Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Thursday, June 16, 1864

About 5 o'clock a. m. a small force including our regiment, moved down within about three quarters of a mile of the James river, formed line of battle and threw up rifle pits; remained here until about 4 o'clock p. m. when we were relieved by General Burnside's Division of colored troops. We then marched down to the river and took transports for Point of Rocks; the Tenth Vermont was favored by going on the dispatch boat; had plenty of room and a fine time. The quiet moonlight night and cool river breeze were delightfully enchanting after such war experiences as we had passed through. It seemed heavenly! I withdrew to a lonely corner by myself and gave myself up to reflection and feelings of thankfulness; has been hot all day. It is reported that General W. F. Smith has taken the outer works of Petersburg, Va., captured sixteen pieces of artillery and twenty-five hundred prisoners. I hardly believe it. I know what such fighting means too well. Such victories don't grow on bushes to be plucked by every one passing.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 83-4

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant George G. Smith: March 16, 1864

During the winter nothing of importance occured, except building barracks for the men and making two outworks to strengthen the fort. Received marching orders.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 90

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Tuesday, June 7, 1864

It has been very quiet along the lines all day; both sides seem to be tired of sharpshooting. Another flag of truce was sent out to-day, I think to get permission to bury our dead between the lines of which there are many plainly to be seen and they are commencing to smell bad; am told Major Crandall of the Sixth Vermont, just to the right of us, was shot to-day by a sharpshooter. He was a popular student once at Barre Academy, Vermont. Captain Edwin Dillingham reported for duty to-day; has been prisoner of war at Richmond since the battle of Locust Grove, Va. last fall; never saw him looking better; is a handsome man, anyway, and a gentleman. Our army seems to be lying idle now, except the heavy artillery which is building forts in our rear; occasionally hear the report of siege guns to our left —  or we suppose them to be siege guns.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 77-8

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: July 1, 1863

Reports of the enemy in great force (18,000). Expect an attact every hour. Trees nearly all removed in range of the fort. Bags of sand placed on the parapets leaving loop holes for guns and otherwise strengthing the fort.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 85

Diary of William Howard Russell: Friday, June 14, 1861

Last night with my good host from his plantation to the great two-storied steamer General Quitman, at Natchez. She was crowded with planters, soldiers and their families, and as the lights shone out of her windows, looked like a walled castle blazing from double lines of embrasures.

The Mississippi is assuredly the most uninteresting river in the world, and I can only describe it hereabout by referring to the account of its appearance which I have already given — not a particle of romance, in spite of oratorical patriots and prophets, can ever shine from its depths, sacred to cat and buffalo fish, or vivify its turbid waters.

Before noon we were in sight of Vicksburg, which is situated on a high bank or bluff on the left bank of the river, about 400 miles above New Orleans and some 120 miles from Natchez.

Mr. MacMeekan, the proprietor of the "Washington," declares himself to have been the pioneer of hotels in the far west; but he has now built himself this huge caravansary, and rests from his wanderings. We entered the dining saloon, and found the tables closely packed with a numerous company of every condition in life, from generals and planters down to soldiers in the uniform of privates. At the end of the room there was a long table on which the joints and dishes were brought hot from the kitchen to be carved by the negro waiters, male and female, and as each was brought in the proprietor, standing in the centre of the room, shouted out with a loud voice, "Now, then, here is a splendid goose! ladies and gentlemen, don't neglect the goose and apple-sauce! Here's a piece of beef that I can recommend! upon my honor you will never regret taking a slice of the beef. Oyster-pie! oyster-pie! never was better oyster-pie seen in Vicksburg. Run about, boys, and take orders. Ladies and gentlemen, just look at that turkey! who's for turkey?" — and so on, wiping the perspiration from his forehead and combating with the flies.

Altogether it was a semi-barbarous scene, but the host was active and attentive; and after all, his recommendations were very much like those which it was the habit of the taverners in old London to call out in the streets to the passers-by when the joints were ready. The little negroes who ran about to take orders were smart, but now and then came into violent collision, and were cuffed incontinently. One mild-looking little fellow stood by my chair and appeared so sad that I asked him "Are you happy, my boy?" He looked quite frightened. "Why don't you answer me?" "I'se afeered, sir; I can't tell that to Massa." "Is not your master kind to you?" "Massa very kind man, sir; very good man when he is not angry with me," and his eyes filled with tears to the brim.

