Diary of Lieutenant Colonel Joseph Stockton, September 22, 1863

Leaving for the regiment tonight via St. Louis. During my stay in the North I have through the kindness of my old and valued friend, Keller Leet, now a captain on General Grant's staff and who has charge of the office in Washington, been ordered on to Washington and after spending a couple of days there was permitted to visit the headquarters of the army at Cedar Point. I visited Fortress Monroe and found General John Tanner, a valued friend, lying very ill at the hospital here, so ill that his life was despaired of. Met some army friends quartered in Fortress Monroe and had the opportunity of thoroughly inspecting the works. After spending a day here, took a steamer for City Point, General Grant's headquarters, where I met several intimate friends. My observations were that the men of the Potomac Army were better fed then our western men, they being nearer the base of supplies and having the whole East through the Sanitary and Christian Commissions to provide for them. Still I do not complain as they doubtless have had hard fare, at times, as we had.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, pp. 21-2

Abraham W. Venable's Remarks on the Death of President John Tyler, January 20, 1862

MR. PRESIDENT After a short interval we are called upon again to recognize the hand of death doing his work amongst us. Another of our colleagues has obeyed the summons. Clothed in his robes of office, he has finished the work assigned him and sleeps amongst the fathers, himself one of that patriarchal host. "The hand of the reaper took the ear that was hoary," ripe, matured and perfect. A long, distinguished, useful life, filled with the service of his country, always forming a portion of its proudest history, has closed amidst its continuous duties closed amidst scenes of domestic endearment, varied by obedience to the call of his country in her hour of need, and at the last illuminated by the radiance of that friendship which legitimately surrounds the great and good man at the end of his life. When I saw him in this hall, a reverential feeling pervaded and possessed me. I listened to his counsels, learned from his experience, and never before so fully realized the conception of the poet who assigned to Nestor the office of composing the difficulties and solving the perplexities which beset the Grecian council before the walls of Troy. We have all been impressed with the unimpaired vigor of his mind, as well as his kind and dignified concession on measures where there was no sacrifice of principle to expediency. None of us have forgotten the Roman dignity with which he changed his vote upon a great measure in order that the law might go forth to the country with the prestige of unanimity.

The son of a revolutionary sire, whose life constitutes so much of the history of that struggle, the fire of patriotism early kindled upon the altar of his heart, continued to glow and burn with increasing intensity, until his name, now enrolled with that of his distinguished father; will descend with renewed claims to the gratitude of posterity.

Of the political history of President Tyler it is not my purpose to extend my remarks; we have already heard most interesting details, as far as time would permit; for should anything more than a reference be made to a career of fifty years, with small intermission, in the service of a country which delighted to honor him, it would protract these proceedings to an undesirable length. To the biographer and the historian this work must be assigned. From the year 1811, as a legislator, a lawyer, and the chief magistrate of the State, in the House of Representatives, the Senate, and the presidential chair, he filled all the offices in the gift of the people until he attained the highest which they could bestow. Educated in and belonging to the Republican State-rights school, he never failed in all his public acts to recognize those doctrines, reserving for the close of his honored and useful life the crowning act which made those doctrines practical and operative. Retiring from the presidency, like Cincinnatus, to his farm, within the circle of a loving family, he was cheered by the hope, which all wise men cherish, of that greatest of earthly blessings, that he might close his course in peace and quietness. This realization was denied him, for his country called for him again, and he once more responded to her call, in the last, the noblest service of his life. For whilst we admire the stern consistency of his public life; his resistance of the Missouri compromise upon the broad grounds of its unconstitutionality; his solitary vote in the Senate against the Force bill; the sagacity which he displayed in the great measures of his administration; the wisdom with which, in utter disregard of party tactics, he surrounded himself with the greatest and best of councillors; the moral courage with which he emancipated the people from the thraldom of the money-changers, whose fetters were well nigh fastened upon them; the separation of the Treasury from the banks, and the annexation of the vast domain of Texas, they all pale before the history of the last year of his life.

