Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Saturday, August 30, 1862

Put up our tents between Forts Ramsay and [Buffalo] at Upton's Hill. On Friday, fighting heard west and southwest of us — supposed to be at Manassas. All day Saturday, ditto. At Alexandria first saw McClellan's Grand Army. They do not look so efficient as General Cox's six regiments, but are no doubt good.

The Thirtieth got here in time to get through to Pope. [The] Eleventh and Twelfth [Ohio] went forward under Colonel Scammon to try to do the same thing. At Bull Run Bridge, beyond Fairfax, united with First, Second, Third, and Fourth New Jersey, under General Taylor, and pushed on, New Jersey regiments in advance; ran into a battery and heavy force of the enemy. New Jersey broke, fled, and never rallied; [the] Eleventh and Twelfth pushed on and fought gallantly, Colonel Scammon cool and steady! Won praise from all. Good! Honor of Ohio sustained. Eastern correspondents fail to tell the facts.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 331-2

Diary of John Hay: September 1, 1862

Saturday morning, the 30th of August, I rode out into the country and turned in at the Soldiers' Home. The President’s horse was standing by the door, and in a moment the President appeared, and we rode into town together.

We talked about the state of things by Bull Run and Pope’s prospect. The President was very outspoken in regard to McClellan’s present conduct. He said that it really seemed to him McC. wanted Pope defeated. He mentioned to me a despatch of McC.^s in which he proposed, as one plan of action, to “leave Pope to get out of his own scrape and devote ourselves to securing Washington.” He spoke also of McC’s dreadful panic in the matter of Chain Bridge, which he had ordered blown up the night before, but which order had been countermanded; and also of his incomprehensible interference with Franklin’s Corps which he recalled once, and then, when they had been sent ahead by Halleck’s order, begged permission to recall them again; and only desisted after Halleck’s sharp injunction to push them ahead till they whipped something, or got whipped themselves. The President seemed to think him a little crazy. Envy, jealousy and spite are probably a better explanation of his present conduct. He is constantly sending despatches to the President and Halleck asking what is his real position and command. He acts as chief alarmist and grand marplot of the army.

The President, on my asking if Halleck had any prejudices, rejoined: — “No! Halleck is wholly for the service. He does not care who succeeds or who fails, so the service is benefited.”

Later in the day we were in Halleck’s room. Halleck was at dinner and Stanton came in while we were waiting for him, and carried us off to dinner. A pleasant little dinner and a pretty wife as white and cold and motionless as marble, whose rare smiles seemed to pain her. Stanton was loud about the McC. business. He was unqualifiedly severe upon McClellan. He said that after these battles there should be one court-martial, if never any more. He said that nothing but foul play could lose us this battle, and that it rested with McC. and his friends. Stanton seemed to believe very strongly in Pope. So did the President, for that matter. We went back to the Headquarters and found General Halleck. He seemed quiet and somewhat confident. He said the greatest battle of the century was now being fought. He said he had sent every man that could go to the field. At the War Department we found that M^r Stanton had sent a vast army of volunteer nurses out to the field, probably utterly useless, over which he gave Gen^l Wadsworth command.

Everything seemed to be going well and hilarious on Saturday, and we went to bed expecting glad tidings at sunrise. But about eight o'clock the President came to my room as I was dressing, and calling me out, said: — “Well, John, we are whipped again, I am afraid. The enemy reinforced on Pope and drove back his left wing, and he has retired to Centreville where he says he will be able to hold his men. I don't like that expression. I don't like to hear him admit that his men need holding.”

After awhile, however, things began to look better, and, people's spirits rose as the heavens cleared. The President was in a singularly defiant tone of mind. He often repeated, “We must hurt this enemy before it gets away.” And this morning, Monday, (September 1), he said to me, when I made a remark in regard to the bad look of things: — “No, Mr. Hay, we must whip these people now. Pope must fight them; if they are too strong for him he can gradually retire to these fortifications. If this be not so, — if we are really whipped, and to be whipped, we may as well stop fighting.”

