December 2014

A Rebel War Clerk’s Diary

December 31, 2014

A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, By John Beauchamp Jones

December 31st.—The last day of the year. Snowing and wet.

Gen. H. Cobb writes that the existing Conscription Bureau is a failure so far as Georgia, Alabama, etc. are concerned, and can never put the men in the field.

Wm. Johnston, president of the Charlotte (N. C.) and South Carolina Railroad, suggests the construction, immediately, of a railroad from Columbia, S. C., to Augusta, Ga., which might be easily accomplished by April or May. It would take that length of time for the government to “consider of it.” It will lose two railroads before it will order the building of one.

There is supposed to be a conspiracy on foot to transfer some of the powers of the Executive to Gen. Lee. It can only be done by revolution, and the overthrow of the Constitution. Nevertheless, it is believed many executive officers, some high in position, favor the scheme.

To-morrow Gen. Lee’s army is to be feasted with turkeys, etc. contributed by the country, if the enemy will permit them to dine without molestation. The enemy are kept fully informed of everything transpiring here, thanks to the vigilance of the Provost Marshal, detectives, etc. etc.

Gen. Cobb writes that he is arresting the men who remained in Atlanta during its occupation by Sherman, and subjecting themselves to suspicion, etc. Better march the men we have against Sherman now, who is still in Georgia!

Gen. Lee writes that Grant is concentrating (probably for an attack on Richmond), bringing another corps from the Valley; and if the local troops are brought in, he does not know how to replace them. His army diminishes, rather than increases, under the manipulations of the Bureau of Conscription. It is a dark and dreary hour, when Lee is so despondent!

Senator Henry writes that any delay in impressing the railroad from Danville to Greensborough will be fatal.

’64 came to me full handed and has been to me a pleasant and a prosperous year.

December 31, 2014

Adams Family Civil War letters; US Minister to the UK and his sons.

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to his father

Camp of the 5th Mass. Cav’y
Point Lookout, Md., December 31, 1864

I am writing to you in the very last hours of the year. As it passes away I find myself looking back over its events. Whomever else it has mis-used and left the worse for its events, it certainly was a pleasant, kind and beneficent year to me. It came to me full-handed; it was to me, in my small sphere, a year of almost unmixed success. In it whatever I aimed at was accomplished. To be sure my mark was not high but I struck it. My sphere is so small, and now so isolated, that I doubt if even you can trace the causes of my satisfaction. It is worth going over my record, if only to renew pleasant associations. Just as the year began I was looking forward to my visit to you, so long the pleasant dream which made hardship bearable, as a thing hoped for long and now, perhaps, to be realised. While its realisation was yet a question, my Company, and mine alone of the regiment, enlisted anew, and when the dream was realised, I went home almost in triumph. Then came Europe and the rest from labors. When my vacation was over and the old life of hardship, now rendered doubly hard in contemplation and almost unbearable by contrast with the present, when this again stared me in the face, then I made one little effort, just pulled one little wire, and again my whole scene changed. The terrible campaign which killed so many of my friends and was one succession of increasing hardships and privations to those whom it spared, was to me a summer picnic and pleasure excursion. Presently, unsought by me and undesired, came offers of promotion. When accepted by me I did not come to my regiment empty handed. I brought them their horses, and again my attempt had been successful. Then, in October, I thought I would like to go home, and November saw me at Quincy. Now, as the year is closing, I have just gotten back, and I think you will agree with me that ’64 came to me full handed and has been to me a pleasant and a prosperous year. The events of the coming year I, for one, seek not to foresee. So far my share of happiness and success has been allotted to me and I hope to go on in the faith that all blessings were not expended in the past, and that the power which has so well looked after that, will supply its cakes and ale in due quantity also in the future. . . .

A Confederate Girl’s Diary

December 31, 2014

A Confederate Girl's Diary by Sarah Morgan Dawson

No. 19 Dauphine St.,
Saturday night, December 31st, 1864.

One year ago, in my little room in the Camp Street house, I sat shivering over Tennyson and my desk, selfishly rejoicing over the departure of a year that had brought pain and discomfort only to me, and eagerly welcoming the dawning of the New One whose first days were to bring death to George and Gibbes, and whose latter part was to separate me from Miriam, and brings me news of Jimmy’s approaching marriage. O sad, dreary, fearful Old Year! I see you go with pain! Bitter as you have been, how do we know what the coming one has in store for us? What new changes will it bring? Which of us will it take? I am afraid of eighteen sixty-five, and have felt a vague dread of it for several years past.

