Buntyn Station, Saturday, Jan. 31. Sunny in the A. M. but clouded over and there came a heavy spring shower. Rained nearly all night. Health good.
January 2013
January 31.—Colonel T. W. Higginson of the First South-Carolina colored volunteers, yesterday sent Captain Charles T. Trowbridge with a detachment of his regiment to examine the condition of the rebel salt-works on the coast of Georgia, and to-day the Captain made the following report of his operations:
“Colonel: In accordance with instructions, I proceeded yesterday in search of the salt-works supposed to be at King’s Bay. They have not been rebuilt since they were destroyed on a former expedition.
“Changing our course, we found salt-works about five miles up Crooked River, on the main road. After a march of two miles across the marsh, with thirty men, and drawing a boat to enable us to cross an intervening creek, we destroyed them. There were twenty-two large boilers, two store-houses, a large quantity of salt, two canoes, together with barrels, vats, etc., used in manufacturing the salt.”
—Early this morning the rebel iron-clad steamers Palmetto State and Chicora, accompanied by three small steamers, the General Clinch, Ettiwan, and Chesterfield, attacked the United States blockading fleet off Charleston, and disabled two of the vessels.—(Doc. 116.)
—This day while Kennett’s National cavalry were out on a scout from the vicinity of Nashville, Tenn., they unexpectedly came on Wheeler’s brigade of rebel cavalry while the latter were being paid off at Rover, a little village on the Shelbyville and Nolensville road, eighteen miles from the former town. A brief hand-to-hand sabre fight ensued, which terminated in the complete rout of the rebels, who left on the field twelve killed, about the same number of wounded, and lost three hundred prisoners. A few of the Union soldiers were wounded, but they did not lose a man.—Louisville Journal.
—The arrest of deserters in Morgan County, Indiana, being resisted, Colonel Carrington, commander of the National forces at Indianapolis, sent a squadron of cavalry to oppose the resistance. The cavalry were met and fired on by the mob, when they charged, dispersing the rioters and capturing six citizens and the deserters.— The Senate of the United States passed a resolution tendering a vote of thanks to Commander J. L. Worden, for good conduct in the fight between the Monitor and Merrimac, in March, 1862.— A body of National troops, under General Jeff. C. Davis, entered Shelbyville, Tenn.
Friday, 30th.—Cannonading up the river; roll-call every hour.
Friday, 30th—Came through Triune and out to Franklin, got there 4 p. m., went out one and a half miles on Columbia pike and camped. I and Oly Archer went out to Mr. Baugh’s and took supper, staid till bed time and returned to Camp.
London, January 30, 1803
Politically things go on swimmingly here. The antislavery feeling of the country is coming out stronger than we ever expected, and all the English politicians have fairly been thrown over by their people. There was a meeting last night at Exeter Hall which is likely to create a revolution, or rather to carry on a complete revolution in public opinion which was begun by the great Manchester Meeting on the 31st December. Last night’s meeting was something tremendous, unheard of since the days of reform. The cry was “Emancipation and reunion” and the spirit was dangerously in sympathy with republicanism. The Strand was blocked up in front of Exeter Hall by those who could n’t get in, and speeches were made in the street as well as in another hall opened to accommodate a part of the surplus. As for enthusiasm, my friend Tom Brown of Rugby school-days, who was one of the speakers, had to stop repeatedly and beg the people not to cheer so much. Every allusion to the South was followed by groaning, hisses and howls, and the enthusiasm for Lincoln and for everything connected with the North was immense. The effect of such a display will be very great, and I think we may expect from Lancashire on the arrival of the George Griswold, a response that will make some noise.
Next week Parliament will meet. Of course it will bring hot water, but the sentiment of the country will not tolerate any interference with us. I breath more easily about this than ever. My main anxiety is about the Alabama case, which has been the subject of the sharpest kind of notes between the Chief and Lord Russell. As these notes will probably now be published, I can say that in my opinion my Lord has been dreadfully used up, and if you don’t howl with delight when you read the Chief’s note to him of 30th December, you won’t do what I did. But our cue is still friendship, and we don’t want to irritate. The strong outside pressure that is now aroused to act on this Government will, I hope, help us to carry through all we want in time and with patience.
Camp near Potomac Run, Va.
