Tuesday Night.—I try to dwell as little as possible on public events. I only feel that we have no country, no government, no future. I cannot, like some others, look with hope on Johnston’s army. He will do what he can; but ah, what can he do? Our anxiety now is that our President and other public men may get off in safety. O God! have mercy upon them and help them! For ourselves, like the rest of the refugees, we are striving to get from the city. The stereotyped question when we meet is, “When and where are you going?” Our country relatives have been very kind. My brother offers us an asylum in his devastated home at W. While there we must look around for some other place, in which to build up a home for our declining years. Property we have none—all gone. Thank God, we have our faculties; the girls and myself, at least, have health. Mr. —— bears up under our difficulties with the same hopeful spirit which he has ever manifested. “The Lord will provide,” is still his answer to any doubt on our part. The Northern officials offer free tickets to persons returning to their homes — alas! to their homes! How few of us have homes! Some are confiscated; others destroyed. The families of the army and navy officers are here. The husbands and sons are absent, and they remain with nothing to anticipate and nothing to enjoy. To-day I met a friend, the wife of a high official, whose hospitality I have often enjoyed in one of the most elegant residences in Virginia, which has been confiscated and used as a hospital for “contrabands.” Our conversation naturally turned on our prospects. Hearing where we were going, she replied, “I have no brother, but when I hear from my husband and son, I shall accept the whole-souled invitation of a relative in the country, who has invited me to make his house my home; but,” she added, as her beautiful eyes filled with tears, “when are our visits to end? We can’t live with our ruined relatives, and when our visits are over, what then? And how long must our visits of charity last?” The question was too sad; neither of us could command our voices, and we parted in silence and tears.
April 2015
April 18th, 1865.—There are several companies of negro troops commanded by white officers, stationed at Centreville only two miles away. We fear the effect this will have on the neighboring plantations. We hear that these troops are a part of those who came with General Newton to attack Tallahassee. Generl Newton, himself, is in command at Tallahassee.
Miss Hennie, who is anxious to get back to her home in Memphis, went to see if she could get from him a passport to take her across the lines. Uncle Arvah accompanied her and they were both of them astonished and indignant at his reply:
“You are a very pretty girl Miss Winchester, give me a kiss and I will give you the pass.”
She was angry beyond the telling, and this was her answer, “I’ll die in my tracks before I would kiss you.”
General Newton laughed heartily, as if it was a joke and not an insult. “Heigh-ho little Rebel, you’ll get some of, that knocked out of you before you get to Memphis.”
Between anger and disappointment, she cried all night. I am not going to have a word to say to any of them. I might say too much.
April 18.—This afternoon I went to the citizens’ graveyard, in company with Mrs. and Captain Hicks. I lost a very important article— my vail—a serious loss, as I have no idea where I am to get another. I was delighted with the graveyard. Every thing about it was in the greatest order, and it was a perfect flower garden. A few soldiers were buried in it. I saw the graves of five or six colonels side by side; I think they were all Tennesseeans. The soldiers’ graveyard is a little ways from the citizens’; I visited it a few days ago. The ladies of the place have displayed a great deal of taste on it; each grave was neatly trimmed with shells, stones, and flowers. I counted nearly five hundred graves; they were principally those of men who had been wounded at the battles near Atlanta.
Georgia has a greater variety and more beautiful roses than I have ever seen; and here they seem to be more luxurious and fragrant than anywhere else. But there is a great lack of shade-trees; I tried the other day to get some cedar to dress our wards, but failed. How often I think of the grand old woods of Tennessee and North Georgia.
On reaching home we found great excitement in expectation of the enemy. We packed up as usual. I was asked to go to two or three places, but Mrs. F. and myself have concluded that we had better remain where we are. Captain Hicks has taken his wife to a relative, five miles in the country, and walked the distance.
Dr. Bemiss is here, having rode all the way from Columbus on horseback. He is a good deal worried about his books, as they were on the Macon train, which it is said the enemy have burned. He is very low-spirited, and says he feels like the man who was chased by a snake, who, after running till he was exhausted, laid down to let the snake do its worst, and found he had been running from a piece of rope hung to the tail of his coat.
