March 1st, 1864.—This is the first entry for more than two weeks but we have been so busy and now I am going to write something that sounds heartless. Goodwood is to open its doors to society. The first time Aunt Sue and Uncle Arvah have entertained since dear little Mary Eliza’s death.
This party is given in honor of General T. R. R. Cobb and his staff. He is now in command of The Division of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida and he is an old friend of the family as well. I felt at first as if I could not possibly enjoy a frolic of any kind but Aunt Sue is so dear and if she wants us we must go. Again the question of dress comes up. To realize just how much of vanity and love of dress one possesses it is needful to be obliged to plan and contrive as we war girls have to do. The big trunk yielded up its treasure and a dress of crepe lisse, very much tumbled came to light. It has a lining of satin and a sash of the same. Lulu is a wonder at pressing and making over and my part is suggesting and trying on. Let me tell you a secret, little Diary; “I have my second grown-up beau.” I think I like the boys best, in fact, I know I like the boys best. That is because all my life I have had boy play-mates and now that these boys look like men and are in the army, they still seem like comrades to me. They like me too; whenever one gets foolish and says silly things to me I laugh at him, and so, I do not lose my friends as I should if they were allowed to deteriorate into lovers.
February 23rd, 1864.—There were ten men instead of nine, but we were ready for them. Eight of them are wounded in the head, the face, or in the shoulder. One was shot in the palm of the hand, while the tenth was shot in the foot. One of his comrades, who is not hurt much, laughs at him and says he knows that fellow was standing on his head.
The one, whose hand was hurt, is just a child. He says he cannot remember his mother. His father was killed at Gettysburg and, when he heard of it and saw his father’s body brought back to Macon and buried, he could stay there no longer but ran away and came to Florida, where his uncle, whom he loved next to his father, was keeping the Yankees away from Tallahassee. He will not be twelve years old until August and he is small for his age, we call him High Private Watson. We do this because he expresses a great desire to be an officer, and he will not tell his Christian name.
Only two of our patients are dangerously hurt; one, a tall man about thirty, who has a very bad wound in his head and the other is the man whose foot is shot to pieces. Both of these have fever. The others say their chief ailment was hunger and now that they have had a good breakfast they will soon be all right and ready to take a pop at the Yankees again.
We will go in tomorrow to Lieut. Holland’s funeral; we have beautiful flowers to carry.
February 22nd, 1864.—A message from the Tallahassee hospital to father tells him to prepare to receive nine wounded men from Olustee, they will be in tonight.
February 21st, 1864.—Yesterday a terrible battle was fought at Ocean Pond, or Olustee, both names are used in the news sent to us of the fierce struggle between the Yankees and our troops. Many are dead on both sides and our loss would have been heavier if the Yankees had been better shots. Our soldiers are, the most of them, wounded in the head and the ground was fairly covered with small branches cut from the pines above. Those same pine trees were a great item for our men, they fought behind the trees like the Indians and like General Washington did, in his fights with the French long ago. The dispatch said “Lieut. Holland killed,” so Mr. Robinson went down today with a casket to bring his body home. His wife wants him buried in Tallahassee, where she expects to make her home with her sister. The Holland family are grieving deeply, for he was the only son and brother.
February 20th, 1864.—Two more Georgia regiments passed through today en route for Lake City. I am afraid that means a fight. God help us.
.
Note: Since there are 3 more entries for February followed by entries for the 21st, 22nd, and 23rd, the extra entries are included here to maintain the sequence of entries in the book.
.
February _ _, 1864. We have had a grand time but now it is over. We have had rides and walks and drives; we have had parties, picnics and serenades; we have had a merry two weeks and now our play-mates are gone. They looked so handsome and they held their heads so proudly and marched away with such steady steps. As they went they sang, “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” Poor boys–I hope and pray they may some day come home again.
February _ _, 1864.—Blind Tom is to play at the Capitol tonight. We are going to hear him for he is too wonderful to miss. I am staying at Aunt Margaret’s. Cousin Jim will take Mart and Sue and me to town. It is not very far and I had an invitation to go from a captain in a gorgeous uniform. I would have liked to go with him but Mother does not like us to go around without a chaperon. If I was at Goodwood, Aunt Sue would go; she is the very best aunt a girl ever had.