It is due in great measure to his indomitable will that army movements have been characterized by such energy and celerity for the last few days. There is one man who seems thoroughly to reflect and satisfy him in everything he undertakes. This is Haupt, the Railroad man at Alexandria. He has, as Chase says, a Major General's head on his shoulders. The President is particularly struck with the business-like character of his despatch, telling in the fewest words the information most sought for, which contrasted so strongly with the weak, whining, and incorrect despatches of the whilom General-in-Chief. If heads or shoulder straps could be exchanged, it would be a good thing, in either case, here. A good railroader would be spoiled, but the General gained would compensate. The corps of Haupt starting from Alexandria, have acted as pioneers, advance-guard, voltigeurs, and every other light infantry arm of the service.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 60-4;  Tyler Dennett, Editor, Lincoln and the Civil War: in the Diaries and letters of John Hay, p. 44-7.

Diary of Gideon Welles: Thursday, January 22, 1863

There is a rumor that Fitz John Porter, whose trial of over forty days has interested the public, is found guilty and has been cashiered. A different result was reported at the close of the trial a fortnight since. It was then said he was unanimously acquitted. I did not give implicit credit to that rumor, though I read none of the testimony; but my impressions and observation and all that I heard at the War Department in relation to Porter and other generals in the day and time of their occurrence for which he was arraigned were such I could not believe him wholly guiltless. The finding and punishment are severe, but I apprehend not entirely undeserved. I do not, however, impute to him disloyalty or treachery, but he was one of a mortified clique or combination who were vexed and dissatisfied, not without cause perhaps, that an inferior officer for whom they had not high regard should have been brought from a distant department and placed over them, their plans and operations broken up, and the commander whom they respected and to whom they were attached superseded and virtually disgraced. But if the country was made to suffer by this mortified partisan combination, it was a crime which should not go unrebuked or unpunished. Porter may not have been the chief or only sinner, though the victim in this combination.

It was not a wise or judicious movement to place Pope at the head of the army last summer. If I am not mistaken those who participated in it now think so. An intrigue against McClellan brought him and Halleck here. Perhaps under no circumstances was Pope equal to the command given him, but I thought then and still believe he was not faithfully and fairly sustained by Porter and his associates. McClellan and most of his generals were vexed and irritated. They had some cause for dissatisfaction, but not to the injury of the country. Fitz John Porter, the intimate of McClellan, entered with all the ardor of a partisan and a clansman into the feelings and wrongs of his commander. He and the set to which he belonged did not, I thought at the time, wish Pope to acquire great glory; their zeal for victory was weak when he commanded, and the battle was lost. To some extent the results at the second Bull Run fight are attributable to the bad conduct of the generals. It has been evident the soldiers of the Army of the Potomac were not enthusiastic for Pope, — that they did not like him. This is true, but who chilled them? Who encouraged their dislike?

The Weehawken has arrived at Hampton Roads, having rode out the gale without making a port. No man but John Rodgers would have pushed on his vessel in that terrific storm. The Nahant, a better vessel, sought the Breakwater, as did some of our best wooden steamers.

General Burnside was to have made a forward movement, but the storm prevented. There are rumors that the army is much demoralized, that the soldiers do not give their confidence to Burnside, doubt his military capacity, and that some of the generals are cool. There is, I think, some truth and some exaggeration in all these reports.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 225-6

Major Wilder Dwight: September 5, 1862

camp Near TennallytowN, Maryland, September 5, 1862.

I wrote you a hasty scrawl in my hurried visit to Washington, just to assure you of our safety at last. That was Wednesday. We went into camp near Fort Albany, and within a mile of the Long Bridge. Yesterday we got marching orders again; crossed the Potomac at Georgetown, and came out here on the Edwards's Ferry and Darnestown road, about eight miles, and are now in camp. . . . .

We suppose that we are to go up the river towards Edwards's Ferry. You would, perhaps, like to have a record of our life since we occupied the line of the Rappahannock till to-day. It has been so tense and corrosive that I am not yet in tone to write an account of it. Our week on the Rappahannock was a series of marches, countermarches, vigils, pickets, wet bivouacs, always within sound, often within reach, of the enemy's cannon, moving under the hissing importunity of flying shells and round shot. One morning at Beverly Ford we took a position from which our forces had been driven two previous days. Colonel Andrews and I breakfasted under a tree with shell and round shot moving merrily about us. We held the position. On Monday night we lay under arms within half a mile of the battle in which Kearney and Stevens fell, near Fairfax Court-House. The fight was a fierce one. During most of it a violent thunderstorm raged fearfully. I can only leave you to imagine the scene. We were all night under arms, wet through, and without fires. The worst night I ever spent. Tuesday night we came in last over the Warrenton Pike, — the very tail of the Grand Army, as we had been before.