Columbus is now in the hands of the enemy. After capturing Montgomery, they marched on to Columbus. Dr. B. says the militia fought manfully in its defense; they had at least ten to one to contend with.
He describes the scenes along the road as distressing, but at the same time ludicrous. There was a perfect panic at the cry that “the Yankees are coming!” At one place the women and children were running through the streets like people deranged, and men, with mules and wagons, driving in every direction. At that time the enemy was not within miles of the place.
Dr. Stout has gone to North Carolina, and Dr. B. intends following in the morning. He advises us to keep quiet, as, from all he can learn, the enemy are not hurting private property. We are to make believe that our house is a private one, although our rooms are filled with government property. All the valuables are committed to our care, and we are to be very busy quilting if the enemy should honor us with a visit.
Nearly all the men have taken to the woods. Dr. de Yampert is at his post, although we have begged him to leave; he says it is his duty to remain. Dr. Burks says he has run all he intends to, and, like the man with the snake, has made up his mind to let them come on and do their worst. Our two barrels of whisky have been taken to the woods.
Well, we are all ready for the enemy. Mrs. F. knows more about them than I do, and is not quite as calm. I see no way of escape, and am making the best of it. I am thinking it is at such times that we need all our coolness and caution. I will do what I can, and leave the rest to God. He has protected me thus far, why should I doubt him now?
Raleigh, April 17, 1865.
We have a brief dispatch this morning informing us of the assassination of President Lincoln, Secretary Seward and son. I have not the heart to write a word about it. The army is crazy for vengenance. If we make another campaign it will be an awful one. Sherman meets Johnston to-day. The delay in the negotiations was caused by some dispatches being missed. We hope Johnston will not surrender. God pity this country if he retreats or fights us.
April 17th.—Bright and clear.
I add a few lines to my Diary. It was whispered, yesterday, that President Lincoln had been assassinated! I met Gen. Duff Green, in the afternoon, who assured me there could be no doubt of it. Still, supposing it might be an April hoax, I inquired at the headquarters of Gen. Ord, and was told it was true. I cautioned those I met to manifest no feeling, as the occurrence might be a calamity for the South; and possibly the Federal soldiers, supposing the deed to have been done by a Southern man, might become uncontrollable and perpetrate deeds of horror on the unarmed people.
After agreeing to meet Gen. Green this morning at the Provost Marshal’s office, and unite with him in an attempt to procure the liberation of Capt. Warner, I returned home; and saw, on the way, Gen. Ord and his staff riding out toward Camp Lee, with no manifestations of excitement or grief on their countenances.
Upon going down town this morning, every one was speaking of the death of Lincoln, and the Whig was in mourning.
President Lincoln was killed by Booth (Jno. Wilkes), an actor. I suppose his purpose is to live in history as the slayer of a tyrant; thinking to make the leading character in a tragedy, and have his performance acted by others on the stage.
I see no grief on the faces of either officers or men of the Federal army.
R. A. Pryor and Judge W. T. Joynes have called a meeting in Petersburg, to lament the calamity entailed by the assassination.
I got passports to-day for myself and family to the Eastern Shore, taking no oath. We know not when we shall leave.
I never swore allegiance to the Confederate States Government, but was true to it.
Monday, 17th—News came that Abe Lincoln[1] had been assassinated at Washington, in a theater, also Secretary Seward and his son.[2] When the news came of the death of the president, the safety guards, placed at private houses to protect the families from violence, were relieved. General Sherman at once demanded an answer from Johnston by tomorrow, in regard to the surrender. Charles Correll of our company was put under arrest for saying that the president should have been shot three years ago. Correll has only been with the company since the 28th of last September, and then had been hired to enlist for a big sum of money. I went out on picket this morning.
[1] That a soldier should speak of Lincoln in such familiar terms was but natural. It was in no sense disrespectful. All through the war the President was spoken of as “Abe” Lincoln.—Ed.
[2] This shows again the unreliable character of the first reports.—Ed.
