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

The American Civil War

London, February 21,1862

Of course if you remain on the island there can be little use for your arm of the service, so I presume you may be employed mainly in the labor of the manège. And even if on the mainland I cannot well conceive what business you can have in a region so sparsely settled with whites and with few elements of aptitude for military operations. Neither Savannah nor Charleston can be taken by cavalry, and apart from these ports what is there in that country important to the object of the war?

 

To be sure you may individually obtain much insight into the economy of that densely populated slave region, and thus reinforce your means of speculating on the cotton producing theory. If so, I should very well like to see the conclusions to which you may come. To me at this distance it looks very much as if the slave tenure must be irreparably damaged by the social convulsion through which the country is passing, but I confess myself puzzled to see what is likely to take its place. I learn that some letters reach here from Carolina planters declaring that they are utterly ruined. The end to them may then be emigration. And what then? Is it a community of negroes requiring to be taught the very rudiments of social and political economy? . . .

The Trent affair has proved thus far somewhat in the nature of a sharp thunderstorm which has burst without doing any harm, and the consequence has been a decided improvement of the state of the atmosphere. Our English friends are pleased with themselves and pleased with us for having given them the opportunity to be so. The natural effect is to reduce the apparent dimensions of all other causes of offense. The Manchester people are patient and uncomplaining. The distress is not yet of such a kind as to give rise to much uneasiness, and the blockade shuts up the expectation of cotton enough to stimulate the prospect of production in other quarters, so that England shall not be again subject to a similar catastrophe. In the meantime industry naturally seeks new channels, and emigration affords a steady outlet. So that I am now quite encouraged to think that the prospect of interference with us is growing more and more remote. All that I have ever sought for has been the opportunity of developing our policy of repression. At first I confess I had little confidence in its success. But of late I have been thinking better and better of it. And it seems to me that the same impression is growing all around me. . . . The struggle is a tremendous one, and must not be measured hastily. I pity the people of the southern states, but I have no mercy for their profligate leaders, who have wantonly brought them to such a catastrophe.

Eliza Woolsey Howland to Joe Howland.

February 21

We went yesterday to the Navy Yard and were very much interested in all we saw. They make 15,000 Enfield rifle and musket balls in every twelve hours, or 30,000 while (as now) they work day and night! They also turn out 800 rifled and other cannon balls a day, and three rifled brass cannons a week, besides the ordinary work of a ship-yard and naval station. Our usual luck attended us, for we fell in, by mere chance, with a young naval officer whom Hatty had met in Rome, and he took us about and, best of all, showed us all the rebel flags which are to be presented to Congress, so we had an opportunity, which probably no other outsiders have had, of trampling them privately under foot. The flags of Fort Donelson and Fort Henry were there—fresh and new and without the trace of a bullet hole—those taken from Roanoke and Hatteras, and the famous palmetto one which was replaced by the Stars and Stripes at Hilton Head. There was also a pretty little company flag made of choice silk and embroidered by ladies’ hands.

. . . Later. … News from Charley. “Inside of Hatteras inlet, just going up to Roanoke Island.” The voyage had been rough and wretched but he was well and happy. . . .

We had no letters of interest yesterday except one from Carry, which Mother enclosed to Charley at Roanoke Island. She gave a very funny account of a wretched swollen face she has had. The Doctor recommended a leech, so they sent for one, but were completely at a loss to tell its head from its tail, and finally with many pokes from a hairpin (a new use) they wriggled it into the tube and trusted to Providence to turn it right end up! During the process, however, she was foolish enough to faint dead away, and no sooner had she revived than Miss Parsons did the same. And Carry wanted to go as army nurse!

February 21st.—A crowd collected here last night and there was a serenade. I am like Mrs. Nickleby, who never saw a horse coming full speed but she thought the Cheerybles had sent post-haste to take Nicholas into co-partnership. So I got up and dressed, late as it was. I felt sure England had sought our alliance at last, and we would make a Yorktown of it before long. Who was it? Will you ever guess?—Artemus Goodwyn and General Owens, of Florida.

Just then, Mr. Chesnut rushed in, put out the light, locked the door and sat still as a mouse. Rap, rap, came at the door. “I say, Chesnut, they are calling for you.” At last we heard Janney (hotel-keeper) loudly proclaiming from the piazza that “Colonel Chesnut was not here at all, at all.” After a while, when they had all gone from the street, and the very house itself had subsided into perfect quiet, the door again was roughly shaken. “I say, Chesnut, old fellow, come out—I know you are there. Nobody here now wants to hear you make a speech. That crowd has all gone. We want a little quiet talk with you. I am just from Richmond.” That was the open sesame, and to-day I hear none of the Richmond news is encouraging. Colonel Shaw is blamed for the shameful Roanoke surrender.¹

Toombs is out on a rampage and swears he will not accept a seat in the Confederate Senate given in the insulting way his was by the Georgia Legislature: calls it shabby treatment, and adds that Georgia is not the only place where good men have been so ill used.

The Governor and Council have fluttered the dove-cotes, or, at least, the tea-tables. They talk of making a call for all silver, etc. I doubt if we have enough to make the sacrifice worth while, but we propose to set the example.

