Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes

October 14. Camp Tompkins, General Rosecrans’ Headquarters, near Gauley Bridge. — I came down here to hold court today. Left my regiment about eight miles up the pike. Mrs. Tompkins lives here in a fine large white house. Her husband, a graduate of West Point, is a colonel in the secession army. Why devastate the homes and farms of poor deluded privates in the Rebel army and protect this property? Treat the lady well, as all women ought always to be treated, but put through the man for his great crime.

October 12. At Camp Ewing. — Rode down to Hawk’s Nest with General Schenck and Colonel Scammon and Lieutenant Chesebrough; a most romantic spot. A cliff seven hundred feet perpendicular projects out over New River; a view of New River for a mile or two above and below the cliff, rushing and foaming between the mountains. On the top was a small entrenchment built by Wise. A Union man (like other Union men) wishing to move to Ohio, says he means to burn his house to keep it from falling into secession hands.

October 11, Camp Ewing. — Wet, cold. We hear of enemy back at Camp Lookout and rumors of, over New River. On this road are many deserted homes — great Virginia taverns wasted. The people are for the most part a helpless and harmless race. Some Massachusetts people have come in and made pleasant homes. We are on a turnpike leading up the Kanawha to White Sulphur Springs and so on to eastern Virginia.

October 10, Camp Ewing, seven miles above Gauley Bridge. — A pretty day in a pleasant camp, surrounded by mountain scenery. We had a false alarm in Camp Lookout; formed in line of battle. I was at the hospital but rode rapidly up and was on hand before the line was ready. Some men at hospital fled. Some were suddenly well and took [their] place in line of battle.

Headquarters 23d Reg’t., O. V. Inf., U. S. A.,
Mountain Cove, Six Miles Above Gauley Bridge,
October 9, 1861.

Dear Brother: — We are now near or at the point where an entrenched camp for winter quarters is to be established. It will command the main entrance to the head of the Kanawha Valley, and can be held by a small force; is within a day’s ride of navigable waters connecting with Cincinnati, and telegraphic communication nearly completed. From half to two-thirds of the men in western Virginia can be spared as soon as a few days’ work is done. Indeed, green regiments just recruited could take care of this country and release soldiers who have been hardened by some service. Our regiment is second to no other in discipline, and equal in drill to all but two or three in western Virginia. We think it would be sensible to send us to Kentucky, Missouri, or the sea coast for the winter. We can certainly do twice the work that we could have done four months ago, and there is no sense in keeping us housed up in fortifications and sending raw troops into the field. In Kentucky, disciplined troops — that is, men who are obedient and orderly — are particularly needed. A lot of lawless fellows plundering and burning would do more hurt than good among a Union people who have property. We have met no regiment that is better than ours, if any so good.

Now, the point I am at is, first, that a large part of the soldiers here can be spared this winter; second, that for service, the best ought to be taken away. With these two ideas safely lodged in the minds of the powers that be, the Twenty-third is sure to be withdrawn. If you can post the Governor a little, it might be useful.

We are pleasantly associated. My mess consists of Colonel Scammon, Lieutenant-Colonel Matthews, Drs. Clendenin and Webb. The general (Schenck) and staff quarter in our regiment, so that we have the best of society. My connection with General Rosecrans’ staff, I manage to make agreeable by a little license. I quarter with my regiment, but am relieved from all but voluntary regimental duty. I think I have never enjoyed any period of my life as much as the last three months. The risks, hardships, separation from family and friends are balanced by the notion that I am doing what every man, who possibly can, ought to do, leaving the agreeable side of things as clear profit. My health has been perfect. A great matter this is. We have many sick, and sickness on marches and in camps is trebly distressing. It makes one value health. We now have our sick in good quarters and are promised a ten days’ rest. The weather today is beautiful, and I don’t doubt that we shall get back to good condition in that time.

Your election yesterday, I hope, went overwhelmingly for “Tod and Victory.” We talked of holding an election here, but as we liked Jewett personally, it was not pushed. We should have been unanimous for the war ticket.

Letters now should be sent to Gauley Bridge. Love to all.

Sincerely,

R. B. Hayes. [1]

Wm. A. Platt.

[1] This letter was placed in the Governor’s hands for his information. It was then sent to Mrs. Hayes, who on October 23 forwarded it to Mr. Birchard. In her accompanying letter Mrs. Hayes wrote that she had seen Colonel Matthews, who had told her that “Rutherford was almost the only man who had not been sick or affected some by the campaign, that he was perfectly well and looking better than ever.” Mrs. Hayes tries bravely to conceal her sense of loneliness, but it appears unmistakably in her closing paragraph where she writes: “We would be so glad to see you. Yours and Rutherford’s room is waiting — the books are lonely and everybody and everything would meet you so gladly.”