Troubles, which many feared and some anticipated with the certainty of conviction, came upon us, and the veteran once more, in armor of proof, led his countrymen to resistance. He saw that honor and independence were perilled, and his great soul knew not how to hesitate. As an ambassador of Virginia to the President of the United States, he demanded, with a dignity becoming his mission, why it was that the guns of Fortress Monroe, built upon Virginia's soil for her protection, were turned against her bosom—a fact which, although existing, was by that functionary denied. As a member of the State Convention, and as President of the Peace Congress, his high purpose and continual claim of the rights of the South marked him as the "Chief of the Fathers," on whose firmness we could rely and in whose wisdom we could confide. The masterly speech delivered on his return to the convention from the Peace Congress, which exposed the impotent and degrading conclusions proposed by that body to his State, will be long remembered. It was the great point in that discussion, it was a triumph over the last effort at submission, and our lamented colleague, looking secession and its consequences in the face, feared not to advise and to lead in the consummation which now presents us to the world as the Confederate States of America. The great master of English poetry has said of glory, "that, like a circle in the water, it never ceases to enlarge itself till by broad spreading it disperses to naught." However beautiful and true this illustration may be in general, it fails in describing the glory won by our illustrious colleague; the centrifugal force increased with the extent of the surface of its influence, each succeeding circle stronger and more distinct, until the last, rising into a wave, reflected a light which adorned its whole circumference with the radiance of the bow of promise. Our eyes have been refreshed by that light; we have witnessed the vigor of his thoughts and the power of his eloquence, equalling, if not surpassing, his best days. His name will be venerated as long as civil liberty and national honor is cherished by the South. To say more of this great passage of his life would be to attempt to "add fragrance to the violet, to gild refined gold, to give smoothness to ice." His name is embalmed in the record of these events, and their irresistible logic will establish his claims to the reverence of mankind.

But, sir, I must be allowed a few remarks upon the high social and moral qualities of President Tyler. This is a theme on which it is delightful to speak; it is impressed upon my heart by the recollection of early kindness, the origin of a friendship of more than forty years—the value of which is more justly appreciated when cut off by the cold hand of death. I am not alone in the sadness with which this event, connected with similar circumstances, has filled my bosom. The same acknowledgment of kindness, and a similar sense of obligation, is made and felt by many who now listen to me. The number who thus feel is limited only by the extent of his vast acquaintance with the generations which have grown up around and about him. It was often said of him by some of those who reviewed his unprecedented success in securing the confidence of his countrymen and the high positions to which he attained, to have been a fortunate, a lucky man. This is an unphilosophical, a contracted view of his character and the current of events in which he mingled. Luck and fortune, sir, are heathen words, and the want of them is usually the excuse for failures when the cause was to be found in those who have failed. His kind heart and generous instincts, combined with a thorough knowledge of human nature, taught him that it was as necessary to happiness and usefulness to increase his stock of friends as for a merchant to enlarge his capital when he extended his business. Time and death were continually curtailing the number of those who were young when he was young; and he renewed his strength by generous and disinterested attentions to the rising generation. To inspire them with hope when launching upon the ocean of life, to aid virtuous enterprise, to cheer the desponding, and give the light of his experience to those who sought it, was his peculiar delight. He wisely, benevolently regulated his intercourse with the young. “Age is dark and unlovely," and the verdure which may adorn it, and the flowers which may relieve its barren aspect, must be borrowed from them. He who, conscious of the advantages of age and experience, withdraws himself from those to whom he might be a benefactor, repelling their efforts to conciliate his regard and his confidence, must expect a lonely old age. He will stand like some solitary tree in an extensive plain, the sport of every blast, the victim of the storm, whilst the friend and counsellor of the young will, like the monarch of the woods, be surrounded by a young forest which shelters and protects it, reflecting the brightness of their foliage, borrowing vitality from their proximity, and, at the appointed time, sink so gracefully that we are scarcely conscious of its decay. Our lamented friend appreciated all this, and, during his long and distinguished life, often felt the support of hosts who, won by former kindness, rallied to his support when fiercely assailed and almost overcome. Such events were of necessity connected with such a political life as his.

Universally bland and conciliatory in his intercourse with the people, he scorned the artifices and the aims of the demagogue, regarding him as the worst, the most dangerous and unprincipled enemy of human liberty. Fixed in his opinions of constitutional law and the sound principles of its administration, he was sometimes constrained to abandon party associations, always avowing, as the reason for such an abandonment, that the party with which he was associated had departed from the principles of their organization. He was thus unjustly reproached with a disregard of party allegiance and that adherence to its discipline which, in the eyes of many, is worse than treason to the State. He looked above such paltry calculations, and was thus more than once in a minority,—a word, the very thought of which carries dismay to a trading politician,—a word which had no terrors for him. Sustained by the truth and the conviction that he was right, the hour of desertion by those in high places was the moment of his triumph, when, looking above and beyond the clamors which surrounded him, he, by a talismanic power, surrounded himself with an impregnable array of wisdom, talent and statesmanship which secured more and greater advantages to the South than any administration within the last half century. With no party, either in the Senate or House of Representatives, he conducted the affairs of the Republic with unexampled success, and has lived to silence all complaint and unite all hearts in a common mourning at his death.

