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

The Journal of Julia LeGrand

New Year’s [1862]. Took dinner with Mrs. Norton. Miss Betty Callender and Doctor Richardson the only strangers present. Mrs. Chilton keeping us all alive. Dr. R. has some machine on hand with which he intends to blow up Federal rebels. It is highly approved by all who have seen it. In the evening, Edmund (or Edward) Harrison, whom they all call “Duck,” came in. He has lately returned from Europe; he was studying at Bonn, but our Southern troubles have brought him home. He is a quiet, modest young man; though his father is so rich, he is retiring in dress and deportment and seems to have no desire beyond a quiet room and a book. He does not represent the idea of “young America” in the least. He is in love, I think, with his pretty cousin, S. C, who is altogether unsuited to him, being fond of admiration and the world generally.

Lizzie Ogden, speaking of her brother Billy, now in the Confederate States Army as lieutenant, says, that as an officer, he has been let into the secret of Beauregard’s plans, which he, Billy, thinks excellent—said brother not being twenty. The mingled pride and simplicity of this speech made me laugh—in my sleeve—though I would not hurt Lizzie’s feelings for the world.

Everybody sending blankets to our soldiers. We have sent all of ours except two thin ones. Mrs. Chilton and I go to the Ladies’ Sewing Society and bring home bundles of work to do for the soldiers.

Free market kept up by contribution. Planters all over the county send in to support it. The poor, it seems, are quite fastidious; some scenes in the free market are quite ludicrous. Some of the women, if told they cannot gratify some particular taste, refuse all that is offered; for instance, one became angry a few days ago because presented with black tea instead of green, and another finding no coffee turned up her nose at all the other comfortable items which the market contains. Some women, they say, curse their benefactors heartily when disappointed. Coffee they had at first, but blockade times have changed this once familiar berry into something resembling gold beads. Cleopatra, with her pearls, was scarcely more “wastefully given” than a coffee drinker in these days. Strange to say, I have not relished it for years until now. I have not parted with my tea yet, though I dole it out somewhat less lavishly than in old times when tea caddies were as “plenty as blackberries,” rather more so in New Orleans.

Mrs. Chilton, going up to Hinds County, begs us to go with her, but there is something in our own little home which we cannot give up. We are so lonely-hearted, so wasted by early afflictions; anxious, nervous years and desolating losses, that we have nothing of feeling or interest to interchange with any, even those we approve.

Gave Mrs. Chilton a little supper the very night before she left. Mrs. Montgomery without the Judge (no gentlemen invited), Mrs. Norton, Mrs. Parham, Sarah C, Mary Lou Harrison and Mrs. Dameron were the guests. Mr. Dameron came, not knowing gentlemen were interdicted. Charley Chilton came in after awhile, and Mr. Parham sent word that it was very unkind to admit but one of the “Confederate Guards.” Amused Mrs. Montgomery and several others with a trick with a key and a book which told the fortune accurately of everyone present. If I had found the philosopher’s stone, it could not have given more general satisfaction, I believe. Wanted to keep Mrs. Chilton for a good-bye late talk, but Mrs. Norton hurried her off.

Christmas Day. Had a kind note from Mrs. Brown begging us to come to dinner. Low-spirited; did not go.

December 1st, 1861,

New Orleans.

Just completed another bundle of clothes for poor Claude, which we hope will reach him before Christmas, the other bundle having failed to reach him. Mrs. Brown (Mrs. Shepherd) went with me to Lyon’s to choose his coats and gloves. We have roasted some coffee and made some cake, which we have stuffed in his pillow. I wonder how long the poor boy’s head will lie peacefully on the latter. We have cut up our flannel double-gowns to make him shirts, as everything is so dreadfully high these blockade times. I have longed for money that I might send him many things to gladden both, his heart and those of his comrades, in their darksome little log huts at Manchac. We have done what we could, but have been cut off from further supplies, and have the troublesome spirit of proud people who will exist on a crust rather than ask help. I believe our friends would love us better if we were less proud. Went in Mrs. Brown’s carriage to the confectioner’s to-day for Claude’s cake—got out of sick bed to do so—called for Mrs. Brown, who went with us to the Southern Express office. There is a kind old man in there whom I love to hear speak of “Our Soldiers.” He refuses all freight except what is sent to our poor boys; he promises Claude shall have his things before Christmas. My heart turns so lovingly to our poor brother—shall I ever see him again? Will he die in battle, or will this wretched cough that keeps me awake at night and makes me feel so worn and weak in the morning, kill me before he can return a victorious soldier?

July, Tuesday 24th, 1861.

At the Battle-ground near Bull Bun.

