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

Saturday, September 14, 2013

September 14, Monday. The President called a special Cabinet council this morning at eleven. The course pursued by certain judges is, he says, defeating the draft. They are discharging the drafted men rapidly under habeas corpus, and he is determined to put a stop to these factious and mischievous proceedings if he has the authority. The Secretary of State and Attorney-General have each been consulted and declare they have no doubt of his authority. Mr. Blair was satisfied the President had the legal power, but whether the measure proposed, which is an order from the President directing the provost marshals to disregard the writ, or to make return that the person to be discharged was held by authority of the President, was perhaps not the best process. Mr. Chase feared civil war would be inaugurated if the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus was suspended. Mr. Usher had doubts and uncertainties.

The President was very determined, and intimated that he would not only enforce the law, but if Judge Lowrie and others continued to interfere and interrupt the draft he would send them after Vallandigham. As considerable discussion had taken place, he was prepared to act, though willing to listen to, and, if mistaken, to defer to, others. Up to this point neither Mr. Stanton or myself had taken part in the discussion, though Stanton had undoubtedly expressed his opinion and prompted the proposed action.

I remarked that the subject was not new to me, — that I had two or three times experienced this interference by judges to release men from service, not in relation to the recent draft, but that we were and had been suffering constant annoyance. Vessels were delayed on the eve of sailing, by interference of State judges, who assumed jurisdiction and authority to discharge enlisted men in the national service in time of war, on habeas corpus. I had as high regard and reverence for that writ as any one, but it seemed to me there should be some way to prevent its abuse. A factious and evil-minded judge — and we had many such holding State appointments — could embarrass the Government, could delay the departure of a vessel on an important mission, involving perhaps war or peace, or interrupt great military movements by an abused exercise of this writ, — could stop armies on the march. I had questioned whether a local State or municipal judge should have this power to control national naval and military operations in a civil war, during the existence of hostilities, and suggested that, especially in time of war, United States judges were the only proper officers to decide in these naval and military cases affecting the law and service of the United States. Hitherto the Army had suffered less than the Navy, and I was not sorry the subject had been brought forward by others.

The President said he would prepare and submit a paper at an adjourned meeting for criticism to-morrow at 9 A.M.

Abby Howland Woolsey to H. Gilman.

Brattleboro, September.

We have had our first letters from the girls at Point Lookout, and everything promises pleasantly. The only grievance is the chaplain, whose face is “as hard as a wooden chair,” and who looks as if he had fought through life, inch by inch. He is fanatically Episcopal, though his sermons were practical and good, and he has the melodeon (paid for by general subscription) picked up and carried off and locked in his own room after every Sunday service, that it may not be used at the Methodist prayer meetings which the men choose to have! Georgy says they have grand good singing, whether or no, without it. . . . There is a little of almost every phase of the war there, except the actual fighting. They have the prisoner’s camp, the New Hampshire brigade to guard it, with their splendid drill, dress parades, officers’ wives, hops, etc. There are the hospitals for each, the General Hospital, and lastly the large Contraband camp. Jane’s first letter was long and interesting, as she was much at leisure, but we do not expect to hear at great length hereafter. . . . Charley, always at Headquarters Army of the Potomac, writes us to-night that they have sent off two corps to West Tennessee, and that he thinks the ultimate use of the balance will be within the defences of Washington. Is not Rosecrans’ crushing defeat a sad blow? . . .

Monday, 14th—Remained in camp all day.

September 14 — This morning at sunrise we forded the Robinson and put our guns in battery at a commanding position on the Madison side of the river, but we saw no enemy to-day except a few scouts on the hills about three miles away, on the Culpeper side of the river. We heard artillery firing this evening down the river in the direction of Rapidan Station. Bivouacked near the Robinson.

Monday, 14th.—Collision of trains near Atlanta; several soldiers killed. Reported skirmishing in Catoosa County.

14th. Talk about marching but no orders. During day studied some and wrote two letters. Finished “Barnaby Rudge.” Gave a good many boys passes to go to town. Last night reprimanded Sergt. Beers for staying behind when we went to C. Gap. Glad to get a little rest. Went to town in evening. Provost arrested several of us. Managed to get released. Orders to march at 5 A. M. Tuesday. Wrote to Fannie and Sarah Felton.

On the Mississippi, Monday, Sept. 14. ‘Tis evening, and I am seated on the guard of the boat all alone, with no noise save the heavy breathing of the steam horse. The sun has just set in the stern of the boat like a ball of fire, throwing its long rays over the waters, giving it the appearance of a golden pathway. The soldiers are all mute, gazing out on the glorious scene, save here and there a group indulging in a quiet game of cards. All day the boat has kept on its slow but steady headway, passed Napoleon at 9 A. M. and yet we are many miles from Helena. You will not wonder then that I have been day dreaming. Behind us lies the parched city of Vicksburg, for which we underwent many weeks of weary toil to capture, after which two short months of rest. And now we are off again, we know not where, but we know it is for war, marching, fatigues, battles and perhaps wounds and suffering, and that, while the anxious heart of an invalid mother, an aged father, sisters and brothers dear, are waiting my return. And I am comparatively alone, and the only happiness I derive is in the indulgence of hope of the realization of the good time coming.