President Tyler was not vindictive, he was not unjust, he was not even harsh in his judgment when he might complain of wrong. He outlived all misconstruction of his motives, and his last days were illuminated by the undivided admiration of his countrymen. He knew the value of kindness and loved to speak kind words. "Kind words are the brightest flowers of earth's existence; they make a very paradise of the humblest home this world can show. They are jewels beyond price, and more precious to heal the wounded heart and make the weighed down spirit glad than all the blessings earth can give." Here was the secret of his luck, the cause of his good fortune. His hosts of friends increased with his years; here his wealth was inexhaustible; he drew upon a bank that always honored his drafts-the love, the gratitude of those endeared by kind offices, "for gratitude is the music of the heart when its cords are touched by the breezes of kindness." From associations like these he has sunk gracefully to the tomb, and in this view of the subject, why should we grieve?-sorrow we may, but murmur we dare not.

For him was not reserved physical decay to combine compassion with our reverence; no twilight of the mind, like a polar sunset, making darkness visible. But with form erect and step elastic, he moved amongst us, and was of us, while his mind, like the tropic sun, retained its size and brightness, until it sunk beneath the wave of death. We have none of those painful recollections which often intrude themselves upon us, when the great and good sink into senility and vegetate out of existence.

"Life ebbs from such old age unmark'd and silent

 As the slow neaptide leaves yon stranded galley.

 Once she rock'd merrily at the least impulse

 That wind or wave could give her; but now her keel

 Is settling in the sand. Her mast has ta'en

 An angle with the sky from which it shifts not.

 Each wave receding, shakes her less and less,

 Till bedded on the strand, she shall remain

 Useless as motionless."

No such sad finale awaited him. Like a gallant ship returning home after a long and prosperous passage over the ocean, the haven is reached, the anchor let go, and life's voyage is ended.

Sir, this scene is to me a painful but instructive lesson. As we advance in years, the loss of those long regarded as friends is indeed irreparable. To the older of us it announces that the time is short, our duties urgent; what we do must be done quickly and done well, remembering our duty to God and to posterity; to us all, that we are strangers, pilgrims, travellers for a short season, surrounded by fearful responsibilities, and the certainty of death. Let us look above and beyond every consideration, but that which we profess to represent, the interests and welfare of our bleeding country. Let our fortune be hers; her safety and honor our highest aim. Rejecting all lower motives, let us emulate his patriotism, who, with all the endearments of his family around him, could cheerfully die in her service, leaving his widow and infant children to his country and his God. Two of our number, after a brief illness have bowed their heads and died; let us seek the Christian's hope as the assurance of the Christian's heaven.

Sir, a great light has been extinguished in this hall; but there is a home once brightened by it which has lost much of its brilliancy. The mild, the lovely ray, which softened and relieved that stronger light, now in sadness shines alone. I witnessed its genial influence in the face of the sick, the dying statesman. I heard him speak of his wife and his young children, and commit them to God and his country. May he who has said "leave your father. less children to me smile upon and bless the bereaved household with his blessing, which maketh rich and addeth no sorrow therewith.

SOURCES: Lyon Gardiner Tyler, The Letters and Times of the Tylers, Volume 2, pp. 676-81; Congress of the Confederate States of America, Proceedings on the Announcement of the Death of Hon. John Tyler, January 20, 1862, pp. 25-33.

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, April 14, 1864

A woman and boy died in my division last night. The woman left a little child, eighteen months old, which is inconsolable. The father, a soldier, wishes to take the child away, but was not permitted to do so or to see it, for fear of contagion. It is to be kept to see if the child has the disease. [It did not, and had no scar from vaccination, such queer freaks the disease takes.]

The boy, an Alabamian, told me yesterday he was getting better. He had been sent here with measles, recovered from those, but the small pox did not break out. He died easy, and said he was "going to Heaven." I write his people today, via Fortress Monroe. His name was G. B. Allen, of Rockford, Cousa Co., Alabama. One man died yesterday, to whose people I have written to-day. Another died to-day. The mortality here is great. Said one patient to me: "People die mighty easy here."

I asked in what way, he meant.

"Oh," he replied, "they'll be mighty peart-like, one minute, an' the next you know, they're dead!"

This is true, and I find so many who were sent here with measles, recover from those, and die of small pox. Sixty cases of measles were sent to this hospital in one month, as I learn from the lips of the surgeon in charge himself, Dr. F. These are sent by the several physicians of Nashville. The fact itself speaks volumes, but to stay here and see its effects day after day in the poor victims of such ignorance, impress one with a sense of the importance by the medical faculty of distinguishing between the two diseases.

