Diary of Elvira J. Powers: Sunday Evening, April 10, 1864

Attended church to-day at the Second Presbyterian, or "Union Church" as it is called. It is the only one in the city, I am told, where one is sure of hearing sentiments of loyalty. Rev. Mr. Allen is pastor. He does not fear now, under the shadow of Fort Negley, and with so many "blue coats" about, to "Lift up his voice like a trumpet, and show the people their transgressions and the house of Jacob their sins." I believe, however, that he was obliged to leave the place previous to the entrance of our troops.

I saw a pomegranate flower for the first time, to-day. It is of a dark red color, single, about the size of a plum blossom. It is of the same family I think, though cannot analyze it, for want of a botanical work.

In passing through ward 1 of the hospital last Wednesday, and asking advice of the chief nurse—who, by the by, is soon to complete his studies as surgeon—as to what we could do for the benefit of the invalids, he said there were two cases who would die unless some one could by attention and cheerful conversation save them. That they had been sick a long time, were very low, but the trouble now was nervous debility from homesickness and despair of life. Had himself done what he could for them, but was worn out with care of the ward and loss of sleep. And he added:

"The Surgeon has given them up, and I will give them into your charge, and if they live it will be your care which saves them."

"Would anything be injurious for them to eat?"

"No, if you can get them to eat anything you will do better than I can."

Upon inquiring which they were, he pointed them out, when I told him that I had spoken to both only a few moments before, and that one would scarcely notice me enough to tell me his disease, while the other would not answer at all, but drew the sheet over his face.

"Oh, yes," he replied, "they think no one cares for them, that they're going to die, and the worst one is in a half stupor much of the time. But pass your hand gently over his forehead to arouse him, and then you know how to interest him."

He then directed the nurse of this one to go with me and see that everything was done which I directed. The nurse and patient were both from Indiana, and the former going to the side of the bed toward which the face of the sick man was turned, said in a peculiarly pleasant and sympathizing tone:

"William, there's a lady come to see you and she wants to make you well if she can."

Passing my hand over his forehead, as directed, I added as cheerily as possible :

"Yes, William, I've come to see if I can't do something for you; if I shall write some letters for you, or bring you something to eat to make you better."

He roused up and I knew he was listening, but not wishing to excite him too much I then commenced asking of the nurse about his company and regiment, and the length of time he had been sick in that hospital. But I had scarcely done so, when the sick man turned his face down into the pillow, burst into tears and grieved and sobbed like a child, fairly shaking the bed with the violence of his emotion. The nurse bent down to him, and said as if pacifying a sick child:

"Don't fret so, William, this lady loves you, and she's going to try to make you well."

I knew the tears would do him good, but I spoke low and slowly, and the sobs grew less as he listened:

"You've been sick a long time, I know, and have grown discouraged and have thought you were never going to get well, but the Doctor says there is nothing to hinder if you will only try. I was once sick myself with a low nervous fever, and felt just as you do for a long time. And the physician told me at last that I wouldn't live unless I made up my mind to try to live. And I did try and worked hard for it for a long time else I should never have got well. And now if you will do the same and think all the time of what you are going to do when you get well, I will come and see you as often as I can, and bring you anything you wish to eat. Wouldn't you like to have me write for you to ask your wife, mother, or sister, to come and take care of you?

Just then the nurse tells me he is "single" and I repeat the question of his mother and sisters.

"No," he replied, in a sad, grieved, hollow voice, "they wouldn't come."

"Shouldn't I write to his father to tell him how he was." "No," he didn't "want any letters written."

"Could he think of something he could eat."

He said he could not, but the nurse exclaimed:—"Why, William, don't you remember you said the other day you could eat some pickles, if you could get them?" "Yes, I could eat some pickles," said the slow, hollow voice. A little inquiry found that it was possible he could eat a cookie also, so it was arranged that the nurse should call at the home of the Christian Commission, where I was stopping, for the articles.

I also learned that the sick man had not been bathed since having the fever, and his face looked like dried parchment. I made a prescription of castile soap and warm water for his benefit, to be applied to the whole surface of his body—the application to take place immediately after my departure. After the bath, the nurse called and I sent some cookies and a small jar of pickles.

The other patient to whom I was referred, was scarcely less interesting, but have not time to note the particulars. I visited them again yesterday, and found my directions with regard to each had been carried out, and both were better and glad this time to see me. William rejoiced in the jar of pickles upon his stand, out of which he had gained sufficient appetite to "reckon," he "could eat a few dried peaches, if he could get them." A small jar of those was prepared and sent to him, with a second edition of cookies.

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. 23-6

Diary of Private John C. West, May 16, 1863

COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA.

The date of May 13th was written at the depot in Augusta, Georgia, and brings me to my arrival at that place. I had intended passing on without delay, but heard from a stranger on the cars that Lieutenant Selman and my other Texas friends were at Montgomery and would be in Augusta on the next train. This determined me to spend a day in Augusta, to let them overtake me. I had my baggage carried to the Augusta Hotel, and after making myself presentable, called at Mr. Carter's drug store and found that he had gone to Charleston to purchase a new supply of drugs. I met at the drug store Mr. Rogers, a brother of Mrs. Hardin, and who looks very much like her; spent an hour inquiring for Mr. Robert Lamar, my wife's uncle, then walked around to Dr. Ford's; found Miss Sallie May and Mrs. Clinch sitting in the passage; they did not recognize me and asked me to walk into the parlor. I found Dr. Ford and a patient in consultation. He seemed delighted to see me. I went into the breakfast table, and when the ladies found me out I was plied with questions about my wife and the children, and must say here, once for all—"nunc pro tunc"¹ that I have spent the last three days in a like agreeable task. My sweet wife seems to be beloved by every one who knows her. I stayed but a short time and learned that Mr. Clinch was mayor at Vicksburg and DeSaussure Ford was with Bragg's army. I went to Mr. Barney Dunbar's office and had a long talk with him; went out to Mr. Robert Lamar's and there found that grandma and Aunt Mary were absent. When I arrived at Columbia and Augusta depot, met Lieutenant Selman, Mullens and Burwell Aycock, who had left me sick at Marshall, Texas.

Aycock went to Chattanooga on account of old wounds still troubling him. After the trials and difficulties of our trip and our unpleasant separation, our meeting was a joyful occasion. They went on to Weldon and I came on to Columbia, not, however, without a serious loss—my blankets were stolen out of the cars at Branchville.

I reached Columbia at 6 o'clock a. m., and went up to Major Stark's without giving any notice. Decca Stark was just about to start to Fairfield. She exclaimed, "I do believe it is Mr. West," and then both looked blank until I smiled. They thought that Mary and the children must be dead, but matters were soon explained. I took breakfast with the family, and after spending the morning in giving a full account of myself and Mary, went up town; met John McDowell, from Camden; he is captain of a mounted rifle company from Montgomery, Alabama.

After dinner I walked out to Stark's Hill to see aunties; found them all looking well, especially Aunt Mac. The garden was looking beautiful; indeed, old Columbia altogether is the handsomest place I ever saw, and I think if my Mary was with me now I would be perfectly happy. Every one here has received me so joyfully; both Mary's friends and my own have met me so cordially that I cannot be otherwise than happy, and mother and Decca have done, and seem willing to do, so much for my comfort that I feel willing to make any sacrifice for wife to share these attentions with me. Mary is more entitled to all this pleasure than I am; but fortune dispenses favors in an inexplicable manner. I trust my wife may be here before I return to Texas. She shall not be tied down in the creek bottom forever.

On the second day I walked out to Aunt Carrie Stark's, in company with Decca. She did not know who had called and primped up as if she expected to meet a stranger. She was delighted to see me and seemed very cheerful; introduced us to Mrs. Raoul and Mrs. Hamilton. After I started out she came into the portico with me and her manner was entirely changed; she spoke of her afflictions and seemed very sad. God has dealt very severely with her, and I pray to be delivered from such visitations, unless it be for my good, which I cannot believe. Heaven will not try me thus. We came on to Mrs. Elmore's and saw Mrs. Elmore, Miss Cornelia and Miss Grace; Mrs. Elmore and Miss Cornelia look five years younger than they did five years ago. We came on to the city and went to the deguerrean gallery to have a copy made of Mary's picture. Decca Stark is with me in all these visits, and seems willing to do anything for my enjoyment.