The war fever is rife in Vicksburg, and the Irish and German laborers, to the extent of several hundreds, have all gone off to the war.

When dinner was over, the mayor and several gentlemen of the city were good enough to request that I would attend a meeting at a room in the railway-station, where some of the inhabitants of the town had assembled. Accordingly I went to the terminus and found a room filled with gentlemen. Large china bowls, blocks of ice, bottles of wine and spirits, and boxes of cigars were on the table, and all the materials for a symposium.

The company discussed recent events, some of which I learned for the first time. Dislike was expressed to the course of the authorities in demanding negro labor for the fortifications along the river, and uneasiness was expressed respecting a negro plot in Arkansas; but the most interesting matter was Judge Taney's protest against the legality of the President's course in suspending the writ of habeas corpus in the case of Merriman. The lawyers who were present at this meeting were delighted with his argument, which insists that Congress alone can suspend the writ, and that the President cannot legally do so.

The news of the defeat of an expedition from Fortress Monroe against a Confederate post at Great Bethel, has caused great rejoicing. The accounts show that there was the grossest mismanagement on the part of the Federal officers. The Northern papers particularly regret the loss of Major Winthrop, aide-de-camp to General Butler, a writer of promise. At four o'clock, P. M., I bade the company farewell, and the train started for Jackson. The line runs through a poor clay country, cut up with gulleys and watercourses made by violent rain.

There were a number of volunteer soldiers in the train; and their presence no doubt attracted the girls and women who waved flags and cheered for Jeff Davis and States' Rights. Well, as I travel on through such scenes, with a fine critical nose in the air, I ask myself, "Is any Englishman better than these publicans and sinners in regard to this question of slavery?" It was not on moral or religious grounds that our ancestors abolished serfdom. And if to-morrow our good farmers, deprived of mowers, reapers, ploughmen, hedgers and ditchers, were to find substitutes in certain people of a dark skin assigned to their use by Act of Parliament, I fear they would be almost as ingenious as the Rev. Dr. Seabury in discovering arguments physiological, ethnological, and biblical, for the retention of their property. And an evil day would it be for them if they were so tempted; for assuredly, without any derogation to the intellect of the Southern men, it may be said that a large proportion of the population is in a state of very great moral degradation compared with civilized Anglo-Saxon communities.

The man is more natural, and more reckless; he has more of the qualities of the Arab than are to be reconciled with civilization; and it is only among the upper classes that the influences of the aristocratic condition which is generated by the subjection of masses of men to their fellow-man are to be found.

At six o'clock, the train stopped in the country at a railway crossing by the side of a large platform. On the right was a common, bounded by a few detached wooden houses, separated by palings from each other, and surrounded by rows of trees. In front of the station were two long wooden sheds, which, as the signboard indicates, were exchanges or drinking saloons; and beyond these again were visible some rudimentary streets of straggling houses, above which rose three pretentious spires and domes, resolved into insignificance by nearer approach. This was Jackson.

Our host was at the station in his carriage, and drove us to his residence, which consisted of some detached houses shaded by trees in a small enclosure, and bounded by a kitchen garden. He was one of the men who had been filled with the afflatus of 1848, and joined the Young Ireland party before it had seriously committed itself to an unfortunate outbreak; and when all hope of success had vanished, he sought, like many others of his countrymen, a shelter under the stars and stripes, which, like most of the Irish settled in the Southern States, he was now bent on tearing asunder. He has the honor of being mayor of Jackson, and of enjoying a competitive examination with his medical rivals for the honor of attending the citizens.

In the evening I walked out with him to the adjacent city, which has no title to the name, except as being the State capital. The mushroom growth of these States, using that phrase merely as to their rapid development, raises hamlets in a small space to the dignity of cities. It is in such outlying expansion of the great republic that the influence of the foreign emigration is most forcibly displayed. It would be curious to inquire, for example, how many men there are in the city of Jackson exercising mechanical arts or engaged in small commerce, in skilled or manual labor, who are really Americans in the proper sense of the word. I was struck by the names over the doors of the shops, which were German, Irish, Italian, French, and by foreign tongues and accents in the streets ; but, on the other hand, it is the native-born American who obtains the highest political stations and arrogates to himself the largest share of governmental emoluments.