January 28, 1863
The fine weather seems fairly to be over and the wet season to have set in. In addition to the week of rain before, which played Burnside out, it rained steadily all last night and this morning set in from the N.E. with sleet and snow, and is at it now very lively. The results of this you may imagine, but I dare not. For myself it is of little consequence. My tent is logged up, I have a good fire-place, a pretty complete outfit and am as comfortable as I have any wish to be; but I feel for my men and dare not go and look at my horses. I know just how they look, as they huddle together at the picket-ropes and turn their shivering croups to this pelting northeaster. There they stand without shelter, fetlock deep in slush and mud, without a blanket among them, and there they must stand — poor beasts — and all I can do for them is to give them all the food I can, and that little enough. Of oats there is a sufficiency and the horses have twelve quarts a day; but hay is scant, and it is only by luck that we have a few bales just now when most we need them. I have them fed four times a day — at morning, noon, night and midnight — and if they have enough to eat, they do wonderfully well, but it comes hard on them to have to sustain hunger, as well as cold and wet. It is all over, however, with any horse that begins to fail, for after a few days he either dies at the rope, or else glanders set in and he is led out and shot. I lose in this way two or three horses a week. The men do better now, as they too have logged in their tents and built fireplaces, and, as a rule, they are well clad and shod; but, after all, it comes hard on them, this being wet and always sleeping on damp ground, and we have had five funerals this month, one from the fall of a horse and four from sickness, one of which was in my company — a boy, named Pierce, from the central part of the State.
I had two men desert the other day also, and under peculiar circumstances. They were two of our recruits and did not properly belong to my Company, but were assigned to it for duty. They had cost the Government some three hundred dollars each and were good for nothing, as by far too many of these “bounty-boys” are. They were sent out as part of a detail for picket duty from my Company, under Lieutenant Merrill. On the night of the 8th of January they were posted at an important point on the extreme front of our lines, and in the immediate vicinity of Hartwood Church. When the patrol came round they had disappeared. The case was reported and I supposed that they had grown cold and drowsy and been ingeniously spirited away by guerrillas — for such things are done. At the end of ten days however one of our men accidentally found their horses tied to a tree in the woods near their posts, all saddled, just as the men had left them, and on the saddles were hanging all the men’s arms, except their pistols. There the poor brutes had stood for ten days, without food or water, until one had died in the agonies of starvation, and the other, having gnawed up all the trees around him, was reduced to a walking skeleton. This last, however, is alive and now at my picket-rope. (P. S. He died of exposure the next morning after I wrote this.) Meanwhile the human brutes, this brace of $300 men, had, I find, quietly deserted their posts as videttes and walked off, enquiring their way to Warrenton and leaving their horses and arms, except pistols, as too likely to lead to their being caught — their design evidently being to get through our lines near Alexandria and so North. Meanwhile I am doing all in my power to catch them by notifying the authorities in Washington and at home. Should I succeed, their fate is not to be envied. They will be court martialed and probably shot. If not shot, they will suffer some terrible military punishment at the Tortugas….
Meanwhile peace reigns once more in our domestic affairs — a very lively storm has purified the air. Colonel Sargent went on in his career until one day he put Lieut. Col. Curtis under arrest and then the storm burst. I rode over and stated our case to General Buchanan and he advised me as to the proper course to pursue, and the next day Sargent found his head in a hornet’s nest. Curtis forwarded a complaint on his arrest to General Averell. Major Higginson as next in command forwarded a paper in behalf of his brother officers to General Hooker, through Colonel Sargent, setting forth the Colonel’s utter ignorance and glaring incompetence, and prepared a similar paper for Governor Andrew; and Dr. Holland was brought up to the point of preferring charges against him for unwarrantable interference with the sick. At first the Colonel showed signs of bulling ahead to his destruction, but General Averell sent for him, Curtis and Higginson, and the last two stated the regimental grievances to General Averell in Sargent’s presence, glossing nothing. Sargent asked: “On account of what vice am I incompetent to command this regiment?” To which Curtis answered: “On account of no vice, Sir; you are simply utterly incompetent,” and so on, and referred him as authority to the Company officers. Averell was very anxious that “an arrangement” should be effected, and requested them to consult together. Sargent came back to camp and sent for some of the officers — his peculiar favorites. They all came up to the mark and plainly informed him that he was not able to run the machine. He then sent for Curtis and Higginson and the three had a long discussion, the result of which was that Curtis was released, Higginson withdrew his papers and peace was restored….
Friday, the 30th
I think you may as well make up your mind to passing the remaining two years of your term abroad. The war is on its last legs and it would hardly pay for England to abandon her neutral policy now, simply to get into a quarrel and revive our dying spirit. We are playing her game better ourselves. Whatever Cabinets and correspondents may say to the contrary, I feel persuaded that unless we have rapid and brilliant successes in the southwest soon, and those leading to something, the fighting in Virginia is over. The New York Herald may say what it pleases, but the Army of the Potomac is at present fearfully demoralised. Even I can see that, small means of observation as I have. You can have no idea of the disgust felt here towards the Government. Unable to run the army themselves, they take away McClellan, and when that leads to terrible disaster, they cashier Fitz John Porter, one of the best general officers we have; and now relieve Burnside, one of our best corps commanders, ridiculously displaced by these very men; Sumner, the hardest fighter and best man to take or hold a position in the whole army, and Franklin, on the whole considered the ablest officer we have — all this that Hooker may be placed in command, a man who has not the confidence of the army and who in private character is well known to be — I need not say what. This army, now, does not know under whom it is fighting. Government has taken from it every single one of its old familiar battle names, save Hooker’s. I most earnestly hope it will now break up the army, else some day it will have it marching on Washington….