Nothing remains as it was a few months ago. Miriam went to Lilly, in the Confederacy, on the 19th of October (ah! Miriam!), and mother and I have been boarding with Mrs. Postlethwaite ever since. I miss her sadly. Not as much, though, as I would were I less engaged. For since the first week in August, I have been teaching the children for Sister; and since we have been here, I go to them every morning instead of their coming to me. Starting out at half-past eight daily, and returning a little before three, does not leave me much time for melancholy reflections. And there is no necessity for indulging in them at present; they only give pain.

Civil War Diary of Charles H. Lynch.

December 31, 2014

Civil War Diary of Charles H. Lynch, 18th Conn. Vol's.

December 31st. This is the last day of the year. All is quiet at our camp on this high hill. Not very much snow or real cold weather. We manage to keep comfortable. At our reserve picket post we have built a large inclosure, made of logs and dirt, surrounded by small evergreen trees, a large fire in the center around which we sleep and rest when our reliefs are off duty. The inclosure is so large and high it cannot be seen from the outside, making it safe from the shots of the guerillas, scouts, and bushwhackers. The farthest post out from the reserves is about one mile, while the pickets are within hailing distance. We go on picket duty at 3 P. M. instead of 9 A. M. I don’t know why the change was made. I am on duty every other night.

Rutherford B. Hayes.

December 31, 2014

Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes

Saturday, 31. — Staid at Mr. Allen’s, Martinsburg, last night. At 9 or 10 A. M., [the] Thirty-sixth and Thirteenth by cars to Cumberland. With staff at 3 P. M. to Cumberland. Supper and good time at Cumberland. Winter quarters here.

An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones

December 31, 2014

An Artilleryman's Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones, 6th Battery, Wisconsin Artillery.

Nashville, Saturday, Dec. 31. Surprised to find the ground covered with snow and very cold. Formed with overcoats on at 9:30 A. M. for muster for pay. Hope we will get it soon. Boys all very flat. “Busted”. I commence a New Year with a light heart and a lighter locker. On guard. Luckily on the guns, so I did not have to go to the stables. So the last thing I did in 1864 was to stand guard, and the first thing in 1865. Trust it is not going to be so always.

Another year has rolled past and joined the many gone before in the vistas of the past. Its glorious deeds of valor and achievements, its scenes of anguish and bloodshed, of wrong and oppression, are subjects for the future historian. Its ever varying scenes and emotions are indelibly impressed upon my mind, which death alone can efface. The snow has clothed the earth in a lovely mantle of white as though to hide the sad past, and offer a clear page for me in the coming year. Let me then look forward with hope and determination to keep in the path of virtue and right, striving to improve the blessings and privileges offered me, so that when 1865 closes I need not look back with regret at the year spent.

Leverett Bradley: A Soldier-Boy’s Letters

December 31, 2014

Leverett Bradley: A Soldier-Boy's Letters (1st Massachusetts Heavy Artillery.)

Camp 1st Mass. H. Arty.,
Dec. 31st, 1864.

Dear Family:

I rec’d your last Sabbath letter, yesterday morn’g. It has been raining and snowing. I have but just returned from the Major’s office, where I have been to report concerning the absence of men, preparatory to a muster for payment. This is the first time, for three years, that I have not made out the rolls; but my duties are such now that it would be impossible to do it. I have to drill recruits once a week, besides the regular forms and duties that it is necessary for us to go through, as soon as we come to a halt. Frank’s letter I shall preserve with great care, or rather I wish you to. I shall enclose it with this, where you can let it remain. In years to come, if through the divine mercy of God, we are both permitted to live, it would doubtless be a pleasure to us both to look back to this his first letter. The wind has started up and it is snowing at a furious rate. Many of us are unprepared for it. My tent is quite comfortable, but I am forced to lay on the ground; wood is very scarce with us, having to back it almost a mile, and nothing but green pine at that. It will probably be drawn to us if we stop here any length of time. I am writing in great haste and in the cold, as you will plainly see by the writing. But come to look it over, as I have just done, it looks and reads a great deal worse than I expected; but I am forced to let it go, for this time, and in order to pass it by to my advantage, you will not consider it my weekly missive. Love to all from Lev.

[On January 1, 1865, he was promoted to orderly sergeant and had a furlough of ten days.—Ed.]

War Diary of Luman Harris Tenney

December 31, 2014

War Diary of Luman Harris Tenney.

