Thursday, [January] 23. — A pretty fair day, warm and no rain. Dr. Joe arrived.
Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes
Wednesday, January 22, 1862. — Cold, threatening rain or snow all day. … In the evening reports from Raleigh. Three of Company K, Thirtieth, and young Henderson, scout Company H, captured by the enemy. Report says no fighting except by Henderson. No other fired a gun. Rumor says they were drunk.
A great bushwhacker captured with three others. In the night bushwhacker taken with pains in his bowels — rolled over the floor, etc., etc., suddenly sprang up, seized two muskets and escaped! This is the official (false!) report. The other prisoners report that the sentinels were asleep, and the bushwhacker merely slipped out, taking two muskets with him.
Report says that three thousand milish of Mercer [County] are on or near Flat Top Mountain twenty miles from Raleigh and thirteen hundred cavalry!!
Three prisoners brought down last night. Captain McVey, a bushwhacking captain, armed with sword and rifle, was approaching a Union citizen’s house to capture him, when [the] Union man, hearing of it, hid behind a log, drew a bead on Secesh as he approached, called out to him to lay down his arms, which Secesh prudently did, and thereupon the victor marched [him] to our camp at Raleigh. Another prisoner, a son of General Beckley, aged about sixteen. Why he was taken I don’t understand. He carried dispatches when the militia was out under his father, but seems intelligent and well-disposed. Disliking to see one so young packed into a crowded guardhouse (thinking of Birch and Webb, too), I took him to my own quarters and shared my bed with him last night. He talked in his sleep incoherently, otherwise a good bedfellow.
Tuesday, January 21, 1862. — Colder, but still raining. What a flood this will cause if it’s general, as I think it is.
After being aroused by Thomas building a fire, I fell into a doze and dreamed. I thought Lucy had come and was in the room opposite to mine. I seemed to be partially asleep, and couldn’t awake. She came in and stood by the bedside, not very affectionate in manner. I tried to arouse and succeeded in telling her how much I loved her. She was kind but not “pronounced.” I thought, as I happened to see little Joe in her arms, that she was waiting to see me notice him and was hurt that I had not done so sooner. I spoke up cheerfully, held out my arms for him. I saw his face. He was a pretty child — like Webb, with sister Fanny’s eyes, a square forehead, but his face looked too old, bright, and serious for a boy of his age; looked as a child of two or three years who had lost flesh.
I also dreamed during the night of being at home — anxiously, so anxiously, looking at the newspapers for news from the Cairo expedition; feared it would be defeated; reflected on the advantages the enemy had in their fortifications over an attacking party, and began to feel that the news must be disastrous.
Camp Union, Fayetteville, Virginia, January 20, 1862. Monday.— This is the birthday of sister Fanny. Dear, dear sister, so lovely, such a character! She would have been forty-two years old today. Now six years — six years next June — since she left us.
Rained during the night. Warm, and probably more rain today. This is the January thaw. The mud is beaten down by the rain. The thunder roaring now. Very few thunder-storms; not more than three or four since we came to western Virginia.
A pleasant lull in the storm gave me a chance for a parade last evening, or rather the adjutant asked if we should have one. I, supposing him to be joking, said, “Yes, the weather is so favorable.” He ordered it and I was caught. I got a captured Caskie Cavalry sabre, slung it across my shoulder, and went through with [it]. We returned in column by companies closed in mass. The men marched well in the mud and it went off with spirit.
Spent the evening reading the [Cincinnati] Gazette of the 16th, eating peaches with Avery and Gardner, and listening to their tales of life on the plains and in Mexico. Avery’s story of the Navajos running off goats and sheep and his killing an Indian will do to tell Birch.
Fayetteville, Virginia, January 19, Sunday A. M. — It rained almost all night; still falling in torrents. A great freshet may be expected. . . .
Great war news expected. Burnside’s expedition sailed; near Cairo, a great movement forward; Green River, ditto. What we need is greater energy, more drive, more enterprise, not unaccompanied with caution and vigilance. We must not run into ambuscades, nor rush on strongly entrenched positions. The battle of New Orleans and many others in our history teach the folly of rushing on entrenchments defended by men, raw and undisciplined it may be, but all of whom are accustomed to the use of firearms. Such positions are to be flanked or avoided.
