Thursday, December 4th, 1862—I went out from M. to Mr.— , five miles from town. I went from there to Gen’l Morgan’s Headquarters, leaving the Knox county filly at Mr. —and riding Walker’s horse. I took supper at Lewis Black’s, Morgan’s Headquarters. The Gen’l was in town but came in just after supper. I went on to Chenault’s camp and staid all night with John and Van Benton.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
4th.—This afternoon I procured signatures of Surgeons to certificates, that in consequence of my long continued labors, I was breaking down. I immediately drew up my letter of resignation and started to present it in person, and to ask the approval of the Colonel. Before reaching his quarters I was met by a courier with an order to march at daylight tomorrow morning. I, of course, withheld the paper till the march, perhaps to battle, was over.
Picket examines pass of soldier on horseback, while other soldiers sit around campfire. Fredericksburg is in background. 1862 ca. December
Artist: Arthur Lumley.
1 drawing on tan paper : pencil ; 22.3 x 34.9 cm. (sheet).
Library if Congress image.
It would be only the absurd tableaux I agreed to, with plenty of fun, and nothing more. So I tried to be merry and content, and so I should have been, for there was plenty to talk about, and every one was so solicitous for my comfort; and there was Mr. Enders who would wheel my chair for me wherever I wished it, and was as kind and attentive as a brother. Surely my first trip should have been a gay one! Miriam sat down by the piano, Mr. Enders drew me by her, and we three sang until dark together. A Mr. Morse, his wife, and mother, who are spending a week here, were our audience. The first two retired at candle-light, while the latter, present at the play the night before, remained to the last. But while we sang, every noise at the parlor door caused us to turn with the apprehension of we hardly knew what. A dozen times Mr. Enders consulted his watch, and telegraphed his fears to me, though I persisted in thinking it only the fun that had been intended.
Half-past six came, and with it, Mrs. Worley. Now, she knew better. For Dr. Dortch had come to see me, and was guiding me in my game of euchre in which I was not even as wise as my partner, Mr. Enders, when her note came. Instantly we put down our cards, while Miriam begged him to write and tell her the true story. He wrote and we all read it. Not only that, but Miriam added a postscript which I think was this, word for word: “Mrs. Worley, it is only a bet at cards, intended as the merest joke. There is not a word of truth in it, and I will consider it the greatest favor if you will contradict the report whenever you may hear it!” Explicit enough, one would think; but still she came, and sent word into the parlor that one of the ladies present when Will made the announcement had sent her contribution to the evening’s fun. It turned out to be a complete bridal suit, worn by the lady a year ago! That was too serious a jest. Miriam went into the other room to speak to Mrs. Worley, who, cold as an icicle, refused to receive or make explanation, beyond “I won’t kiss you; this is too cruel.” There was nothing to do; she returned laughing, but certainly feeling herself the injured one, and so she was.
In fifteen minutes, another stir. I held my breath with expectation. Lydia introduced — Mr. G——. Ten miles he had ridden through mud and water that freezing evening, at Will Carter’s request, to perform the ceremony between him and Miriam. Lydia laughed until she could hardly introduce him. He, hat in hand, bowed around the convulsed circle with a countenance shining with the most sublimely vacant expression. O that man’s idiotic face, and solemn, portentous look, brought a writhe even to my trembling lips! Mr. Enders would have given one an excellent idea of the effect produced by a real old piney-woods chill; he shook as with suppressed laughter. But when the tremendous preacher (tremendous because composed of gigantic Nothing) turned his lugubrious face towards Mrs. Morse, and addressed her as Mrs. Morgan under the impression that she had come down to see her daughter married, Miriam’s risibles could no longer stand it, and she flew from the room in time to avoid a disgraceful explosion.
I was growing frightened. Mr. Enders was leaning over my chair, and involuntarily it burst from me with a groan, “For God’s sake, help me save her!” “Hush! Lie back in your chair! I will!” he whispered. “But for the love of Heaven, save my sister!” “I’ll do what you will, if you will only keep still and not hurt yourself. I’ll do my best.” It was all whispered, that the minister and Mrs. Morse might not hear. “If it were your sister, what would you do?” “My God! I’d meet him on the front gallery and kick him out! Then I’d know one of us must die to-morrow!” “But under the circumstances it is impossible for Gibbes to act!” I urged, while we agreed that it was the most unwarrantable piece of insolence ever perpetrated. While we talked, Gibbes had seized Miriam and, without interfering or advising further, advised her to keep her room and not meet Will.
