Sunday, 25th.—Marched short distance; halted for further orders. 11 A. M., marched to railroad; waiting for train to take us to Vicksburg. Camping near Pearl River.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Camp Reynolds, West Virginia, January 25, 1863.
Dear Mother: — Lucy with Birch and Webb arrived here last night safe and sound. We shall enjoy the log-cabin life very much — the boys are especially happy, running about where there is so much new to be seen. … I write merely to relieve anxiety about the new soldiers. — Love to all.
Affectionately,
Rutherford.
Mrs. Sophia Hayes.
Falmouth, Va., Feb. 25, 1863.
Dear Cousin L.:—
Though I receive a good many from here and there, your letters have had a charm for me I found in no others, and I have felt uneasy and restless when the mail has come night after night and no letter from you. I don’t know but I am babyish to think so much of my letters, but it is almost all I have to do now, to read letters and write and think, think. I get tired of this thinking, too, so don’t blame me if I write the second time in return for yours.
I received a letter a few nights ago that interested me very much. When I left home there was a young lady teaching in the village academy. She called the day I left to bid me good-bye and godspeed, and remarked that “she could not shoulder the musket but she was going to the war, not as la fille du regiment, but as nurse.” I am afraid I smiled a little incredulously. I did not think she was really in earnest, but was only saying something to express her sympathy for the soldiers, and every one had plenty of that. Before I left Erie, however, she had gone—tendered her services, been accepted and sent to St. Louis. I heard no more from her till I received that letter, and supposed she had long ago returned to her friends in Indianapolis, but all this time she had been in the army wherever she could soothe the pain or add to the comfort of the sick and wounded soldiers. Six months she was a prisoner among the chivalrous butternuts, much of the time in Corinth. I must confess I admire her spirit, don’t you? She was not bound, as our volunteers are, for any length of time, still she has not deserted yet. “Weary often, but never tired,” she writes.[1]
One of my tent mates left me yesterday morning to report in New York. He goes to receive a commission in one of the black regiments. He has been in the service three months, has never seen a fight except from a distance, and cannot tell to-day whether to hold his gun at shoulder arms with the barrel or rammer to the front. He has been a bugler, an orderly, and the brigade postmaster since he came out, and has never drilled at all. Friends got him the commission. If our negro soldiers are officered by such men, I’m afraid they won’t amount to much.
Whenever you have leisure, remember that I would be very thankful for a letter. Do not think me too much a reprobate. I have made a discovery—there are some in the army who try to live Christians. The other night I stumbled on a little prayer-meeting. The gathering was small, only seven, but it did me more good than many a sermon has.
[1] Note.—Her name was Ada Johnson
Stoneman Station, A. C. & F. R. R., Va.,
Sunday, Jan. 25, 1863.
Dear Sister L.:—
I thought the subject of bugler was exhausted, but I see you want to know more about it. I am chief bugler of the brigade. My duties are, in camp, to sound the calls for roll calls, drills, inspections, guard mounting, etc., at regular hours each day; on the march, to attend on the general in command and sound the calls to march or halt and rest, strike tents and form in line, etc. In short, to act as mouthpiece for the general. So much for duties. As to privileges —one, I’ve nothing to do but bugle; two, my luggage is carried in the headquarters wagons; three, I get better rations than in the regiment, and more of them; four, I get my wood hauled, and in the regiment the men have to carry all they burn a long distance. Well, there are four, perhaps that’s enough, but I might add others. As to the horse, I have one now, and a splendid one, too. He would be worth $175 at home. Colonel Vincent, acting as Brigadier General, went to the brigade quartermaster and told him to furnish me a horse that I could carry the brigade colors on and keep up with him. He is a dashing rider, and no raw head and bloody bones could keep up with him, so he gave me a beautiful black horse, and I am now the brigade color bearer and bugler. My pay should be $21 per month, but I don’t think I shall get now more than $13. They have commenced to-day paying our brigade four months’ pay. Nearly seven months are due.
Well, Burnside has moved again, and got stuck in the mud. That is the short of it. The long of it was the five days it took us to get six miles and back to camp. It beat all the Peninsula mud I ever saw, and demonstrated the falsity of Burnside’s theory that if twelve horses couldn’t draw a cannon twenty-four could. The more horses the worse it was.
We got back to our old camps yesterday, and I apprehend we shall stay a while. The army cannot move in this climate in the winter, and perhaps the people will believe now that “Little Mac” was right in not moving last winter.
Camp Winder, January 25, 1863.