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¹ General Burnside captured the Confederate garrison at Roanoke Island on February 8, 1862.

February 21.—The Richmond Whig, of this date, has the following: “We had not supposed it was seriously contemplated in any quarter to call out into active service the whole male population of the State. The proposition of Governor Letcher, to have all over sixteen and under sixty five, in cities, drilled for the defence of their respective localities, is a different affair. That may be practicable, and, under circumstances, might be desirable. But we have very great doubts whether such a mass would effect more good than mischief. But in respect to the rural districts, to call out the whole male population over sixteen and under sixty-five, or even between eighteen and forty-five, would be a mischievous and inexcusable folly. In the first place, we have not arms to put in their hands. That objection alone is sufficient. In the second place, it would ruin the industrial pursuits of the State, and leave us without the means of prosecuting the war beyond the present session.

“We hear that the rage for volunteering is greater than it has been since the beginning of the war. There will be no want of men, without any extraordinary legislation, if they can only get arms and leaders to conduct them against the enemy. If there should be any deficiency, it could be easily supplied by a draft on the superabundance of ‘able-bodied’ young men in the Commissary and Quartermaster’s Department.

“Far better this expedient than to draw the boys from their books, and the old men from their useful labors.”

—Rumors of the partial evacuation of Manassas, Va., by the rebels, were prevalent in Washington to-day, but they were not generally credited.

—A Battle took place, to-day, about seven miles from Fort Craig, near Valverde,[1] on the Rio Grande, New-Mexico, between the rebel forces under Col. Steele, and the National forces commanded by Col. Canby. The battle lasted from nine o’clock in the morning till sundown, and resulted in the defeat of the National troops, who were obliged to retreat to the Fort. McRae’s battery of six pieces was captured by the rebels, after a gallant defence in which Capt. McRae was killed.— (Doc. 55.)

—Capt. Nathaniel P. Gordon, commander of the slave-ship Erie, was executed at New-York, according to sentence. About three o’clock in the morning he attempted to commit suicide by swallowing strychnine, which he had concealed in his cell, but the exertions of three physicians managed to prolong his life sufficiently to allow the execution, which took place at a quarter past twelve o’clock.

—The first battalion of Connecticut cavalry, three hundred and twenty-five men, under the command of Major Judson M. Lyon, passed through New-York City en route for Wheeling, Va., to join Gen. Rosecrans.

— The Massachusetts Thirty-first regiment, and five companies of the Thirteenth Maine regiment, sailed to-day from Boston, Mass., in the steamer Mississippi for Ship Island.


[1] Valverde is a small village, situated on the left bank of the Rio del Norte, or Rio Grande, near the border of New-Mexico and Arizona. Fort Craig is ten miles north of this point, on the same river. Col. Kit Carson, who is said to have done good service with his regiment, deployed as skirmishers, has had his headquarters at Albuquerque for some time, and appears to have arrived at the scene of conflict at a most opportune time.

Thursday, February 20. — I went to Washington to-day in an ambulance, with Sam and Michael and one of the telegraph operators. We went on the corduroy road, and such riding I never felt in my life before, the wagon creaking and shaking in every joint, and I myself feeling as if I were doing the same. Up two or three feet in the air at one moment, and down again the next. Driving in the mud compared with it is like the difference between riding in a carriage and in a tip-cart. I went in to get some things for Captain Norton,[1] and to have my photograph taken. I think I have a very good proof, but shall not get it till Monday. The day was chilly, and a blanket thrown over my knees was a welcome protection. When I came out here I found that General McClellan and staff had been here, and in fact were here, for I reached camp just in time to see them mount and ride off. I am sorry I was not here, as I should have liked to be introduced to McClellan. I had a small tent placed before mine as an entrance. Quite an improvement.

 


[1] Our division quartermaster.

Thursday Feb 20th 1862

This has been a bright pleasant day, quite a rarity for a month past. There is no particular news in the papers. I have been down onto the Ave this evening. Called upon Mr Daws M.C. who is sick at his rooms co[rne]r of 8th & Ave, bought some maps and two Flags in view of the Celebration of the 22nd. I must make arrangements tomorrow to illuminate on Saturday night. We hear tonight with much sorrow that our little friend Willie Lincoln died at 5 p.m. He had been sick for near three weeks with Typhoid fever. “Bud” has been to see him or to enquire about him almost every day. He and his Mother were there yesterday about noon. Willie was then thought to be better. He was an amiable good hearted boy, was here with our boys almost every day or our boys were there. We all got much attached to him & “Tad” his Brother. He had more judgment and foresight than any boy of his age that I have ever known, poor Willie we all lament.

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The three diary manuscript volumes, Washington during the Civil War: The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865, are available online at The Library of Congress.