Camp Ewing, Mountain Cove, Six Miles Above
Gauley Bridge, Wednesday, October 9, 1861.

Dearest: — Captain Zimmerman and I have just returned from a long stroll up a most romantic mountain gorge with its rushing mountain stream. A lovely October sun, bright and genial, but not at all oppressive. We found the scattered fragments of a mill that had been swept away in some freshet last winter, and following up came to the broken dam, and near by a deserted home — hastily deserted lately. Books, the cradle, and child’s chair, tables, clock, chairs, etc., etc. Our conjecture is they fled from the army of Floyd about the time of [the] Carnifax fight. We each picked up a low, well-made, split-bottom chair and clambered up a steep cliff to our camp. I now sit in the chair. We both moralized on this touching proof of the sorrows of war and I reached my tent a little saddened to find on my lounge in my tidy comfortable quarters your good letter of October 1, directed in the familiar hand of my old friend [Herron]. Love to him and Harriet. How happy it makes me to read this letter.

Tell Mother Webb not to give up. In the Revolution they saw darker days — far darker. We shall be a better, stronger nation than ever in any event. A great disaster would strengthen us, and a victory, we all feel, will bring us out to daylight.

No, I don’t leave the Twenty-third. I have been with them all the time except six days. I am privileged. In the Twenty-third I am excused from duty as major being judge-advocate general. On the staff I am free to come and go as major of the Twenty-third. This of course will not relieve me from labor, but it makes me more independent than any other officer I know of.

Dr. Clendenin and Joe tent together and mess with us. Dr. Clendenin’s connection with us is permanent. We are in General Schenck’s brigade. He lives in our regiment and we like him.

We are now in easy two days’ ride of Cincinnati by steamboat, all but thirty or forty miles. We shall stay at this place ten days at least. We are building an entrenched camp for permanently holding this gateway of the Kanawha Valley. . . .

I feel as you do about the Twenty-third, only more so. There are several regiments whose music and appearance I can recognize at a great distance over the hills, as the Tenth, Ninth, and so on, but the Twenty-third I know by instinct. I was sitting in the court-house at Buckhannon one hot afternoon, with windows up, a number of officers present, when we heard music at a distance. No one expected any regiment at that time. I never dreamed of the Twenty-third being on the road, but the music struck me like words from home. “That is the band of my regiment,” was my confident assertion. True, of course.

We have lost by death about six, by desertion four, by dismissal three, by honorable discharge about twenty-five to thirty. About two hundred are too sick to do duty, of whom about one fifth will never be able to serve.

I was called to command parade this evening while writing this sheet. The line is much shorter than in Camp Chase, but so brown and firm and wiry, that I suspect our six hundred would do more service than twice their number could have done four months ago. . . .

You need not get any shirts or anything. We get them on this line, very good and very cheap. I bought two on the top of Mount Sewell for two dollars and forty cents for the two — excellent ones. I am now wearing one of them.

One of the charms of this life is its perpetual change. Yesterday morning we were in the most uncomfortable condition possible at Camp Lookout. Before night I was in a lovely spot with most capital company at headquarters. . . .

[R]

Mrs. Hayes.

Tuesday morning, 6 A. M., October 8.
Your election day.

Dearest : — This wet dirty letter and its writer have had considerable experience in the last twenty-four hours, and since the above was written. In the first place we have had another bitter storm, and this cold raw morning we shiver unless near the fires. At one time yesterday I thought I should have to take back a good deal of what I said in the letter I had just started for Cincinnati. I was at the hospital three-quarters mile from camp, helping Dr. Joe and Captain Skiles put the sick into wagons to be transported to Gallipolis and Cincinnati, when firing was heard and word came that the enemy in force had attacked our camp. The doctor and I hurried back leaving Captain Skiles to look after the sick. All the army, seven regiments (five to six thousand men), were forming in line of battle. I joined my regiment, and after waiting a half hour or so we were ordered to quarters with word that it was only a scouting party driving in our pickets. This was all in a rain-storm. The poor fellows in hospital — many of them — panic-stricken, fled down the road and were found by Dr. Joe on his return three or four miles from the hospital. Three of our regiment got up from their straw piles, got their guns and trudged up the road and took their places in line of battle. The behavior of the men was for the most part perfectly good. The alarm was undoubtedly a false one. No enemy is near us.

We shall go, if the sun comes out, seven miles nearer home, to Mountain Cove, and begin to build quarters and fortifications for a permanent stronghold. This brings us within an easy day’s ride of the navigable waters of the Kanawha. Thence a steamboat can take us in about a day or so to Cincinnati. Pretty near to you. Telegraph also all the way.