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 42-3

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, Monday, January 5, 1863

CHALMETTE.  Said to be just below the city of New Orleans. We left quarantine about 11 P. M. and reached here about 8 this morning. Many were left behind, too sick to be moved. We have put up our tents, and have been looking about. It is a large camp ground and from all signs was lately occupied and was left in a hurry. Odds and ends of camp furniture are scattered about, and there are many signs of a hasty leave-taking. A few of us went back across the country to a large woods, where we found many trees covered with long gray moss, hanging down in great bunches from the branches. We took all we could carry to make a bed of, for it is soft as feathers.

Later. The doctor won't allow us to use our bed of moss. Says it would make us sick to sleep on it, and much worse than the ground. This is said to be the very ground where General Jackson fought the battle of New Orleans and a large tree is pointed out as the one under which General Packenham was killed. Ancient-looking breastworks are in sight and a building near our tents has a big ragged hole in the gable which has been patched over on the inside so as to leave the mark as it was made, which a native tells me was made by a cannon ball during the battle of New Orleans. The ground is level and for this country is dry. The high bank, or breastworks, cuts off the view on one side and a board fence cuts off a view of the river. Towards the city are enough trees to cut off an extended view in that direction, so we have only the swamp back of us to look at. But this beats quarantine and I wish the poor fellows left there were well enough to get here. There are several buildings on the ground, which the officers are settling themselves in, while a long shed-like building is being cleared out for a hospital. It has been used for that, I judge, and is far better than the one at quarantine. We brought along all that were not desperately sick and have enough to fill up a good part of the new hospital. Walter Loucks has rheumatism in his arms and suffers all the time. He and James Story are my tent mates. We have confiscated some pieces of board to keep us off the ground. Company B has been hard hit. We left seven men at Baltimore, seven at Fortress Munroe and seven at our last stopping-place. It seems to go by sevens, as I find we have seven here in our new hospital. This with the four that have died makes thirty-two short at this time.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 80-2

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Wednesday, April 2, 1862

There is a great dearth of news here now, but a great looking for of great events about this time, but few soldiers are here now compared with what there has been. The forts over the River are all maned [sic] and probably 50,000 men besides. There must now be about 200,000 tending towards Richmond now in Virginia. Fortress Monroe seems to be the great rendezvous. I expect it will be Norfolk first, and then Richmond. “Bud” has had a fever all day and we fear he is going to have chill fever. All the rest of us are quite well. Wife rc^d letters today from Mrs Brownson (Lyons) and from B^d Hamton. Geo S Griswold of Lyons called upon me at the office. He is Lieut in the 2^nd Reg^t NY Artillery stationed at Fort Ward over the R.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Friday, April 4, 1862

A delightful day. Quite still times here now since the soldiers left, but there are still soldiers in every direction, but the great Mass have left. 130,000 have gone down to Fortress Monroe. A large army is out in Virginia and a number of Reg^ts are in the Forts over the River. I think there is but one full Reg^t now quartered in the City, the 91^st Pa on Franklin Square. Julia and the boys attended the Festival this evening. The Lion of the evening was Lieut Morris of the “Cumberland.” Julia had a long chat with him. The little boys were interested and shook hands with him and came home quite elated. I was at the “National” with S D Moody most of the evening. No particular news.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C.

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Saturday, April 5, 1862

Nothing has occured today worthy of notice. Everyone is looking anxiously for news from three or four different points. From “Buels Army” & Com Foote Ten; from M^cClellan who is now at Fortress Monroe with a large Army, 130,000; from Gen^l Burnside in N. Car[o]lina; and from New Orleans & Savannah. A delegation from the North is here holding a sort of Caucus attempting to galvanize the old Democratic Party into life. It moves at the suggestion of old Breckinridge supporters, which gives the matter a bad odor. It will not do to talk of Party till this Rebellion is crushed.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C.

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Monday, April 7, 1862

Siege of Yorktown. The engineers at work. Heavy ordnance on the way from Fortress Monroe.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 39

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, February 9, 1863

We managed to get clear of the Roanoke river some time in the night, but ran aground in the Sound at noon, thinking we were opposite Roanoke, but did not reach there till nearly night, when the officers went on shore, while the steamer took on coal. The steamer which came out to us here was the "Halifax," recognized by many as the boat which was formerly on Charles river at home as a pleasure boat. She brought rumors of defeat at New Berne, and that we could not get up the river, so were going to Charleston, or Fort Munroe and the Potomac. But we kept on in the direction of Brant Isle and New Berne' just the same.