February _ _, 1864.–Blind Tom is wonderful! He plays the Battle of Manassas and, before he begins to play, his master tells you how Tom came to compose this piece. His master, Colonel Bethune, is so proud of him and Tom loves him and is so affectionate; just like some sweet-tempered animal that you have petted.
This Battle of Manassas begins with the booming of cannon; the rattle of musketry and above all the clear notes of the bugle. Faintly in the distance the strains of Dixie float upon the air, these strains grow louder and louder and mingle with the clashing of guns, the tramping of horses and the sharp commands of officers. He intersperses the music with the names of the different Generals, who took the most prominent parts in the day’s work. How an imbecile (for Tom is plainly that) could ever be taught a connected description of Manassas, is certainly a miracle.
(This diary was written in pencil and in many instances the dates are almost, or quite, illegible. The month and year are plain but the figures are not so plain; particularly is this the case during the years of warfare, possibly the pencils were poor, or the paper might have been. At any rate we ask our readers to be lenient if some little mistakes occur.)
February _ _, 1864—Mrs. Gamble’s party was delightful, the band gave us fine music, the camp provided plenty of partners and there are young ladies galore in Tallahassee. Last night one of General Cobb’s staff officers told me the Capers Battalion had been sent to guard Tallahassee, in case of invasion. He said General Dickenson and General Miller and General Finnegan were all ordered to Lake City and several Georgia. Regiments had gone on, too. Colonel Scott, he said, was guarding the Gulf Coast. I wonder if this can be true? If it is he ought not to be telling it around but I shall not repeat it. I have not given his name to you my little Diary, but I cannot help thinking it is a pity for those who give parties to have punch. It certainly loosens the tongue and I do not believe this information would have come to me but for the big bowl of regent’s punch.
I was dancing last night with a young soldier, from the mountains around Rome, Georgia, he was loud in his praises of Colonel Capers. “Do you know, Miss Bradford, I did not know how to read and write when I was sworn in? I felt terribly ashamed when I found how ignorant I was and the Colonel found it out and he taught me sometimes and, when he was too busy, some of the boys helped me and now I can read ‘most anything I come across and I can write whatever I want to say. Besides that I have learned so much just listening to him talking with the other boys. I am not the only one who has been helped; there are twenty of us, all about the same age and all from the Rome country, none of us had any book-learning and he has taught us all.” Isn’t that a fine thing for a man to do?
(This diary was written in pencil and in many instances the dates are almost, or quite, illegible. The month and year are plain but the figures are not so plain; particularly is this the case during the years of warfare, possibly the pencils were poor, or the paper might have been. At any rate we ask our readers to be lenient if some little mistakes occur.)
February _ _, 1864.—By special invitation, we rode over the hills to the Camp today, to see the battalion drill. It was a dress parade and every man looked his best. I made a new (old) acquaintance after the drill was over. Frank Baker, the only son of Judge Bolling Baker, of Virginia. He is just as handsome as a picture and very pleasant. I could scarcely recall the little boy of years ago, who thought I was too small to notice. I think I must have grown just a wee bit.
The camp is beautiful; it is only a short distance from Goodwood and Aunt Sue told the boys to come over whenever they felt like it. She also offered them books to read, which offer was eagerly accepted. Tonight Mrs. Howard Gamble is giving a large party and I must stop writing and see about my dress. We cannot vary our toilettes to any extent in these days of the blockade.
(This diary was written in pencil and in many instances the dates are almost, or quite, illegible. The month and year are plain but the figures are not so plain; particularly is this the case during the years of warfare, possibly the pencils were poor, or the paper might have been. At any rate we ask our readers to be lenient if some little mistakes occur.)
February _ _, 1864.—Last night we had an impromptu musicale and Aunt Sue provided a delicious supper at the close of the evening. The Colonel’s boys have something more to tell of him, whenever we meet. Last night Edward Clayton told me of the lectures which were given almost daily by the officers. Of course they have no books in camp but these lectures are an education in themselves. The boys are encouraged to ask questions and to debate on different points. Mr. Kellar, who is a mountain boy, says the Colonel taught him to read and write and now he is determined to get an education, when the war is over. He has a splendid baritone voice and we keep him singing most of the time. Mr. Seavy told me that sometimes when the boys tried to “run wild” the officers, especially Col. Capers, gave them talks, which were better than any sermon he ever listened to. Mrs. Capers must be very proud of this grand soldier of hers.