On the third day of my stay I spent the morning at home with Decca and mother. In the afternoon Decca and I walked to Sydney park and over it; saw not a soul whom we recognized. The park is wonderfully improved, and shows what energy and taste can do in a little while. There is some encouragement and satisfaction to exercise taste and energy in a country where it rains; there is none in Texas.

We called at Dr. William Reynolds' on the way home. They are living now at the old Muller place, and have improved it vastly. Misses Jane and Sophia Reynolds have a very large school, and Mrs. Reynolds superintends the housekeeping and the comfort of the boarders, of whom they have a large number. Miss Jane was sick, but Mrs. Reynolds and Miss Sophia and Miss Sophy Niel received me very joyfully. I met here two of old Dr. DeLeon's daughters from Columbia. All parties were anxious to hear of my Aunt Catherine Eccles and of the other children. Part of the improvement consists in the removal of the exclusive-looking, tall plank fence, which is replaced by an iron railing. The flower garden is tastily arranged and there is generally an inviting air about the entire premises. A graduate will not look back upon the place as an escaped convict views and remembers the penitentiary.

The fourth day of my stay in Columbia was Sunday. I attended the Baptist church in the morning and in the evening and the Episcopal in the afternoon. The Baptist meeting house is quite handsomely finished and does credit to the taste of the denomination here. There is also in it a magnificent organ, said to be the finest in the city. Its tones are grand and full, and it certainly adds greatly to the beauty and solemnity of the worship and services. The building will seat comfortably over two thousand persons.

On Monday, the fifth day, I took breakfast with Major Stark, at 6 o'clock in the morning, and walked with him out to the farm and over it. A place with such water privileges would be invaluable in Texas. Vegetables of every description could be had all the year round. I looked at the overseer's house and the well so close, the garden and the chicken yard, and thought how happy and blest Mary would be if she were there. Ought we to return to South Carolina? Oh, for light and direction on this subject! Have I the right to debar a pure, good woman from all the endearments and joys of home, because she loves me and is ready and willing to make any sacrifice for me? I returned home by Stark's Hill and took breakfast with aunties, and had a pleasant visit. Aunt Mary gave me a very nice blanket with which to replace my lost one. I came by Mrs. Singleton's and stayed an hour; made the acquaintance of Captain Haskell, who seems to be a very gentlemanly and sensible person; think I would like him very much on further acquaintance.

Came home and walked up town with Major Stark to see about having my transportation changed so as to permit me to go to Charlotte instead of going back to Kingsville. Mr. J. Pringle Smith seemed very willing to accommodate me, but exhibited a very laudable disposition to avoid any violation of duty or law. He finally required me to pay my own way for fifty miles on the road, this being the difference between the distances from Kingsville to Weldon and from Columbia to Weldon.

In returning to Major Stark's I met Mr. Lem Boykin, son of Mr. Burwell Boykin. He is captain of a company on the coast, and is as wild and "harum scarum" as ever. After dinner I received a visit from Mr. Breaker, the Baptist minister, and his wife. He is a sensible man and she is a pretty woman. Of course such company is always pleasant.

I walked with Decca to the daguerrean gallery; got the copy of my Mary's picture; am only tolerably pleased with it, but doubt not it will console me in some degree in the long, weary hours I must be away from her. Perhaps I may never see her again until she is a radiant angel in the skies; and I trust in God that whatever other punishment or destiny may await me for my short-comings in this life, that I may not be shut out from the light of my Mary's face forever. To me there will be but one other countenance in heaven to compare with it and divide my worship—my mother's!

From the window of the daguerrean gallery we witnessed the parade of the Arsenal cadets. They presented an unusually fine appearance and will doubtless do good service in this war during the next five years.

We made a call at Mr. De Saussure's, but did not find Mrs. Wallace and Mrs. Burroughs at home. Mr. William DeSaussure is the only person except myself who has not forgiven me for leaving Mary in Texas. We called at Mr. Shand's on the way home, but Mrs. Wilson was out. We returned after tea and had a pleasant visit of an hour.

I forgot to say that Decca went with me to see old Mrs. Murphy after service on Sunday afternoon. The old lady was in bed, severely stricken with the palsy, but seemed animated and bright on my entrance, and talked of Mary and the pleasant times she had with her "in this very room." She seemed very much distressed to know that her grandson and only heir was an orphan in the hands of his mother's people, the Catholics.

Thus I have brought this hurried journal down to Tuesday morning, May the 19th, at which time I am sitting in the parlor alone, and have been for an hour, waiting for mother and Decca to get up for breakfast. I have very few general comments to make on my visit; suffice it to say, that I am agreeably surprised to find that the degree of pleasure I have enjoyed in this short visit has exceeded ten-fold my anticipations. I did not think that I would receive such a hearty welcome and so much kindness. I owe it all to Mary and have regretted and still regret that I did not make the effort to bring her with me notwithstanding the difficulties and uncertainties of the route. I received the following memoranda today, to-wit: Miss Nannie Norton, corner of Eighth and Marshall Streets, Richmond, Va.; T. Lamar Stark, Edgefield Hussars, Captain Clark, Second Regiment S. C. V. Cavalry, Colonel Butler; Hampton's Brigade, Va.

_______________

¹ Latin: now for then.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 39-47

Diary of Private John C. West, Wednesday, May 20, 1863

I spent yesterday morning writing to my precious wife. I wrote two letters; one to take the chances and uncertainties of the mails; the other reserved until I can find some one going across the Mississippi River. I called on Mrs. Bachman and there met Mrs. Carroll and her daughter. Mrs. Bachman spoke of Mary as of a sister; she is a sweet, good woman and was anxious to do something for my comfort. She gave me a letter to Captain Bachman and also one for some of her cousins in Virginia; wanted me to leave all my extra clothing with Miss Nannie Norton in Richmond; said that Wat Taylor had left his things there. Mrs. Bachman's paintings are enchanting to me. What a useful and delightful accomplishment painting is. By it we can leave such precious and enduring mementoes of ourselves, when all other memories have faded in the oblivion of a shadowy past. I spent the afternoon with mother only, and began to feel like I had somebody to love me this side of the Mississippi. For all that I hold dearest is west of the river. Mother (Mrs. Stark) has treated me as her own son. She has furnished me with clothing, which I needed; has given me $40.00 and appears anxious to do more for me. I went out to auntie's, at Stark Hill, late in the afternoon and bade them good bye; talked as if they were parting with one who had a right to their affections; all this nerves me very much and added to the approval of my own conscience makes me more willing and ready to suffer whatever may be in store for me and let my trials be what they may. May God save my wife and children from affliction. Let all the evil which may perchance be in store for them be meted out to me. After supper last night mother went up stairs with me and we concluded that it would be best to carry only a change of clothing and leave the rest in Columbia with her, to be sent as I needed them. She packed my things and spoke so kindly and affectionately to me that I love her next to Mary. It is now. 6 o'clock on Wednesday morning. I am waiting for Decca to get ready to go to the depot with me; she is going as far as Winsboro to pay a visit to Jennie Preston Means.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 47-8

Diary of Private John C. West, Thursday, May 21, 1863

I left with Decca Stark. There was no incident worth mentioning between Columbia and Winsboro. We met Stark Means at the depot. He is in fine health and only limping a little from his wound. Chester, Charlotte and Raleigh all larger and more city-like than I expected. We passed Concord and Salisbury at night. It is twenty years since last I saw any of them, and my sweet mother was present then. I was a boy nine years old. I recollected leaving a whip on the mantlepiece of the Charlotte Hotel at that time, and I have never forgotten it. Mr. Crist, at Gott's Hotel, in Salem, made this whip for me. I am now at Raleigh, and since I am separated with my friends (perhaps forever) I wish I was with old Company E.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 48-9