Dear Sisters:

We have had so many small marches and large fights lately that I have had no time to write, and because we left everything but blankets and provisions when we set out to meet the enemy last week—paper among the rest—I borrow this, and am fortunate in doing so. Last Tuesday, the 18th, we, the 7th regiment, hurried up to the aid of the 1st Virginia and some other regiments who were defending Blackford’s Ford, on Bull’s Creek. We went in under a heavy fire of musketry, but we were in some measure protected by trees and the overshooting of the enemy. Colonel Hays considered the fire there very heavy. On Sunday the enemy attacked the whole line guarded by our troops, but at this point, Stony Bridge, the main battle was fought. Our regiment was entrenched where the first battle was fought that morning at the Ford, but gave up the situation to some others, and we were held as a reserve. We were kept marching around, with an occasional bombshot falling about us and taking off a few of our regiment, for I suppose about five hours; then we came here too fast by a long deal for comfort, and arrived almost exhausted, but still, from all accounts, our approach decided the affair, and we were not in the fire of the enemy more than ten minutes or a quarter of an hour before they retired. I cannot give particulars; you will get them from the papers, and I wish you would send brother and sister an account of same.

I have heard many a ball sing its death-note since I saw you, but am as well as ever I was, and honorably so, too. The day after the battle I was in search of water, and strayed over the battlefield; it was wet and foggy, and it did not take me as long to get lost as it did to find my way back to camp again. One of my messmates went to the Colonel and told him that I was long gone, whereupon the Colonel paid me the compliment to be uneasy and to say he would willingly send the whole regiment to my rescue if the enemy had me, adding, that the first day he saw me he knew that I was to be depended upon. I had given the Colonel a cup of coffee that morning; there was almost none in camp, and perhaps that attention and my coming from West Texas helped me to get the compliment. I tell the anecdote to you, knowing that it will please you, as it did me.

Direct to the same place to be forwarded. I have not drawn the money yet. Some of the company fell back, but your brother was not among the number.

Claude.

My position here is much to my satisfaction; the snobs are becoming modest. Colonel Hays’ saying he would turn out the regiment for me was of course only a compliment, but I think he likes me. I would not be anywhere else for anything. Write to Texas for me; our things have not come up yet, so I can not write for myself.

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About ten days after this last letter was written Claude LeGrand was shot in the right arm, near the shoulder, at the battle of Port Republic, in the Shenandoah Valley. “After he was wounded, without paying any attention to his own hurt,” writes his niece, Mrs. Weeden, “he assisted in putting others of the wounded into wagons. In helping lift a heavy man his superior officer reproached him for seeming lack of energy. LeGrand replied that he was doing the best he could, as he could not use his right arm. On examination the officer was overcome with sympathy, and told him that he should have been one of the first to receive attention and assisted LeGrand into the wagon himself. He was then jolted over a rough road to Charlottesville, with only straw for a bed and but a bucket of water by his side as dressing for the cruel wound. There he lay in a barn for three days without attention, with the result his arm had to be amputated at the shoulder. He gave great promise as a sculptor, and it can easily be seen what the loss of his right arm meant to him.” Fortunately, there was nursing at the Charlottesville hospitals at this time a friend of Claude LeGrand’s sister, Mrs. Johnston. This was Miss Emily Virginia Mason. She at length discovered young LeGrand among the crowd of wounded men, and nursed him carefully, sending tidings of him to the distracted brother and sisters, who had been for a long time without news of him.

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p. 26 – 29, Journal of Julia LeGrand, who at this point is in New Orleans, the journal to be started in December, 1861.

Thursday, May 30th, 1861.

Dearest Sisters:

If this reaches you be satisfied of my continued health and safety. I wish I could get such an assurance of yours. A man leaves today who will try and get through. I am happy now in my profession, and do not wish to come back except to see you all. God grant the rascals will not molest you, if you are still in the city. We have had no mails from the army for a long while, which is the reason I have not written. Some few letters have come to the camp by indirect means. I trust you are still with Mrs. Chilton, in Madison. I write in haste and have only time to say that General Jackson has driven the enemy back to Harper’s Ferry, and that our brigade, regiment and company have done their share. We have been highly complimented. Our brigade loss has been considerable in killed and wounded, but not very great considering that we followed and fought every now and then for three days. One man, Jennings, was killed from our company. I wish to God you had gone to Texas in time. I have written to Mrs. Chilton and Mrs. Smith to find out where you are. If we have any kin in Baltimore, please let me know their names and conditions, and get me any polite letters there or elsewhere you can; no one knows where the fortunes of war may soon take us. We are on the eve of breaking camp, so I must quit. Do go to Texas as soon as you can.

Your very uneasy brother,

Claude.

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page 26, Journal of Julia LeGrand, who at this point is in New Orleans, the journal to be started in December, 1861.