Jackson proper consists of strings of wooden houses, with white porticoes and pillars a world too wide for their shrunk rooms, and various religious and other public edifices, of the hydrocephalic order of architecture, where vulgar cupola and exaggerated steeple tower above little bodies far too feeble to support them. There are of course a monster hotel and blazing bar-rooms — the former celebrated as the scene of many a serious difficulty, out of some of which the participators never escaped alive. The streets consist of rows of houses such as I have seen at Macon, Montgomery, and Baton Rouge; and as we walked towards the capital or State-house there were many more invitations "to take a drink" addressed to my friend and me than we were able to comply with. Our steps were bent to the State-house, which is a pile of stone, with open colonnades, and an air of importance at a distance which a nearer examination of its dilapidated condition does not confirm. Mr. Pettus, the Governor of the State of Mississippi, was in the Capitol; and on sending in our cards, we were introduced to his room, which certainly was of more than republican simplicity. The apartment was surrounded with some common glass cases, containing papers and old volumes of books; the furniture, a table or desk, and a few chairs and a ragged carpet; the glass in the windows cracked and broken; the walls and ceiling discolored by mildew.

The Governor is a silent man, of abrupt speech, but easy of access; and, indeed, whilst we were speaking, strangers and soldiers walked in and out of his room, looked around them, and acted in all respects as if they were in a public-house, except in ordering drinks. This grim, tall, angular man seemed to me such a development of public institutions in the South as Mr. Seward was in a higher phase in the North. For years he hunted deer and trapped in the forest of the far west, and lived in a Natty Bumpo or David Crocket state of life; and he was not ashamed of the fact when taunted with it during his election contest, but very rightly made the most of his independence and his hard work.

The pecuniary honors of his position are not very great as Governor of the enormous State of Mississippi. He has simply an income of £800 a year and a house provided for his use; he is not only quite contented with what he has but believes that the society in which he lives is the highest development of civilized life, notwithstanding the fact that there are more outrages on the person in his State, nay, more murders perpetrated in the very capital, than were known in the worst days of mediaeval Venice or Florence; — indeed, as a citizen said to me, "Well, I think our average in Jackson is a murder a month;" but he used a milder name for the crime.

The Governor conversed on the aspect of affairs, and evinced that wonderful confidence in his own people which, whether it arises from ignorance of the power of the North, or a conviction of greater resources, is to me so remarkable. "Well, sir," said he, dropping a portentous plug of tobacco just outside the spittoon, with the air of a man who wished to show he could have hit the centre if he liked, "England is no doubt a great country, and has got fleets and the like of that, and may have a good deal to do in Europe; but the sovereign State of Mississippi can do a great deal better without England than England can do without her." Having some slight recollection of Mississippi repudiation, in which Mr. Jefferson Davis was so actively engaged, I thought it possible that the Governor might be right; and after a time his Excellency shook me by the hand, and I left, much wondering within myself what manner of men they must be in the State of Mississippi when Mr. Pettus is their chosen Governor; and yet, after all, he is honest and fierce; and perhaps he is so far qualified as well as any other man to be Governor of the State. There are newspapers, electric telegraphs, and railways; there are many educated families, even much good society, I am told, in the State; but the larger masses of the people struck me as being in a condition not much elevated from that of the original backwoodsman. On my return to the Doctor's house I found some letters which had been forwarded to me from New Orleans had gone astray, and I was obliged, therefore, to make arrangements for my departure on the following evening.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 295-300

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 15, 1862

Yesterday evening several trains laden with wounded arrived in the city. The remains of Brig.-Gen. T. R. R. Cobb, of Georgia, were brought down. Brig.-Gen. Gregg, of South Carolina, is said to be mortally wounded. It is now believed that Major-Gen. Hood, of Texas, did not fall. The number of our killed and wounded is estimated, by a surgeon who came with the wounded, to be not over a thousand.

To-day, stragglers from the battle-field say that our loss in killed and wounded is 3000. It is all conjecture.

There was heavy skirmishing all day yesterday, and until to day at noon, when the telegraph operator reports that the firing had ceased. We know not (yet) what this means. We are still sending artillery ammunition to Gen. Lee.

Gen. Evans dispatches from Kinston, N. C., that on the 14th, yesterday, he repulsed the enemy, 15,000 strong, and drove them back to their boats in Neuse River. A portion of Gen. R. A. Pryor's command, in Isle of Wight County, was engaged with the enemy's advance the same day. They have also landed at Gloucester Point. This is pronounced a simultaneous attack on our harbors and cities in Virginia and North Carolina. Perhaps we shall have more before night. Our people seem prepared for any event.