Stoneman Station, Pa.,
Friday, Jan. 30, 1863.
Dear Sister L.:—
Last Friday an agent of our benevolent but dilatory Uncle Sam paid us a visit and four months of greenbacked promises. He was an oily tongued fellow, and just euchred me out of $2.00 and over. The government owed me $6.41 on clothing account, and he paid me $4.25 and put the rest in his own pocket.
There were some rich scenes during his visit. One fellow in the Forty-fourth New York had been paid twice in hospital on his “descriptive list.” The first time he drew $52, the next by some oversight he drew $78, when but $26 was due him. He returned to his regiment and chuckled over his smartness in cheating Uncle Sam out of $52. He told it to everybody he knew, and when the pay-day came they were all on the lookout to see how he would come out of it. When his name was called he stepped to the table and Mr. Oily Tongue commenced: “You owe the United States $52, the United States owes you $48; $48 from $52 leaves you just $4 in debt to the government. Got the money?” He rattled it off like an auctioneer, and the tricky Ellsworth was non-plussed. He finally stammered out that he had not. “Oh, well, never mind, we’ll wait till next time, but don’t forget that $4.” Oh, you ought to have heard the smile that rose in the crowd! The poor fellow can’t stir out of his tent but somebody puts out his hand with—”Got the money?”
We have been having a big touch of winter for this country. Yesterday morning we had snow a foot deep, the most I’ve seen in Virginia. It was not very cold, but it is melting off now and it will make terrible roads when it is gone. Snow is twice as bad as rain for that. To-day is clear and warm, that is, thawing.
There is an order out to allow three men in each company to go home on furlough. This and other orders intimate to me that we are to stay where we are some time, or that we will not attempt another movement till the winter is over enough to make it safe.
Friday, January 30th.
A whole week has passed since I opened this book, a week certainly not spent in idleness, if not a very interesting one. For I have kept my room almost all the time, leaving Miriam and Anna to entertain their guests alone. Even when Mr. Halsey called on Sunday, I declined going down. Why, I wonder? I felt better than usual, was in a splendid humor for talking, yet — my excuses took my place, and I lay quietly in bed, dreaming by the firelight, and singing hymns to myself. Once in a while the thought would occur to me, “Why don’t I go down?” But it was always answered with a wry face, and the hymn went on. Yet I knew he had come expecting to see me.
On the table near me stood a bunch of snowdrops that Miriam had culled for her beloved Captain Bradford. An idea struck me so suddenly that my voice died instantly. The spirit of mischief had taken possession of me. Laughing to myself, I caught them up, drew three long bright hairs from my head — they looked right gold-y in the firelight — and tied them around the flowers — I thought I should never get to the end while wrapping them. Thus secured, a servant carried them into the parlor with “Miss Sarah’s compliments to Mr. Halsey.” Poor Miriam’s cry of surprise at finding her flowers thus appropriated, reached my ears and caused me to laugh again. It was rather cool! But then it was better fun than going down. And then did n’t it flatter his vanity! O men! you vain creatures! A woman would receive a whole bunch of hair and forty thousand bouquets, without having her head turned; while you — Well! I heard enough from Miriam to amuse me, at all events.
And a day or two after, Captain Bradford had a long story to tell her — what he called a good joke on Mr. Halsey. Of how he had found him kissing three long bright hairs in rapture, and on asking where he got them, received as an answer — “ From the God-blessedest little angel that ever wore long hair!” This blessedest little angel did not intend it as a souvenir, and is consequently annoyed about stories of three hairs, intended as a string and nothing more, being wrapped in tissue paper and treasured up — so goes the tale — instead of being thrown into the fire as I certainly expected.
• • • • • • • • • • • •
Last night Anna and Miriam sat on my bed at twilight, playing cards while I tried my guitar, when Captain C——, Major Spratley, and Lieutenant Dupré were announced. Quick, down went the cards as they sprang to their feet to throw off their neat calicoes. Where was Miriam’s comb, and grenadine, and collar, and belt? Good gracious! where was her buckle? On the bureau, mantel, washstand, or under them? “Please move a moment, Anna!” In such a hurry, do! There was Anna, “Wait! I’m in a hurry, too! Where is that pomatum? You Malvina! if you don’t help me, I’ll — There! take that, Miss! Now fly around!” Malvina, with a faint, dingy pink suddenly brought out on her pale sea-green face, did fly around, while I, hushing my guitar in the tumult, watch each running over the other, in silent amazement, wondering if order can come out of such confusion, and if the people downstairs were worth all that trouble.