SOURCE: John Jasper Wyeth, Leaves from a Diary Written While Serving in Co. E, 44 Mass. Dep’t of North Carolina from September 1862 to June 1863, p. 38

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Friday, March 14, 1862

Col Dutton is better today. Lieut Col Durkee and nearly all the officers of the Reg^t have been here to see the Col. The Reg^t has rc^d marching orders and the Col is very uneasy. Mr Short called on me today. He is going down to Fortress Monroe, an attack is to be made upon Norfolk it is supposed. Troops are returning from Virginia to embark down the River.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C.

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Monday, March 31, 1862

Steamed down the Chesapeake Bay, and dropped anchor opposite Fortress Monroe.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 37

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: November 19, 1862

Have been paid off; $24.70 I got, and we all went ashore and washed up. The bunks on the Arago have been used so long by so many that they are lousy and most everyone has them. I, however, have found none as yet. We are kept on shore as much as possible, as a guard against disease, which would surely come when so many are crowded in so small a space. As there is no way to spend money here except for oysters, a great many gamble it away, then borrow again from those that win and pay any interest asked for. There is more and more sickness every day. Many are taken to a hospital at Fortress Monroe, which I am told is not far away.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 63-4

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: November 23, 1862

OFF FORTRESS MONROE. We left Newport News about six this morning, and came here where lie many other vessels loaded with soldiers. There's a big move going on, which I will know about when it comes off. Coal and hard-tack are coming aboard by the boat load. The colonel's horse died last night and went overboard. Poor things. They have more air than we, but have no chance to move. They do not lie down at all.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 64

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Sunday, November 30, 1862

Camp Hamilton, right in sight of Fortress Monroe. The last day of fall and as perfect a day as ever was. We are on the ground again and it feels cold after the heated quarters on the boat. God help us if it rains, for this bare ground would soon be like a mortar bed. But we are not to cross any bridges until we come to them. Still I think we had better pray for a dry spell.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 66

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: November 11, 1862

John Van has been over again and says his regiment is going into winter quarters in the city outskirts. I hear the 128th has sailed for Fortress Monroe. The papers are all headed, "Removal of McClellan," and everyone is giving his opinion of the change. I say nothing because I know too little about it to venture an opinion. I went out and treated myself to a good square meal to-day and begin to think I was more hungry than sick, for I feel fit and ready for anything. Chaplain Parker has been here to see his boys, as he calls them. Says he left the regiment off Fortress Monroe on board the Arago. He reports them well and in fine spirits.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 59

Diary of Musician David Lane, February 8, 1863

We are under marching orders again—ready to move at a minute's notice. The Ninth Army Corps is detached from the Army of the Potomac and is ordered to report to General Dix, at Fortress Monroe. The supposition is we go on an expedition somewhere—rumor says Vicksburg. The first detachment has gone, and we are awaiting the return of the transports. The men are well pleased with the idea of going farther south. For myself, I say any place but this. When we came here the country was a wilderness, covered with a heavy growth of scrub pine. Now it is a desert with scarcely a tree, and not a fence rail for miles in any direction.

It seems that Richmond has lost its strategic importance, and the "decisive blow" which was to have fallen there has been transferred to five other points, viz: Vicksburg, Port Hudson, Rosa's and Foster's expeditions, and Charleston. "If these prove successful," say the Washington papers, "the rebellion will end in thirty days." God grant them all success. When I survey the past history of the war I can see but little in the immediate future to encourage hope. The conviction is forced upon me that if the North subdue the South, the war has but just begun. It can and will be done, but time and persevering effort only will accomplish it. The people are too impatient. They demand important victories now, while fortified some place—Vicksburg, for instance—can only be taken by siege, and siege means weeks and months of waiting.

Government, urged on by the people, acts as if the salvation of the country depends on all this being accomplished before the fourth of March. But I see nothing but failure in haste.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 28-9