Another long train of negroes have just passed through the city, singing, to work on the fortifications.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 213-4

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Saturday, May 28, 1864

I wrote hastily yesterday, as we were ordered to move about the time I commenced; rested well last night; marched at 7 o'clock a. m.; arrived at the Pawmunky river about noon and crossed at Nelson's Ferry on a pontoon bridge without difficulty as our cavalry held the place; did not advance far south of the river before we ran into the enemy and captured two pieces of artillery; have been building breastworks this evening; are camped on Dr. Pollard's plantation, a lovely place, but much neglected owing to the war. Slight shower just at dark.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 66-7

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Friday, July 10, 1863

The drive from Hancock to Cumberland is a very mountainous forty-four miles — total distance from Hagerstown, sixty-six miles. We met with no further adventure on the road, although the people were very inquisitive, but I never opened my mouth. One woman in particular, who kept a toll-bar, thrust her ugly old head out of an upper window, and yelled out, “Air they a-fixin' for another battle out there?” jerking her head in the direction of Hagerstown. The driver replied that, although the bunch of rebels there was pretty big, yet he could not answer for their fixing arrangements, which he afterwards explained to me meant digging fortifications.

We arrived at Cumberland at 7 P.M. This is a great coal place, and a few weeks ago it was touched up by “Imboden,” who burnt a lot of coal barges, which has rendered the people rabid against the Rebs. I started by stage for Johnstown at 8.80 P.M.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 303-4

Captain John G. Foster to Brevet Brigadier-General Joseph G. Totten, April 8, 1861

Fort Sumter, S. C. April 8, 1861.

General Joseph G. Totten,

Chief Engineer U. S. Army, Washington, D. C:

General: The increased activity and vigilance of the investing force, as reported yesterday, still continues. Three large traverses are nearly completed on the front, from battery Nos. 3 to 5, on Morris Island, and traverses are also being erected in the interior of battery No. 5. Additions of sand-bags are being made to the covering of the magazine, between Nos. 2 and 3, and to the left flank of No. 1, where I think they are constructing a service magazine.

I am busily at work constructing splinter-proof shelters on the terreplein. I obtain timber by taking the gun-carriages to pieces, and form the covering of the 2-inch iron pieces for embrasures, as seen below. The plates are spiked on, so as to be securely retained in their places, even if struck by a shell, which I am confident it will turn.

Our supplies are entirely cut off from the city, and those on hand are very limited.

The besieging forces worked all day yesterday, whenever the intervals between the showers of rain would allow.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

J. G. Foster, Captain Engineers.

P. S. — I received yesterday a letter from the Secretary of War to Major Anderson, which, by mistake, had been enveloped to me. I handed it to Major Anderson without reading.

Respectfully, &c.,

J. G. Foster, Captain Engineers.

SOURCES: Samuel Wylie Crawford, The Genesis of the Civil War: The Story of Sumter, 1860-1861, p. 385-6

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Friday, May 13, 1864

My prayer for Lee's withdrawal last night was granted. Our Division moved to the “Bloody Angle” this morning; it virtually joined our regiment's left last night. The enemy abandoned the angle during the night after three days' desperate fighting. No pen can fully describe the appearance of the battlefield — and yet our wounded and dead have been cared for, and some of the enemy's, by us and such are mostly out of view. The sight of the enemy's dead is something dreadful. There are three dead lines of battle a half mile more or less in length — men killed in every conceivable manner. The wounded are fairly bound in by the dead. Lee abandoned his works leaving most of his wounded, and all his dead in our hands unburied. Several pieces of artillery were taken. Prisoners say that General Lee fought in person as it meant the loss of his army if his line was broken here, as well as Richmond.