When I finally made my appearance in the parlor, it was with the Conviction that I would have a dreadfully stupid time, and Captain C— too. However, though at first I had both, soon only the last was left me. Some one suggested calling the Spirits, which game I had imagined “played out” long ago; and we derived a great deal of amusement from it. Six of us around a small table invoked them with the usual ceremony. There was certainly no trick played; every finger was above the board, and all feet sufficiently far from the single leg to insure fair play. Every rap seemed to come exactly from the centre of the table, and was painfully distinct though not loud. When asked if there was a writing medium present, it indicated Captain C——. I observed that he seemed averse to trying it, but yielded at length and took the pencil in his hand.
Our first question, of course, was, How long before Peace? Nine months was written. Which foreign nation would recognize us first? France, then England, in eight months. Who was Miriam to marry? Captain of a battery. “Who?” we all shouted. “Captain C. E. Fenner”[1] was written again. When? In ten months. I believe Captain C—— to be honest about it. He seemed to have no control over his hand, and his arm trembled until it became exceedingly painful. Of course, I do not actually believe in Spiritualism; but there is certainly something in it one cannot understand; and Mrs. Badger’s experience is enough to convert one, alone. Each was startled in turn by extraordinary revelations concerning themselves. Gibbes was to be transferred to the Trans-Mississippi Department,[2] George would come home, and all the gentlemen had the name and address of future sweethearts written in full. The question was asked, “Who will Sarah Morgan fall in love with?” Every eye was on the pencil as a capital “H” was traced. As the “a” followed, I confess to a decided disgust at the Spirits, and was about to beg it might be discontinued when the rest followed rapidly until in three separate lines appeared, “Has not seen him yet” (here came an exclamation of surprise from Lydia and Miriam, who knew how true it was, and even Gibbes looked astonished). “Captain, in Virginia. Captain Charles Lewis.”[3] A perfect buzz of comments followed; every one asked every one else if they knew any one by that name, and every one said no. Gibbes was decidedly more interested than I. That odd “Has not seen him yet,” expressing so exactly the fact that I pride myself upon, carried conviction in the truth of Spirits, almost. “Who will she marry?” asked Gibbes. (He has a pet belief, in which I encourage him, that I will never marry.) Again came the name as distinctly as before, of Captain Charles Lewis. “When will she marry him?” “In June, 1864,” was the answer. I was to meet him in New Orleans. November followed, after a period.
Of course, the Spirits produced some slight commotion which made the time pass pleasantly until Miriam began to waltz with her Monsieur Deux Temps. Then Captain C—— told me why he had been unwilling to try it; of how his father believed so strongly in it that he had very nearly been made crazy by it, and how he had sworn to abandon the practice of consulting them, seeing the effect produced. He did not believe in Spirits himself; but could not account for the influence he was under, when he saw his hand involuntarily write things he was totally unconscious of, himself. However, he proposed that we two should have a private consultation with them, which I opened by asking when I should again see my home. I know he did not know anything about it; but on the paper appeared — “Five months have gone — five months more.” It is just five months since I did see home. I think it was the 26th of August that Charlie took me there. He asked if he should ever marry. “Never. You will be jilted by the lady you love in Missouri, Miss Christina P——.” I pointed it out to him, as he happened to be looking at me when it was written. It surprised him into saying, “Why, I’m engaged to her!” I asked whose spirit was communicating with us. He was watching the dance when his hand wrote, “John C——.” I laughed and asked if there was such a person, pointing to the name. He looked actually sick as he said, “Yes, my brother; he is dead.” I had not the heart to talk of Spirits again; so we took to writing poetry together, every alternate line falling to my lot. It made an odd jingle, the sentimental first line being turned to broad farce by my absurd second one.
[1] Note by Mm. Dawson in 1896: wrong — she married Lieutenant Dupre.
[2] Note by Mrs. Dawson: he was transferred in his coffin.
[3] Captain F. W. Dawson, whom Sarah Morgan eventually married, was at that time a captain in Virginia, and she had not yet seen him.
January 30, Friday. But little at the Cabinet. Chase is quite dejected, and manifested some rather suppressed irritation towards Blair and Seward as he sat beside me. Neither of them saw it; I was glad they did not.
Blair says Fitz John Porter is disliked by the army with the exception of McClellan, but is his special confidant. The President seemed to know this, but the disaffection as stated by Blair was more general than he supposed.
30th. Friday. Concluded to wait until 2 P. M. Called with Thede at Maria’s, Fannie H. and Fannie A.’s and said goodbye. At two rode out to Cleveland. Time for Holland’s lecture. Ma and T. came on train. Lecture on “Fashion.” Very good. Visited with Uncle and Aunt. Thede went to the Bazaar.
