Sunday, 1st—We had our first preaching in camp today, both morning and evening, by the chaplain of the Eleventh Iowa Infantry. Quite a number of folks came out from town to attend the meeting. At 5 o’clock we had dress parade with the Eighth Iowa.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Sunday, September 1st. — McNairy moved on to and camped for the night at Jamestown.
September 1st.—Took a ride early this morning over the Long Bridge. As I was passing out of the earthwork called a fort on the hill, a dirty German soldier called out from the parapet, “Pull-Run Russell! you shall never write Pulls’ Runs again,” and at the same time cocked his piece, and levelled it at me. I immediately rode round into the fort, the fellow still presenting his firelock, and asked him what he meant, at the same time calling for the sergeant of the guard, who came at once, and, at my request, arrested the man, who recovered arms, and said, “It was a choake —I vant to freeken Pull-Run Russell.” However, as his rifle was capped and loaded, and on full cock, with his finger on the trigger, I did not quite see the fun of it, and I accordingly had the man marched to the tent of the officer, who promised to investigate the case, and make a formal report of it to the brigadier, on my return to lay the circumstances before him. On reflection I resolved that it was best to let the matter drop; the joke might spread, and it was quite unpleasant enough as it was to bear the insolent looks and scowling faces of the guards at the posts, to whom I was obliged to exhibit my pass whenever I went out to ride.
On my return I heard of the complete success of the Hatteras expedition, which shelled out and destroyed some sand batteries guarding the entrance to the great inland sea and navigation called Pamlico Sound, in North Carolina, furnishing access to coasters for many miles into the Confederate States, and most useful to them in forwarding supplies and keeping up communications throughout. The force was commanded by General Butler, who has come to Washington with the news, and has already made his speech to the mob outside Willard’s. I called down to see him, but he had gone over to call on the President. The people were jubilant, and one might have supposed Hatteras was the key to Richmond or Charleston, from the way they spoke of this unparalleled exploit.
There is a little French gentleman here against whom the fates bear heavily. I have given him employment as an amanuensis and secretary for some time back, and he tells me many things concerning the talk in the city which I do not hear myself, from which it would seem that there is an increase of ill feeling towards me every day, and that I am a convenient channel for concentrating all the abuse and hatred so long cherished against England. I was a little tickled by an account he gave me of a distinguished lady, who sent for him to give French lessons, in order that she might become equal to her high position in mastering the difficulties of the courtly tongue. I may mention the fact, as it was radiated by the press through all the land, that Mrs. M. N., having once on a time “been proficient in the language, has forgotten it in the lapse of years, but has resolved to renew her studies, that she may better discharge the duties of her elevated station.” The master went to the house and stated his terms to a lady whom he saw there; but as she marchandéd a good deal over small matters of cents, he never supposed he was dealing with the great lady, and therefore made a small reduction in his terms, which encouraged the enemy to renew the assault till he stood firmly on three shillings a lesson, at which point the lady left him, with the intimation that she would consider the matter and let him know. And now, the licentiate tells me, it has become known he is my private secretary, he is not considered eligible to do avoir and etre for the satisfaction of the good lady, who really is far better than her friends describe her to be.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1861.
Another delightful day. Went to church with wife and boys in the morning and read at home nearly all the rest of the day. Good news today rcd from Genl Butlers naval expedition which sailed from Fortress Monroe. It will be reviveing to all after our recent disasters. Watched a smoke on the Virginia Hills and thought it might be from a battle there. Took a walk with Julia in evening, called with her at Doct Everitts. Came home and went down to the camp with wife & Julia to hear the Band of the Regt which performed very finely.
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The three diary manuscript volumes, Washington during the Civil War: The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865, are available online at The Library of Congress.
September 1st.—I cannot but feel depressed at what seems to be great imbecility in the management of our military affairs. By whose fault, I know not. Here we are with one hundred and fifty thousand troops, and we can stand on our National Capitol and see the rebels fortifying on Munson’s Hill. I wonder if Gen. McClellan does not need a rest to hold his glass steady whilst he looks at them.
We have just received news of Dupont’s having got a foothold in North Carolina. This places us in rear of the enemy, and brightens our prospects wonderfully, if our army there will only press their advantage.
Cairo, September 1, 1861.
We had blankets given us this last week and new accoutrements throughout. If they would only change our guns now we would have nothing but a move to ask for. A uniform was also furnished us last week. It is of excellent all-wool goods, and not so heavy as to be uncomfortable. The color is very fine grey, the pants are fashionably cut and equal to such as would cost six dollars in Peoria. The coats have short skirts and are rather fancifully trimmed with blue. It is much the best uniform I have seen yet, although it costs but $13. We will have a fatigue suit shortly. Yesterday we were mustered for pay. We will get our first month’s wages this week “they say.” There are wagons and mules here now by the hundreds, and when our tents are ready (they are here now) we will be ready to move. I think there must be near 10,000 men here now. Logan’s, Pugh’s, Buford’s, and another’s regiment; Hick’s and Raritan’s came in last week. The first three belong to McCormick’s1 Brigade. General McClernand is here now. Every one thinks we will move in a very few days. I kind o’ feel it in my bones, too, but it is too good to be true, so I’m taking all the bets I can from 10 cents worth of peanuts to a half bushel of apples, I betting that we are here two weeks from now. I’ve got them any way, for if we move, I hope to be able to borrow apples, etc., from the seceshers to pay my little bills, and if I stay here I’ll have some eatables free for consolation. We Canton boys have hired a cook for ourselves and are living much better than I ever did before in camp.