Our risks and chances have been great, but we were not in either of the fights about Manassas or Bull Run. I am glad of it. Unsuccessful battles we have had enough of. I have been too busy to get news of Charley. We have been on the march for eighteen days. Colonel Taylor's account of the matter was encouraging. I met him by chance on Tuesday. Inquired at once for Charley. His answer was, “He is on his way to Richmond.” I was taken aback. Under all the circumstances, you may regard him as lucky.

I hope he will be paroled without being taken to Richmond.

Our recruits have had a hard time. It is an illustration of the folly of our whole system of organization and recruiting, that we should have dragged one hundred and fourteen unarmed recruits through all this business. But I will not begin about follies. The events of the past three weeks are incredible. Disaster, pitiable, humiliating, contemptible! Love to all at home. Now that we are in Maryland, I suppose the absurd order stopping the mails will be rescinded. I shall write again as soon as I can.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 285-7

Major Wilder Dwight: September 3, 1862

Washington, D. C., September 3, 1862

After an experience of sixteen days here, I am humiliated, exhausted, yet well and determined.

The history of Pope's retreat, without a line and without a base, is a military novelty. We lived on the country, with a witness, — green corn and green apples. Twice cut off by the enemy, — everything in discomfort and confusion.

Forced marches, wakeful bivouacs, retreat, retreat. O, it was pitiful! and now a whole city full, here at Washington begins to feel our presence. Bah!

The regiment has behaved well, the brigade has behaved well. Charley's accident was funny. He was taken from his horse in a mêlée, but Colonel Taylor assures me unhurt and lively.* It is the family luck. I will write more when I can, and when I have been to sleep. I am perfectly well, and in as good spirits as can be expected. Have got a large mail to-day. Thanks for letters. Love to all at home.

Keep —— there. The service is not for the young; and though the race seems to be to the swift, the battle is not yet to the strong.

_______________

* Lieutenant Charles Dwight, of General Sickles's staff, while leading a charge on the enemy, was taken prisoner during the battle of Bristow Station, August, 1862.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 285

Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. to John L. Motley, September 3, 1862

Wednesday evening, September 3.

I have waited long enough. We get the most confused and unsatisfactory, yet agitating, rumors. Pope seems to be falling back on the capital after having got the worst of it in a battle on the 30th. Since that there has been little fighting so far as we know, but this noon we get a story that Stonewall Jackson is marching by Leesburg on Baltimore, and yesterday we learned that Cincinnati is in imminent danger of a rebel invasion. How well I remember the confidence that you expressed in General Scott — a confidence which we all shared! The old general had to give up, and then it was nothing but McClellan. But do not think that the pluck or determination of the North has begun to yield. There never was such a universal enthusiasm for the defense of the Union and the trampling out of rebellion as at this perilous hour. I am willing to believe that many of the rumors we hear are mere fabrications. I won't say to you, be of good courage, because men of ideas are not put down by the accidents of a day or a year.

Yours always,

O. W. H.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 271

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: September 7, 1862

We see by the Northern papers that Pope claimed a great victory over Lee and Jackson! It was too much even for the lying editors themselves! The Federal army being hurled back on the Potomac, and then compelled to cross it, it was too transparently ridiculous for the press to contend for the victory. And now they confess to a series of defeats from the 26th June to the culminating calamity of the 30th August. They acknowledge they have been beaten — badly beaten — but they will not admit that our army has crossed into Maryland. Well, Lee's dispatch to the President is dated “Headquarters, Frederick City.” We believe him.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 152