Diary of Private John C. West, Friday, May 22, 1863

Left Raleigh about 9 o'clock yesterday morning. The road from Raleigh to Weldon is the most crooked and through the most broken country I ever saw. Every foot of it is over an embankment or through a deep cut. The land along the route is all poor and barren and yet there are some beautiful residences and the people seem to be doing well. How they live I cannot tell. There were occasionally fine apple orchards and clover fields. I had the good fortune to meet up with Mr. Carpenter, a member of the North Carolina legislature. He was a pleasant companion and had some genuine whiskey, having married the heiress of a distiller. I made also the acquaintance of an old gentleman named Miller, who was on his way to Richmond to see two wounded nephews, one of whom had lost an arm; he also had some whiskey, which he said came from the drug store and must be good. He had also some cakes, good ham and fresh butter, which I enjoyed very much. He is a Baptist and is acquainted with Mr. Lemmond, of Waco, Texas. We reached Weldon about 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and as the cars were not to start until 9 o'clock, I concluded to take a stroll. I obtained a drink of the coldest water I ever drank and observed the address of Captain H. A. Troutman on a box, which put me on the lookout for him. I soon met him and we had a long talk on old college times. He had married a Miss Napier. John Neely is dead; Miss Lou is married to Ed. McClure. Billy Clifton has become a devout Baptist. Charley Boyd, John McLemore and Lucius Gaston are all killed; murdered by fanatical vandals; ten thousand mercenaries cannot pay for such men as these. They helped to make and adorn the character of a noble people. They were all my college friends. We loved each other and cherished common hopes of a happy future.

I went to supper with Troutman. He boards with the post commissary, who, of course, gets a little of everything. We had light rolls, scrambled eggs, genuine coffee, salmon, etc., for supper. The commissary is run by Mr. Peterson, brother of Judge Peterson, of San Antonio, Texas. We left Weldon at 9 o'clock and jogged along slowly until about 3 o'clock a. m., when we reached Petersburg. I shouldered my carpet-bag, overcoat and blanket and walked a mile to the depot. Cars left Petersburg about 5 o'clock a. m., and ran so slowly that I had ample time to inspect the country. When we came within eight miles of Richmond I observed a large amount of timber felled on either side of the road and fortifications thrown up to prevent the advance of the Yanks. When we came within three miles of Richmond one of the bars which connects the cars broke, and we were detained for half an hour or more, but another engine very opportunely came up behind us and pushed us on to Richmond. I found it a much more beautiful place than I had anticipated. The scenery in crossing James River is especially attractive. I put up at the American Hotel and spent the day in wandering "up and down" and "going to and fro" in it. I called on Miss Wigfall, Mrs. Chestnut, Miss Nannie Norton (who was absent), Miss Mary Fisher, Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell and met there Mrs. Carter. Called at the Cabinet Quarters and delivered to C. S. Senator Hon. James Chestnut, a letter (from Hon. Guy M. Bryan, of Texas) to the president. I went to the Ballard House to see Hon. H. P. Brewster, of Texas; was unable to find him. Delivered Mr. Carter's letter to Mr. Winston, who was too busy to notice me, so I retired. I gave him also the letter to Mrs. Benton. Dined with Colonel and Mrs. Chestnut, in company with Billy Preston, who is now major of artillery. Had fish and corn bread, rice and lettuce for dinner, with iced whiskey to wash it down. After dinner went to the Spotswood Hotel, met Captain Rice and Jimmy Winn, also Minnie Moses, whom I have not seen for eight years. He is a clerk in some of the departments. I returned to Miss Mary Fisher's in the afternoon and left my overcoat in her charge. I am too tired to make comments, though I have seen a great deal to write about. I am writing this in the public room of the American Hotel about 11 o'clock at night. They have charged me $7.50 for supper, night's lodging and breakfast.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 49-52

Diary of Private John C. West, Sunday, May 24, 1863

Left Richmond yesterday about 6:30 o'clock a. m. Found a number of the Texas Brigade and a few of my regiment on the cars and soon became acquainted with them. The trip was monotonous, as usual, until we reached Gordonsville, where the crowd was so great that twenty of us had to stand on the platform. General J. E. B. Stuart was aboard and appeared to be very fond of ladies and flowers. He is of medium size, well formed, fair complexion, blue eyes, whiskers and mustache of sun-burnt reddish color, usually accompanying fair skin. I had quite a pleasant time on the platform watching the attempts of the proscribed to get a seat in the cars and their repulse by the provost guard. The cars were for the accommodation of ladies and commissioned officers. I never knew soldiers of any grade to be put in the same category with women before. I happened, however, to meet Tom Lipscomb, my old college classmate, who is now a major, who managed to get me in under his wing. We had a long talk about Columbia and old college days. He informed me that Lamar Stark, my wife's brother, was a prisoner confined in the old capitol in Washington city. We reached Mitchell's Station at 4 o'clock p. m.; walked five miles, a hot walk, to camp on the Rapidan, near Raccoon Ford. My regiment, the Fourth Texas, has a delightful camping place in a grove of large chestnut trees, on a hillside. We have no tents and the ground is hard and rocky, but we are all satisfied, and one day's observation has led me to believe that no army on earth can whip these men. They may be cut to pieces and killed, but routed and whipped, never! I called on Colonel B. F. Carter this morning and had quite a pleasant interview. He is a calm, determined man, and one of the finest officers in the division. To-day was the regular time for inspection and review. One barefooted and ragged hero came to Colonel Carter's Tent with the inquiry, "Colonel, do you want the barefooted men to turn out today?" to which the Colonel replied negatively, with a smile. I went out to the review which took place in an open field about 600 yards from camp. There were some ladies on horseback on the field. Their presence was cheering and grateful. They were all dressed in black, as were more than two-thirds of the women in the Confederacy. On returning to camp I called on Major Bass, of the First Texas, and gave him $25.00, which I had received for him from Lieutenant Ochiltree, at Shreveport, Louisiana, to be handed to Bass if I did not need it.

I received two haversacks to-day, miserably weak and slazy, made of thin cotton cloth. I have only taken a change of underwear, towel, soap and Bible and Milton's Paradise Lost. I have sent all the rest to Richmond with my carpet sack, to be left at Mrs. Mary E. Fisher's, on Franklin street, half way between Sixth and Seventh.

I wrote a letter to mother and one to wife to-day and read the 104th Psalm. I opened to it by chance, and it contained just what I felt.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 52-4

Diary of Private John C. West, Thursday, May 25, 1863

While we are encamped life is so monotonous that I do not usually regard it as necessary to keep a diary, but occasionally we have a little variety and spice which is exciting and pleasant. Yesterday we received notice early in the morning to prepare to march five miles to attend a review of our division which was to take place about a mile beyond General Hood's headquarters. We left our camp about 8 o'clock a. m. and reached the muster ground about 10 o'clock. We found the artillery posted on the extreme right about three-quarters of a mile from our regiment.

The brigades, Anderson's, Laws', Robertson's and Benning's, were drawn up in line of battle, being over a mile long; our regiment a little to the left of the center. As we were properly formed General Hood and staff galloped down the entire length of the line in front and back again in the rear, after which he took his position about 300 yards in front of the center. The whole division was then formed into companies, preceded by the artillery of about twenty pieces; passed in review before the General, occupying about an hour and a march of over two miles and a half for each company before reaching its original position. The spectacle was quite imposing and grand, and I wish Mary and the children could see such a sight. After passing in review we rested awhile and were then again placed in line of battle, and the artillery divided into two batteries, came out on opposite hills in front of us, where they practiced half an hour or more with blank cartridges. This was the most exciting scene of the day except the one which immediately followed, viz: We were ordered to fix bayonets and the whole line to charge with a yell, and sure enough I heard and joined in the regular Texas war whoop. This was the closing scene of the day, after which we marched back to camp. There was an immense crowd of citizens out on the occasion as spectators, reminding me very much of an old time South Carolina review.