But I skipped the most important part. She came back when she had recovered her composure, and sat by me. Mr. Enders, when I asked what was best to do, whispered that to spare Will’s feelings, and avoid a most painful scene, as well as to show that she had no serious intentions whatever, she should see that the minister was put in full possession of the facts before it went any farther. He felt keenly his unpleasant situation, and it was only our earnest request that induced him to remain, or give his advice. Who should explain? Certainly not the General. He thought the joke carried too far, and retired to his room before Mr. G—— came. How take part against his own nephew? Not Gibbes either, for he had gone upstairs too worried and annoyed to talk to any one; besides, it was his wife’s cousin. Who then? Miriam is one woman in a thousand. Rising, she crossed the room slowly and as dignified as though she only meant to warm herself. I think I see her before me now, as she stood before the fire, facing Mr. G——, looking so handsome and stylish in her black grenadine with the pale-green trimming, telling her story. Plainly, earnestly, distinctly, without hurry or embarrassment, in the neatest, prettiest, most admirable speech I ever heard, she told everything just as it was. Bravo for Miriam! There lives not the woman in this State who could do so painful a thing in such a beautiful way. I felt like hugging her. Oh, it was magnificent! He heard her in surprise, but when once satisfied of its truth, he said, “Well, Miss Morgan, when you stand on the floor, when I ask if you will, it is your privilege to answer, ‘No.’” Miriam is not one to do so cruel a thing; she is too noble to deceive him so far and wound him so cruelly before all, when he believed himself so near happiness. She said that it was mockery, she would not suffer him to believe for an instant that she meant to marry him; if he believed it, he was deceiving himself wilfully, for he already knew that she had told him it could never be. He agreed to take it only as a jest, promised that he would not feel hurt; and with the most admirable tact, Miriam, the trump (I have been playing euchre, excuse me), settled the minister, and the wedding, by her splendid behavior, with no trouble.
A rapid step was heard in the hall; the bridegroom had come! I know he must have killed his horse. He certainly did not leave his house before one o’clock; it is twenty miles by the road to Clinton; he went there, procured his license, and was here at seven, in full costume. He bounded upstairs to meet the bride-elect.
I can fancy him going to Clinton, doubting, fearing, believing against all evidence, yet trembling; securing the license at last, persuading himself that she would not dare refuse when the deeds were recorded in court, and he held them in his hand; —and very few women would have been brave enough, too; he did not know My Miriam! I can fancy the poor horse lashed through the heavy mire, tired, foaming, panting, while his strong arm urged it on, with whip and spur; I can hear the exulting beating of his heart, that wild refrain that was raging as his death-knell — “Mine! Mine at last!” I could hear it, I say. It rung in my ears all night. He held her in his power; she must be his; hastily, yet carefully he performs his toilet; I dare say he stopped to think which cravat she liked best. “Mine! Mine!” the song is ringing in every stroke of his throbbing breast. Mount! Mount! Two miles fly past. He sweeps through the moonlight like Death riding on a pale horse; yonder shine lights in the parlor;’ and that above; is it hers? He throws himself from his horse; his hour has come, hers too; with the license and minister, his own adoration — and she must love him too! — he will win! Show him the way to her! She is his forever now! His? My God! had I not reason to cry, “In God’s name, save her, Frank!” He reaches Mrs. Carter’s room, and triumphantly throws the license on her table. He is ready now; where is his bride?
Some one meets him. “Will!”
The story is told; she is not to be won by force; she has appealed to the minister; he has carried the jest too far. The strong man reels; he falls on the bed in his bridal array in agony too great for tears. I dare not ask what followed; they tell me it was awful. What madness and folly, to dream of forcing her to marry him! Why, if she had loved him, the high-handed proceeding would have roused the lion of her spirit! He is no mate for her. He has but one thought, and at last words come. “Miriam! Miriam! Call her, for the love of God!” One word! one look! Oh, she will take pity on him in his misery. Let her come for one instant! she cannot be so cruel! she will marry him if only to save him from death, or worse! And fortunate it was that he was not armed, one of the two would have died; perhaps both. The heartbroken prayer goes on. The exulting “Mine! Mine!” has changed to the groan of despair, “Miriam! for the love of God! come to me!”