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: September 1, 1862

Official dispatches from Lee, announcing a “signal victory,” by the blessing of God, “over the combined forces of the enemy.” That is glory enough for a week. When Lee says “signal victory,” we know exactly what it means, and we breathe freely. Our generals never modify their reports of victories. They see and know the extent of what has been done before they speak of it, and they never mislead by exaggerated accounts of successes.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 151

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: September 3, 1862

We lament the fall of Ewell — not killed, but his leg has been amputated. The enemy themselves report the loss, in killed and wounded, of eight generals! And Lee says, up to the time of writing, he had paroled 7000 prisoners, taken 10,000 stand of small arms, 50 odd cannon, and immense stores!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 151

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 28, 1862

Pope's coat was captured, and all his papers. The braggart is near his end.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 150

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 29, 1862

Bloody fighting is going on at Manassas. All the news is good for us. It appears that Pope, in his consummate egotism, refused to believe that he had been outwitted, and “pitched into” our corps and divisions, believing them to be merely brigades and regiments. He has been terribly cut up.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 150-1

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 30, 1862

Banks, by the order of Pope, has burnt 400 Yankee cars loaded with quartermaster's and commissary stores. But our soldiers have fared sumptuously on the enemy's provisions, and captured clothing enough for half the army.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 151

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 31, 1862

Fighting every day at Manassas.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 151

Governor John A. Andrew to John M. Forbes, September 13, 1862

Boston, September 13, 1862.

My Dear Sir, — I like your suggestions very much, but I venture to suggest: 1st, that having perused the report of the testimony . . . printed . . . by order of the Senate, I do not think any part of the disaster of Bull Run was due to Colonel M., and I think that on the weight of the evidence he was sick, but not intoxicated. . . .

2d, as to contractors. I think the department can do nothing in the direction you propose; Congress might. And I think General Meigs might properly be appealed to for an opinion. Stanton can know but little about the matter directly. And I think a part of the rage against him is due to the contractors who like a long war and were angry that Stanton tried to shorten it.

3d, as to skulkers and spies. Unless the Generalin-Chief is in earnest, these reforms are impossible. The department may fulminate regulations, but in vain, as long as imbecility, disobedience, evasion of duty, neglect of duty, coldness towards the cause itself, distinguish the General-in-Chief.

The department is powerless for reform while the army is led as it now is led and has been led hitherto. It can only give rules and orders, but it remains for the officers in command to enforce them. The President persists in retaining those who will not do what you and I think zeal and faithful service demand. The reform is only possible by a new commander in the field. Thus believing, I have not the heart to write of these details to the Secretary.

I am ever faithfully and most respectfully yours,

John A. Andrew.

SOURCE: Sarah Forbes Hughes, Letters and Recollections of John Murray Forbes, Volume 1, p. 331-2

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, May 18, 1865

Some of the troops started quite early this morning, but our division left later, taking up the rear today. We marched fifteen miles and went into bivouac after crossing the Acon river, wading it just below the mouth of Bull Run creek, which empties into it. There are some fortifications here, it being near where the battles of Bull Run were fought.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 275