No wonder from its present appearance this place has been christened the “Bloody Angle” and the “Slaughter Pen.” For several hundred yards — fully a half mile or more — in the edge of the heavy oak forest of immense trees skirting an open field, the enemy's works are faultlessly strong of large oak logs and dirt shoulder high with traverses fifty feet back every sixty feet or so. This breastwork is filled with dead and wounded where they fell, several deep nearly to the top in front, extending for forty feet more or less back gradually sloping from front to rear, to one deep before the ground can be seen. The dead as a whole as they lie in their works are like an immense wedge with its head towards the works. Think of such a mass of dead! hundreds and hundreds piled top of each other! At the usual distance in rear of these breastworks — about ninety feet — are two more complete dead lines of battle about one hundred feet apart the dead bodies lying where the men fell in line of battle shot dead in their tracks. The lines are perfectly defined by dead men so close they touch each other. Many of the bodies have turned black, the stench is terrible, and the sight shocking beyond description. I saw several wounded men in the breastworks buried under their dead, just move a hand a little as it stuck up through the interstices above the dead bodies that buried the live ones otherwise completely from sight. Imagine such a sight if one can! It is indescribable! It was sickening, distressing and shocking to look upon! But, above all, think if one can of the feelings of the brave men who, regiment after regiment, were marched up in line of battle time and again for several days to fight with such a sight confronting them! Could anything in Hades be any worse? Only the misery I imagine, of an uneasy conscience at some great wrong done an innocent person could exceed it. It seems like a horrible nightmare! Such intrepidity is worthy of a better cause. Was there ever before such a shocking battlefield? Will the historian ever correctly record it? No pen can do it. The sight of such a horror only can fully portray it.

The First and Second Divisions of the Sixth Corps and Hancock's men have done most of the fighting today at the “Bloody Angle.” The Sixth Corps has lost eight hundred and forty wounded and two hundred and fifty killed. The loss of our army at Spottsylvania Court House has been five thousand two hundred and thirty-three of which number nine hundred have been killed. Our Division has lost in this fight to-day twenty-three killed and one hundred and twenty-three wounded. I examined this forenoon an oak tree fully eighteen inches in diameter felled by being cut off by minie bullets at the apex of the “Bloody Angle” occupied by the enemy. I could hardly believe my eyes, but there stood the stump and the felled tree with the wood for two feet or more all eaten away by bullets.*

_______________

*The stump of this tree is on exhibition at the War Department in Washington, D. C, or was a few years since — L. A. A.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 57

EDITOR'S NOTE: The "Spotsylvania Stump" is in the collection of the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American History, Behring Center, in Washington, D.C.: Catalog #: 4435    Accession #: 20209

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: November 20, 1862

A letter from Brig. H. Marshall, Abingdon, Ky., in reply to one from the Secretary, says his Kentuckians are not willing to be made Confederate hog-drivers, but they will protect the commissary's men in collecting and removing the hogs. Gen. M. criticises Gen. Bragg's campaign very severely. He says the people of Kentucky looked upon their fleeting presence as a horse-show, or military pageantry, and not as indicating the stern reality of war. Hence they did not rise in arms, and hence their diffidence in following the fortunes of the new Confederacy. Gen. M. asks if it is the purpose of the government to abandon Kentucky, and if so, is he not functus officio, being a Kentucky general, commanding Kentucky troops?

Col. Myers has placed on file in the department a denial of having said to Gen. Wise's quartermaster, “Let them suffer.”

Several ladies, near relatives of Judge Campbell, Assistant Secretary of War, came over yesterday under flag of truce. They lived, I believe, in Alexandria.

Another requisition has been made by the engineer for 5000 negroes to work on the fortifications of Richmond.

No letters were received from Gen. Lee to-day, and he may be (busy in the field. Accounts say the enemy is planting batteries in the heights opposite Fredericksburg.

It has been raining occasionally the last day or two. I hope the ground is soft, and the mud deep; if so, Burnside cannot move on Richmond, and we shall have time to prepare for “contingencies.”

Yesterday salt sold at auction for $1.30 per pound. We are getting into a pretty extreme condition.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 193-4