31st. Split logs and laid them up nearly high enough for comfort. Mustered. Very disagreeable morning. Pleasanter in the P. M. Cold night. Home letter.

Upon the fly-leaves of the little 1864 war diary book are the following quotations from Dante’s Divine Comedy. The Cary translation was used. My references as to pages are to the edition of Oscar Kuhns, T.Y.Crowell & Co., New York and Boston. (F.D.T.)

“With such a smile

As might have made one blest amid the flames,” (p. 346).

“So shall delight make thee not feel thy toil,” (page 360).

“Let not the people be too swift to judge;

As one who reckons on the blade in field,

Or e’er the crop be ripe. For I have seen

The thorn frown rudely all the winter long,

And bark, that all her way across the sea

Ran straight and speedy, perish at the last

E’en in the haven’s mouth” (page 376).

“For one of these may rise, the other fall,” (p. 376).

“These eyes are not thine only Paradise” (p. 395).

“voice hath not uttered

Nor hath ink written, nor in fantasy

Was e’er conceived” (p. 399).

“A man

Is born on Indus banks, and none is there

Who speaks of Christ, nor who doth read nor write;

And all his inclinations and his acts,

As far as human reason sees, are good;

And he offendeth not in word or deed:

But unbaptized he dies and void of faith.

Where is the justice that condemns him? Where

His blame, if he believeth not?” (p. 401).

“And ye,

Oh mortal men! be wary how ye judge;” (p. 407).

“The sword of heaven is not in haste to smite,

Nor yet doth linger;” (p. 412).

“Faith of things hoped is substance, and the proof

Of things not seen” (p. 422).

“With hope, that leads to blissful end;” “Hope,” (said I,)

“Is of the joy to come a sure expectance;” (p. 426).

“Good, inasmuch as we perceive the good,

Kindles our love;” (p. 430).

“One universal smile it seemed of all things” (p. 433).

“Oh, mortal lust!

That canst not lift thy head above the waves

Which whelm and sink thee down.” (p. 436).

“faith and innocence

Are met with but in babes;” (p. 437).

“The aim of all

Is how to shine: e’en they, whose office is

To preach the gospel, let the gospel sleep,

And pass their own inventions oft instead” (p. 444).

“Here break we off, as the good workman doth,

That shapes the cloak according to the cloth.” (p. 458).

“Oh, speech!

How feeble and how faint art thou, to give

Conception birth.” (p. 461).

Kate Cumming: A Journal of Hospital Life in the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

December 31, 2014

Kate Cumming: A Journal of Hospital Life in the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

December 31.—The last day of ’64, and much coveted peace seemingly as distant as ever. If it were not for the knowledge that there is an end to all things, and that some day there will be an end to this, it would be unbearable. The past year has equaled any of its predecessors for carnage and bloodshed. Our land is drenched with the blood of martyrs! Her fair hills and valleys, lit by blazing homesteads, and echoing to the booming of artillery and the roar of musketry. The very air is rent with the groans of the wounded and dying, and the wail of the widow and orphan. Lord, turn not thy face from us, and save, O, save us from this terrible scourge! “Let not our sins now cry against us for vengeance! Hear us, Jehovah, for mercy imploring: from thy dread displeasure, O, bid us be free!”

Although woe and desolation stare at us every way we turn, the heart of the patriot is as firm as ever, and determined that, come what may, he will never yield. There is no doubt but we have some among us whose love of self forbids their minds to rise above the dank sod upon which they tread; men who have never known what it is to experience a thrill of pleasure, when listening to the “patriot’s moving story, shedding for freemen’s rights his generous blood.” Such we have among us; but, thank the Giver of all good, they are in the minority.

“Chains for the dastard knave,

Recreant limbs should wear them;

But blessings on the brave,

Whose valor will not bear them!”

The brave army of Virginia is defending Richmond as gallantly as ever.

Any news we hear from Tennessee is uncertain, as the railroad for many miles between Corinth and Nashville is destroyed. The last heard from there our army was besieging Nashville.

Charleston, heroic Charleston, has proved a very Charybdis to the invader. Our champions on the water are doing us good service by destroying the enemy’s commerce. Their very names strike terror to the heart of the foe. The army, with the valiant Kirby Smith at its head, is keeping the enemy in check in Louisiana.

But O, my heart sickens when I think of the many, many valiant heroes who have left us, never more to return.

“Their fame is alive, though their spirits have fled

On the wings of the year that’s awa’.”

God grant that their lives have not been offered up in vain, and that the time is not far distant when triumphant peace will spread her wings over this now distracted land.