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: February 28, 1864

Our hearts ache for the poor. A few days ago, as E. was walking out, she met a wretchedly dressed woman, of miserable appearance, who said she was seeking the Young Men's Christian Association, where she hoped to get assistance and work to do. E. carried her to the door, but it was closed, and the poor woman's wants were pressing. She then brought her home, supplied her with food, and told her to return to see me the following afternoon. She came, and with an honest countenance and manner told me her history. Her name is Brown; her husband had been a workman in Fredericksburg; he joined the army, and was killed at the second battle of Manassas. Many of her acquaintances in Fredericksburg fled last winter during the bombardment; she became alarmed, and with her three little children fled too. She had tried to get work in Richmond; sometimes she succeeded, but could not supply her wants. A kind woman had lent her a room and a part of a garden, but it was outside of the corporation; and although it saved house-rent, it debarred her from the relief of the associations formed for supplying the city poor with meal, wood, etc. She had evidently been in a situation little short of starvation. I asked her if she could get bread enough for her children by her work? She said she could sometimes, and when she could not, she “got turnip-tops from her piece of a garden, which were now putting up smartly, and she boiled them, with a little salt, and fed them on that.” “But do they satisfy your hunger,” said I? “Well, it is something to go upon for awhile, but it does not stick by us like as bread does, and then we gets hungry again, and I am afraid to let the children eat them too often, lest they should get sick; so I tries to get them to go to sleep; and sometimes the woman in the next room will bring the children her leavings, but she is monstrous poor.” When I gave her meat for her children, taken from the bounty of our Essex friends, tears of gratitude ran down her cheeks; she said they “had not seen meat for so long.” Poor thing, I promised her that her case should be known, and that she should not suffer so again. A soldier's widow shall not suffer from hunger in Richmond. It must not be, and will not be when her case is known. Others are now interested for her. This evening Mrs. R. and myself went in pursuit of her; but though we went through all the streets and lanes of “Butcher Flat” and other vicinities, we could get no clue to her. We went into many small and squalid-looking houses, yet we saw no such abject poverty as Mrs. Brown's. All who needed it were supplied with meal by the corporation, and many were supporting themselves with Government work. One woman stood at a table cutting out work; we asked her the stereotyped question — “Is there a very poor widow named Brown in this direction?” “No, ladies; I knows two Mrs. Browns, but they ain't so poor, and ain't no widows nuther.” As neither of them was our Mrs. B., we turned away; but she suddenly exclaimed, “Ladies, will one of you read my husband's last letter to me? for you see I can't read writing.” As Mrs. R. took it, she remarked that it was four weeks old, and asked if no one had read it to her?” Oh yes, a gentleman has read it to me four or five times; but you see I loves to hear it, for may-be I shan't hear from him no more.” The tears now poured down her cheeks. “He always writes to me every chance, and it has been so long since he wrote that, and they tell me that they have been fighting, and may-be something has happened to him.” We assured her that there had been no fighting — not even a skirmish. This quieted her, and Mrs. R. read the badly written but affectionate letter, in which he expresses his anxiety to see her and his children, and his inability to get a furlough. She then turned to the mantelpiece, and with evident pride took from a nail an old felt hat, through the crown of which were two bullet-holes. It was her husband's hat, through which a bullet had passed in the battle of Chancellorsville, and, as she remarked, must have come “very nigh grazing his head.” We remarked upon its being a proof of his bravery, which gratified her very much ; she then hung it up carefully, saying that it was just opposite her bed, and she never let it be out of her sight. She said she wanted her husband to fight for his country, and not “to stand back, like some women's husbands, to be drafted; she would have been ashamed of that, but she felt uneasy, because something told her that he would never get back.” Poor woman! we felt very much interested in her, and tried to comfort her.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 252-5

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Sunday, September 14, 1862

I have been so busy making Lieutenant Bourge's shirt that I have not had time to write, besides having very little to write about. So my industry saved my paper and spared these pages a vast amount of trash. I would not let any one touch Lieutenant Bourge's shirt except myself; and last evening, when I held it up completed, the loud praises it received satisfied me it would answer. Miriam and Miss Ripley declared it the prettiest ever made. It is dark purple merino. The bosom I tucked with pleats a quarter of an inch deep, all the way up to the collar, and stitched a narrow crimson silk braid up the centre to hold it in its place. Around the collar, cuffs, pockets, and band down the front, the red cord runs, forming a charming contrast to the dark foundation. Indeed, I devoted the sole article the Yankees let fall from my two workboxes — a bunch of soutache — to the work. Large white pearl buttons completed the description, and my shirt is really as quiet, subdued, and pretty a one as I ever saw. I should first hear the opinion of the owner, though. If he does not agree with all the others, I shall say he has no taste.

I got a long sweet letter from Sophie on Friday that made me happy for the whole day. They were about leaving for Alexandria. I was glad to hear they would be out of danger, but still I was sorry they were going so far away. I have been laying a hundred wild schemes to reach Baton Rouge and spend a day or two with them, which is impossible now. Sophie writes just as she talks — and that means remarkably well, so I can at least have the pleasure of corresponding. At Dr. Carnal's they will be out of the reach of all harm and danger; so I ought to rejoice. There is one thing in which Sophie and I agree, and that is in making Stonewall Jackson our hero. Talk of Beauregard! he never had my adoration; but Stonewall is the greatest man of the age, decidedly.