On our return to camp Companies E and F were ordered on picket guard about a mile and a half from camp. We packed up everything and were soon off and are now encamped on the bank of the Rapidan at Raccoon Ford. Last night was quite cool but I slept comfortably after the tramp of yesterday.

To-day Companies E and F are variously employed. There is one squad fishing, another has made a drag of brush and are attempting to catch fish by the wholesale. Two or three other squads are intensely interested in games of poker; some are engaged on the edge of the water washing divers soiled garments as well as their equally soiled skins. I belonged to this latter class for a while, and have spent the remainder of the morning watching the varying success or failure of the fishermen and poker-players, and in reading a few chapters and Psalms in the Old Testament and the history of the crucifixion in the New. I forgot to say that on yesterday I met on the parade ground Captain Wade and Major Cunningham, of San Antonio, and also John Darby and Captain Barker. Darby is the chief surgeon of Hood's Division. I went up to a house to-day about half a mile from our picket camp and found a negro woman with some corn bread and butter milk. A friend who was with me gave her a dollar for her dinner, which we enjoyed very much. The woman was a kind-hearted creature and looked at me very sympathetically, remarking that I did not look like I was used to hard work, and that I was a very nice looking man to be a soldier, etc., etc.

Here are the chapters I have read to-day: Deut., 23:14; II Chron., 32:8; Jeremiah, 49:2; Revelation, 21:14.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 54-6

Diary of Private John C. West, Sunday, May 31, 1863

This morning about daylight we received orders to be ready to march at 8:30. All is bustle now getting ready. I have been to the spring for water and have just returned; have read the 52nd chapter of Isaiah, and 35th Psalm; am now about to pack up.

Sunday evening at sunset.—We have marched about fourteen miles to-day—a hot dusty march. Nothing of interest occurred. We are now bivouacked in a pine grove twenty miles from Fredericksburg, with our arms stacked with orders to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. The march has not fatigued me anything like as much as many hunts I have taken at home. Some friend of the soldiers has been kind enough to send us a number of religious papers, and I am now enjoying the "Christian Observer," published at Richmond.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 56-7

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, Thursday, January 1, 1863

Bright and clear, warm and pleasant. How well do I remember two short years ago today when we took a sleigh ride and made a regular family visit at Uncle Tim's. Since then I have traveled over four thousand miles, five hundred and eighty of which I marched with gun on my shoulder; have seen more vice and drunkenness than I ever supposed existed, yet I hope I am morally no worse than when surrounded by kind relatives and friends. An orderly call beat immediately after reveille this morning at which time we received orders to cook our rations and be ready by half past seven. We cooked our fresh pork and by the appointed time had it in our haversacks, and our knapsacks strapped on our backs, ready for the march. We went eight miles and camped close to a small town called Lafayette, situated on the Memphis and Charleston R. R. As soon as we had pitched our tents, Chas. Berry and myself went out one mile from camp and killed a hog. We are now the first regiment of the first brigade, commanded by Brigadier-General McArthur, of Gen. Hamilton's corps, of the left wing of Gen. Grant's army. We were put in the rear of the brigade today as a special guard to keep up the stragglers.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, pp. 24-5

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 2, 1863

Struck out tents early this morning and marched to Colliersville, a distance of seven miles from Lafayette and twenty-four from Memphis. As soon as we had stacked our arms and broken ranks, John Cumbersworth and I went out a mile and a half from camp and got a fine hog. While we were skinning it our orderly-sergeant, Sullivan, Jesse Walker and Mike Walsh were captured not more than a quarter of a mile distant, by a band of rebel cavalry. Sullivan turned and ran and several shots were fired after him, which we heard plainly but we thought it was the boys shooting hogs. When we got into camp Bob Dew and Charlie Berry came in with their paroles, they having been caught by the same company. Five paroled from Co. K in one day. Five such days' work will muster Co. K out of service. The 17th Ill. at present musters about three hundred and fifty men. On guard tonight; storming fearfully.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 25

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 3, 1863

Quite pleasant during the day, but it rained heavily all night.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 25

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 4, 1863

We had inspection at 1 o'clock. Col. Norton's tent burned today.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 25

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, Monday, January 5, 1863

I am on guard at the depot today.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 25

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 8, 1863

Orders are very strict. If caught outside of the pickets the fine is ten dollars. We get up at 4 o'clock in the morning and stack our arms. I am on parole guard today. We expect to move in a day or two.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 25

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 11, 1863

The regiment was formed at 4 this morning. In the afternoon we received marching orders. Our division has been moving up all day. Logan's division is here. The stockade fort that the contrabands are at work on near the depot is almost completed. At 4 o'clock we had dress parade. Orders were read, fining the absentees from roll call since the last of December, one dollar each time.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, pp. 25-6

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 12, 1863

We were called up at half past three this morning and were on the road inside an hour, and by sunrise were four miles on the way. We arrived at Germantown about 10 o'clock. It is a village. At five minutes before 12 o'clock we halted for dinner, and started again on our march at 1 o'clock, our regiment in advance. We reached the edge of a town at dusk where we learned that we were selected as guard at the navy yard. As we passed through the town, the little children followed us and hurrahed for Jeff Davis. We moved to the upper end of town and encamped on land adjoining the navy yard. Col. Norton bought five cords of wood for us. He made a speech in which he said Gen. Hamilton ordered McArthur to send his best disciplined regiment here as guard, and he wanted us to be strict, orderly, and diligent. He also said the duty was a kind of secret service (how so I do not understand). The guerillas crossed over last night, cut around and burned a steamer. We are very tired this evening, having made the heavy march of twenty-six miles.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 26

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 13, 1863

We moved into the navy yard this morning. Had seven men detailed for guard. I was one of them. We were put on camp, or chain guard. I don't see where the secret service comes in, for my part. I was down to see the ex-reb gunboat, "Gen. Bragg," she was injured at Vicksburg and is being repaired. There are five or six mortar boats lying close to shore.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, pp. 26-7

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 14, 1863

I came off guard this morning. It rained very hard all the latter part of the night. Another boat load of troops came down last night, making five or six in all. They are from the Kansas Valley Division of Fremont's old forces.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 27

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 15, 1863

About six inches of snow fell last night and it has snowed all day. The citizens say it is the heaviest storm they have seen in a number of years. By night it was about ten inches deep. The paymaster paid off all but our company today.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 27

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Saturday, November 1, 1862

Corinth. Orders were given to Battery to cook three days' rations in their haversacks and three days' in the wagons, all ready to march on the following morning.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 11

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Sunday, November 2, 1862

Corinth. I walked up to the Battery, the farthest I had walked since my lameness. Saw the boys off; they left their tents standing, their knapsacks etc. under charge of Lieutenant Simpson, and those unfit for the march. The inmates of the hospital were taken to the general hospital under Dr. Arnold, nine in number, viz: Orderly J. G. S. Hayward (fractured ankle), Corporal G. B. Jones (chronic diarrhea; waiting for discharge); W. W. Wyman (waiting for discharge); G. W. Benedict (diarrhea); E. W. Evans (fever); David Evans (convalescent); Alex. Ray (convalescent); E. R. Hungerford (chronic diarrhea); Jenk. L. Jones (bruised ankle), remained in the hospital until [Sunday,November 9, 1862.]