And where is the bride? Gibbes has her caged in the next room, this one where I am now lying. He has advised her not to appear; to go to bed and say no more. Sent to bed like a baby on her wedding night! She says that she laughed aloud when the door closed on her. She laughing in here, he groaning in there, it is to be hoped they each drowned the voice of the other. . . . The minister said good-night. He disclaimed all feeling of pique; he felt chiefly for the young lady — and the disappointed groom. (Ouf!) I sent to ask Will to come to me alone for a moment; no, he could not see me; write to him.
Slowly, as though an aged, infirm, tottering man, we heard him descending the steps. How different from the step that carried him up! We, conscience-stricken, sat within, with doors closed. He was off. He has again mounted his horse, and the brokenhearted man, hardly less cruel than the expectant bridegroom, dashes the rowel in his side and disappears like a whirlwind.
. . . . . . . . . .
I can fancy mother’s and Lilly’s agony, when they hear of the wedding. All Clinton knew it last night, and if they did, too, I know there was as little sleep for them as for us. I know mother shrieked, “My child! My child!” while Lilly cried. How could he believe she meant to marry him, without even sending word to mother when he was going to the very town? Bah! What a jolly go if those two got hysterics about the supposed Moral Suicide! Glad I was not at the tea-party! Well, fearing the effect of such a shock in mother’s nervous state, Gibbes advised Miriam to go on the cars this evening, and convince her that it had not occurred, court records and licenses and minister to the contrary notwithstanding; so my duck, my angel, she whom I call my Peri with the singed wings (children who play in the fire must expect to be burned), set off on her pious errand, without the protecting arm of her bridegroom.
[1] A page is here torn from the Diary. It evidently related the beginning of an incident of which my sister and I have often heard our mother tell: how, after the Jackson tableaux, our aunt Miriam laughingly staked herself in a game of cards with Will Carter — and lost. The sequel follows, the scene at the house of his uncle, General Carter, beginning in the middle of a sentence. — W. D.
December 4, Thursday. The Members of Congress from Minnesota are urging the President vehemently to give his assent to the execution of three hundred Indian captives, but they will not succeed. Undoubtedly the savage wretches have been guilty of great atrocities, and I have as little doubt the stories of their barbarities, bad enough in themselves, are greatly exaggerated. What may have been the aggressions and provocations which led the Indians on is not told us. When the intelligent Representatives of a State can deliberately besiege the Government to take the lives of these ignorant barbarians by wholesale, after they have surrendered themselves prisoners, it would seem the sentiments of the Representatives were but slightly removed from the barbarians whom they would execute. The Minnesotians are greatly exasperated and threaten the Administration if it shows clemency.
Some of the Members of Congress begin early to manifest a perverse and bad spirit. Foremost as regards the Navy, of which he should be the friend and organ, is John P. Hale, Chairman of the Senate Naval Committee. He is censorious to all the Administration, but especially to the Navy Department, which, instead of supporting, he omits no opportunity to assail and embarrass. Calvert, of the House, is equally virulent. He thinks he has cause to be angry with me, but has not the courage and manliness to declare the reason or motive which governs him. Some months since he made application to me to order the return of one or two slaves who were on the Potomac Flotilla, or in the navy yard, to his sister, who, he says, is a deserving loyal lady residing in Virginia near the Potomac. I of course declined. I also declined appointing some one to be midshipman under the general clause, whom he wished selected, as I declined in many similar cases. He is also dissatisfied because the Naval School is not immediately returned to Annapolis, which is within his district.
The lowest bidder for one of the large steamers lives at Chester. Other competitors are greatly excited and charge him with being disloyal. This charge is, I think, untrue, though one of the firm is a Democrat and opposed the election of President Lincoln. But the idea of exclusion or favoritism in a matter of this kind, and in disregard of law, is absurd.
