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

Rienzi, Tishomingo Co., Miss., June 9, 1862.

Saturday morning the 5th inst. the colonel and myself started for a little pleasure ride as a relaxation from the many cares and troubles people in this profession are incident to. We started for Corinth, as neither of us had yet visited the place, and plodded along through dust in air and heat—words can’t tell how oppressive. We stopped at General Rosecrans about 1 p.m. and stayed and dined with him. The general was in his most pleasant mood and I thought him very engaging and winning in his manner. He told a number of amusing stories and ’twas all very pleasant, until somebody happened to mention General Fremont’s name. General Granger was also at the table and the two generals commenced and each tried to outdo the other in—yes, reviling the “bumble-bee catcher.”

They changed the subject over the wine and General Rosecrans became quite enthusiastic and prophetic in his conviction in regard to the war question, settlement thereof, etc. But I couldn’t see any remarkable difference between him and the rest of mankind, and the same remark will apply to all that I know of the other generals here. I remember he said that he considered “slavery a vile blot on the face of the earth,” and that unadulterated abolitionism alone was its equal; but I don’t claim that the speech showed any remarkable talent. We left him swearing at his A. Q. M. and journeyed on. We luckily met an old acquaintance of the colonel’s, a captain in the 1st Regular Infantry, and went with him to his quarters for the night. All the regimental officers quartered together in a very fine house that belongs to a secesh colonel. They were a jolly set of men, and the empty bottles lying around loose when we retired testified strongly thereto. I remember seeing one of them at Point Pleasant, Mo., have a couple of little fights (he commanded a two-gun battery of siege pieces) with a Rebel battery on the opposite shore.

We left Corinth early next morning for Farmington, and as we passed I saw where Major Applington fell. It was as I supposed about one-half mile from Corinth (hardly that) and what I did not know, was within 400 yards of the strongest part of the Rebel fortifications. We lunched at 10 a.m. and paid an old lady the modest sum of 50 cents for a piece of cornbread and a glass of buttermilk. She complained bitterly of some of Buell’s soldiers killing three of her chickens without paying for them, and just the day before her husband had been to Corinth and received meat, flour, etc., free from the aid society. She had three sons in the Southern Army. At 12 m. we drew rein 25 miles from Corinth at Iuka.

There are a couple of splendid springs in Iuka. One chalybeate, and the other sulphur water, and the town is the neatest I have seen in the country. Snuff-dipping is an universal custom here, and there are only two women in all Iuka that do not practice it. At tea parties, after they have supped, the sticks and snuff are passed round and the dipping commences. Sometimes girls ask their beaux to take a dip with them during a spark. I asked one if it didn’t interfere with the old-fashioned habit of kissing. She assured me that it did not in the least, and I marveled. There was only one regiment at Iuka, and they were expecting an attack from the hordes of guerrillas that infest the country all along our front from Memphis to Florence. I stayed at the hotel in town and had just retired (about 11) when crack, crack, two guns went, only about 60 rods from the house. There was a general shaking of the whole building, caused by the sleepers rising en masse and bouncing out on the floors. I thought if there was no fight I wouldn’t be fooled, and if there was I couldn’t do any good, so I kept cool. ‘Twas only a little bushwhacking. A soldier policeman having been shot at from the brush, and he returned the favor by guess. This infantry always thinks the enemy is just out of gunshot of them, and they are three-fourths scared to death all the time. At noon of Monday we left Iuka, rode to Burnsville, a place that I have spoken of in my letters before, as we scouted through it while lying before Corinth. None of our soldiers have camped there yet, and we were the only ones there while we stayed. The colonel took a nap to recover from the heat and fatigue of riding, and I strolled down town to look up some acquaintances I made while scouting. They treated me pretty well, and made me a letter carrier, as many of them had letters to send to their friends who are prisoners. At dark we started for Jacinto, ten miles south, but for so many hills had a splendid ride. ‘Twas through the woods, all the way, and over real young mountains. We got to Jacinto at 10 p.m. and concluded to stay all night. I laid down an hour or two, but the fleas were so bad that I got up and stayed up the rest of the night. I walked around the town and stopped at headquarters of the guard and talked with the boys. (They were of Jeff C. Davis’s division, of Pea Ridge, Ark., and Siegel.) They all think that Siegel is the only man and hate Davis like the devil. I waked the colonel at 4 p.m. and we started for home. The road from Jacinto, home, was lined with infantry, the whole left wing of our corps being on it. They had no tents but seemed to be preparing the ground for a camp. We got home in time for a little nap before breakfast, both of which I enjoyed very much. We found the garrison much excited about an attack that was expected every hour. The 2d Brigade of Cavalry had been about eight miles in front doing outpost duty, and having been alarmed by rumors had abandoned their camp and retreated to this place. Their sutler gave up his goods to the boys, preferring they should have them free, rather than the enemy. The next day (yesterday morning) a scout was sent out and found their camp just as they had left it. All of which was considered quite a joke on the 2d Brigade. The enemy may come up here and may whip us out, we are scattered so much, but they will have a riotous time of it. All told we had a very pleasant ride, but if we are gobbled up some of these times when riding around without an escort you must not be surprised. I don’t think it just the straight way of doing such business, but Charles can go where the colonel dares to, and my preference is for riding as far from a column as possible on several accounts. The colonel is a very interesting companion on such a trip, full of talk, and he has had six years experience on the frontier. I induced a very young lady with a well cracked piano to favor me with some music at Iuka. She sang “The Bonny Blue Flag That Bears a Single Star.” It was as near the music we used to hear in the old Presbyterian church at home as you could think, and that’s all that kept me from laughing in her face. We celebrated the capture of Richmond on the 4th, but are now trying to forget that we made such fools of ourselves. Damn the telegraphs. We have awful news from Richmond to-day. It would make me sick to write it. I would rather have the army whipped than McClellan.