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 11

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Sunday, November 9, 1862

Corinth. Learning that the Battery had gone to camp at Grand Junction, Tenn., Sergeant Hamilton was sent back to bring forward the baggage, etc., etc. and was to start by train in the morning. E. W. Evans, David Evans and myself procured a dismissal from the hospital and bade good-bye to our comrades (who were all doing well except E. R. Hungerford, who was very low) at 6:30 A. M. and reported at the depot. We found the boys and baggage on the platform, but owing to the rush of troops we could not get off today. We laid around all day, exchanged our tents, drew some quartermaster stores.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 11

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Monday, November 10, 1862

Corinth. We were again disappointed, the train leaving us behind and nothing to do but wait another twenty-four hours. In the afternoon E. W. Evans and I went to the hospital where we learned that our comrade E. R. Hungerford had died at about 2 P. M. Sunday, and was to be buried in the evening.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 12

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Tuesday, November 11, 1862

Corinth. Lay on the platform all day, and at night we were furnished a car to load our baggage. We loaded it by 12 P. М.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 12

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Wednesday, November 12, 1862

Grand Junction, Tenn. It having rained during the night, the dust was converted to mud. Ate a breakfast of cold beef and bread, filled our canteens with water, when we scrambled on top the freight cars in order to procure transportation. It was raining, and when the train was in motion the smoke and cinders were torturing. Arrived at Jackson at 1 P. M. Waited an hour for dinner, then took Mississippi Central R. R. for Grand Junction. Remained at Medon Station till 6 P. M. when G. M. Spencer and I spread our blankets and laid down; awoke at Grand Junction at 3 Α. Μ.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 12

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Thursday, November 13, 1862

Grand Junction. Lieutenant Simpson went in search of the Battery early and left us to unload and guard the baggage. The teams arrived from the Battery 3 P. M. We loaded and started out about three miles and encamped where the team that left Corinth on the 8th had bivouacked for the night.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 12

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Friday, November 14, 1862

Davis Mills, Miss. Reached the Battery about 10 A. M., it being situated one mile south of Davis Mills in an open field; church and cemetery hard by.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 12

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Saturday, November 15, 1862

Davis Mills. Heard from home. Received two letters, from John and Thomas, which eased my anxiety. Listened to the first sermon [in camp].

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 12

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 5, 1861

I have for some time had as mess-mates Surgeon J—— V—— and his two sons. I find him a most estimable Quaker gentleman, and he is by his courteous and affable manner, doing very much to smooth down the asperities of the rough road over which I am now traveling. Since the removal of camp, the sickness is abating rapidly. The list, which two weeks ago numbered over two hundred, is now less than sixty, and every day diminishing. I have much trouble in getting my assistant to perform his duties, which, with the constant interference of military officers, greatly embarrasses me in my course. We have to pass some trying scenes. Last week a private in our regiment, a lawyer from ———, heard of the sickness of his daughter. He asked a furlough of thirty days to visit her. The officers here granted it, but when it reached General McClellan he cut it down to fifteen days, which would but give him time to go and return. He declined to go on it, and yesterday intelligence of his daughter's death reached him. Oh, how much I thought of this, and thought if it were my case! 'Tis very sad to think of.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 49-50

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 7, 1861

On the third of September we stopped at Camp Advance, near Chain Bridge, on our way to Richmond. That was nearly ten weeks ago. We are now about four miles nearer to Richmond than we were then. Three weeks to a mile! When shall we close this war? Could we only move once a week, even though it were but a mile at a time, it would keep up an excitement, and contribute largely to the preservation of both health and subordination. There is much talk amongst the soldiers of going into winter quarters here, but I do not believe it. McClellan will hardly dare risk his popularity on such a stake. He must go forward.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 50

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 8, 1861

Night before last was made hideous by the yells and drunken orgies of officers, who, in obedience to the order that no work should be done on the Sabbath, omitted all duty, but to make amends, employed the day in getting beastly drunk, and the night in howling themselves sober. It is with deep regret that I notice the rapid increase of drunkenness in the army.

One day last week Colonel ———, of the — Regiment ——— Volunteers, appeared on drill, took Hardee's tactics from his pocket, and read aloud, in commanding voice, his drill orders. I took a little stroll the day after, and came upon a squad of the 43d New York Regiment, armed with sticks and corn stalks, with a quasi Colonel, reading orders from an old almanac. To my question what they were at, they replied "only playing ——— ———.”

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 50

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 9, 1861

This morning, as I passed through the camp giving directions about cleaning and ventilating tents, whilst the regiment was on parade, my Colonel, seeing me so engaged, gave orders that no directions of mine need be obeyed till he sanctioned them. A very strange order; but as it releases me from responsibility for the health of the regiment, I shall henceforward leave the police regulations of the camp to him, and stay at the hospital. I think it will take but a short time to convince him of his mistake, and that he knows nothing of the sanitary wants of a camp.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 50-1

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 13, 1861

The Regiment received two months' pay to-day, and to-night are all busy as bees making up express packages, to be sent to fathers, mothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives. To-morrow, all who can get passes to go, will be in Washington buying presents and sitting before a camera to "stain the glass" with reflections from their faces, all to be sent to friends at home. As man, in the mass, can be, in no condition, however bright, which will exempt him from cares, fears and apprehensions, so there is none so dark as to exclude hopes and anticipations of better things. Even here we have our joys and our aspirations, and these are of them. We preach that man should study to be contented. What! man in his imperfect condition, contented, that he, as an individual, or as a part of a great whole, should remain forever, as he is! It is opposed to all God's plans. Discontent is the only stairway to progress. Through the discontent of Israel, Egyptian bondage was broken. The discontent of Russia brought war, which more than compensated for its ravages and its horrors, by the introduction of her people to a knowledge of liberal ideas. Czarism was shaken, and already the Goddess of Liberty waves her cap over the downfall of serfdom. The seceder's discontent in England was the Genesis of a mighty nation. Elijah cast off the cloak, too small for his growing aspirations, whilst his followers eagerly grasped its folds to aid their progression. The discontent of an Almighty God substituted Noah for Adam—Christ for Diana—Eternity for Time. And is the discontent which occasioned this great war, with all its horrors, its butcheries, its temporary demoralization, to have no great result? Is it a bare interlude of the parties engaged, taking advantage of the time when "God sleepeth;" or is it a spark emitted from the great restless spirit of Jehovah, destined to ignite into a "pillar of fire," and to light us on in the journey of universal progress?"

"Hope springs eternal—"

I have to-day seen a "speck of war," with another touch of Vandalism. I have, for the first time, seen an army in drill. Fifteen to twenty thousand men, a thousand horses, and one hundred artillery wagons, on parade. To me, who had never seen anything of the kind, it was grand, and looked like war. I note here an extract of a letter written to a friend to-day, attempting a description of part of it: "It was, indeed, a magnificent sight, to see six hundred horses harnessed to a hundred wagons, in full run, in line, like a regiment of infantry, and at a word of command, to become so instantly and inconcievably mixed that you would think a universal smash inevitable, appear in another instant dashing across the vast plain without a wagon attached. Turn your eyes to see the wrecks, and you will be surprised to see the carriages in four straight lines, forming a hollow square, with the mouth of every gun pointing outwardly, and a laughing expression of "Surround me if you dare!" An other look will show you that the carriages are so close together that the horses can not pass between them, yet the wagon poles to which the horses had been hitched are all inside of the square. How did the six hundred horses get out? The cannon at once open their hundred mouths and are enveloped in smoke. The horses return, disappear for a moment in the dense smoke, and seemingly without their stopping long enough to be hitched to, the four lines straighten out into column, and the cavalcade is again dashing across the plain. In less than forty rods, the jumble is repeated, the square formed, the horses gone, and the hundred cannons again open. When did they reload?" The vandalism: The finest orchard I have seen in Virginia, was cut down today, and in one hour converted into a brush-heap; and for no other purpose than to give the infantry a chance to "show off" in an hour's parade. The fruit trees were in the way, and were cut down! It will take forty years to replace that orchard.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 51-3

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 14, 1861

This morning our Brigade Surgeon ordered me to leave the hospital for a few days, on account of my fatigue and prostration. He said that a regard for my health demanded it, and I must go where I pleased. I rode to Arlington, the headquarters of General King. The Arlington house, I believe, is (unless confiscated) the property of Gen. Lee. It is a magnificent mansion, overlooking Georgetown, Washington, Alexandria, and miles of the beautiful Potomac. In a room of this house, said to have been a favorite room of General Washington, I found my old friend Surgeon ———,badly broken by the fatigue and excitement of the campaign. I called on him, in company with Doctor A——, and after talking of his illness for half an hour, Doctor A. proposed to him to have my advice, to which he replied "Yes! if he will not medicate me too much." I said, "Doctor, I will prescribe for you, and with a single dose will medicate every fibre of your body, and by a healthy shock, restore you to health at once." With a look as if he thought me a hyena, he asked: "What do you mean to do with me?" "To take you out of this place and put you for thirty days under the care of your wife and family." The poor suffering man grasped my hand, burst into tears and sobbed aloud, "My Colonel won't consent to it." For a moment, forgetting his religion, and not having the fear of military commanders before my eyes, "Your Colonel may go to the d-vil, and you shall have a furlough." I rode immediately to medical headquarters in Washington, procured him the promise of a furlough as soon as his papers could be sent in, returned, informed him of it, and had the pleasure on my long night ride back to camp, of feeling that I had contributed something to the happines, and, perhaps, had saved the life of a good and worthy man. How easy for any man, however humble his position, to find opportunities of doing good, if he will only wear the "spectacles of benevolence."