Count Adam Gurowski, a Polish exile, who has been employed as a clerk in the State Department, has published a book which I am told is unsparing in its assaults upon almost all in authority, but that he deals gently with me. He is by nature a grumbler, ardent, earnest, rash, violent, unreasonable, impracticable, with no powers of rightfully discriminating character; nor is he a correct judge of measures and results. I have neither sought nor shunned him. Under no circumstances could he be to me a pleasant companion. He wants, I think, to be frank and honest in his way, to be truthful, though given to scandal; brave he is without doubt, a rude, rough Polish bear who is courted and flattered by a set of extreme partisans that delight in listening to his denunciations of public men, and in hearing his enthusiastic praises in broken English of liberty. He is an exile for good and bad qualities, a martyr to his opinions and his manners. Seward gave him a clerkship, — why and for what reason I never understood, for his companions and intimates are Seward’s opponents, and the Count himself is and always has been an open, persistent, undisguised opponent of Seward and his course. The Count, it seems, kept a journal or took memoranda while in the Department and wrote scandal and hate in bad English, which he has printed.
The proposition to divide the State of Virginia is before Congress, and I am told it will probably be successful. I am not clear as to its expediency, and I doubt if it can constitutionally be done. Certainly the time is not auspicious for such a step. To me the division of Virginia at this time looks like a step towards a division of the Union, a general break-up. This is intuitive, an impression without investigation. Let us have no separations or divisions at present.
I have answered two resolutions, petty calls of Congress, in relation to the appointment of midshipmen. There are one hundred and forty vacancies, chiefly in consequence of the secession of the Southern States, and I have appointed sixty-two.
Senator Fessenden has been to see me in the case of George H. Preble, who is one of his constituents and a neighbor, who is dismissed for failure to do his duty on the 4th of last September, when he permitted the steamer Oreto (Florida) to run the blockade at Mobile. Senator F. thinks injustice has been done Preble, and asks that he be restored and then tried by court martial. Told him this could not be done by the Department or the President; that, being out of the service, there was but one way of restoring him, and that was by a new appointment. To be reinstated, the President must nominate and the Senate confirm. The act of confirmation would itself absolve him. The Senate would not, however, confirm a man with guilt or wrong upon him. Fessenden said he had taken a different view; thought the President might restore without Congressional action, yet seemed confused and in doubt. Wished me to talk with Admirals Smith and Dahlgren; says the officers generally justify Preble, who, he added, is in Washington and would like to see me. I requested him to call; told F. my view of the case was unchanged, but would hear and give consideration to anything he might advance.
Preble called the next day, and we went over the case. He claims he did his whole duty; says he believed the Oreto was an English vessel, and he wished to keep the peace, was perhaps too prudent. I told him that in his zeal to preserve the peace he forgot his duty as an officer; that he had been placed as a sentinel before the harbor of Mobile, with express orders to prevent ingress or egress, and had, in not obeying these orders, failed to do his whole duty. His excuse was that if he obeyed his orders he would hurt somebody, but in not obeying he had done his country and the service great injury; that the excuse did not become an officer and would not justify a sentinel. We had much discussion on this point. He said he could have boarded and sunk the Oreto, but suppose he had done so and she had been an English vessel with an English flag above, what would have been the consequences to himself? I assured him the Government would never let an officer suffer for fidelity in obeying orders and being vigilant in performing his duty; that it would have been better for him had he not paused to consider consequences to himself, better for the country had he strictly obeyed his orders, and even if the Oreto had been an English vessel and been sunk by him, he would have been justified, and the Englishman condemned for his temerity in violating usage and disregarding the warning of the sentinel.
The subject has given me trouble, and I sent my conclusions by Assistant Secretary Fox to Fessenden. Fox, when he saw Fessenden, did not find it convenient to state his errand, but requested the Senator to call and see me, which he did on Tuesday morning.
I informed him there was no way of instituting a court martial nor even a court of inquiry. The officers who would be required as witnesses were in the Gulf and could not be detached from indispensable duty and brought home on such an errand. That under the circumstances — the feelings of himself and others — and in justice to both Preble and the Government, I would appoint a board of officers, who should take the three reports of Commodore Preble on the 4th and 6th of September and 10th of October, — being his own statements of his case at different dates, — and say whether he had done his whole duty as he claimed and in conformity with the articles of war. That their report I would submit to the President to dispose of, and thus end the matter, so far as the Navy Department was concerned. He asked if I did not prefer the certificates of other officers. I replied no, neither statements, witnesses, nor arguments would be introduced, nothing but Preble’s own reports, which I thought all he or his friends could require. F. was a little nonplussed. Said it was certainly fair, he was satisfied with such submission and presumed P. would be.
