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

March 2012

Eliza’s Journal.

We went to bed in a state of great excitement and were awakened early Monday morning by a knock from George and a note from Joe saying it was all true. He wrote at 2 A. M., having been up all night. They had just received their marching orders—the brigade to leave at 5 A. M., the rest of the corps at 9. I sent George over at once with a note to J., and he found him on horseback just starting, the regiments formed and ready, and the General and staff in their saddles, all off for Fairfax Court House, which they reached, J. writes me, at 5 P. M., all in good spirits, having borne the march well. The rebs have abandoned both Centreville and Manassas, falling back, the “Star” says, as far as the Rapidan and Gordonsville—whether by panic or by a preconcerted plan, is unknown.

J. writes the climate at Fairfax C. H. is lovely and the air dry, pure and very sweet, but the country is utterly desolate, houses burnt or pulled to pieces, fences gone, and the inhabitants, except a few miserable negroes, fled.

Georgeanna’s Journal.

March 10.

All strange rumors come on Sunday. Josepha Crosby, Hatty and I went down to spend the afternoon at the Patent Office Hospital. During the week the camps had been emptied of convalescents, sent north to recover, and their places in the hospitals were occupied by others. The Patent Office is full again; four rows of beds and very sick men in them. I stooped down between two 8th New York Cavalry men in their little cots while they told me that their regiment had moved off silently on Saturday night. Coming away, I hurried up to Mrs. Captain Rodgers’ house and heard the story of the Merrimac fight. The first intimation they had of it was in church on Sunday morning, when, during service, a messenger came in and was seen to whisper something to General Meigs, who immediately left the church. A little while later General Totten was summoned, and then a Commodore somebody, by which time the congregation was in a state of suppressed excitement miserable to bear. Dr. Pine preached an unusually long sermon, and finally the people rushed out and heard the bad news.

While I was talking at the door with Mrs. Rodgers a four-horse ambulance was standing at McClellan’s door, and we sat down on the steps intending to see who got into it, and which way it went, a determination shared by plenty of other people on their way from church. At last a servant brought blankets, and McClellan and Franklin got in and started on their way over the Potomac; and then I came home, and presently Colonel McClure came in and told us that Heintzelmann, with whom he had been sitting an hour, expects to move in the morning and that Manassas was reported evacuated. Contrabands brought word of it to Kearney’s quarters; he made an armed reconnaissance and discovered the truth; word was sent to McClellan, and his ride on Sunday P. M. was in consequence. Mrs. Rodgers came in as we were in our petticoats, getting ready for bed, and confirmed it all.

Jane Stuart Woolsey to Eliza..

March 10, ‘62.

Theodore Bronson has just called to say that he saw Mr. Woolsey (Charley) in Baltimore last night all well. He saw his name in the papers as bearer of despatches and wondered whether he really had any, or if it was a sort of passport. I am glad if he has been able to do any service, but I should not like him to go into the army.

March 10th.—Second year of Confederate independence. I write daily for my own diversion. These mémoires pour servir may at some future day afford facts about these times and prove useful to more important people than I am. I do not wish to do any harm or to hurt any one. If any scandalous stories creep in they can easily be burned. It is hard, in such a hurry as things are now, to separate the wheat from the chaff. Now that I have made my protest and written down my wishes, I can scribble on with a free will and free conscience.

Congress at the North is down on us. They talk largely of hanging slave-owners. They say they hold Port Royal, as we did when we took it originally from the aborigines, who fled before us; so we are to be exterminated and improved, à l’Indienne, from the face of the earth.

Medea, when asked: “Country, wealth, husband, children, all are gone; and now what remains?” answered: “Medea remains.” “There is a time in most men’s lives when they resemble Job, sitting among the ashes and drinking in the full bitterness of complicated misfortune.”

 

March 10.—Lieut. J. D. Joak, of the First Iowa cavalry, with thirty men, encountered a band of marauders posted in a log-house and barn in Lafayette County, Mo. The enemy were defeated after a short engagement, in which they had nine killed and three wounded. The National loss was one killed and four wounded.—N. Y. World, March 21.

—Au expedition, sent out from Sedalia, Mo., by Brig.-Gen. McKean, into Bates County, returned with forty prisoners of war, recruits from Gen. Price’s army, a quantity of arms, ammunition, and other effects.