Post image for “Some whole companies say that they will not go.”–Army letters of Oliver Willcox Norton.

Camp Wright, Hulton, Penn.,
Sunday, June 9, 1861.

Dear Sister L.:—

I wish you could just step in and see us here, say on a dress parade. We are in just as beautiful a place as I ever saw. The lovely Alleghany rolls along at the foot of the hill, and the little country seats nestled in quiet nooks, the new buildings in camp, the groves and orchards, the lane that leads to the river, and the beautiful mountain rising up on the other side of the river, make a picture I never saw equalled.

I wrote to H. yesterday that we were accepted and were to be mustered in immediately. The Colonel received a telegram last night from the Secretary of War, saying that we would be taken for three years, unless sooner discharged, or we would be sent home. That you see materially alters the case. I don’t know how it will work. Some whole companies say that they will not go. We shall know in a day or two. I hardly know what to do. It seems a long time to live such a life, but if I am needed, I must go. If our company goes as a company, I shall go too. If not, you may look for me home soon.

I just wish I could have seen you last night instead of reading your letter. I thought perhaps you were having a good time about the time I was reading that letter. I sincerely hope the choice you have made is a good one. Give my respects to C and tell him, I think, as matters stand, the sooner he and I become acquainted the better. I would like to have him write to me.

I think from what you write, that vegetation must be more advanced here than there. Potatoes and corn are six inches high, and clover in bloom. I saw strawberries and cherries in market yesterday.

H. B. wrote the other day that his folks had adopted a daughter about fifteen years old, and that L. C. was a secessionist. He had a big fuss with the boys who put up a Union flag near his house, threatened the life of some, sued others, and was bound over himself to appear at court to answer for his rabid conduct.

Well, I must stop. I hope you will not wait so long before writing again. I am so anxious to hear from you often. If there is anything you expected to see, that is omitted, you may hear it in the future. My address is Camp Wright, Pittsburgh.

SUNDAY, JUNE 9, 1861.

Went down this morning to Franklin Square with my friends from the North to witness the weekly Inspection parade of the 12th Regt. Went from there to church. Doct Smith preached a Funeral Sermon upon Judge Douglass, a very fine effort. Went again in the afternoon with E.P. Introduced him to Doct Smith who is his Father’s friend. In the evening attended the Dress Parade of the 12th, a great concourse of people there. A movement seems to be on foot to move troops forward over the River.

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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.

Post image for under orders.—Rutherford B. Hayes

CINCINNATI, June 10 [9], 1861.

DEAR UNCLE:—I shall go to Columbus in the morning under orders. I do not know what is intended, but by telegraph, Judge Matthews and myself are informed that we are to be in a regiment with Colonel Rosecrans—a West Pointer and intimate friend of Billy Rogers, and a capital officer,—Matthews as lieutenant-colonel and I as major. This is all we know about it. Buckland perhaps told you that I had got a dispatch asking if I would accept, and that I replied accepting the place. We have since been telegraphed that we were under orders accordingly, and must report at Columbus forthwith. This seems certain enough, but as red-tape is in the ascendant, we don’t count positively on anything.

I shall try to visit you before definitely leaving home. Mother will return to Columbus soon. I hope this matter is as it appears. It is precisely what we wish, if we understand it.