After the vandalism I have witnessed in the destruction of property, in and about the houses of rebels and elsewhere, it was a pleasurable relief to find here, that General King, in the goodness of his always good heart, had enforced respect for the property and furniture. The garden, with its fences, is preserved, and the walls of almost every room in this immense old building, are covered with the rich paintings and old family pictures, left hanging when this favorite of rebeldom left his home. The garden is fine, but I think does not compare with that of Kalorama. The antique bureaus and [s]ide-boards calling up impressions of generations long passed away, are still tenants of the building; and the halls recall Scott's fine description of the Halls of the Douglass, where the arms of the hunters, and the trophies of the hunt, mingled with the trappings of the warrior, constituted the attractive features of the chieftain's forest home. Over the halls, and at every angle in the stairs, were the antlers of the elk and the red-deer fastened to the walls and nearly interlocking their branches over my head as I walked through. They were hung, too, with the arms of the hunter and the warrior. So perfectly does this position command Washington, that had the rebels there secretly collected a dozen mortars, they might have fired the city before a gun could have been brought to bear on them. Everybody is talking of a prospect of a move within three days, but the origin of the reports I know not; perhaps in the impatience of the army to be led forward.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 53-5

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 19, 1861

It is blustering weather, and my cat is beside me, lying on her head, by the fire in my little tent. Everybody says that is "a sign" of cold weather. Let it come, if it will only drive us forward.

The Surgeon General and the Brigade Surgeon have both been urging me, to-day, to accept a Brigade Surgeonship. I decline, for two reasons: 1st. It would retain me as a Surgeon, whilst it would exclude me from the immediate care of the sick. 'Twould be to me like Hamlet, with Hamlet left out; and, 2d. It would greatly add to my responsibilities, without advance in rank or increase in pay. I shall remain where I am.

Glorious news just received; the morning paper is just here. Mason and Slidell—both prisoners. They should be hung.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 55

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 20, 1861

This morning we received marching orders to Bailey's, to have a grand review of the whole army. Very few had any confidence in that part of the order announcing the purpose—a review. All believed it was to take Fairfax, and then perhaps to move forward on Centreville and Manassas; but all were disappointed. It was a "Grand review,”—a very grand one—such as I doubt whether this continent ever witnessed before. It may never witness the like again.

There were about one hundred thousand men in battle array; not in one long line stretching far beyond the reach of vision, and leaving the imagination to picture what we could not see, but all in sight at once, on an immense plain, in squares and columns, marching and countermarching, charging and retreating. The President was there; General McClellan and the Prince de Joinville were there; all the elite were there. But to the poor soldiers it was a very hard day. They marched heavy, with knapsacks and all the equipments of a soldier. They started early, marched ten miles, were then several hours under review, and then marched back to camp. Many gave out, and were left by the way side, to come up when they can; the rest of us are back in camp to-night, worn out and heartily tired of grand reviews. I hope that the crowding of my hospital is not to be one of the result of the overwork.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 55-6

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 29, 1861

Since the order of the early part of this month, that my directions in reference to the sanitary measures could be disregarded, I have not visited the camp, or given any directions in regard to cleaning, ventilating, &c., and though it is now but three weeks since that order was made, the sick list, which had decreased in two weeks from about two hundred to thirty-nine, has suddenly run up again to one hundred and sixty, and the diseases are assuming a low typhoid type. So foul are the tents that if a soldier, with simple intermittent, remains three days in his quarters, he is sent to hospital in a condition approximating ship-fever. The seeds of disease are now sown in our regiment, which, in despite of the greatest care, will not fail to yield rich harvests of sickness all winter. Our Governor has been in camp to-day. He has no doubt seen the effect of this military interference, for he has called on me to know if something cannot be done to arrest the trouble. I have laid the whole matter fully before him, and I have no doubt that what is in his power to do, will be done to avert the evil.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 56-7

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 30, 1861

It is a great relief to my feelings that the difficulties heretofore existing between the Military and Medical Departments in our Regiment are to-day adjusted, and I hope removed by the rescinding the order of the 9th inst., that my directions about the sanitary police of the camps need not be obeyed, and by a substitution of a public order from which this is an extract: "The condition of the health of the regiment requires more than ordinary care. The sanitary regulations of the camp must be entrusted to the Surgeon of the regiment." I have good reason to hope, too, that all personal feelings of an unpleasant character, which have grown out of this unhappy difference of opinion as to official rights, are removed, and that in future the relations of the two departments may be pleasant to the parties, and beneficial to the sick. I now determined that more than ever will I devote my energies to the removal of the causes of the recent severe sickness, and to counteract their results.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 57

Congressman Horace Mann to Reverend Samuel J. May, January 8, 1852

WASHINGTON, Jan. 3, 1852.

REV. S. J. MAY.

DEAR SIR,—It is now a long time since I have received any copies of your shots at Mr. C. So I suppose the war is ended. I did not see his articles; but, from yours, I should suppose you had much the better of him, both in temper and logic. It is curious that you should propose to engage my professional services for your defence in a case arising out of the Fugitive-slave Law, and that so soon my own writings on the subject should require legal defence. I presume you have seen in the "Commonwealth" that Mr. Commissioner Curtis has commenced an action for libel against Mr. Muzzey, the publisher of my speeches, on account of that Lancaster exhibition of himself. What do you say now to being my counsel? Are you ready to do as you would be done by?

I hope you see full debates of Congress—such as are published in the "Globe"—in relation to the reception of Kossuth. The whole opposition to him comes from the South, and from Northern Hunkers who are devoted to the South. The avowed opposition is based on the question of "intervention;" but the real motive is slavery. While they demand that one fugitive shall be fettered and sent home, they cannot bear to see another fêted and honored. You see the cloven foot; indeed, you can see nothing else. With best regards for your family, I am

Very truly yours, &c.,

HORACE MANN.

SOURCE: Mary Tyler Peabody Mann, Life of Horace Mann, p. 356

Congressman Horace Mann to Samuel Downer, February 10, 1852

WASHINGTON, Feb. 10, 1852.

MY DEAR DOWNER, - There is nothing of much moment transpiring here. Cabell of Florida, in the House, a few days ago laid down the Southern Whig platform, that no man should be supported for President who was not sound on the slavery question; and added, that though Scott, for every other reason, would be his first choice, yet he had not come out in favor of slavery to this time, and he feared it was even now too late. He was determined (Cabell) never to be caught by another Taylor. Murphy, from Georgia, followed on the Democratic side, and prescribed very much the same creed for the Democrats that Cabell had for the Whigs. So you see the bold stand the South is taking. June, they will act up to it. succumb?

They will talk up to it now. Next

Will not both parties at the North

Dismy of Ohio, in the same debate, on being taunted for voting against the Fugitive-slave Law, said he did it because it was not stringent enough!

SOURCE: Mary Tyler Peabody Mann, Life of Horace Mann, pp. 356-7

Congressman Horace Mann, 1852

DANSVILLE, N. Y., 1852.