Within an hour Preble called; said that Senator F. had informed him of my proposition for an informal court, which he thought fair, but wished Admiral Farragut’s letter to go to the board, as F. by his hasty letter had made an improper prejudice on me. I assured him he was mistaken, — that my action was based on his own statement. What I proposed was a board that should take his own reports and decide upon the same evidence as the Admiral and I had done, and I should abide their conclusion. The tribunal would necessarily be informal and composed of men whose opinions, if they had formed any, were unknown to me and I hoped to him also.
He said this was all he could ask or expect, but intimated it might relieve me of responsibility if Admiral Farragut’s letter was included in the submission. I said no, I evaded no honest responsibility. My convictions were that I had done right, though it had borne hard upon him; that he had been in fault from error in judgment, rather than criminal intent, but the injury was none the less, and the example was quite necessary. Without assenting to my views he said he should be satisfied with the judgment of the board and left me.
I appointed Admiral Foote, Commodore Davis, and Lieutenant-Commander Phelps and shall leave the matter in their hands.
The House has voted to create and admit Western Virginia as a State. This is not the time to divide the old Commonwealth. The requirements of the Constitution are not complied with, as they in good faith should be, by Virginia, by the proposed new State, nor by the United States. I find that Blair, with whom I exchanged a word, is opposed to it.
We have news of a movement of our troops at Falmouth with the intention of crossing the Rappahannock and attacking the Rebels.
The Rebel steamer Alabama was at Martinique and escaped the San Jacinto, Commander Ronckendorff, a good officer.
Thursday, 4th—Our entire company went out on picket duty this morning with the orders to keep a sharp lookout for rebels. The sentinels out on the front are ordered to stand in secluded places, as they are in danger of being picked off by the rebel sharpshooters. It rained all day again.
Thursday, December 4, 1862. — A clear fine day. In the morning I walked, or climbed rather, to the top of the hill near the camp, just east of us. On the top I could see east of me the camp of the Forty-seventh [Ohio] at Tompkins farm, the camp of the Fourth Virginia, and other camps on the west side of Kanawha to the west, and the road to Fayette south. A hard scramble but I stood it well. My arm is still weak and easily hurt. Queer feeling, to think I can reach up to grasp a limb of a tree, and find it impossible to raise my hand above my head. In the afternoon I walked with Captain Haven up to Gauley Bridge. He explained to me the dwarf and giant laurel and the beautiful holly. The dwarf laurel grows from three to five feet high, is usually in thickets, and has an oval leaf. The giant laurel grows fifteen or twenty feet high and has a long leaf. The holly grows as high as apple trees and has a prickly leaf.
I give Colonel Comly drill and discipline, Major McIlrath, supplies of all sorts, and I attend to general interests of the regiment. I have sinks dug, look to camp drainage, and the like. The exercise agrees with me.
To Mrs. Lyon.
Fort Henry, Dec. 4, 1862.—We are going after Napier and his band tomorrow, and you may not hear from me for ten or twelve days. The teams and the cavalry go tomorrow morning by land, and we go Saturday morning up the river forty miles by water. The rebels are supposed to be at Waverly, ten or twelve miles from where we propose to land, east of the river. Our transportation, that is, teams, provisions, etc., go up on the west side for greater safety. We have a four-gun gunboat to convoy us up the river. I don’t know how many rebels there are up there, but probably not enough to induce them to fight us. We shall probably chase them about the country for a week or two and then come back. 1 f we can clean out that force there is nothing left in our beat for us to fight.
I will answer your questions. We are in General Grant’s command, which is called the Department of West Tennessee.
Thursday, 4th. Marched to Maysville and camped in town. Cold and uncomfortable. Went to the Secesh hospital and got supper of the family. Good visit with the surgeon. Invited me to stay over night.
Enroute, Thursday, Dec. 4. We remained quiet all day. Rained in the evening. Pitched Quartermaster’s tent. Felt symptoms of the ague, felt rather bad.