17th. Rode all night with paroled prisoners—Yankees. Cold. Reached City Point at 8 A. M. Got ready to leave on the mail boat at 10 A. M. Boat loaded mostly with Southern officers and a few Yankees, few citizens. Saw a telegraph operator with whom I was acquainted in Tenn. Read late papers. Accounts of the assassination. A little seasick. Most of the rebels seem submissive and willing to come under the old flag again.
Chattanooga, Monday, April 17. Splendid weather. Good appetite. Harness and saddles unboxed and issued out this morning. Hitched up and went out to drill. Captain Nicklin, inspector-general, was on the ground. Drilled three batteries together. Brigade drill for two hours, did very well. Noon by the time we reached camp. To-morrow we are to have monthly inspection, everything being “slicked up” in preparation.. A comrade took out my horse to graze, so I had time to write to sister Hannah. No mail yet.
April 17th.—A letter from Mrs. Davis, who writes: “Do come to me, and see how we get on. I shall have a spare room by the time you arrive, indifferently furnished, but, oh, so affectionately placed at your service. You will receive such a loving welcome. One perfect bliss have I. The baby, who grows fat and is smiling always, is christened, and not old enough to develop the world’s vices or to be snubbed by it. The name so long delayed is Varina Anne. My name is a heritage of woe.
“Are you delighted with your husband? I am delighted with him as well as with my own. It is well to lose an Arabian horse if one elicits such a tender and at the same time knightly letter as General Chesnut wrote to my poor old Prometheus. I do not think that for a time he felt the vultures after the reception of the General’s letter.
“I hear horrid reports about Richmond. It is said that all below Ninth Street to the Rocketts has been burned by the rabble, who mobbed the town. The Yankee performances have not been chronicled. May God take our cause into His own hands.”
Camp In The Field, Near Burksville Junction, Va.,
April 17, 1865.
Dear Family:
We moved yesterday to this position, only a few rods from our former one, to wait orders. We rec’d the sad news of President Lincoln’s being severely wounded in the head, yesterday morning, and of his death last night. The news cast a gloom upon all. Many were the oaths taken against the perpetrator of the deed. We rec’d no particulars, simply that it was by J. W. Booth in Ford’s theatre, and that Sec’ty of State Mr. Seward and his son were attacked in their own house. We have had no newspapers of late date, since we left Petersburg, except the Richmond Whig, which goes on the same as before, with a great change in its tone. I will try now and give you a description of our operations, although I have no notes to copy from. I think it is impressed strongly enough upon my memory to transfer it to paper.
Sunday morning, Apr. 2nd, at about 7 o’clk our Regt. with the 5th Mich, filed out through the works into the woods on a double quick; all expected a repetition of the scene we passed through before, but what was our surprise, when we passed by the picket line, through the woods into an open field in full view of the Johnnies’ works, and found them vacated. We immediately struck off in pursuit up the Boydton flank road, the sixth Corps in advance. The “Johns” made a stand about two miles from the City and the Artillery kept up the firing for the rest of the day. The next morning, we took the back road and struck out for the Danville road, which we reached the night of the 5th; fortified across it. Our Corps struck the Rebs the next day and gave them an awful run; they would make a stand on a hill, our skirmish line would run them out and then the Cavalry would give them a charge across the open country, till they found they had made another halt. The road was strewn with cars, ammunition boxes, blankets, old broken down mules, horses and wagons, caissons, limbers, forges, and occasionally a gun. The men were all excitement over our late victories and nothing could stop them. Our Brigade captured seven flags. Our regt. was unlucky and got none. We followed them up this way till the surrender. I have never seen such a sight and never expect to, as I did when Genl. Meade rode in from the front and a staff officer announced that Lee had surrendered [the surrender of General Lee at Appomattox Court House]. The men hurrahed as if their throats would split. Soon after Meade came riding through the lines. All the flags were given to the breeze and the men crowded around them and cheered lustily, rushing after Genl. Meade all the time. Men threw up their caps, haversacks, and canteens and some even took off their shoes and threw them up, running a great risk of ever getting them again. Every one had a smile on his face, although they had been without rations for a day and a half.
Regards and love to all. Lev.