I spent yesterday in bed, and feel to-day like getting back into it. Whilst I have not lost any time from sickness since I last left home, I have been often unwell and compelled to lie in bed for a day or two. A few days’ quiet generally relieves me, but exposure and irregular living generally bring it on again. I never was better than when I came to the army last summer; but about the time of the battle of Cedar Mountain it began, and has continued, making me often hardly fit for duty. It is in some measure owing to a want of vegetables and fruit, and to bad bread. The next opportunity I have, I will send to Richmond and get a stock of crackers, dried peaches, etc.
We have occasionally had an alarm, but generally everything has been quiet. Yesterday morning we had an order to send our extra baggage to the rear, but it arose, I believe, from the accidental bursting of a shell in Fredericksburg, which set the armies on both sides to beating the long roll. My brigade has been rapidly increasing in the last month by the return of sick and absentees. I hope by spring to bring it up to 2200 present, and to have it in a high state of efficiency. Then I expect some good service from it.
You say you have forty-eight barrels of flour at the lumber-house. After saving for your own use what you want, get Wm. White to send off the balance and sell it. Have the balance of the wheat ground, so that you may get the offal, and send off the flour. I wrote you in my last letter a good deal about the farm. Let me hear in your next letter all about them. I have but little time now to think of them, and trust it all to you. If my work here is well done, it will occupy my whole time. I should like to fill my place here, so as to leave it with some credit to myself. To do this will leave me but little time for matters on the farm. So you must be housekeeper, overseer, man of all business, and everything. You may as well learn now, and if you will devote your mind to it you will have no trouble. With such assistance as you can get from Matt and your father, you will be able to get along very well.
When I was lying in bed I half wished that I might get sick, so that I might get home for a little while; but I think my disease is destined to take an unfavorable turn so as to deprive me of that pleasure and keep me in camp.
Give my love to little Matthew and Galla, and tell them I say they must be good boys and do everything you tell them. How I wish that I could be with you again! I hope the day may not be far distant. This hope is the last thing with which I wish to part. Now, darling, good-bye. Write often.
P.S. After closing and sealing up my letter, I break it open to say that I received yours of the 17th inst. It is sad, Love; but still I am glad to know that I am prized at home even by the baby. God bless him, and—a more fervent prayer still—may he teach me my duty! Just here the Chaplain comes to say that the two of my poor soldiers condemned to die desire that their remains may be sent home, and my answer was that all in my power should be done to further their wishes. How I wish that I had some place where less responsibility was thrown upon me! May God give me strength to meet it in the spirit of mercy and justice. How sad it is to think of the distress which this punishment must bring upon others! It makes me shudder to think of such a fate being brought upon the wife and children of my own household. I feel in no humor, Love; I am too sad to write anything which would please you. Again good-bye.
__________
General Paxton’s illness took the “favorable turn” which he hoped for, and his condition became such that a brief leave of absence became necessary, and he spent a few weeks with his family.
Jan. 25th. Sunday. Met M. at Infant Sunday School. Went to Sunday School with the girls, then to church. Pres. Finney preached. Made some hits about the new chapel. Afternoon sat alone and heard good Dr. Morgan. Minnie at our house to tea. After a nap went over to Mrs. Holtslander’s. Apples, pears and cider. Went home with Minnie. Heard John relate about the Chaplain’s sermons.
Sunday Jan’y 25th 1863
Attended religious Service in the Senate Chamber this morning, heard Mr Conway from Cincinnati. His Sermon was most excellent till he began to treat upon the subject of Slavery. On that he was most ultra. Altho a Virginian he was fairly driven out of Washington a few years ago for preaching Anti Slavery sermons in the Unitarian Church. He makes Slavery his “hobby,” and vies with Wendal Phillips in his extravagant views. We dine at two on Sundays after which I spent a couple of hours in the Ascension Hospital, and then called upon Mr & Mrs Bemis at the “Herndon House” where I spent an hour. Capt Denison and Judge Phelps from Canandagua were there. From there I went down to “Willards” to hear any news which might be stirring. It is reported there tonight that Genl Burnside has resigned the command of the “Army of the Potomac.” If it is true, it is well. I do not think he has confidence enough in himself, and I doubt whether the other officers have enough confidence in him. Who is to follow Joseph Hooker, I think. Conversed awhile with Mr Hatch who has two sons (officers in the Army). He thinks they are the smartest and the bravest in the Army. Saw and talked awhile with Doct Sheldon, of the Medical Directors office. He understands that Doct Taft (Charley) has made out all of Doct Dorrs reports. Dr D is the Surgeon superintending the “Ascension Genl Hospital,” 4 churches formerly, now only two. No War news at all today. We are expecting to hear from our army in N.C. every day now, and also from the south western armies.
