt of forty miles, did they not also burn the town? To charge that to “Hampton’s stupidity” is merely an afterthought. This Herald announces that Jeff Davis will be hanged at once, not so much for treason as for his assassination of Lincoln. “Stanton,” the Herald says, “has all the papers in his hands to convict him.”
The Yankees here say, “The black man must go as the red man has gone; this is a white man’s country.” The negroes want to run with the hare, but hunt with the hounds. They are charming in their professions to us, but declare that they are to be paid by these blessed Yankees in lands and mules for having been slaves. They were so faithful to us during the war, why should the Yankees reward them, to which the only reply is that it would be by way of punishing rebels.
Mrs. Adger[1] saw a Yankee soldier strike a woman, and she prayed God to take him in hand according to his deed. The soldier laughed in her face, swaggered off, stumbled down the steps, and then his revolver went off by the concussion and shot him dead.
The black ball is in motion. Mrs. de Saussure’s cook shook the dust off her feet and departed from her kitchen to-day—free, she said. The washerwoman is packing to go.
Scipio Africanus, the Colonel’s body-servant, is a soldierly looking black creature, fit to have delighted the eyes of old Frederick William of Prussia, who liked giants. We asked him how the Yankees came to leave him. “Oh, I told them marster couldn’t do without me nohow; and then I carried them some nice hams that they never could have found, they were hid so good.”
Eben dressed himself in his best and went at a run to meet his Yankee deliverers—so he said. At the gate he met a squad coming in. He had adorned himself with his watch and chain, like the cordage of a ship, with a handful of gaudy seals. He knew the Yankees came to rob white people, but he thought they came to save niggers. “Hand over that watch!” they said. Minus his fine watch and chain, Eben returned a sadder and a wiser man. He was soon in his shirt-sleeves, whistling at his knife-board. “Why? You here? Why did you come back so soon?” he was asked. “Well, I thought may be I better stay with ole marster that give me the watch, and not go with them that stole it.” The watch was the pride of his life. The iron had entered his soul.
Went up to my old house, “Kamschatka.” The Trapiers live there now. In those drawing-rooms where the children played Puss in Boots, where we have so often danced and sung, but never prayed before, Mr. Trapier held his prayer-meeting. I do not think I ever did as much weeping or as bitter in the same space of time. I let myself go; it did me good. I cried with a will. He prayed that we might have strength to stand up and bear our bitter disappointment, to look on our ruined homes and our desolated country and be strong. And he prayed for the man “we elected to be our ruler and guide.” We knew that they had put him in a dungeon and in chains.[2] Men watch him day and night. By orders of Andy, the bloody-minded tailor, nobody above the rank of colonel can take the benefit of the amnesty oath, nobody who owns over twenty thousand dollars, or who has assisted the Confederates. And now, ye rich men, howl, for your misery has come upon you. You are beyond the outlaw, camping outside. Howell Cobb and R. M. T. Hunter have been arrested. Our turn will come next, maybe. A Damocles sword hanging over a house does not conduce to a pleasant life.
[1] Elizabeth K. Adger, wife of the Rev. John B. Adger, D.D., of Charleston, a distinguished Presbyterian divine, at one time a missionary to Smyrna where he translated the Bible into the Armenian tongue. He was afterward and before the war a professor in the Theological Seminary at Columbia. His wife was a woman of unusual judgment and intelligence, sharing her husband’s many hardships and notable experiences in the East.
[2] Mr. Davis, while encamped near Irwinsville, Ga., had been captured on May 10th by a body of Federal cavalry under Lieutenant-Colonel Pritchard. He was taken to Fortress Monroe and confined there for two years, his release being effected on May 13, 1867, when he was admitted to bail in the sum of $100,000, the first name on his bail-bond being that of Horace Greeley.
Mrs. Lyon’s Diary.
Camp Harker, June 1, 1865.—We have moved camp. I found it all done when I came back from town. We take long rides every day. I enjoy it very much now, the mare is so kind and gentle.
Chattanooga, Thursday, June 1. This day is appointed by the President of the United States as a day of mourning for our honored Lincoln. All business stopped in town. Nothing only heavy duty to be done in camp, consequently we had little to do.
After dinner, hearing that Wilson’s Cavalry were moving through town, I obtained permission to leave camp. Being anxious to see the 1st Wisconsin Cavalry and find Johnny Evans if possible. Reached there as the 2nd Division was moving up Market Street. They presented a rich scene for Harper’s Illustrated, nearly the whole company were astride mules of all sizes and descriptions, the men having but a small portion of the blue on. Anyone would take them for the Confederate States Army. The majority dressed throughout in coarse dirty grey, and often a pair of faded shoulder straps could be seen resting on the shoulders of one in rebel grey and gilt. Then came the negroes, pack mules, carrying anything from a frying pan to a condemned ordnance. Vehicles of chivalric origin drawn by horseflesh, minus the flesh, in silver-mounted harness, and driven by the veritable “peculiar institutions”, for whom our Southern brethern buckled on their armor. It needed but Jeff in crinoline bringing up the rear, to show the last of the said chivalry. McCook’s Division in which is 1st Wisconsin Cavalry was behind. After waiting long I found that they were not coming in to-night so I started home, but not until hearing from one of his comrades that Johnny was all right and well.
To-night I am on another eight hours tread, not to break the rebellion, but my time of serving.
Headquarters 56th Mass. Vols.,
Near Alexandria, Va., June 1, 1865.
Dear Hannah, — I have received several letters from you lately, but have been so busy that I have had no chance to answer them. I am President of a Board for Examination of Officers in this brigade who desire to remain in service, and consequently have my hands full.
There was a review of the Second Army Corps day before yesterday, which I attended. I saw the Lorings there, but did not speak to them, as I did not know whether they would remember me. Also saw Miss Schenck, who told me that she had just come on from Boston, and had met you there. After the review was over there was a grand spread at Second Corps headquarters. Charlie Whittier is A. A. G. on the said staff, so I was an invited guest there. They had a long row of tent-flies stretched so as to make a tent over a hundred feet long. The sides were made of firs and green branches. Outside were hung two enormous American flags, while numerous regimental and state colors were planted in the ground all around the headquarters. Inside the tent were two rows of tables, and meat, bread, cake, strawberries and ice cream in profusion. Also punch of the kind called claret and rum, which I, of course, did not touch. I saw President Johnson and Secretary Stanton there. Also Generals Hancock, Meade, Humphreys, and numerous others. Saw most of Meade’s staff, and among them General Macy. When I got back to camp, I found George Weld. He was on his way back from Richmond. He spent the night with me, and went home the next day.
I am going to send out for Charlie Griswold’s remains in a day or two. I have received two or three letters from Mrs. G. who is very anxious to have them sent home.
I think that the men who are left from the 36th Massachusetts will be sent to my regiment. The 36th goes out of service as a regiment in a few days.
I have two hens in camp, who lay every morning under the head of my bed. They are quite tame and seem to enjoy camp life very much.
My garden in front of headquarters is the admiration of all the passers-by. It is really quite pretty and I feel quite proud of it. I manage to secure a new flower almost every day. To-day I got hold of a very fine fuchsia.
Young William when he was here offered to sell me his plantation down in South Carolina. I don’t like the idea of going down there to live; and unless there was a prospect of getting rich speedily, I should not want to hold of it. I can probably remain in service as colonel if I wish, but I don’t think I shall do so. . . .