I have seen only the most meagre account of D——'s and R——'s speeches. I do not see how D—— can come out without being battered and shattered to pieces. Nor ought he to. I think he has been false to great principles, though with such palliations as apostates always find. I think posterity does not look at crimes as the traitors themselves do. With the latter it may not be unmitigated and untempted crime. They have their excuses, their subterfuges, and their casuistry. Görgey doubtless disguised his treason to himself under some plea of benefit to his nation. It is a known fact, that Arnold stoutly contended that he desired to confer a benefit on his country as the motive of his treachery. Judas probably made himself believe that the interests of religion demanded the surrender of his Master. Even Mr. Webster talks to this day as if, in sacrificing the immortal principles of liberty, he had only the good of the Union in view. But when the occasion has passed by, when the event is far removed into the past, then the palliations and the pretexts are lost sight of; and only the black, fatal, damning guilt remains for the detestation and abhorrence of men.

SOURCE: Mary Tyler Peabody Mann, Life of Horace Mann, p. 357

Congressman Horace Mann to Reverend Cyrus Pierce, February 13, 1852

WASHINGTON, D.C., Feb. 13, 1852.

C. PIERCE, Esq.

MY DEAR SIR,—We heard from you authentically through our common friends, from whom we had a very pleasant visit; but directly we have not heard from you at all. We should be pleased to be remembered in your thoughts, and now and then to have an hour of your time; but the claims of old friendship perhaps belong to that class of imperfect obligations which cannot be enforced against the will of the party. Let me assure you, however, that you have no truer friends, no warmer admirers, than Mrs. M—— and R——, to say nothing of the gentleman who first knew you when your fame was insular, and who adhered to you through all seasons and at all times, until it became continental, ay, co-extensive with civilization.

To say that the political aspect of things here is not the worst possible, is about all the praise you can give it. A politician does not sneeze without reference to the next Presidency. All things are carried to that tribunal for decision. The greatest interests and the worst passions are assayed for this end, and their value determined accordingly. The next canvass will doubtless be the most corrupt and corrupting one ever witnessed in this country. It is the general opinion here that there is but one Whig who can by any possibility be elected,—Gen. Scott. The Democrats will triumph over every one else, whoever their candidate may be,—perhaps over him, should he be nominated. I believe Gen. Scott to be a very honorable, high-minded man,—a man of rare talents and attainments. On the other hand, I believe the man whom the people universally call "Old Sam Houston," alias "Old San Jacinto," to be a man of incomparably more character, honesty, and resolution than any other of the Democratic candidates.

Unwell as I am here,—for we made a very respectable hospital here for the last twelve weeks,—I am going to try a little rustication at the North.

I hope to attend the great Temperance Banquet at New York on Wednesday evening next. I am also engaged to deliver a temperance lecture in the same city on Tuesday evening. Indeed, I am to speak four successive evenings, from Tuesday to Friday inclusive; hoping by that means to improve my digestion. After that, I have some idea of going up to see brother May at Syracuse, and congratulate him for the hundredth time that he was not hung in Massachusetts with that dreadful malefactor who included three capital crimes in one act. I think I have told you that story, and have seen you laugh at the predicament in which your brother May might have been placed. It is sometimes very strange how serious people will laugh at serious things. I wish you could meet me at New York or Syracuse, or elsewhere on the way, and let me look again upon that good old horologue whose machinery keeps such excellent time, however much the case may have been battered.

You must see Kossuth, at any expense of ribs or toes; for he will warm your heart. Many of his admirers think him perfect. His enemies will probably succeed in finding foibles enough in his character to prove him human.

Your sincere friend,

HORACE MANN.

SOURCE: Mary Tyler Peabody Mann, Life of Horace Mann, pp. 357-9

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 7, 1863

It was with a bounding heart, brimful of gratitude to God, that I stepped on board the Dakota and bade farewell to Haines Bluff on the second day of August. We have three hundred sick and wounded on this boat and are short of help. Quite a number who started as nurses are sick. Four men died the first night. We ran the boat ashore, dug a grave large enough for all, and laid them in it, side by side. Our Chaplain read the burial service, and we hastened on board to repeat the ceremony, the next morning, for some one else. It seems hard—even cruel—but it is the most solemn burial service I ever witnessed. Nine have died since we started, and one threw himself overboard in the frenzy of delirium and was drowned. We kill a beef every evening. Two nights in succession the best part of a hindquarter has been stolen. The boat hands were questioned, and a huge Irishman acknowledged the theft. He was court martialed and sentenced to be "banked." The boat was stopped opposite a wilderness. No human habitation was in sight. He was forced to pack his bundle, take to the woods and run his chance with hunger and the Rebels.

As we were running leisurely along, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of yesterday, my curiosity was aroused by our boat running suddenly against the shore and sticking there. All hands were called, and, with the aid of soldiers, she was soon shoved off, and on we went again. A Sergeant asked the Mate why we landed there. His reply was, "Something wrong in the wheel house." One of our boys asked a darkey the same question. "Well, boss, I 'specs dey see a rabbit ober dere, an' t'ink dey kotch 'im." Soon after, as two comrades and myself were sitting in the bow enjoying the cool breeze, my attention was attracted by the glassy stillness of the water in front of us. Pointing to the right, I said, "Yonder is the safe place to sail." The words had scarcely left my mouth when we felt a sudden shock, the bow of the boat was lifted about two feet, a full head of steam was turned on, which carried us over the obstruction. We had "struck a snag." Soon after, we anchored for the night, as the pilot was "too sick" to run the boat.

The sick from our regiment are doing well. I never saw wounded men do so nicely. Of five who came as nurses, four are on the sick list. As for myself, I have not been so well in years.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 74-5

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 11, 1863

Louisville, Ky. Again in Louisville—eleven hundred miles nearer home than one week ago and yet how far. Still, it is joy to feel I am comparatively near. We reached Cairo on the evening of the seventh, took on fresh supplies, and left next day at noon for Cincinnati, which place we expect to reach some time tomorrow. We are now—3 p. m. taking on coal, and will start in a few minutes.

The Ohio is very low-in places not more than three feet deep. We have brought up against sand bars and been forced to back off perhaps fifty times since leaving Cairo. From this place to Cincinnati, I am told, there are no obstructions. The most difficult part of our way was from New Albany to Louisville. We were six hours in making three miles last night. It was nothing but "Back 'er and try again" for about a mile, and then we had a canal with three locks to pass through.

We have had no deaths since the seventh, and our sick and wounded boys are doing nicely. These fresh northern breezes are more exhilerating than wine, and the hope that they may be sent to their homes to recruit their health is more healing than medicine.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 75-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 12, 1863

Cincinnati, Ohio. We arrived here at 9:30 this morning. My day's work is, at last, completed, at 9 p. m. This has been a busy day. In fact, I have not been idle or had much rest, by day or night, since July fourth, and yet I am fresh and vigorous as in days of old. The sick and wounded all removed the worst cases to the General Hospital in this city, the convalescents to Camp Denison, eighteen miles out, while a few return to their regiments.

The Seventeenth passed through here today, and is now in camp near Covington, on the opposite bank of the river.

I expect to join them in the morning, and look for a handful of letters.

People call the weather here very hot, but it is not Mississippi heat, and I enjoy it. The mornings and evenings are delightfully cool, while there it is constant, relentless heat both day and night. Here a coat is comfortable in the morning—there one needs no cover day or night.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 76-7

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 16, 1863

Camp near Hickman's Bridge, Ky. I did not join the regiment as soon as I expected, owing to the negligence of the Medical Director, whose duty it was to furnish me transportation. As I had no money, I was forced to await his pleasure. The regiment took cars for this place the day they crossed over, so I was left in Cincinnati until Friday evening to live as best I might. I crossed the river on Friday, and next morning took cars for Nicholasville, fourteen miles beyond Lexington, and one hundred fifteen miles from Cincinnati. I was just in time to get two months' pay. I should have drawn for two months more, but there was a mistake in the pay rolls, which cannot be corrected until next muster. The Paymaster says he is going to pay us again next month, and the next time muster us out of the service.

