Cropped from a larger image – Manassas, Va. Men of Co. C, 41st New York Infantry.
Photo taken by Timothy H. O’Sullivan
Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA
Record page for image: http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/cwp2003000102/PP/
JULY 10TH. — I forgot to note in its place a feat of Gen. Stuart and his cavalry, before the recent battles. He made a complete girdle around the enemy, destroying millions of their property, and returned without loss. He was reconnoitering for Jackson, who followed in his track. This made Stuart major-general.
I likewise omitted to note the death of the brave Gen. Ashby, who fell in one of Jackson’s brilliant battles in the Valley. But history will do him justice. [My chronicles are designed to assist history, and to supply the smaller incidents and details which the grand historian would be likely to omit.]
July 10th.
A proclamation is out announcing that any one talking about the war, or present state of affairs, will be “summarily” dealt with. Now, seems to me “summarily “is not exactly the word they mean, but still it has an imposing effect. What a sad state their affairs must be in, if they can’t bear comment. An officer arrived day before yesterday, bringing the surprising intelligence that McClellan had captured Richmond and fifty thousand prisoners; that is the time they talked. But when we received yesterday confirmation of his being finally defeated by our troops, and the capture of his railroad train twelve miles in length, they forbid further mention of the subject. I wonder if they expect to be obeyed? What a stretch of tyranny! O free America! You who uphold free people, free speech, free everything, what a foul blot of despotism rests on a once spotless name! A nation of brave men, who wage war on women and lock them up in prisons for using their woman weapon, the tongue; a nation of free people who advocate despotism; a nation of Brothers who bind the weaker ones hand and foot, and scourge them with military tyrants and other Free, Brotherly institutions; what a picture! Who would not be an American? One consolation is, that this proclamation, and the extraordinary care they take to suppress all news except what they themselves manufacture, proves me our cause is prospering more than they like us to know. I do believe day is about to break!
If our troops are determined to burn our houses over our heads to spite the Yankees, I wish they would hurry and have it over at once. Ten regiments of infantry are stationed at Camp Moore, and Scott’s cavalry was expected at Greenwell yesterday, both preparing for an attack on Baton Rouge. If we must be beggars, let it come at once; I can’t endure this suspense.
Thursday, 10th—The regiment returned from picket this morning at 8 o’clock, the Thirteenth coming out to relieve us. The roads are becoming very dusty and a regiment of men with a few mules can kick up a big dust. The soil is a sandy loam, and so fine and of such a color as to look like smoke from even a short distance.
July 10, 1862. Thursday.—. . . I wrote this morning a cheerful letter to Mother. I think often these days of the sad loss six years ago; my dear, dear sister, — so —. But it is perhaps for the best. How she would suffer during this struggle!
I have just read the Commercial’s story of the six days’ battles. What dreadful fighting, suffering, weariness, and exhaustion were there! The letters in the paper of the 5th are agonizing in the extreme. The telegraphic news diminishes our loss in the battles before Richmond, and gives, I think, exaggerated reports of the enemy’s loss. They are said to have lost from thirty to sixty thousand!!
10th. Grazed our horses and rested. Wrote some.
“Wilson Small,” July 10.
Dear A., — This morning I went ashore with Mrs. Barlow (Arabella, wife of the General) without orders and, indeed, without permission. But Mrs. Barlow offered to take me, Mr. Olmsted was not on board, and I was so anxious to see for myself the state of things that I could not forego the chance. The hospital occupies the Harrison House, called Berkley (how familiar all those names are to you and me!), and a barn, out-buildings, and several tents at the rear, containing, or I should say able to contain, in all, about twelve hundred men, — perhaps more, at a pinch. About a third of those now in hospital will be fit for duty after a week or two of rest.
The influence of the new Medical Director is already manifest. It would be too much to say that all the wants of the sick and wounded are met as they would be on our own boats, where the men are as well cared for as in a city hospital, — it would be absurd to expect as much as that in a temporary hospital hastily arranged, and especially after such an exhausting march as the army has just made; but I am quite satisfied that the men have every essential care; the situation is the healthiest to be found about here, there are surgeons enough, and an excellent hospital-steward, with properly appointed ward-masters and nurses. I told the hospital-steward how much we depended on beef-stock and milk-punch, because they are so quickly and easily prepared; and I promised to send him (I felt as if I were making a will) my spirit-lamp and kettles, and to get our commissary to give him an ample supply of Muringer’s beef-extract, and condensed milk. I have just filled two pillow-cases for him with all the odds and ends that remain to me, — fans, pads, handkerchiefs, towels, bay-rum, cologne, bandages, flannel, pins, needles, tapes, buttons, paper and pens, etc., and ray precious lamp, with all its adjuncts.
We stayed about three hours with the men, writing letters for them. Such letters are often very funny. Some few told the horrors of the march; but as a rule they were all about the families at home. Did you ever notice how people of limited education seem unable to relate anything that is happening about them? They go over a string of family details quite as well known to their correspondent as to themselves.