Diary of Musician David Lane, February 15, 1863

We are now on the “heaving sea and the bounding wave.” We were aroused yesterday morning at four o'clock, ordered to prepare breakfast and be ready to march at a minute's notice. At five-thirty the bugle sounded "fall in." We slung our accoutrements, the first time since the battle of Fredericksburg, and in fifteen minutes were en route to the depot, distance about two miles. After some delay we took cars for Aquia Creek, where we arrived at 10 o'clock a. m., and were immediately transferred to transports, bound for Fortress Monroe. The Seventy-ninth New York and Seventeenth Michigan were crowded on the North America, an old Hudson River propeller. There was hardly standing room, much less room to walk about. The day is fine, and the bay, unruffled by a breeze, presents a lively and picturesque appearance. Steamers are continually arriving and departing, sailboats of all sorts and sizes spread their white wings and glide leisurely through the still waters, while the active little tugs go whisking and snorting here and there, assisting larger and more unwieldly vessels. We left Aquia Creek at 10:30 o'clock a. m., expecting to reach the Fortress by nine o'clock next morning. I love the sea in all its forms and phases, and it was with a thrill of joy I took my seat on deck, prepared to enjoy whatever of interest might present itself. The Potomac, at Aquia Creek, is truly a noble stream, if stream it may be called, for there is no perceptible current, being, I judge, one and one-half miles wide, gradually broadening out as it nears the bay, until at its mouth it is nine miles wide. There is a striking contrast between the Maryland and Virginia shores. The Virginia side, nearly the entire distance, presents a rugged, mountainous aspect, with very few buildings in view, while the Maryland shore is level, dotted with farm buildings, and, at frequent intervals a village with its church spires glittering in the sun. In contemplating these peaceful scenes of rural life, the quiet farm houses surrounded by groves of trees, the well-tilled fields, outbuildings and fences undisturbed by war's desolating hand, the genial air of quiet repose that pervades the scene calls up emotions that have long lain dormant. For many long months, which seems as many years, my eyes have become inured to scenes of blood, of desolation and of ruin; to cities and villages laid waste and pillaged; private residences destroyed; homes made desolate; in fact, the whole country through which we have passed, except part of Maryland, has become through war's desolating touch, a desert waste. As I gazed on these peaceful scenes and my thirsty soul drank in their beauty, how hateful did war appear, and I prayed the time might soon come when “Nations shall learn war no more.”

Gradually the wind freshened, increasing in force as we neared the bay, until it became so rough the captain thought it unsafe to venture out, and cast anchor about five miles from the mouth of the river to await the coming of day. I spread my blanket on the floor of one of the little cabins and slept soundly until morning. When I awoke in the morning the first gray streaks of early dawn were illuminating the eastern horizon.

The gale having subsided, we were soon under way, and in about half an hour entered the broad Chesapeake. And here a most grand and imposing scene met my enraptured gaze. Not a breath of air disturbed its unruffled surface. Numerous vessels, floating upon its bosom, were reflected as by a mirror. A delegation of porpoises met us at the entrance to welcome us to their domain; they were twenty-two in number, were from six to eight feet in length; in color, dark brown. It was truly amusing to witness their sportive antics as they seemed to roll themselves along. They would throw themselves head foremost from the water half their length, turning as on a pivot, perform what seemed to be a somersault, and disappear.

A flock of sea gulls fell into our wake, sagely picking up any crumbs of bread that might be thrown them. They are a strange bird, a little larger than a dove, closely resembling them in color and gracefulness of motion. They followed us the whole distance, and as I watched their continuous, ceaseless flight, the effect on the mind was a sense of weariness at thought of the long-continued exertion.

Soon after we entered the bay I observed what I thought to be a light fog arising in the southeast. We had not proceeded far, however, before I discovered my mistake, for that which seemed to be a fog was a shower of rain. I was taken wholly by surprise, for I had been accustomed to see some preparation and ceremony on similar occasions. But now no gathering clouds darkened the distant sky, warning me of its approach, but the very storm itself seemed to float upon the waves and become part of it, and before I was aware, enfolded us in its watery embrace. The storm soon passed, but the wind continued through the day, and, as we neared the old Atlantic and met his heavy swells, they produced a feeling of buoyancy that was, to me, truly exhilerating.

Some of the boys were seasick, and a number "cast up their accounts" in earnest. We entered the harbor about sundown and cast anchor for the night under the frowning guns of Fortress Monroe.

Vessels of war of every class, monitors included, and sailing vessels of all sizes, crowded the harbor. It was a magnificent scene, and one on which I had always longed to gaze.

In the morning we learned our destination was Newport News, distant about five miles. We arrived about eight o'clock, marched two miles to Hampton Roads, our camping ground, pitched tents and, at noon, were ready for our dinner of coffee and hardtack.

We have a pleasant camping ground, lying on the beach, where we can watch the vessels as they pass and can pick up oysters by the bushel when the tide is out.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 30-3

Diary of Private William S. White, June 23, 1861

Everything quiet—no signs of the enemy and I do not think they will make an attempt against Yorktown unless with a much larger force than they have at Fortress Monroe. Several small schooners have run the blockade and arrived at this port.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 102

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 5, 1865

Clear and cold. Our commissioners are back again! It is said Lincoln and Seward met them at Fortress Monroe, and they proceeded no further. No basis of negotiation but reconstruction could be listened to by the Federal authorities. How could it be otherwise, when their armies are marching without resistance from one triumph to another—while the government "allows" as many emissaries as choose to pass into the enemy's country, with the most solemn assurances that the Union cause is spreading throughout the South with great rapidity—while the President is incapacitated both mentally and physically by disease, disaster, and an inflexible defiance of his opponents—and while Congress wastes its time in discussions on the adoption of a flag for future generations!