Sincerely,

R. B. HAYES.

S. BIRCHARD.

Post image for “…report to the adjutant-general at Columbus, Monday morning.”—Diary of Rutherford B. Hayes

June 7, 1861, I received a dispatch from Governor Dennison asking me if I would accept the majority in a regiment of which William S. Rosecrans was to be colonel and Judge Matthews lieutenant-colonel. I read it to Lucy, consulted with my old law partner [Ralph P. Buckland], who happened to be visiting Cincinnati, and thereupon replied that I would accept as proposed. Late in the afternoon of the next day I received a dispatch from the governor, addressed to Judge Matthews and myself, directing us to report to the adjutant-general at Columbus, Monday morning. Not being able to find Judge Matthews in the city, on the next day (Sunday, P. M.), I rode out to Judge Matthews’ residence at Glendale, took tea with him and his family and friends (Mrs. Matthews and mother, and Mr. and Mrs. Todd), and rode into the city arriving a few minutes before 9 P. M. I bid good-bye to my family (my mother, mother-in-law, Mrs. Webb, Lucy, and the boys), and at 9:30 P. M. we took the cars by way of Dayton for Columbus.

John Beauchamp Jones avatar.  No image of Jones has been found online.

JUNE 9TH.—Today the Secretary refused to sign the colonel’s letters, telling him to sign them himself—”by order of the Secretary of War.”

Post image for A Diary of American Events – June 9, 1861

—A detachment of the Rhode Island Regiment finished building a floating bridge on the Potomac, near Georgetown, by which thousands of men could be transported across in a few hours. Capt. Medlar, Provost-marshal of Alexandria, seized army supplies consisting of uniforms and cavalry swords, to the value of fifteen hundred dollars.—N. Y. World, June 10.

—Two prisoners were captured yesterday by four privates of Company B, Michigan Regiment, one mile this side of Berke Station, and thirteen miles from Alexandria, Va., on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad. One of the prisoners is a corporal in a cavalry company, and the other a private in the Governor’s Guards of Richmond, which is also a cavalry company. The Michigan men while scouting approached near Berks Station, when they saw a number of stacks of muskets. They put back and were pursued by the two cavalry, but sought refuge in ambush, and succeeded in capturing their prisoners and brought them to Alexandria, where they are treated with exceeding kindness. They appear to be quite contented, and one of them, who is a physician, is writing a statement of his experience. The names of the prisoners are Dr. Thomas M. Flemming and Samuel Green.

Seven thousand yards of cassinet and other military goods were seized at the Adams Express office to-day, consigned to Point of Rocks, via Alexandria and London Railroad, valued at about $10,000.

Expedition, the first number of the soldiers’ newspaper, printed by the Pennsylvania Fifth Regiment, appeared this evening. It is printed in fine style on the old Alexandria Sentinel press, and is full of interesting information regarding the condition of the soldiers, &c. It is edited by Lieutenant Ely, of Lebanon county. Several columns are devoted to German literature.—N. Y. Courier & Enquirer, June 10.

—In the last number of the Danville (Ky.) Review, Rev. Dr. Breckinridge discusses the southern rebellion in temperate but forcible language. He traces the origin and progress of the insurrection, and demonstrates not only that the rebel leaders are bent upon the accomplishment of selfish ends, but that the latent loyalty of the masses of the southern people needs but the protection of the Federal Government to be able to assert itself, to the utter discomfiture of Jeff Davis and his fellows. Dr. Breckinridge is the uncle of the late Vice-President of the United States.—N. Y. Evening Post, June 22.

—All day the Naval Brigade, under the direction of a company of United States marines, were engaged off Fortress Monroe, Va., practising the management of eight or ten scows, each carrying twenty-four oars, and capable of transporting 180 men each, besides the rowers. When this marine drill was concluded every oar was carefully muffled, and the scows, manned each by a coxswain and twenty-six rowers from the Naval Brigade, glided out from the fort, and rowed in the harbor to the mouth of Hampton River, and up the stream. At about midnight they were moored on the hither shore in Hampton, and just below the remains of the bridge destroyed in the rebel retreat two weeks previously. The stream at that point is from sixty to one hundred yards in width. In the afternoon orders were given for a concerted movement of forces from Newport News, and from the camps at Fortress Monroe, against a position that the rebels had taken up at or near Great Bethel, in York county, a place about 12 miles northwest of Fortress Monroe. In accordance with the terms of the order three companies of Duryea’s regiment, under Capt. Kilpatrick, went forward from Hampton on the Bethel road at 10 P. M., and soon after the remainder of Duryea’s regiment, and the New York Third, Col. Townsend, followed, and were ferried over Hampton Creek by the boats of the Naval Brigade previously taken round from Fortress Monroe. Meantime, 5 companies, each from the Vermont First Regiment, and the Massachusetts Fourth, under Lieut.-Col. Washburne; six companies of the N. Y. Seventh, Col. Bendix, and a squad of regulars with 2 howitzers, under Lieut. Greble, moved forward from the position at Newport News, to form a junction on the road with the men from Fortress Monroe.

