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

May 2015

Marietta, Ohio, May 14, 1865.

Dear Mother: — Having business on this end of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, I came on this far to meet Lucy. She will go back to New Creek with me, and remain as long as I stay in the army — that is about two weeks.

The weather is very fine, and I never saw the Ohio River and its hills and bottoms looking so well. We shall probably go up the Ohio to Wheeling, and thence by railroad back. I now intend to leave the army so as to get settled up and ready for home by the 10th to 15th of June. I shall go to Delaware and Fremont before Cincinnati.

Affectionately, your son,

R.

Sunday, May 14.—President Davis has been captured, and I am glad of it, as he can clear his fair fame from the aspersion cast upon it.

I have been told that, on hearing of the reward offered, and the accusation against him, he did not try to get away.

One thing, in connection with him, has made me feel prouder of our people than any thing else. At this time the country is filled with lawless men, whom defeat has made reckless. They steal from friend and foe. It seems that bands of these men came across Davis, but on finding out who he was did not molest him.

The patriot is now a prisoner, for devotion to freedom and his country’s good. He has the consolation of religion to support him, and also the consciousness of having done his duty to his country.

 

Far dearer the grave or the prison,

Illumin’d by one patriot name,

Than the trophies of all who have risen

On liberty’s ruins to fame.

 

Quite a number of Federal cavalry have been here. They went to Mr. D.’s corncrib, broke down the doors, and took all his corn and fodder, without giving him any thing for it.

A number of paroled prisoners have passed through here. Many of them stayed a day or two at Mr. D.’s Some of them go quietly away, saying nothing, while others have the war spirit still in them. All have behaved gentlemanly, with the exception of two Texans, who had been on a general’s staff. Mr. D. had closed his house, as he could not afford to buy provisions and get nothing but Confederate money for board. These men told him they had greenbacks and silver. They have been here some time. To-day they told Mr. D. that if he did not take Confederate money he would have to do without; and said that they had been fighting for four years to save his property, and had a right to what he had given them.

My good friend, Mrs. D.’s sister, who was so very ill when I first came here, is getting better.

I have received much kindness from all my old friends. Many have called and invited me to make their houses my home. But with all this, I am very anxious to get to Mobile.

I called on Mrs. Judge Hopkins, of Mobile, now here, to see if she knew of any way of my getting there, but was disappointed. Mrs. H. has nobly done her duty in the cause. She went into the hospital service at the commencement of the war, and had charge of some two or three Alabama hospitals, in Richmond. She left that place some time before it fell, as the hospital department was ordered away. Since then she has been at a post near Montgomery, and came here from fear of Wilson’s raid.

She told me she had nothing to eat but corn-bread and bacon, and that she had drawn from our commissary. Judge H. is with her, and is in very feeble health, caused mainly by his poor diet, and were it not for a little coffee and sugar they have, Mrs. H. thinks he would have died.

Before the war he was one of the richest men in Alabama. She spoke very highly of the lady she was staying with; says they all fare alike.

My friend, Mrs. Captain Nutt, and her children, are here. They intend leaving in a few days for Louisiana. I could go with them, but should be compelled to leave my baggage, which I am unwilling to do.

This evening Mr. and Mrs. Brooks went with me to a Mrs. Barnett’s, whose husband is going as far as Montgomery in a wagon. I asked her if he could not take my baggage, but he had no room. There we met a fine-looking lady, Mrs. General Fry, who has spent much of her time in Richmond, and related to us some incidents in high life there.

One of them I will notice, which occurred in an Episcopal Church, as I have witnessed the like more than once in our own churches—in Mobile—and which I think reflects little credit, not only on Christians, but on all who claim to have a sense of true politeness.

It seems that the wife of one of our generals, who is high in command, and a member of one of the most aristocratic families in Virginia, was dressed very plainly, as true greatness needs no adorning. She went to one of the churches, I suppose a stranger there, took her seat in the pew of one who she thought would make her welcome, when a member of his family, a young lady fashionably dressed, came to the pew, and judging of the occupant from appearances, ordered her out, and did not find out her mistake until too late to retrieve it, and until a dozen of the pew doors were flung open to receive Mrs. General ——.