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: February 9, 1863

This day will be remembered by the First Louisiana by the event of raising the flag on the new fort. It was now about completed. Six large 24 pound cannon had been mounted on the parapets, and our company(C) had been detailed to man the guns. It was what is termed a (star fort) having salient and re-enterant angles. Two sides were protected by the river and bayou Lafourche. The others by a deep moat or ditch nicely bricked up inside. The parapet was made of sand and nicely turfed: ambrasures being left for the guns; Altogether it presented a very pretty appearance. The raising of the flag and christning of the fort was in this wise, by 10 o'clock a. m., the regiment was formed in square around the flag pole in the center of the fort with officers, ladies and citizens in the center. An interesting young lady by the name of Miss Weber was selected to preside on the occasion. A table was placed in the center on which the flag rested with the halyards attached. The men were stationed at the guns- Everything being in readiness, an officer passed the bottle of champagne to Miss Weber. At the signal she smashed the bottle spilling the contents on the flag, at the same time exclaiming “I christen thee Fort Butler”. This done the flag ascended slowly to the peak of the mast, amid the booming of cannon, soul stiring strains of the “Star Spangled Banner”, by the band, and shouting of the spectators. This lasted about twenty minutes, when we were entertained with a speech by the chaplain and Col. Holcomb. The latter told the people of Donaldsonville, “That was the flag under which their fathers had fought for freedom. It was the flag, under the protection of whose ample folds, their little city had sprung up from the wilderness like the garden of Eden. But since they had forsaken its protection, and with inpious hands had torn it from its place, their city had “become as Sodom and like unto Gomorrah.” “He closed by saying that, “Whoever attempted to pull that flag down, he would shoot him on the spot.”

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 37-8

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: November 6, 1862

I believe the commissaries and quartermasters are cheating the government. The Quartermaster-General sent in a paper, to-day, saying he did not need the contributions of clothes tendered by the people of Petersburg, but still would pay for them. They were offered for nothing.

The Commissary-General to-day says there is not wheat enough in Virginia (when a good crop was raised) for Gen. Lee's army, and unless he has millions in money and cotton, the army must disband for want of food. I don't believe it.

There are 5000 negroes working on the fortifications near the city, and 2500 are to work on the Piedmont Railroad.

We are all hoping that New York and other States declared against the Republicans, at the elections in the United States, on Tuesday last. Such a communication would be regarded as the harbinger of peace. We are all weary of the war, but must and will fight on, for no other alternative remains. Everything, however, indicates that we are upon the eve of most interesting events. This is the time for England or France to come to the rescue, and enjoy a commercial monopoly for many years. I think the Secretary of War has abandoned the idea of trading cotton to the enemy. It might cost him his head.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 183

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Sunday, June 14, 1863

I went to church at St Michael's, which is one of the oldest churches in America, and is supposed to have been built a hundred and fifty years ago. The Charlestonians are very proud of it, and I saw several monuments of the time of the British dominion.

This morning I made the acquaintance of a Mr Sennec, an officer in the Confederate States navy, who, with his wife and daughter, were about to face the terrors and dangers of running the blockade, Mr Sennec having got an appointment in Europe. The ladies told me they had, already made one start, but after reaching the bar, the night was not considered propitious, so they had returned. Mr Sennec is thinking of going to Wilmington, and running from thence, as it is more secure than Charleston.

I dined at Mr Robertson's this evening, and met a very agreeable party there — viz., two young ladies, who were extremely pretty, General Beauregard, Captain Tucker of the Chicora, and Major Norris, the chief of the secret intelligence bureau at Richmond.

I had a long conversation with General Beauregard, who said he considered the question of ironclads versus forts as settled, especially when the fire from the latter is plunging. If the other Monitors had approached as close as the Keokuk, they would probably have shared her fate. He thought that both flat-headed rifled 7-inch bolts and solid 10-inch balls penetrated the ironclads when within 1200 yards. He agreed with General Ripley that the 15-inch gun is rather a failure; it is so unwieldy that it can only be fired very slowly, and the velocity of the ball is so small that it is very difficult to strike a moving object. He told me that Fort Sumter was to be covered by degrees with the long green moss which in this country hangs down from the trees: he thinks that when this is pressed it will deaden the effect of the shot without being inflammable; and he also said that, even if the walls of Fort Sumter were battered down, the barbette battery would still remain, supported on the piers.

The Federal frigate Ironsides took up her position, during the attack, over 3000 lb. of powder, which was prevented from exploding owing to some misfortune connected with the communicating wire. General Beauregard and Captain Tucker both seemed to expect great things from a newly-invented and extradiabolical torpedo-ram.

After dinner, Major Norris showed us a copy of a New York illustrated newspaper of the same character as our “Punch.” In it the President Davis and General Beauregard were depicted shoeless and in rags, contemplating a pair of boots, which the latter suggested had better be eaten. This caricature excited considerable amusement, especially when its merits were discussed after Mr Robertson's excellent dinner.

General Beauregard told me he had been educated in the North, and used to have many friends there, but that now he would sooner submit to the Emperor of China than return to the Union.