COLUMBIA, S. C, February 20, 1862.—Had an appetite for my dainty breakfast. Always breakfast in bed now. But then, my Mercury contained such bad news. That is an appetizing style of matutinal newspaper. Fort Donelson¹ has fallen, but no men fell with it. It is prisoners for them that we can not spare, or prisoners for us that we may not be able to feed: that is so much to be “forefended,” as Keitt says. They lost six thousand, we two thousand; I grudge that proportion. In vain, alas! ye gallant few—few, but undismayed. Again, they make a stand. We have Buckner, Beauregard, and Albert Sidney Johnston. With such leaders and God’s help we may be saved from the hated Yankees; who knows?

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¹ Fort Donelson stood on the Cumberland River about 60 miles northwest of Nashville. The Confederate garrison numbered about 18,000 men. General Grant invested the Fort on February 13, 1862, and General Buckner, who commanded it, surrendered on February 16th. The Federal force at the time of the surrender numbered 27,000 men; their loss in killed and wounded being 2,660 men and the Confederate loss about 2,000.

February 20.— Gen. Mitchell sent a cavalry force to Russellville, Ky., and captured eleven rebels.—One thousand rebel prisoners, captured at Fort Donelson, Tenn., mostly Mississippians and Texans, left Cairo, 111., to-night, for Chicago.

—Isham G. Harris, rebel Governor of Tennessee, addressed a message to the Legislature of the State, giving his reasons for removing the records of the government to and convening the Legislature at Memphis, in accordance with a joint resolution of the Senate and House of Representatives, providing for such a necessity. He states that the reverses to the confederate arms, leaving the State open from the Cumberland Gap to Nashville; the National victories on the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers, enabling the enemy to penetrate the heart of the State with impunity, and the fact that Gen. Johnston had fallen back south of Nashville, with his army, had left the State capital in a wholly defenceless condition. The removal to Memphis then became unavoidable. He complains of the difficulties he had found in organizing well-disciplined and equipped troops for the confederate government, urges a remodelling of the State militia system, and expresses his conviction that the invader will yet be driven from the soil of Tennessee.—(Doc. 59.)

— This morning the United States steamer Stepping Stones, with a launch and boat’s crew from the Yankee, went on a reconnoissance up Occoquan Creek, Va., some four miles. Lieut. Eastman sent out Acting Master Lawrence with the launch, who visited the north and south shores of the creek, penetrating a short distance into the interior, but without finding any signs of the rebels. Just as the launch was leaving the south side of the creek, a brisk fire was opened on them by the rebels, from five or six field-pieces posted in a clump of woods. Some forty shells were thrown by the enemy, all of which flew uncomfortably near the Stepping Stones, but doing no damage save slightly tearing the flag. The fire was returned from the Stepping Stones, and a howitzer in the launch plunged a shower of rifled shot into the cover of the rebels, which undoubtedly damaged them, as their fire soon slackened.—(Doc. 53.)

—The Richmond Enquirer of this date, says: “An immense defence meeting was held in Memphis, Tenn., last week. Resolutions were passed, appointing committees in each ward of the city, to form a complete military organization, and to drill the levies. It was also resolved that the times demanded the proclamation of martial law in Memphis. In the afternoon, most of the stores on Front row, and many of these on Main street, closed their doors, in compliance with a proclamation from the Mayor. A considerable number of citizens, who had given in their names to join the defence organization, met in the Council Chamber in the evening, and went out in procession to drill.”

—Winton, N. C, was burned by the forces of Gen. Burnside. The Federal troops, with gunboats, ascended the Chowan River, where the rebels opened a heavy fire upon them. The National troops landed and destroyed the town. —(Doc. 54)

Headquarters 7th Illinois Cavalry,

Cape Girardeau, Mo., February 19, 1862.

Aren’t things working right now? Do you notice the accounts of the old 8th, and will you say again that I got out of her ranks at the right time? I knew that the 8th would never make her colonel (God bless him!) to blush, or dishonor her friends or herself. I have seen only the St. Louis papers of 18th with very meager dispatches, but enough to know that she had the “post of honor” and plenty of fighting. Two hundred of them with Major Post are prisoners. I’ll bet my life Company E is not among them. If the Rebels will keep the major and exchange the men the regiment will gain. If I was in the 8th yet and knew what I do now I wouldn’t leave her for any commission there is in this post. I’ve got a good easy place here and have the good will of everybody around me, but my soul and sympathies are with the 8th, and it makes me sick to think what a fool I was to leave her. I’ll be shot if I don’t love that regiment more than I do the whole world beside. I never thought of it so much untill I got away. I expect some of our boys of my old mess are killed, but its all right, “military necessity,” somebody has to go under. Eight or nine boatloads of prisoners have passed here to-day. They look a little better than our Missouri prisoners but are not uniformed, although comfortably dressed.

Wednesday, February 19. — A stormy day. In the evening we went to a supper given by General Martindale’s staff. It was really a very fine supper, especially for a camp one. They had a handsome bill of fare, with gilt, etc., and quite a handsome-looking table. The chandelier for the occasion was made of bayonets fastened on to a wooden circle, and in the end of the bayonet where it fastens onto the gun, were placed the candles. There were two of these circles, one above the other, producing a gay-and-festive-looking object. The festivities were kept up until twelve. Speeches and toasts were given and responded to with much enthusiasm, and songs, etc., made the evening pass quite pleasantly.