Near Hanover, C. H., Va., May 14, 1865.

Only made nine miles to-day on account of the Pamunky river here being bad. We camp to-night in the Hanover “slashes,” one mile east of the birthplace of Henry Clay, and about two miles from the residence of Patrick Henry. The court house is where the latter delivered his famous speech against the clergy. Henry’s house is built of brick, imported, and was built in 1776. We passed the place where McClellan’s famous seven days’ fight commenced. The whole country is waste. I hear a country legend here that Clay was the illegitimate son of Patrick Henry. The court house was built in 1735

Chattanooga, Sunday, May 14. A calm and quiet Sabbath has passed, and we have had much of the time for ourselves, no grazing, etc. Wrote home and to sister Hannah. I am troubled much in regard to her, have not received any letter from her for over two weeks and I fear she is sick again. Her ambition is too much for a frail nature.

2 P. M. a special dispatch brought into camp stating that Old Jeff and crew has been taken finally. It is official and no doubt true. The arch traitor is at last brought to justice. What will be done with him? I trust the law will be vindicated in its full extent.

Saturday, 13th—Started at 10 a. m. and marched twelve miles today. We went into bivouac for the night near Hanover Court House. It is quite swampy and the roads are very bad, on account of so much rain the last few days. The country through which we passed today is considerably cut up by fortifications and badly used up on account of the two armies passing back and forth so often over the same roads and fields. The citizens are back on their farms and are at work again. Details of our men are stationed all along the way, guarding their homes and property, to keep the army from destroying things. When the army gets past, the guards fall into line at the rear.

13th. After breakfast accompanied the Major on an inspecting tour to the various stables. Rode. A beautiful day. Seward gone home on leave and will muster as Lt. Col. Welch seems very popular at this depot, and very busy. Wrote to Charlie. Invited out in evening, but didn’t accept.

North Bank of Chickahominy River,

May 13, 1865.

We crossed the James river this a.m. Our division, the rear of the corps, paraded a little around Richmond, saw Libby Prison, Castle Thunder, the bronze statue of Washington, Lee’s and Davis’ residence, and a number of women. Some handkerchiefs flying. Two women told us they were Yankees and looked so sweet that I (in theory) lifted my hat to them. It always puts me out of humor to see Southern women cheer Yanks in public. We passed through the Rebel works where Kilpatrick made his bold dash in March, ’64. We are six or seven miles above Mechanicsville, and McClellan’s old battle ground.

Chattanooga, Saturday, May 13. Very pleasant night to stand guard. Sun very hot to-day. No. 1 post is most exposed. Have to walk the beat with military precision on the park. I am no worse, but feel better. Headache has left me. Received a letter from home; wrote one to sister Jane. She is now teaching school, a child when I left. Thus have I been standing still while others have been acquiring knowledge for the last three years, but I regret not the sacrifice. Ellen’s [school] commences next Monday. Truly do I belong to an enterprising family.

May 12, 1865.

The 17th Corps has the road to-day. Heavy thunder storm last night with a great deal of rain. Four men of our division were killed by lightning about 200 yards from our tent. One of them, William Hall, belonged to Company D of our regiment. Two men were killed in a tent in which were 15, and of the four lying side by side, two were killed.

Can’t hear yet for certain when we will be mustered out. We move towards Alexandria to-morrow.

Friday, 12th—It rained very hard all night. We left our bivouac at 4 o’clock this morning and at 6 o’clock passed through Richmond.[1] The town looks fine and business seems to be good. We marched ten miles and went into bivouac on the Chickahominy river. The entire army is taking the same route and thus we cannot move fast.


[1] The Union general in command at Richmond requested General Sherman to have his army pass in review through Richmond, but Sherman flatly refused, declaring that he would march his army around the city before he would do anything of the kind, and Sherman had his way as to how we should pass through.—A. G. D.