—In the United States Senate a joint resolution, in accordance with the suggestion in the President’s Special Message, tendering the aid of the Government to the States of Maryland and Delaware, and favoring voluntary emancipation, was offered by Mr. Wilson, of Massachusetts, but objected to by Mr. Saulsbury, of Delaware, and laid over. The Confiscation bill was taken up, and Mr. Browning, of Illinois, made a speech in opposition to it. At the conclusion of his speech a joint resolution of thanks to Commodore Foote was passed. The House bill, providing a new Article of War, prohibiting officers of the army from returning fugitive slaves, was debated at considerable length, and finally passed as it came from the House, twenty-nine to nine.

—The gunboat Whitehall, lying at Hampton Roads, Va., took fire at two o’clock this morning, and was totally destroyed. Three of her guns, all of which were shotted, went off at intervals, and a shell burst in the air, scattering its fragments about Fort Monroe, without, however, doing any damage. Another gun was saved by the harbor crew. The Whitehall was formerly a Fulton ferry-boat, at New-York.

—This day Col. James Carter, with his regiment of loyal Tennesseeans, left Camp Cumberland Ford, and went through the mountains, some forty odd miles, to Big Creek Gap, some four miles above Jacksboro, Tenn., where they had a fight with the rebel cavalry. Two of the rebels were killed, four badly wounded, and fifteen taken prisoners, among whom was Lieut.-Col. White. Col. Carter also obtained all of the tents for three companies, their camp equipage, and provisions, and some arms. Twenty-seven of the rebels’ horses were killed, and fifty-nine captured, with seven mules and four wagons. Lieut.-Col. Keigwin, of the Forty-ninth regiment Indiana volunteers, accompanied Colonel Carter, and rendered most efficient service. The National casualties were Lieutenant Myers and one private slightly wounded.—Louisville Journal, March 24.

—This morning the National forces, amounting to upwards of two thousand, proceeded to Centreville, Va., and occupied the village about four o’clock in the afternoon. It was altogether deserted. The rebels had destroyed as much of their property as they could not carry away, by fire and otherwise. The bridges, railroad track and depot, in that vicinity were extensively damaged, and nothing but wreck and desolation were apparent—N. Y. Herald, March 12.

—In the confederate House of Representatives, a resolution was passed advising the planters to withdraw from the cultivation of cotton and tobacco, and devote their energies to raising provisions and cattle, hogs and sheep.

—Charles Williams, of Fredericksburg, Va., and Samuel P. Carrect, of Washington City, were arrested for disloyalty in Richmond, Va., this day.

—Brunswick, Ga., was this day occupied by the National forces.

 Baton Rouge, Louisiana,
March 9th, 1862.

Here I am, at your service, Madame Idleness, waiting for any suggestion it may please you to put in my weary brain, as a means to pass this dull, cloudy Sunday afternoon; for the great Pike clock over the way has this instant struck only half-past three; and if a rain is added to the high wind that has been blowing ever since the month commenced, and prevents my going to Mrs. Brunot’s before dark, I fear I shall fall a victim to “the blues” for the first time in my life. Indeed it is dull. Miriam went to Linewood with Lydia yesterday, and I miss them beyond all expression. Miriam is so funny! She says she cannot live without me, and yet she can go away, and stay for months without missing me in the slightest degree. Extremely funny! And I — well, it is absurd to fancy myself alive without Miriam. She would rather not visit with me, and yet, be it for an hour or a month, I never halfway enjoy myself without her, away from home. Miriam is my “Rock ahead” in life; I’ll founder on her yet. It’s a grand sight for people out of reach, who will not come in contact with the breakers, but it is quite another thing to me, perpetually dancing on those sharp points in my little cockleshell that forms so ludicrous a contrast to the grand scene around. I am sure to founder!