This fruitless mission, I apprehend, will be fraught with evil, unless the career of Sherman be checked; and in that event the BATTLE for RICHMOND, and Virginia, and the Confederacy, will occur within a few months—perhaps weeks. The sooner the better for us, as delay will only serve to organize the UNION PARTY sure to spring up; for many of the people are not only weary of the war, but they have no longer any faith in the President, his cabinet, Congress, the commissaries, quartermasters, enrolling officers, and most of the generals.

Judge Campbell was closeted for hours last night with Mr. Secretary Seddon at the department. I have not recently seen Mr. Hunter.

We have news from the Eastern Shore of Virginia. My wife's aunt, Miss Sally Parsons, is dead—over 90 years of age. The slaves are free, but remain with their owners—on wages. The people are prosperous, getting fine prices for abundant crops. Only a few hundred Federal troops are in the two counties; but these, under the despotic orders of Butler, levy heavy "war contributions" from the unoffending farmers.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 409-10

Diary of Private William S. White, June 10, 1861

BATTLE OF BETHEL CHURCH, MONDAY, JUNE 10TH, 1861.

The above-named place is a neat little country church situated some fifteen miles from Yorktown, and twelve miles from Hampton. Since June 6th we have been throwing up rude, but strong breastworks, and fortifying the place in the best manner we knew how.

Our Parrot gun (No. 1) and a brass howitzer (my gun, No. 4) composed the main battery, just to the left of the church. A howitzer of Captain Brown's Second Company was stationed to our right, and about one hundred and fifty yards in our front. A rifled howitzer of the Second Company was stationed about a hundred yards to the left of the main battery. Two of Stanard's howitzers were stationed some miles in our rear, to guard a flanking road, but came up in the heat of the fight and did good service.

There was also a howitzer a few yards to the left of the main battery, its position was changed several times during the engagement.

There were in all seven guns engaged in the battle, four belonging to the Third Company and three to the Second Company.

All honor is due to a noble hearted Virginia country woman, who undoubtedly saved our camp from surprise, and kept the forces sent out early this morning from running into the enemy unawares.

These troops were under the immediate command of Colonel Magruder, and their mission was to capture a post called New Market, occupied by six hundred Federal troops; they having left Bethel Church about 3 A. M., with six hundred infantrymen, three Howitzers and a small squad of cavalrymen, proceeding in the direction of New Market, towards Hampton. After being on the road some two hours, this woman came towards us in great haste, and gave Colonel Magruder the timely information that the enemy a few moments since, some five hundred strong, had been to her house, but a short distance in our front, had taken her husband prisoner and were then marching to get in our rear.

Believing this party to be an advance guard of the enemy, Colonel Magruder wheeled his column, and we marched rapidly back to Bethel Church, to await further developments.

Our whole force only numbered fifteen hundred, Virginians and North Carolinians, commanded by my old Sabbath-school teacher in the Lexington days of long ago, Colonel D. H. Hill.

At 8 o'clock A. M., our videttes and advanced pickets commenced coming into camp and reported the enemy advancing upon us, five thousand strong, under the command of Brigadier-General Pierce, of Massachusetts.

Major George W. Randolph, formerly Captain of the old Howitzer Company of Richmond, acted during the day with conspicuous gallantry as Magruder's Chief of Artillery.

Then one by one and in squads of five or six came the inhabitants, fleeing before the enemy. At first they came in slowly, but anon their pale faces and the hurried manner of their coming betokened the enemy to be not far distant.

Even the peril, so near at hand, could hardly suppress the smile that flitted athwart our countenances as a superannuated negro, driving lustily an aged mule attached to a dilapidated cart filled with promiscuous plunder, appeared upon the scene evidently making tracks for the rear.

Every man was at his post, but not a cheek blanched, nor did an arm falter, for we felt as if the entire South watched us that day, and we would pay their watching well.

Precisely at 9 A. M. we saw the dazzling glitter of the enemy's muskets as they slowly appeared in battle array marching down the Hampton road-then our trusty Parrot gun opened its dark mouth and spoke in thunder tones the stern determination of our devoted little band—then the howitzer on its left, and right, hurled shot and shell into the bewildered ranks of the advancing foemen; and then came the enemies shot, bursting and whizzing around our heads, and the sharp ring of the rifle told of war in earnest.

