December 2014

December 27th.—A night of rain—morning of fog and gloom. At last we have an account of the evacuation of Savannah. Also of the beginning of the assault on Fort Fisher and Caswell below Wilmington, with painful apprehensions of the result; for the enemy have landed troops above the former fort, and found no adequate force to meet them, thanks to the policy of the government in allowing the property holders to escape the toils and dangers of the field, while the poor, who have nothing tangible to fight for, are thrust to the front, where many desert. Our condition is also largely attributable to the management of the Bureau of Conscription—really the Bureau of Exemption.

I saw to-day a letter from Gen. Beauregard to Gen. Cooper, wherein it was indicated that Gen. Hood’s plan of penetrating Tennessee was adopted before he (Gen. B.) was ordered to that section.

The enemy did occupy Saltville last week, and damaged the works. No doubt salt will “go up” now. The enemy, however, have retired from the place, and the works can be repaired. Luckily I drew 70 pounds last week, and have six months’ supply. I have two months’ supply of coal and wood—long enough, perhaps, for our residence in Richmond, unless the property owners be required to defend their property. I almost despair of a change of policy.

It is reported that Sherman is marching south of Savannah, on some new enterprise; probably a detachment merely to destroy the railroad.

An expedition is attacking, or about to attack, Mobile.

All our possessions on the coast seem to be the special objects of attack this winter. If Wilmington falls, “Richmond next,” is the prevalent supposition.

The brokers are offering $50 Confederate States notes for $1 of gold.

Men are silent, and some dejected. It is unquestionably the darkest period we have yet experienced. Intervention on the part of European powers is the only hope of many. Failing that, no doubt a negro army will be organized—and it might be too late!

And yet, with such a preponderance of numbers and material against us, the wonder is that we have not lost all the sea-board before this. I long since supposed the country would be penetrated and overrun in most of its ports, during the second or third year of the war. If the government would foster a spirit of patriotism, the country would always rise again, after these invasions, like the water of the sea plowed by ships of war. But the government must not crush the spirit of the people relied upon for defense, and the rich must fight side by side with the poor, or the poor will abandon the rich, and that will be an abandonment of the cause.

It is said Gen. Lee is to be invested with dictatorial powers, so far as our armies are concerned. This will inspire new confidence. He is represented as being in favor of employing negro troops.

A dispatch from Lieut.-Gen. Hardee (to the President), December 24th, 1864, at Charleston, S. C, says he may have to take the field any moment (against Sherman), and asks a chief quartermaster and chief commissary. The President invokes the special scrupulosity of the Secretary in the names of these staff officers.

December 26th —Raining—rained all night. The dark and dismal weather, together with our sad reverses, have made the countenances of croakers in the streets and in the offices more gloomy and somber than ever, foreboding evil in the future. No one doubts the evacuation of Savannah, and I suppose it must be so. Hardee had but 8000 reliable men. The Georgians in Lee’s army are more or less demoralized, and a reward of a sixty days’ furlough is given for shooting any deserter from our ranks.

An old black chest, containing mostly scraps and odds and ends of housekeeping, yet brought on by my family from Burlington, has remained four years unopened, the key being lost. We have felt an irrepressible anxiety to see its contents, for even rubbish is now valuable. T got a locksmith to send a man to pick the lock, last week, but he failed to find the house, and subsequently was sent to the trenches. I borrowed twenty-five keys, and none of them would fit. I got wire, and tried to pick the lock, but failed. Yesterday, however, when all were at church, I made another effort, prizing at the same time with the poker, when the screws of the hasp came out and the top flew up, revealing only “odds and ends” so far as I could see. I closed it, replaced the striped cover, and put the cage with the parrot on it, where it usually remains. The day, and the expressed objection of my wife to have the lock broken or injured, have, until to-day, restrained me from revealing to the family what I had done. But now I shall assemble them, and by a sort of Christmas story, endeavor to mollify my wife’s anticipated displeasure. The examination of the contents will be a delightful diversion for the children, old and young.

My impromptu Christmas tale of the old Black Chest interested the family, and my wife was not angry. Immediately after its conclusion, the old chest was surrounded and opened, and among an infinite variety of rubbish were some articles of value, viz., of chemises (greatly needed), several pairs of stockings, 1 Marseilles petticoat, lace collars, several pretty baskets, 4 pair ladies’ slippers (nearly new), and several books—one from my library, an octavo volume on Midwifery, 500 pages, placed there to prevent the children from seeing the illustrations, given me by the publisher for a notice in my paper, The Madisonian, more than twenty years ago. There were also many toys and keepsakes presented Mrs. J. when she was an infant, forty years ago, and many given our children when they were infants, besides various articles of infants’ clothing, etc. etc., both of intrinsic value, and prized as reminiscences. The available articles, though once considered rubbish, would sell, and could not be bought here for less than $500.

This examination occupied the family the remainder of the day and night—all content with this Christmas diversion—and oblivious of the calamities which have befallen the country. It was a providential distraction.