Speaking of telegraph makes me think I ought to say Captain Gaines (our prosecuting attorney) has done as much, I think more, useful service, dangerous too, than any other officer in western Virginia. The history of his company, protecting the telegraph builders, would be a volume of romantic adventures.

Lieutenant Christie, of General Cox’s staff, tells me Union Chapel has had a division, and troubles. Sorry to hear it. If you are compelled to leave, be in no haste to choose a new church. I want to confer on that subject. I think it important to be connected with a church, and with the right one. Mere nearness is important. This would favor the church near Seventh and Mound, if you can consent to go to a Presbyterian [church]. But of this hereafter.

I somehow think we shall meet within a month or two. I am very well and very full of fun this morning. A credit to be jolly.

Affectionately,

R. B. Hayes.

Captain Howard goes home in broken health. I shall send this, dirty as it is, by some sick officer or soldier. You must see some of them.

Mrs. Hayes.

Camp Lookout, Monday, October 7, 1861.

Dearest: — The mails are in order again. Letters will now come promptly. On the day after I wrote you last we got all the back letters — lots of papers and dates up to October 1. One queer thing, a letter from Platt of July 31 and one from Mother of October 1 got up the same day.

Our campaign is closed. No more fighting in this region unless the enemy attack, which they will not do. We are to entrench at Mountain Cove, eight miles from here, at Gauley Bridge, twenty miles off, and [at] Summersville, about the same. These points will secure our conquest of western Virginia from any common force, and will let half or two-thirds of our army go elsewhere. I hope we shall be the lucky ones to leave here.

The enemy and ourselves left the mountains about the same time; the enemy first, and for the same reason, viz., impossibility of getting supplies. We are now fourteen miles from Mount Sewell and perhaps thirty miles from the enemy. Our withdrawal was our first experience in backward movement. We all approved it. The march was a severe one. Our business today is sending off the sick, and Dr. Joe is up to his eyes in hard work. We have sixty to send to Ohio. This is the severest thing of the campaign. Poor fellows! We do as well as we can with them; but road-wagons in rain and mud are poor places.

Very glad — oh, so glad — you and Ruddy are well again. You did not tell me you were so unwell. I felt so badly to hear it. Do be very careful.

Don’t worry about the war. We are doing our part, and if all does not go well, it is not our fault. I still think we are sure to get through with it safely. The South may not be conquered, but we shall secure to the Nation the best part of it.

We hope to go to Kentucky. If so, we shall meet before a month. Our regiment is a capital one. But we ought to recruit. We shall be about one hundred to one hundred and fifty short when this campaign is ended.

Tomorrow is election day [in Ohio]. We all talked about it today. We are for Tod and victory.

Good-bye. Much love to all.

Affectionately, yours ever,

R.

Up Gauley River, Camp Sewell, October 3, 1861.

Dear Uncle: — I should have written you, if I had known where you were. We are in the presence of a large force of the enemy, much stronger than we are, but the mud and floods have pretty much ended this campaign. Both the enemy and ourselves are compelled to go back to supplies soon. I think, therefore, there will be no fight. We shall not attack their entrenchments now that they are reinforced, and I suspect they will not come out after us. Donn Piatt just peeped in. He always has funny things. I said, quoting Webster, “I still live.” “Yes,” said he, “Webster — Webster. He was a great man. Even the old Whigs about Boston admit that!” And again, speaking of the prospect of a fight, he said: “This whistling of projectiles about one’s ears is disagreeable. It made me try to think at Bull Run of all my old prayers; but I could only remember, ‘Oh Lord, for these and all thy other mercies, we desire to be thankful.'”

We shall soon go into winter quarters at posts chosen to hold this country, Gauley Bridge, Charleston, etc., etc. Who will get into a better place, is the question. We all want to go to Washington or to Kentucky or Missouri. We are in General Schenck’s brigade, and hope he will make interest enough to get us into good quarters. There is much sickness among officers and men. My health was never better than during these four months. I hope you will continue to improve.

I am still in General Rosecrans’ staff; but having just finished an extensive tour of court-martial, am again in camp with my regiment in good order. It is like going home to get back. Still this practicing on the circuit after the old fashion, only more so — an escort of cavalry and a couple of wagons with tents and grub — has its attractions. I shall get out of it soon, but as a change, I rather enjoy it.

Between you and Platt, I must get a strong, fleet, sure-footed horse for the next campaign. If the paymaster comes, I shall be able to pay from one hundred and fifty to two hundred dollars. My present horse turns out well, very well, but the winter will probably use him up, and I must get another.

Hereafter, direct to me, Gauley Bridge, instead of Clarksburg.

We have just learned that McClellan has had a success at Washington. If so, whatever happens here, the cause is safe. I hope the news is true.

Sincerely,

R. B. Hayes.

S. Birchard.