Saturday, January 18, 1862. — Attempting to rain this morning. All important movements everywhere stopped by the rain and mud already. Still further “postponement on account of weather.” How impatiently we look for action on Green River [and] at Cairo. As to the Potomac, all hope of work in that quarter seems to be abandoned. Why don’t they try to flank the Rebels — get at their communications in the rear? But patience! Here we are in a good position to get in the rear via two railroads. Suppose two or even three or four bodies of men were to start, one by way of Lewisburg for White Sulphur Springs and Jackson Depot, one via Peterstown and Union, east side of New River, for Central Depot, one via Princeton and Parisburg [Pearisburg] right bank of New River, for Dublin, and another via Logan Court-house for some point lower down on the railroad.
A heavy rain falls — warm, spring-like, copious. The scenery of New River is attractive. The river runs in a deep gorge cut through the rock to a depth of one thousand to two thousand feet. The precipitous cliffs, occasionally cut through by streams running into the river, the rapid rushing river, and brawling mountain streams furnish many fine views. The Glades, a level region near Braxton and Webster Counties, where streams rise, and a similar region, called the Marshes of Cool, are the cattle grounds of this part of western Virginia. Braxton and Webster are the haunts of the worst Rebel bushwhackers of the country. Steep mountains, deep gorges and glens afford them hiding-places. They are annoying but not dangerous except to couriers, mail-carriers, and very small parties. They shoot from too great a distance at large parties to do much harm. .
Friday, January 17, 1862. — Froze last night to harden mud; cold and clear this morning; warm and bright all day. We feel rather lonely — so many gone. One regiment departed.
We hear of the resignation of Cameron and Welles. What does this mean? I think we must gain by it. I hope such men as Holt and Stanton will take their places. If so, the Nation will not lose by the change.
Read Nat Turner’s insurrection of 1831. I suspect there will be few such movements while the war continues. The negroes expect the North to set them free, and see no need of risking their lives to gain what will be given them by others. When they discover their mistake and despair of other aid, then troubles may come.
Fayetteville, Virginia, January 16, 1862.
Dear Uncle : — I am in receipt of your favor of New Year’s. So Allen got along. I hope he will not cause you more bother than he is worth. He was a good man here. I shall not be at all surprised if some day his owners undertake to recover him. You need not say this to him. His master still refuses to come in and take the oath of allegiance although an opportunity has been given him. He is a Rebel in the Rebel service.
We are doing well in all respects. I was at Camp Hayes, twenty-five miles further south, last week. They have pretty active times there with a few Rebel bushwhackers that infest the roads. Men are occasionally slightly wounded, but the shooting is from such great distances, and with common rifles, that no serious harm is done. The vast majority of the people are friendly.
As soon as four or five absent officers return, I shall ask for leave of absence. Say, in about three weeks.
Sincerely,
R.B. Hayes
S. Birchard.
Fayetteville, January 16, 1862.
Dear Lucy: — Lieutenants Warren and Smith leave today. We are very well. Mud awful deep and streams overflowing.
I shall apply for leave of absence soon after Captains Sperry and Zimmerman return, provided Dr. Joe is here. Of course it would not do for two prominent officers of the same family to be absent at the same time. These leaves of absence are so abused, that in the absence of some great necessity, I would not leave my regiment unless plenty of officers remain. I shall leave about the last of the month, I think, unless Dr. Joe should be detained on your account.
I am writing in much haste with a host of citizens growling. Love to all.
Good-bye, dearest.
R. B. Hayes
Mrs. Hayes.
Thursday, January 16, 1862. — Bright, warm weather. Colonel Scammon moved from Mrs. Manson’s house to Dr. Stites’. Lieutenants Warren and Smith start for Ohio. I send letters to Mother, Uncle, and Lucy. Warm and so muddy. The Kanawha up. Three steamboats at Loup Creek. Navigation good. Not having written “Thursday” above until this moment I thought it was Wednesday, and by a bet with Lieutenant Reichenbach lost a bottle of wine and the sardines. Present Dr. Jim W. [James Webb]; Lieutenants Reichenbach, Avery, and Kennedy. I fear Avery loves liquor “not wisely but too well.” Major Comly says he has captured two hundred and five law books.