I am glad I went ashore, for now I am quite content to go home. Our work — I mean the women’s work — is over, except on the ” Webster” and the “Spaulding,” which must still make two or three trips in the service of the Commission. All that now remains to be done for the army on the James is the regular work of inspecting camps and issuing from the store-boats such supplies as may be needed. [1]
I did not go on board the “Monitor” on “Wednesday, after all. The others went, but I had fallen into a weary and disconsolate condition, in which the effort seemed too great. Commodore Rodgers had tried to keep the President, who paid him an early visit, long enough to meet us; but Mr. Lincoln said: “No, he had promised to be with Georgy at nine o’clock, and Georgy must not be kept waiting.” I liked the story; it seemed to picture such happy relations between the President and the General.
[1] 
On Mr. Olmsted’s return from Harrison’s Landing he sent down, as the most pressing need of the army (the shadow of scurvy was hanging over it) a vessel freighted with vegetables. A cargo of ice had preceded it. These vegetables proved of invaluable service, and were distributed to all the regiments at Harrison’s Landing.
Abbie Howland Woolsey to her sister, Georgeanna.
8 Brevoort Place, New York, July 10th, 1862.
Eliza, Joe and Jane have gone off this morning to Fishkill. . Joe’s place here was in the long lounging-chair by the front parlor window, while we received ordinary folks whom he wouldn’t see, in the dining-room. He has worn a full white suit of Charley’s, which Hatty happened to lay her hands on, and went off in it this morning, home, via Newburgh. . . . He did not mean to go till this afternoon, but got a letter yesterday from Mr. Masters (who has been one of the callers here) written in great haste, and full of excitement. It was to Eliza, saying that the people of Fishkill were so full of enthusiasm for her husband, that they were bent on having a demonstration on his arrival, which he knew would be contrary to Eliza’s taste, and injurious to Joe’s health. He therefore advised that they should change the hour and way of their proposed coming, and if they would telegraph him to Newburgh—under an assumed name (isn’t it funny?)—he would be there to receive the message and would let Thomson and Moritz know! . . . We think it a shame to disappoint the people so much, but Joe would get up at five this morning and leave the house at six, with his sword, etc. done up in a brown paper parcel. He thinks if there is such enthusiasm, he ought to be able to turn it to account for recruiting. It is really pleasant to know that the country people have such a spirit —for the cause. It is a good sign. . . .
The farmer, Mr. Thomson, wrote me a letter of thanks for mine to him, describing Joe’s wound, etc. He said there had been “such reports in Fishkill as never was. Some had it his nose had been shot off, and some, his jaw, and the story was ‘Mrs. Howland was pris’ner,'” etc. Great discussions took place in the church porch on Sunday, whether his moustache would grow over such a very bad scar, and Mr. Masters was so besieged for details that he ended by reading from the pulpit part of a letter of Carry’s to Mrs. Charles Wolcott.
The neighbors have all been in, or sent in to offer their services to us and our wounded hero, having watched him get out of the coach that Sunday morning. Carry was so intent on watching the Hills from her window, and so desirous that they should all be ranged at their front windows, looking, as they were, that I believe she missed seeing Joe get out herself ! . . .
Did anyone tell you of your friend Mr. Mitchell’s call the other night? He brought your note and was very pleasant. We had no candy for him, but he drank iced lemonade. His father won’t let him enlist, so you may see him back again. Jane recognized him as some one she had seen at Philharmonic rehearsals fifty times or more.
Mrs. Trotter writes G. about this time: “John met Edward Wright (of the army) today. He spoke in the highest terms of Mr. Howland. He says he is the idol of the regiment, and there is not a man who would not do anything for him. I trust his reward will be as great as the sacrifice.”
Thursday, July 10, 1862. (—— Plantation.)—Yesterday about 4 o’clock we walked to the lake and embarked. Provisions and utensils were packed in the lockers, and a large trunk was stowed at each end. The blankets and cushions were placed against one of them, and Annie and I sat on them Turkish fashion. Near the center the two smaller trunks made a place for Reeney. Max and H. were to take turns at the rudder and oars. The last word was a fervent God-speed from Mr. E., who is left in charge of all our affairs. We believe him to be a Union man, but have never spoken of it to him. We were gloomy enough crossing the lake, for it was evident the heavily laden boat would be difficult to manage. Last night we staid at this plantation, and from the window of my room I see the men unloading the boat to place it on the cart, which a team of oxen will haul to the river. These hospitable people are kindness itself, till you mention the war.
______
Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in New Orleans, the diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were often used instead of full names — and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials.
Cropped from a larger image – Manassas, Va.; Men of Co. C, 41st New York Infantry.
Photo taken by Timothy H. O’Sullivan
Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA
Record page for image: http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/cwp2003000102/PP/
Follow on facebook
RSS
email