Here on one side is a band of beardless boys, who, heretofore, have scarcely been considered as possessing a sufficiency of nerve to brain a cat, now handling their artillery with a coolness and consummate skill that war-worn veterans would have gloried in.

On the other side regulars and fanatics fought for PAY and for the upholding of a government whose oppression had to millions of people now become unbearable.

And the death missiles came hurtling and screaming through the calm, clear, summer's air, but those brave boys quailed not before the storm of death—they thought of kindred, of homes, of peaceful firesides and of loved ones, who, with weeping eyes and anguished hearts were praying to the God of Battles to shield them from all harm, when the hour that tried men's souls drew near.

Not one of our men failed in the discharge of his duty, but silently and rapidly did we pour shot and shell into the enemies ranks.

'Twould be a vain endeavor to attempt to describe one's feelings in a battle, for I believe after the first shock is over they become somewhat blunted, and yet we all thought enough to fall flat whenever we saw a shell coming from the Yankee battery. But the musket and rifle balls could not be dodged and they whistled around us in a perfect storm. There seemed to be some unseen hand that warded them off from the men, but the horses and mules were not so fortunate. There was a very stubborn, thickheaded old mule belonging to the Second Company Howitzers, and just before the fight one of the boys hitched him to a cart and endeavored to make him work, but 'twas no use, Mr. Mule asserted the popular theory of rebellion and declined to be pressed into service, whereupon the soldier gave him a “cussing," and tied him to a tree, hoping at the same time that the first shot from the enemy "would knock his 'dern'd' head off." Alas, for the poor mule!—the second shot fired by the enemy struck a tree just to the left of my gun, glanced and passed directly through the mule, who, in the agonies of death, doubtless deplored his untimely fate and refusal to work.

For nearly two hours the fight was confined to the artillerists almost exclusively, but so soon as the enemy came in musket range our infantry gave them a reception worthy of Southern hospitality.

About this time one of Captain Brown's howitzers, the one in front and to the right of the main battery, became spiked by the breaking of a priming wire in the vent, and was rendered ineffectual during the rest of the engagement.

By reason of this, three Virginia companies of infantry on the right front flank were in a measure unprotected, and were withdrawn by Colonel Magruder to the rear of the church.

The New York Zouaves seeing the gun disabled charged upon the works in which this howitzer was placed, and our men retired slowly, discharging their pistols as they fell back upon the North Carolina infantry.

Colonel Magruder immediately ordered Captain Bridges of the "Edgecombe Rifles" to retake the lost position, which 'tis said he attempted to do by himself, failing to order his company to follow him, in his eagerness to obey orders.

But his company did follow him in gallant style and drove the Zouaves off at a double-quick. The two howitzer guns of Stanard's Third Company now coming up from the rear, under the command of Sergeant Powell and Lieutenant Edgar F. Moseley, were immediately placed in position, and again the battle raged.

Major Winthrop, aid to General B. F. Butler, in command at Fortress Monroe, having come up with reënforcements wearing our badges, white band around the cap, made an ineffectual attempt to carry our works, and lost his life in the endeavor. After his fall the enemy fled in disorder, having also lost a valued artillery officer, Lieutenant Greble, who commanded his battery with great bravery. Badly crippled and much worse frightened, they now were in precipitate flight toward Hampton, hotly pursued by a small squadron of Virginia cavalry, who reached the field just as the fight ended. If Magruder had have had a thousand cavalry we could have taken the whole force prisoners. Our loss has been comparatively small-one killed and ten wounded, three of the wounded belonging to the Second Howitzers-Lieutenant Hudnall and Privates John Worth and Henry Shook. The only one killed on our side was Private Henry L. Wyatt, of the North Carolina Infantry, who fell in endeavoring to burn a small wooden house in which the enemy were harbored. The Yankee loss was heavy, though we could not find out the exact number, as they carried off many of their dead and wounded in carts, wagons, carriages and buggies, which they took from the neighboring farmers. Their loss was between two and three hundred. They had boasted that they would, with cornstalks, drive off the mob of Virginians and North Carolinians hastily collected together to impede their would-be triumphal march.

About 4 o'clock P. M. we were reënforced by the Second Louisiana Regiment, and had they have gotten to us sooner our victory would not have been fruitless. Thus ends the first pitched battle between the United States troops and the Confederate forces. Although in itself it was a battle of no magnitude or great importance, yet it showed to the boasting North how terribly we were in earnest, and gave comfort and encouragement to the faint and weak-hearted on our side.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 96-100