Post image for William Howard Russell’s Diary: Visit to Mr. M’Call’s plantation.—Irish and Spaniards.—The planter.

June 8th.—According to promise, the inmates of Mr. Burnside’s house proceeded to pay a visit to-day to the plantation of Mr. M’Call, who lives at the other side of the river some ten or twelve miles away. Still the same noiseless plantations, the same oppressive stillness, broken only by the tolling of the bell which summons the slaves to labor, or marks the brief periods of its respite! Whilst waiting for the ferryboat, we visited Dr. Cotmann, who lives in a snug house near the levee, for, hurried as we were, ‘twould nevertheless have been a gross breach of etiquette to have passed his doors; and I was not sorry for the opportunity of making the acquaintance of a lady so amiable as his wife, and of seeing a face with tender, pensive eyes, serene brow, and lovely contour, such as Guido or Greuse would have immortalized, and which Miss Cotmann, in the seclusion of that little villa on the banks of the Mississippi, scarcely seemed to know, would have made her a beauty in any capital in Europe.

The Doctor is allowed to rave on about his Union propensities and political power, as Mr. Petigru is permitted to indulge in similar vagaries in Charleston, simply because he is supposed to be helpless. There is, however, at the bottom of the Doctor’s opposition to the prevailing political opinion of the neighborhood, a jealousy of acres and slaves, and a sentiment of animosity to the great seigneurs and slave-owners, which actuate him without his being aware of their influence. After a halt of an hour in his house, we crossed in the ferry to Donaldsonville, where, whilst we were waiting for the carriages, we heard a dialogue between some drunken Irishmen and some still more inebriated Spaniards in front of the public-house at hand. The Irishmen were going off to the wars, and were endeavoring in vain to arouse the foreign gentlemen to similar enthusiasm; but, as the latter were resolutely sitting in the gutter, it became necessary to exert eloquence and force to get them on their legs to march to the head-quarters of the Donaldsonville Chasseurs. “For the love of the Virgin and your own sowl’s sake, Fernandey, get up and cum along wid us to fight the Yankees.” “Josey, are you going to let us be murdered by a set of damned Protestins and rascally niggers?” “Gomey, my darling, get up; it’s eleven dollars a month, and food and everything found. The boys will mind the fishing for you, and we’ll come back as rich as Jews.”

What success attended their appeals I cannot tell, for the carriages came round, and, having crossed a great bayou which runs down into an arm of the Mississippi near the sea, we proceeded on our way to Mr. M’Call’s plantation, which we reached just as the sun was sinking into the clouds of another thunderstorm.

The more one sees of a planter’s life the greater is the conviction that its charms come from a particular turn of mind, which is separated by a wide interval from modern ideas in Europe. The planter is a denomadized Arab;—he has fixed himself with horses and slaves in a fertile spot, where he guards his women with Oriental care, exercises patriarchal sway, and is at once fierce, tender, and hospitable. The inner life of his household is exceedingly charming, because one is astonished to find the graces and accomplishments of womanhood displayed in a scene which has a certain sort of savage rudeness about it after all, and where all kinds of incongruous accidents are visible in the service of the table, in the furniture of the house, in its decorations, menials, and surrounding scenery.

It was late in the evening when the party returned to Donaldsonville; and when we arrived at the other side of the bayou there were no carriages, so that we had to walk on foot to the wharf where Mr. Burnside’s boats were supposed to be waiting—the negro ferryman having long since retired to rest. Under any circumstances a march on foot through an unknown track covered with blocks of timber and other impedimenta which represented the road to the ferry, could not be agreeable; but the recent rains had converted the ground into a sea of mud filled with holes, with islands of planks and beams of timber, lighted only by the stars—and then this in dress trousers and light boots!

We plunged, struggled, and splashed till we reached the levee, where boats there were none; and so Mr. Burnside shouted up and down the river, so did Mr. Lee, and so did Mr. Ward and all the others, whilst I sat on a log affecting philosophy and indifference, in spite of tortures from mosquitoes innumerable, and severe bites from insects unknown.