Sunday, 25th—We moved up the river today about a mile and disembarked on the Louisiana side, going into camp right on the bank. We are from ten to fifteen feet below the water in the river, while the levee is twenty-five or thirty feet higher than our camp. Company E was to go on picket, but the order was countermanded, and then at dark a detail of one thousand men, I being one, from our division, was chosen to go down the river to work on the canal which is being cut across the point of land opposite Vicksburg. It is a fearful mudhole to work in. A large number of negroes are put on the job. The rebels try to shell the place, but their shells all fall short.
WE publish on page 133 two illustrations of THE FIRST LOUISIANA NATIVE GUARDS, from sketches by our special artist, Mr. Hamilton.
It is now some five months since General Butler’s attention was called, by certain free colored men in New Orleans, to the fact that they held commissions from Governor Moore, of Louisiana, as duly enrolled officers of the Confederate army, and requesting to transfer their services to the United States. General Butler, with that keen perception for which he is so remarkable, at once saw the bearings of this important matter, granted the request of his applicants, and issued his order mustering the regiment into our service, under the command of Colonel (then Lieutenant-Colonel) Spencer H. Stafford, one of his aids-de-camp.
Although ready and anxious for a brush with the enemy, that opportunity has not yet been afforded them. They have hitherto been employed down in the Lafourche District, under the command of General Weitzel, guarding the bridges over important bayous, in a circuit of some thirty miles, and forming the base of Weitzel’s late expedition into the Teche District. That affair being over, and the General returned to his encampment at Thibodeaux, the Colonel of the Native Guards reported to the Department Head-quarters for further orders. On the evening of the 21st, pursuant to orders, eight Companies (comprising 800 men), embarked upon the Laurel Hill to join the garrison of Forts Jackson and St. Philip—four Companies to each fort—the remaining two Companies—A and D —being sent to Fort Macombe, on the Chef Menteur Pass, connecting Lakes Borgne and Pontchartrain.
The point selected by our special artist for illustration is the disembarkation from the steamer J. D. Brown, at Fort Macombe. The special New Orleans correspondent of the New York Times tells the following story of these men:
“You see my men can work, Sir, though people say they can’t fight,” said the Colonel, triumphantly. “We don’t trouble our heads much about transportation. Put me down in a forest with those same fellows, and I’ll build you a city; for I have every useful trade represented among them.”
At this moment a Captain came up to the Colonel, saluted him very respectfully, and, after receiving his order, went off.
“I understood you, Colonel,” said I, “that all your line officers were colored men: there goes one, at any rate, who is white.” The Colonel turned to me with a sarcastic smile:
“And do you really think him white? Well you may, Sir; but that man is a ‘negro’—one who carries the so-called curse of African blood in his veins.”
I was literally amazed. Often as my senses had been deceived in this matter, they never had been so completely before. This officer, Captain E. Davis, of Company A [his portrait is given in our group.—Ed.], was a fine-looking young man, not unlike General M’Clellan in mould of features, with light blue eyes, ruddy complexion, soft, silky hair, and a splendid mustache, of a sandy color, nearly approaching red. It would have defied the most consummate expert in Niggerology, by the aid of the moat powerful microscope, to discover the one drop of African blood in that man’s veins. Still there it was upon the record against him.
(Published in Harper’s Weekly, February 28, 1863)
by John Beauchamp Jones
JANUARY 25TH —Gen. Lee mentions, in his recent correspondence, an instance of the barbarity of some of the Yankee soldiers in the Abolition Army of the Potomac. They thrust into the Rappahannock River a poor old negro man, whom they had taken from his master, because he had the smallpox; and he would have been drowned had he not been rescued by our pickets. It is surmised that this dreadful disease prevails to an alarming extent in the Yankee army, and probably embarrasses their operations. Our men have all been vaccinated; and their recklessness of disease and death is perhaps a guarantee of exemption from affliction. Their health, generally, is better than it has ever been before.
The government at Washington has interdicted the usual exchange of newspapers, for the present. This gives rise to conjecture that Lincoln experiences grave difficulties from the adverse sentiment of his people and his armies regarding his Emancipation Proclamation. And it is likely he has met with grave losses at sea, for the invading army in North Carolina has retired back on Newborn. But the season for naval enterprises is not over, and we are prepared to expect some heavy blows before April.
The revelations in the intercepted dispatches captured with Mr. Sanders, whose father is a notorious political adventurer, may be most unfortunate. They not only show that we even were negotiating for six war steamers, but give the names of the firms in Europe that were to furnish them. The project must now be abandoned. And Louis Napoleon will be enraged at the suspicions and imputations of our Secretary of State regarding his occult policy.
Gen. Rains has invented a new primer for shell, which will explode from the slightest [click to continue…]