Still no authentic reports of the late battles in Virginia. I say late, referring to those fought two weeks ago. From the Federal accounts, glowing as they usually are, I should gather the idea that their rout was complete. I cannot imagine why we can hear nothing more from our own side. . . .

I think my first act on my return home will be to take a cup of coffee and a piece of bread, two luxuries of which I have been deprived for a long while. Miriam vows to devour an unheard-of number of biscuits, too. How many articles we considered as absolutely necessary, before, have we now been obliged to dispense with! Nine months of the year I reveled in ice, thought it impossible to drink water without it. Since last November, I have tasted it but once, and that once by accident. And oh, yes! I caught some hail-stones one day at Linwood! Icecream, lemonade, and sponge cake was my chief diet; it was a year last July since I tasted the two first, and one since I have seen the last. Bread I believed necessary to life; vegetables, senseless. The former I never see, and I have been forced into cultivating at least a toleration of the latter. Snap beans I can actually swallow, sweet potatoes I really like, and one day at Dr. Nolan's I “bolted” a mouthful of tomatoes, and afterwards kept my seat with the heroism of a martyr. These are the minor trials of war. If that were all — if coarse, distasteful food were the only inconvenience!

When I think of what Lavinia must suffer so far from us, and in such ignorance of our condition, our trials seem nothing in comparison to hers. And think how uneasy Brother must be, hearing of the battle, and not knowing where we fled to! For he has not heard of us for almost two months. In return we are uneasy about him and Sister. If New Orleans is attacked, what will become of them with all those children?

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 222-5

Diary of Sarah Morgan: September 3, 1862

Political news it would be absurd to record; for our information is more than limited, being frequently represented by a blank. Of the thirteen battles that Gibbes has fought in, I know the names of four only: Bull Run, Stonebridge, Port Republic, and Cedar Run. Think of all I have yet to hear! To-day comes the news of another grand affair, the defeat of McClellan, Pope, and Burnside combined. If I dared believe it! But accounts are too meagre as yet. Both Gibbes and George were in it, if there was a fight, and perhaps Jimmy, too. Well! I must wait in patience. We have lost so much already that God will surely spare those three to us. Oh! if they come again, if we can meet once more, what will the troubles of the last six months signify? If I dared hope that next summer would bring us Peace! I always prophesy it just six months off; but do I believe it?

Indeed, I don't know what will become of us if it is delayed much longer. If we could only get home, it would be another thing; but boarding, how long will mother's two hundred and fifty last? And that is all the money she has. As to the claims, amounting to a small fortune, she might as well burn them. They will never be paid. But if we get home, what will we do for bedding? The Yankees did not leave us a single comfort, and only two old bars and a pair of ragged sheets, which articles are not to be replaced at any price in the Confederacy, so we must go without. How glad I am that we gave all our blankets to our soldiers last summer! So much saved from the Yankees!

Poor Lavinia! She fancies us comfortably settled at home; I dare say she spends all her time in picturing to herself what we may be doing, and recalling each piece of furniture the rooms contained. Wonder if she would not be shocked if the real scene were suddenly revealed to her, and she should see the desolated house and see us fugitives in a strange town. Wonder how the cry of “Where are those three damned Secesh women?” would have struck her, had she heard the strange oaths and seen the eager search which followed? I dare say it would have frightened her more than it did me when I was told of it. William Waller says it is God's mercy that we had escaped already, for we certainly would have suffered. I hardly think we could have been harmed, though, and shall always regret that we did not return immediately after the battle. It took them from that day to the evacuation to finish the work; and I rather think that our presence would have protected the house.

Our servants they kindly made free, and told them they must follow them (the officers). Margret was boasting the other day of her answer, “I don't want to be any free-er than I is now — I'll stay with my mistress,” when Tiche shrewdly remarked, “Pshaw! Don't you know that if I had gone, you'd have followed me?” The conduct of all our servants is beyond praise. Five thousand negroes followed their Yankee brothers from the town and neighborhood; but ours remained. During the fight, or flight, rather, a fleeing officer stopped to throw a musket in Charles Barker's hands, and bade him fight for his liberty. Charles drew himself up, saying, “I am only a slave, but I am a Secesh nigger, and won't fight in such a d----- crew!” Exit Yankee, continuing his flight down to the riverside.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 210-2

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, September 1, 1862

Bivouac Between

Centreville And Bull Run,

September 1, 1862.