Good-bye little Diary, I have an engagement to go to ride this afternoon and must get ready.
(This diary was written in pencil and in many instances the dates are almost, or quite, illegible. The month and year are plain but the figures are not so plain; particularly is this the case during the years of warfare, possibly the pencils were poor, or the paper might have been. At any rate we ask our readers to be lenient if some little mistakes occur.)
February _ _, 1864. —I have found out a good deal about Colonel Capers and all I hear makes me admire him the more. I will try to write this like history, my little Diary, and you must take care of it for future generations.
When Georgia seceded, Henry D. Capers was in command of the Marietta Military Institute. This was one of the best schools in the South. Many fine men had graduated there and some of the very best civil engineers in the Southern army had studied the profession at Marietta.
When the wise men of our country met at Montgomery, to organize a government, Henry D. Capers promptly offered his services, in any capacity where he could be useful. He was accepted and was made Chief Clerk and Disbursing Officer of the Confederate Treasury. Here he served until the spring of 1862, when he resigned, to enter active service in the field. The Treasury Department was loth to give him up and resolutions were drawn up expressing their regret at parting with one, who had proved himself so capable and trustworthy. A fine sword was presented to him by Secretary Memminger, bearing a suitable inscription (the Colonel is wearing this sword now). I intend to read that inscription some day if the fates are propitious.
The War Department made Henry D. Capers a captain in the regular army of the Confederacy and he joined General Magruder but for only a little while. Captain Capers was longing for “his boys,” who were so near his heart. When he left them they all volunteered for twelve months in the Confederate Army and became a part of the 1st Georgia Regiment. This Regiment was about to be disbanded at Augusta, Georgia, and, with a permit from the government, Captain Capers was on the spot, to organize the 12th Georgia Battalion. Can we not imagine his feelings, as one by one “his boys” were sworn in “For the war,” and he realized that they were once more in his keeping? These boys tell many interesting things about their Colonel and they all adore him.
This may not be exactly like history should be written but I will learn to write better as time goes on.
(This diary was written in pencil and in many instances the dates are almost, or quite, illegible. The month and year are plain but the figures are not so plain; particularly is this the case during the years of warfare, possibly the pencils were poor, or the paper might have been. At any rate we ask our readers to be lenient if some little mistakes occur.)
February _ _, 1864.—We have been at Goodwood three days now and there is so much to write about. The first night Aunt Sue invited all the social world of Tallahassee to meet Colonel Capers. He came, attended by fifty or more of his men, the artillery uniform is beautiful and it is particularly becoming to Colonel Capers. I am sure he knows it for I notice he keeps one end of his cape thrown back over his shoulder, bringing the red lining next his face. He wore a vest of fine red broadcloth, buttoned up with round balls of silver for buttons and that added much to the beauty of his uniform.
When I was introduced to him, he said, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bradford. I have already had the pleasure of an acquaintance with your father and mother,” and then he stood there and gave a glowing account of that most unique dinner at Pine Hill, and he added, “I wrote a full description to my wife before I slept that night.”
Lizzie Wirt pinched my arm and whispered, “Horrid creature—I hate married men.”
The music was good and we were soon dancing the Lancers. My partner was Sergeant Clayton, young and handsome and a graceful dancer. The couple opposite were evidently talking about us and presently the gentleman, who was one of the sergeant’s comrades, said, “Clayton, you and Miss Bradford are enough alike to be brother and sister.”
“Yes,” answered my partner, with an apologetic look at me, “As soon as I entered the room I noticed the strong likeness to my sister and when I was introduced was sure we must be related, for my name is Edward Bradford Clayton.”
Of course we claimed kin on that; Uncle Arvah says all Southern people are kin anyway. It is just a part of being born South of Mason and Dixon’s Line. I like the new cousin very much and he told me a great deal of army life and of his commander, whom he loves dearly.
(This diary was written in pencil and in many instances the dates are almost, or quite, illegible. The month and year are plain but the figures are not so plain; particularly is this the case during the years of warfare, possibly the pencils were poor, or the paper might have been. At any rate we ask our readers to be lenient if some little mistakes occur.)
