Friday, 12th—We reached Decatur at 10 o’clock this morning and went into camp. The rebels attacked the provision train of the Sixteenth Corps and killed twenty of the mules before our men could rally and put them to rout. The town was burned before we left it. Things are marching fine.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
February 12th.—John Chesnut had a basket of champagne carried to my house, oysters, partridges, and other good things, for a supper after the reception. He is going back to the army to-morrow.
James Chesnut arrived on Wednesday. He has been giving Buck his opinion of one of her performances last night. She was here, and the General’s carriage drove up, bringing some of our girls. They told her he could not come up and he begged she would go down there for a moment. She flew down, and stood ten minutes in that snow, Cy holding the carriage-door open. “But, Colonel Chesnut, there was no harm. I was not there ten minutes. I could not get in the carriage because I did not mean to stay one minute. He did not hold my hands—that is, not half the time— Oh, you saw? —well, he did kiss my hands. Where is the harm of that?” All men worship Buck. How can they help it, she is so lovely.
Lawrence has gone back ignominiously to South Carolina. At breakfast already in some inscrutable way he had become intoxicated; he was told to move a chair, and he raised it high over his head, smashing Mrs. Grundy’s chandelier. My husband said: “Mary, do tell Lawrence to go home; I am too angry to speak to him.” So Lawrence went without another word. He will soon be back, and when he comes will say, “Shoo! I knew Mars Jeems could not do without me.” And indeed he can not.
Buck, reading my journal, opened her beautiful eyes in amazement and said: “So little do people know themselves! See what you say of me!” I replied: “The girls heard him say to you, ‘Oh, you are so childish and so sweet!’ Now, Buck, you know you are not childish. You have an abundance of strong common sense. Don’t let men adore you so—if you can help it. You are so unhappy about men who care for you, when they are killed.”
Isabella says that war leads to love-making. She says these soldiers do more courting here in a day than they would do at home, without a war, in ten years.
In the pauses of conversation, we hear, “She is the noblest woman God ever made!” “Goodness!” exclaimed Isabella. “Which one?” The amount of courting we hear in these small rooms. Men have to go to the front, and they say their say desperately. I am beginning to know all about it. The girls tell me. And I overhear—I can not help it. But this style is unique, is it not? “Since I saw you—last year—standing by the turnpike gate, you know— my battle-cry has been: ‘God, my country, and you!'” So many are lame. Major Venable says: “It is not ‘the devil on two sticks,’ now; the farce is ‘Cupid on Crutches.'”
General Breckinridge’s voice broke in: “They are my cousins. So I determined to kiss them good-by. Good-by nowadays is the very devil; it means forever, in all probability, you know; all the odds against us. So I advanced to the charge soberly, discreetly, and in the fear of the Lord. The girls stood in a row—four of the very prettiest I ever saw.” Sam, with his eyes glued to the floor, cried: “You were afraid—you backed out.” “But I did nothing of the kind. I kissed every one of them honestly, heartily.”
Huntsville, Friday, Feb. 12. The caissons that were brought up late last night were dressed in their proper position, completing our park. They are rifle caissons and will have to be remodelled before ammunition can be packed. Several boxes of ordnance stores arrived, but some yet on the road. Cloudy, foggy day with signs of rain. Feel unwell. Feverish, headache, from a slight cold caught on guard. 12th Battery went to town this afternoon to draw their guns. Did not return for parade, which was hastily dismissed.
Diary And Memoranda, 1864
Feb. 12th. A rumor has been circulated that we are going to Texas. I hope it is true, as I have a great desire to see that part of the country.
February 12, Friday. Incessant employment early and late has prevented me from making entries, and there has been little of public interest to engage me. On Monday evening I attended a party at Admiral Shubrick’s which could not be avoided, and was detained later than I intended, but also went at 11 p.m. to Tassara’s, the Spanish Minister. Both were very dull, the latter crowded.
Committees and resolutions of inquiry from Congress have flocked in upon the Department. Many of the latter were frivolous, and most of them for mischievous purposes. How little do the outside public know of the intrigues of Congressional demagogues, who, under the guise of great public economists, are engaged in speculating schemes and fraudulent contrivances to benefit themselves, pecuniarily! John P. Hale, who is eminently conspicuous in this class of professed servants and guardians of the public treasury, has been whitewashed for his three-thousand-dollar retainer. The committee excuse him, but propose a law which shall inflict ten thousand dollars’ fine and two years’ imprisonment on any one who shall again commit the offense.
Little of particular interest in the Cabinet-meeting. Seward left early, and Chase soon followed. I to-day wrote the latter, expressing pretty deliberately and effectually my opinion in regard to permits for cutting ship-timber in North Carolina. It may give offense, but I could do no less than in a mild form object to the favoritism and monopoly that the system engendered.
Blair, who, with Senator Doolittle, was at my house this evening, avers I am a fortunate man above others. He says my opponents are making me great, and that I am fortunate in the attacks and abuses that are bestowed, and repeats an aphorism of Colonel Benton, that “a man is made great by his enemies, and not by his friends.” There is doubtless some truth in the remark, but not, I apprehend, as regards myself.
Painting by Conrad Wise Chapman.
“This scene was sketched by the artist from the top of St. Michaels Church in Charleston, by means of a telescope. There is a gunboat out in the harbor; every time there was a flash, the artist states that the yankee soldiers in the batteries would disappear as if by magic.” – Conrad Wise Chapman, 1898
February _ _, 1864.—We did not hear anything more of the Colonel and his boys yesterday but this morning we have a note from Aunt Sue with a postscript from uncle Arvah, telling us of the arrival at Tallahassee of a battalion of artillery, which had encamped on the Magnolia Hill to the east, of town. Aunt Sue says we must pack our prettiest clothes and come prepared to stay with her, while they are encamped so near Goodwood. She wants us to help her entertain them. Uncle Arvah’s P. S. reads like this, “In these days of hard fighting it is your duty to do everything you can to add to the pleasure of these soldiers, who are here today and gone tomorrow. Tell Mrs. Bradford and the doctor this, with my love.”
Sister Mart and I are hoping Father and Mother will realize that the path of duty lies that way. Aunt Sue says they have a fine brass band and she is going to have some of them over as often as they can come; won’t that be fine?—That is if, we can go.
(This diary was written in pencil and in many instances the dates are almost, or quite, illegible. The month and year are plain but the figures are not so plain; particularly is this the case during the years of warfare, possibly the pencils were poor, or the paper might have been. At any rate we ask our readers to be lenient if some little mistakes occur.)
by John Beauchamp Jones
FEBRUARY 12TH. —It is warm to-day, and cloudy; but there was ice early in the morning. We have recaptured twenty-odd of the escaped prisoners.
A bill has passed Congress placing an embargo on many imported articles; and these articles are rising rapidly in price. Sugar sold to-day at auction in large quantity for $8.00 per pound; rice, 85 cents, etc.
There is a rumor that Gen. Finnegan has captured the enemy in Florida.
Gen. Lee says his army is rapidly re-enlisting for the war.
February 12.—Decatur, Miss., was entered by the National troops, belonging to the command of General W. T. Sherman, on an expedition into that State.— (Doc. 122.)