September 14th, 1863.

We were aroused this morning at 3 o’clock and ordered to be ready to march at 5 o’clock. In a very few minutes hundreds of fires were brightly glowing, striving by their feeble rays to dispel the gloom of night. At the appointed hour we were up and away with hearts as light and buoyant as though privations, toil and danger were unknown. The morning was delightfully cool, and before the god of day had risen to scorch us with his burning rays, nearly half our day’s march was done. The rest of the day was made easy by frequent halts, and when, at 2 o’clock p. m., we filed into line and stacked arms, all were agreeably surprised. We had marched twelve miles. Today is the anniversary of our first battle—our baptism. The mind naturally reverts to that trying time, and all its scenes pass rapidly in review. Then, for the first time, we met face to face our country’s foe. The chivalry of the South then met the mudsills of Michigan and learned to respect them. Today we met them again, but not in battle array. As we were starting, this morning, we came upon 2,300 prisoners taken at Cumberland Gap. They were free to talk, and a more ignorant lot of semi-savages I never met. We could not convince them that Vicksburg or Port Hudson were in our possession. They were very “frank,” and indulged freely in epithets and pet names.

September 14th, 9 o’clock p. m.

Our camp is in a beautiful grove, on the banks of a “babbling brook.” A cool, delicious breeze is gently blowing from the west. The sky is cloudless, and the bright, scintillating stars shine out in unwonted brilliancy, and the pale moon is pouring down upon the earth a flood of silvery light. It is an ideal night in which to rest after a fatiguing march—an ideal night, so seem to think our boys, in which to celebrate the anniversary of our first battle. The Sutler came up about sundown with the “accessories.” The preliminaries have been gone through with, and the “celebration is in full blast.” Pandemonium reigns. This quiet glen has been transformed, for the time being, into the council hall of demons. Men fall upon each other’s necks and weep, and laugh, and drivel, and shout ” ‘Rah for Seventeenth Michigan.” It was an impressive ceremony, and one in which all allusions to the brave men who fell and sympathy for their bereaved families were considerately left out, lest they wound the tender sensibilities of the living.

Monday, 14th—Companies A and B started out with teams on a foraging expedition of three days. A detail of forty men was sent down to the wharf to unload a boat of ammunition.

September 14th. Weather dull and wet. At 8 A. M. fell in and marched to the Rappahannock, crossed the river on pontoon boats at 9 A. M. and marched directly for Culpeper, where the cavalry had been fighting all day long a sort of running fight. We passed over the principal battle ground, but saw only a few dead horses and no men. Broom, with his usual appreciation of comfort, selected a fine mansion as headquarters, and while the rest of us put the troops in position for the night, he devoted himself to getting dinner ready, taking care to plant the division flag by the gate post, to let us know where to find him. Tents were pitched in the yard under some fine old trees, and the large drawing rooms appropriated as the general rendezvous; the house belongs to a Mr. Wallach, said to be the editor of a Washington paper, and is in charge of his daughter and a half dozen female former slaves; the daughter is a bright, handsome young woman of eighteen or twenty years, and carries herself superbly, serene and undisturbed. In the parlor everything indicates wealth and culture, while the large hall is lined with books, very miscellaneous indeed, but a genuine treasure to a hungry book lover. This young lady has an eye to business, as well as the fascinations of social life, and soon induced the accommodating general to order guards over her barns, fences, and various properties, her retinue of female servants in the meantime exercising such potent fascinations over our cooks and servants that they secured the complete stocking of their larder for weeks to come from the abundance of Uncle Sam’s commissary. In the evening, after a good dinner in the front yard, we all went into the parlors, where the young lady was on hand to receive us, and spent a delightful evening. She is very fascinating, perfectly at ease, and brilliant as a dewdrop on a summer morn. She sat down to the piano and sang several songs, most of them very rebellious, with considerable skill, receiving, of course, immense flattery, but maintained her dignity and gracious behavior throughout, and an observer would have taken us for intimate friends, on a perfect footing of equality. We sang many war and college songs, and did our best to entertain her. At twelve o’clock she retired and left us to our own resources.

The cavalry fight was between General Pleasanton, commanding Bufort, Gregg and Kilpatrick’s divisions, and the rebel General Stuart; our cavalry met them near Brandy Station, and in a succession of brilliant charges drove them through the town, capturing three guns and one hundred men. Pleasanton followed them over Cedar Mountain, near the Rapidan, and then went into bivouac. Our corps was ordered here in support, in case of a reverse to the cavalry force.