Our cook is a jewel, and by trading off rations keeps us in clover all the time. He sets a better table for us than the Peoria house boarders eat from, honestly. An old schoolmate of mine in our mess furnishes us with milk. He and John Wallace go out every night about 2 or 3 o’clock and—somebody’s cow don’t milk well next morning. We’ll never have such times sojering again, but you can’t imagine how we do want to get over into Missouri or Arkansas. We don’t have half as easy times as these at home and but for the discipline it wouldn’t seem like soldiering. I’ve been bored like sin the last two weeks drilling new recruits, but I’m glad of it, for it is rather pleasant to me to have something disagreeable when I’m bored feeling good. John Keefer and John Wallace, so far, make as good soldiers as any men in camp, Keef’s game leg working against him, too. All our boys are just the men for soldiers. It comes perfectly naturally to Sid. and Sam. Theo. has been in bad health for a week, but I think he is improving now. Fred Norcott is a splendid boy. He and Sam match well. Charley Cooper is acting as post orderly, that is, stays at headquarders of the Post Commandant, preserves order there and carries messages, dispatches, etc., to the different colonels. A good place but very confusing.
I have been visiting Colonel Raritan’s and Hick’s Camp this p.m. They have no guns yet and their sentinels stand guard with sticks. Looks funny.
We have about 50 prisoners here now. They think they are treated splendidly and say that if any of our boys fall into their hands they will remember it. Several of them are very intelligent-appearing men. One of them is about as big as—a house with a foot like a cooking stove. Charley Maple wrote down to us that he wants to join our company; Keefer wrote him to come. I have to remark once more that the “health of camp is better than ever before,” your sarcastic remark not having affected our sanitary condition in the least. You will please make no more impertinent remarks or comments on my letters!
A. H. White was down here last Sabbath, and he and I found Frank Smith in Smith’s Artillery. I have been here right by him four months without knowing it and lived. He is a corporal. He, A. H., and I drank some beer, discussed the affairs of the nation and adjourned. Do you remember Enos Lincoln? He is here in the 12th.
We have had some fighting in camp lately. An artillery man stabbed one of the 9th and got knocked, kicked and bayoneted for it. The artillery have sworn to have revenge and every hickory man (the 9th have a fatigue suit of hickory) they see they pounce onto. They have a skirmish every day. One of our company got drunk to-day, got to fighting, was sent to the guardhouse, tried to break out, guard knocked him down with a gun, cut his cheek open, etc. He then got into a fight with four other men in the guard house and of all the bunged eyes and bloody faces they beat the record.
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1 Probably McClernand.
Sunday, 1 [September].—Drummed three men (youngsters) out of Captain Drake’s company, by [the] colonel’s order. The men all approve it but it makes me sick. The boys all probably confirmed thieves before they joined the army, but it makes me sick. Also sent back a waggon-master and drivers. This pleased me. The rascals refused to drive further unless certain conditions were complied with. Sent off, all right! Took the mutinous waggon-master off his horse.
Camp Harmon, September 1,1861.
I wish very much this war was over, and I could be with you again at our home. There you remember, Love, you used to read, last December, to me of the stirring events in South Carolina; but we never dreamed that such a struggle would result as that in which we are now engaged, that the husbands and fathers among our people would be called upon to leave wives and children at home to mourn their absence whilst mingling in such a scene of blood and carnage as that through which we passed on the 21st of July. But so it is. How little we know of the future and our destiny! Dark as the present is, I indulge the hope it may soon change, and I may be with you again, not for a short visit, but to stay. Whilst such is the fond hope, when I look within my heart I find an immovable purpose to remain until the struggle ends in the establishment of our independence. Can the fond love which I cherish for you and our dear little children be reconciled with such a purpose? If I know myself, such is the fact. But, Love, my eye hurts me. It is sad to think of it, and that it disables me for life. It deprives me of the pleasure of reading for information and pleasure, unfits me for most kinds of business, and deprives me of the means of earning an independent support, which I feel I could do if I had my sight. The present is dark enough, but the future seems darker still, when I think of my return home, possibly made a bankrupt by the confiscation of my Ohio land, and then without means of earning a support or paying for my farm. I must not think of it now; it will be bad enough when it comes. I ought not to press my weak eye any farther. Kiss our dear little ones for me. Speak of me often to them. Never let them forget their “papa gone,” who loves them so well.
SEPTEMBER 1ST. —The press and congressional critics are opening their batteries on the Secretary of War, for incompetency. He is not to blame. A month ago, Capt. Lee, son of the general, and a good engineer, was sent to the coast of North Carolina to inspect the defenses. His report was well executed ; and the recommendations therein attended to with all possible expedition. It is now asserted that the garrison was deficient in ammunition. This was not the case. The position was simply not tenable under the fire of the U. S. ships of war.
September 1st.—North Carolina writes for arms for her soldiers. Have we any to send? No. Brewster, the plainspoken, says, “The President is ill, and our affairs are in the hands of noodles. All the generals away with the army; nobody here; General Lee in Western Virginia. Reading the third Psalm. The devil is sick, the devil a saint would be. Lord, how are they increased that trouble me? Many are they that rise up against me!”