We have been moving around for the last two days in about the same style as heretofore. Yesterday morning, we were routed out early and marched, by a very wide detour, thirteen miles to this place, the enemy having pushed a large force between us and our main body. We were fortunate to get off as safely as we did, as the enemy came into our old camp as the rear of our column moved out of it. We had to destroy a railroad train nearly a mile long, to prevent its falling into their hands. There was any quantity of clothing, hospital stores and nice things furnished by the Sanitary Commission, on board; all these were burned. I can't learn anything about what has taken place the last few days; I only know we have been fighting severely. I judge, by our movements, that our left has been driven back. We have passed over two battle-fields in our marches; one of them covered some of the old Bull Run ground. We passed yesterday some of the winter quarters of the rebels. Their houses looked very comfortable, but of all dreary places on the face of the globe, I cannot imagine a drearier one than the Plain of Manassas. For miles and miles, almost to the Rappahannock, these great rolling plains extend, some times covered with woods, but mostly with high, coarse weeds and rank grass. There is very little population, only a house here and there at intervals of a mile or more.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 84-5

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, August 29, 1862

Resting Near Bull Run,

August 29, 1862.

I resume my narrative again like a shipwrecked mariner, hoping at some distant day I may be able to send it to you. Since the twenty-first, we have been marching and countermarching, manœuvering and skirmishing, almost constantly, in all that time not having quarter rations or more than one or two whole nights' sleep. We have really suffered hardships, now, for the first time; we have known what it is to be grateful for a drink of the muddiest of water and for a half of a hard cracker and an ear of corn or a green apple for dinner, and to be able to lie down and get two hours' quiet sleep. Last night, I took off my shoes, washed myself and got a whole night's sleep for the first time in ten days; this morning, I had a beefsteak, a cup of coffee and a piece of hard bread for breakfast; I feel now like starting again, and shall probably be gratified before long.

For six or seven days, we skirmished along the Rappahannock, moving constantly from one point to another of the river, generally marching in the early part of the night, stacking arms at eleven or twelve o'clock, and lying down on the ground until daylight to catch a little sleep, half the time not being able to take our blankets from our horses for fear of a sudden move. At daylight, cannonading generally began, either by our batteries or others along the river. One morning, we had a pretty lively time; our battery (Cathran's First New York), became engaged with two rebel batteries and, for an hour, we saw and heard the smartest artillery fighting we have heard yet. At the end of that time, the two rebel batteries were silenced and withdrawn; four of our Parrotts were burned out and rendered unserviceable, and a number of horses and mules, and one man, killed. The solid shot and shell came tearing through the woods where we were supporting the guns, in great style, making the branches fly; one tree was cut down close to where Colonel Andrews was. Fortunately, none of us were hit, though the noise of the shot and shell was terrific.

Day before yesterday, our army was withdrawn from the river on account of a movement of the enemy to our rear. We reached this place last night, after two days' toiling along after Sigel's wagon train, over the dustiest of roads, under the hottest of hot suns. Two days ago, a battle was fought near here, in which we were victorious; the graves of some thirty of each side are in the field; this is all we know of the fight.

Last night a fight* began which is still going on, four or five miles north of us, where the enemy seems to be in force. Everything seems to be upside down and wrong end to. I have not heard a man yet wild enough to suggest how it is all going to end. The enemy are certainly using the most desperate measures to capture Washington and invade Maryland; they may be successful, but I trust not. The whole of McClellan's and Pope's army is near by somewhere, and there are large reinforcements around Washington. We don't feel very anxious now, except about our next meal. Somehow or other, officers and men seem to keep up their spirits wonderfully through all these hard times, and I hope will continue to, as there is nothing I can see now to change the times. Hogan and the mare are safe and perfectly invaluable in this emergency. Rumors come to us now that Jackson is at Centreville with his whole army.

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* 2nd Battle of Bull Run.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 82-4