I hold that every family has at heart one genius, in some line, no matter what — except in our family, where each is a genius, in his own way. Hem! And Miriam has a genius for the piano. Now I never could bear to compete with any one, knowing that it is the law of my being to be inferior to others, consequently to fail, and failure is so humiliating to me. So it is, that people may force me to abandon any pursuit by competing with me; for knowing that failure is inevitable, rather than fight against destiny I give up de bonne grâce. Originally, I was said to have a talent for the piano, as well as Miriam. Sister and Miss Isabella said I would make a better musician than she, having more patience and perseverance. However, I took hardly six months’ lessons to her ever so many years; heard how well she played, got disgusted with myself, and gave up the piano at fourteen, with spasmodic fits of playing every year or so. At sixteen, Harry gave me a guitar. Here was a new field where I would have no competitors. I knew no one who played on it; so I set to work, and taught myself to manage it, mother only teaching me how to tune it. But Miriam took a fancy to it, and I taught her all I knew; but as she gained, I lost my relish, and if she had not soon abandoned it, I would know nothing of it now. She does not know half that I do about it; they tell me I play much better than she; yet they let her play on it in company before me, and I cannot pretend to play after. Why is it? It is not vanity, or I would play, confident of excelling her. It is not jealousy, for I love to see her show her talents. It is not selfishness; I love her too much to be selfish to her. What is it then? “Simply lack of self-esteem” I would say if there was no phrenologist near to correct me, and point out that well-developed hump at the extreme southern and heavenward portion of my Morgan head. Self-esteem or not, Mr. Phrenologist, the result is, that Miriam is by far the best performer in Baton Rouge, and I would rank forty-third even in the delectable village of Jackson.

And yet I must have some ear for music. To “know as many songs as Sarah” is a family proverb; not very difficult songs, or very beautiful ones, to be sure, besides being very indifferently sung; but the tunes will run in my head, and it must take some ear to catch them. People say to me, “Of course you play?” to which I invariably respond, “Oh, no, but Miriam plays beautifully!” “You sing, I believe?” “ Not at all — except for father” (that is what I used to say) — “and the children. But Miriam sings.” “You are fond of dancing?” “Very; but I cannot dance as well as Miriam.” “Of course, you are fond of society?” “No, indeed! Miriam is, and she goes to all the parties and returns all the visits for me.” The consequence is, that if the person who questions is a stranger, he goes off satisfied that “that Miriam must be a great girl; but that little sister of hers —! Well! a prig, to say the least!”

So it is Miriam catches all my fish — and so it is, too, that it is not raining, and I ‘m off.

Hall’s Hill, Va., March 9, 1862.

Dear Father, — We start certainly to-morrow at six A.M., and advance directly to Centreville. Our division proceeds to Fairfax Court House by the “dirt road.” Colonel Averell with a regiment of infantry and two of cavalry pushes a reconnoissance beyond Centreville, supported by McDowell and Heintzelman in reserve. I shall let you know the result of any encounter which may take place as soon as possible. All the rest of the divisions move on by different routes into Virginia. I have just copied the order of the routes for the different divisions and so speak from what I know to be true.

Theodore Colburn is here from Cambridge. He will spend the night here and can probably give you an account of our departure. . . .

P.S. We shall have no fighting at Manassas, so I hear. The rebels are evacuating it.

McCl. is a failure. Don’t say a word about this to any one as it would bring me into trouble, but still I know it to be a fact.

9th.—All is bustle and confusion. Though there is no order to move, we are all packing, and ambulances are running with our sick to general hospital. This looks like clearing the decks for action. We are notified that when we do march, we shall do so without baggage or tents. So long have we been here that, notwithstanding we have been long impatient to move, it will be like breaking up our home. My home attachments are very strong. I shall feel sadly at breaking up, but I shall be glad to be again in active service.

Since the late ebullition of vindictiveness by Gen. ______, I have been schooling myself in the hardest lesson of my life —that is to sit and wait for orders, regardless of humanity, of everything, indeed, except the little eighty-seven dollars and fifty cents per month, and my own ease and comfort. This is a lofty ambition. A prize worthy a better patriot than I have ever claimed to be. Last night and this morning I labored in my hospital till three A.M. But that work is now over. We leave behind us those to whom my care and their suffering had attached me; and I will see to it that neither conscience nor humanity shall again so strongly attach me to the sick. It only lays me liable to indignities and insults.

MARCH 9TH—Gen. Winder has appointed Col. Porter Provost Marshal,—Godwin not being high enough in rank, I suppose.

Sunday, 9th—Had a cold rain all day. There was no church for us today. The quartermaster with a detail of men loaded some of the supplies on open cars, the wagons being taken apart and loaded. The mules and horses were put in the stock cars. The cars came for us about 9 p. m. and we finished loading about midnight and left for Jefferson City, some of the men in box cars and others in open cars with the baggage.