The city and river were buried in darkness; the rush of the stream, which is sixty feet deep near the banks, was all that struck upon the ear in the intervals of the cries, “Boat ahoy!” “Ho! Batelier!” and sundry ejaculations of a less regular and decent form. At length a boat did glide out of the darkness, and the man who rowed it stated he had been waiting all the time up the bayou, till by mere accident he came down to the jetty, having given us up for the night. In about half an hour we were across the river, and had per force another interview with Dr. Cotmann, who regaled us with his best in story and in wine till the carriages were ready, and we drove back to Mr. Burnside’s, only meeting on the way two mounted horsemen with jingling arms, who were, we were told, the night patrol;—of their duties I could, however, obtain no very definite account.

SATURDAY 8

Left the office today at 12 and went down to the Navy Yard with E P and Capt Welling, saw all the sights there. Went on board the “Freeborn” and saw the effect of the shot &c, she was in four engagements within a week. Capt Ward is evidently a “fighting Cock,” had attended all the “balls” so far. Came home at 3 o’clock. At 5 went to market and while there one of the most tremendous showers occured that I ever witnessed, lasting about an hour.

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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.

Camp Wright, Hulton, Penn.,
Saturday, June 8, 1861.

Dear Sister H.:—

You will see by the date of this that I have left Camp Wilkins and am now at the new camp called Camp Wright. We arrived here to-day. Oh, I tell you we have a splendid place, fifteen miles from Pittsburgh on the south bank of the Alleghany. The barracks of the Erie regiment are sheds seventy-five feet long and twenty feet wide. They stand in a row with an alley ten feet wide between each two. Each shed is divided by a partition running through the middle, making two long rooms ten feet wide. Each company occupies one room in one shed and one in the next shed across the alley.

At the head of the alley are the Captain’s quarters, overlooking his whole company. The railroad runs between the camp and the river and on the other side of the railroad is the parade ground, a beautiful meadow of ninety acres. The barracks are built on a side-hill so that the upper end rests on the ground and the other is some six feet from the ground. The floor descends about seven feet in the seventy-five, making quite a slope. The tables are wide boards hung on hinges to the side of the wall. We are to sleep on the bare floor. We have just the best of spring water and it tastes good after drinking the nasty river water which we had so long in Pittsburgh.

There is a large orchard in camp and a grove of beautiful shade trees. A little brook runs through a shady hollow down on one side, and every one seems delighted at the change from the foul, dirty camp to this beautiful place.

But we are not to stay here long. Colonel McLane received a dispatch from Washington yesterday, saying that we were accepted by the Government, and were to be mustered into the United States service immediately, those who are willing for three years and the others for three months from this time, those who will not enlist for three months to be sent home. I shall not enlist for three years now. I will wait till my three months are up. We are to be uniformed and equipped immediately. We expect to be ordered to Western Virginia or Harper’s Ferry, though, for good reasons, we are not told where we are going.

A large amount of cartridges were sent off from the arsenal Thursday night, and troops are moving south from all directions, showing that something is to be done and that soon, too. Perhaps the war movements will not be so interesting to you, so I will tell you of a visit I paid to a glass factory yesterday. I never was in one before and it was quite a sight to me. A dozen or more great furnaces were filled with boiling glass, and a boy would run up and stick in a long rod, give it a turn and take out a dumpling of the red-hot liquid and hold it over an iron die, when another would cut it off with a pair of shears and bring down a lever on it, pressing it into a mold, and then pull it back and turn out a beautiful salt-cellar or sugar-bowl like yours, or a tumbler, a lamp, a sauce-dish, or whatever the mold happened to be. At another place they were blowing bottles and glass jars, such as they have to hold candy in shop windows. A man takes a hollow rod, runs it in the furnace and brings out a little wad of glass, then blows it a little and it swells out just like a bubble. He then whirls it over his head a few times and blows a little more, rolls it round on an iron plate to make it round, clips it off with a pair of shears, and another man stabs a fork into the bottom of it, and heating it, passes it to another who shapes the neck and mouth. They would make twenty in the time it takes me to tell you how they make one. One of the workmen kindly handed me his pipe and told me to blow a bottle. I did, two or three of them, and blew some glass bubbles, a piece of one of which I send to you. I think you never saw thinner glass, at least I never did.

While I was down to the river yesterday, I saw a curiosity—a tree growing downwards. The roots were in the top of the river bank, and the trunk hung right down and the branches curved upward.