We have a very pleasant camp, in a shady grove, and an abundance of pure, sparkling water, which I appreciate now as I never did before.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 77

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 20, 1863

Camp Parks, Ky. I received a letter from a friend in Michigan last evening, saying: "If you were in Michigan, or could see the situation from the standpoint of the North, you would be less hopeful of the speedy termination of the war." If by "speedy" is meant a single campaign, as was promised us one year ago, I do not now believe in it, but nothing but the most signal failure can change my faith in the ultimate success of our cause.

We have steadily gained ground from the first. The series of reverses that attended our arms the first year of the war has forced our government to accept the inevitable, seemingly against its will. I do not forget the violent opposition to the Emancipation and Confiscation Acts, passed by Congress in December, 1861, by Northern men of undoubted loyalty, nor the President's timid recommendations in his inaugural address to that Congress. I remember well that reverses and disasters attended all our efforts until the government was compelled, as by an overruling Providence, to free the slaves of rebels, which includes them all; and that from the moment these measures became the fixed policy of the government, reverses ceased. It is not the issue of a battle or campaign that gives me hope, but the successes that have attended our arms all through the month of July were attended by such peculiar circumstances as to force upon me the conviction, "There IS a destiny that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will."

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 80-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 22, 1863

I had comforted myself with the reflection that when we returned to Kentucky, where communications were uninterrupted by guerillas, and were only separated by twenty-four hours of time, I might be permitted to correspond with my family without such harrowing delays, for I would not have my darling in doubt as to my situation or whereabouts for one single day, knowing, as I do, the uncertainty of suspense is worse than the reality. But 'tis said, "The darkest hour is just before the dawn," and, even as I write, my mind filled with dark thoughts, a ray of light from my Northern home flashes across my vision. The whole current of my thought is changed, and thankfulness takes the place of my repining. Thankfulness that it is as well with my beloved ones as it is. Oh, that I could remove every burden, and make their pathway smooth and flowery. I find most of our trials are imaginary, but none the less real for being SO. For instance, my beloved wife's imagination pictures me on my weary way back to old Virginia's blood-stained fields, subject to every hardship, exposed to every danger, and her suffering could be no greater if it were so. On the contrary, I am still in Kentucky, in a pleasant, shady grove, enjoying a season of welcome quiet and repose, soft bread to eat, plenty of pure, cold water to drink. What more could mortals crave. The newspapers were right, as far as they went, about our being ordered to the Potomac. We did receive such orders, but General Burnside telegraphed the War Department the Ninth Corps had marched, during the year, an average of twenty miles a day; that it had just returned from an exhausting campaign in Mississippi; that the men were worn down by fatigue and sickness, and were unfit for active service, and asked that they be allowed to remain here for a season. His request was granted. One year has passed since I left my pleasant home to serve my country a year big with the fate of millions yet unborn—a year the most eventful in our history; perhaps in the world's history.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 81-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 24, 1863

We have nearly the same regulations here as at Newport News, everything being regulated by bugle call. Of course, we drill; it would be hard to imagine a military camp without drill; but it would make a horse laugh to see us do it. We fall in line, march to the parade ground and halt under the shade of a big tree. A Sergeant puts us through the manual of arms about five minutes; then stack arms and rest. The remainder of the time is spent in lounging on the grass until the bugle sounds recall.

We are under marching orders again; that is, we are ordered to be ready, an order altogether superfluous, for we are always ready. The general impression among the officers is, this division is to be broken up and scattered over the State, a regiment in a place. Our old brigade commander, General Poe, is here. He is now Chief Engineer in the regular service. He is working, I am told, to get our brigade attached to the engineer corps. I hope he will not succeed, as I do not fancy that branch of the service. If he does succeed, I think I will resign. There has been much talk of mounting this brigade and sending us to fight guerillas. That would suit me to a fraction. Give me a "bounding steed" and a "God speed you" from my "lady love," and never did "armed knight" grasp spear and shield with greater enthusiasm and devotion than I would experience as I hastened to the field of bloody strife. But I do not believe Burnside will send us from the State at present. He has already sent away most of the troops in this vicinity, and is sending the rest fast as he can mount them, and probably we will take their places.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 82-3

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 25, 1863

We are still in camp, where each day is like the preceding one. The same routine of "duty" is gone through with, which, to me, is exceedingly tiresome. Give me the variations; something new and startling every day. For this reason I prefer active service. Those who love fun, and have a natural penchant for mischief, have abundant opportunity to indulge. I have never heard Billy Dunham complain of ennui. So long as guards are to be "run," melons to be "cooned," peach orchards to be "raided" or a peddler to be harried, tormented and robbed, Billy is in his native element. Peddling to soldiers is not the most agreeable business in the world, especially if said soldiers happen to be, as is often the case, on mischief bent. I have seen a crowd of soldiers gather around an unsuspecting victim, a few shrewd, witty fellows attract his attention, while others pass out to their accomplices melons, peaches, tomatoes and vegetables, and when the poor fellow discovers the "game" and gathers up his "ropes" to drive away, the harness fall to the ground in a dozen pieces, the unguided mule walks off amazed, the cart performs a somersault and the poor peddler picks himself up and gazes on the wreck in silent grief. At sight of his helpless misery the wretches seemingly relent; with indignant tones they swear vengeance on the "man who did it;" help him to gather up his "wares" while he secures his mule. This is soon done, for his "stock" has grown small and "beautifully less." He smothers his rage from prudential motives, throws the "toggle" on his mule and prepares to depart. Alas, the millennium has not yet come. His cart wheels, refusing to perform their accustomed revolutions, start off in opposite directions, while the air is rent by the screams and derisive yells of his tormenters. When once begun, the amusement continues until the stock is exhausted. Speaking of Billy, he has become reconciled to his fate, and takes to soldiering like a duck to water.

Lieutenant Chris. Rath has received a Captain's commission, and has been assigned to Company I. He has well earned his commission by his bravery and efficiency.

There was a sudden change of weather last night. The day had been hot and sultry. Toward night we had a light shower, preceded by a hurricane which cleared the atmosphere of heat most effectually. It is now uncomfortable sitting in my tent with my coat on. Uncle Sam seems inclined to make up to us, in some measure, for past neglect. We have soft bread and other rations more than we can use. Today we were surprised by an issue of tea and sugar, more than we can use. We sell our surplus at twenty-five cents a pound. The Brigade Surgeon has put a stop to drilling except as punishment. No signs of a move are in sight. My health is good. It is years since I was in possession of such buoyant, vigorous health.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 83-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 27, 1863

Nicholasville, Ky. We are again enjoying the quiet of camp life. Our miniature tents are pitched in regular order, streets are policed and brigade guards posted to keep our unruly boys within bounds.

Colonel Luce, five line officers and twenty privates have gone home on furlough—others to Cincinnati on leave of absence. Everything indicates a period of rest. Our boys are trying to make up for their privations "down below." Nearly every tent presents the appearance of a market for the sale of fruit or vegetables.

Potatoes, peaches, apples, cabbages, onions, watermelons and green corn are piled in heaps or lie around loose throughout the camp. Then we have artists, too. Two Daguerian cars are running full blast, where the boys get indifferent pictures at one dollar each. I saw a great curiosity today—a relic of bygone ages. About a mile from camp there is a shop where the old-fashioned spinning wheel is manufactured on quite an extensive scale, and they find a ready sale. This is a fair index to the progress of the people. Their manners, forms of speech and customs all point to past ages. They are very loyal and very friendly when sober, but when filled with corn whiskey, hypocrisy and self-interest take a back seat, and they speak their real sentiments with a frankness and fluency that is not at all flattering to us "Yanks." From what I have seen, I conclude all Kentuckians drink whiskey. There are distilleries in every little town, where the "genuine article" is turned out. I called at a farm house one day for a drink of water. The good woman was catechising her son—a lad of ten or twelve years about ten cents she had given him with which to buy some little notion at the store. She gave me a drink of water, then, turning to the young hopeful, angrily inquired, "But where's that ten cents I gave you?" "I guv five cents to Bill." "Where's the other five?" "Bought my dram with it." The explanation appeared satisfactory.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 78-9