Mr Walter Blake arrived soon after dinner; he had come up from his plantation on the Combahee river on purpose to see me. He described the results of the late Yankee raid up that river: forty armed negroes and a few whites in a miserable steamer were able to destroy and burn an incalculable amount of property, and carry off hundreds of negroes. Mr Blake got off very cheap, having only lost twenty-four this time, but he only saved the remainder by his own personal exertions and determination. He had now sent all his young males two hundred miles into the interior for greater safety. He seemed to have a very rough time of it, living all alone in that pestilential climate. A neighbouring planter, Mr Lowndes, had lost 290 negroes, and a Mr Kirkland was totally ruined.

At 7 P.M. Mr Blake and I called at the office of General Ripley, to whom Mr Blake, notwithstanding that he is an Englishman of nearly sixty years of age, had served as aide-de-camp during some of the former operations against Charleston. General Ripley told us that shelling was still going on vigorously between Morris and Folly Islands, the Yankees being assisted every now and then by one or more of their gunboats. The General explained to us that these light-draft armed vessels — river-gropers, as he called them — were indefatigable at pushing up the numerous creeks, burning and devastating everything. He said that when he became acquainted with the habits of one of these “critturs,” he arranged an ambuscade for her, and with the assistance of “his fancy Irishman” (Captain Mitchell), he captured her. This was the case with the steamer Stono, a short time since, which, having been caught in this manner by the army, was lost by the navy shortly afterwards off Sullivan's Island.

News has just been received that Commodore Foote is to succeed Dupont in the command of the blockading squadron. Most of these officers appeared to rejoice in this change, as they say Foote is younger, and likely to show more sport than the venerable Dupont.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 200-3

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Saturday, June 13, 1863

Colonel Rice, aide-de-camp to General Beauregard, rode with me to "Secessionville" this morning. I was mounted on the horse which the General rode at Manassas and Shiloh. We reached James Island by crossing the long wooden bridge which spans the river Ashley. The land of James Island is low and marshy, and is both by repute and in appearance most unhealthy. Three years ago no white men would have dreamed of occupying it at this time of year; but now that the necessity has arisen, the troops, curiously enough, do not appear to suffer.

“Secessionville,” the most advanced and most important of the James Island fortifications, is distant by road eight miles from Charleston bridge, with which it is connected by a chain of forts. It was surprised by the enemy just a year ago (June 1862), and was the scene of a desperate conflict, which resulted in the repulse of the Federals with a loss of nearly 800 men. The Confederates lost 150 men on this occasion, which as yet has been the only serious loss of life at Charleston during the war. Colonel Lamar, who commanded the garrison with great gallantry, was one of the few victims to yellow fever last year. The Yankees attacked the fort three times with much bravery and determination, and actually reached the superior slope of the parapet before they were driven back. They were within an ace of being successful; and although they deserved great credit for their behaviour on that occasion, yet it is understood that the officer who organised the attack has either been dismissed the service or otherwise punished.

Lieutenant-Colonel Brown, the commandant, who showed me over the fort and bomb-proofs, is quite young, full of zeal, and most anxious to be attacked; he has artillerymen to man this and the neighbouring works, and two regiments of infantry are also encamped within a short distance.

At the time of the attack on Charleston last April there were 30,000 men to defend it; since that time 20,000 had been sent into Mississippi to reinforce Johnston. I imagine that, as the fortifications are so very extensive, the Charleston garrison ought to consist of at least 30,000 men.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 198-200

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: October 16, 1864

Atlanta, Ga., October 16, 1864.

On the 2d, Sherman started with most of the army in pursuit of Hood, leaving General Slocum with the Twentieth Corps and about twelve hundred other troops, to take care of Atlanta. Hood's movement is a desperate one, but we are not anxious as to the result of it; we have rations to stand it longer than he can; forage is the only question, and that we are getting in considerable quantities from the country. If the enemy had obtained possession of Altoona Pass, we should probably have been obliged to evacuate.

Our latest news is that Sherman is at Resaca and Hood on the road near Dalton. We have received a few glorious despatches from Grant, and are most anxious to hear the result of his last movement. This post has been and is being most effectually fortified. The old rebel works bear no comparison to ours; with our corps, we could easily stand a siege by Hood's whole army.

The present campaign out here affords ample chance for speculation. I have not yet seen a man rash enough to try to explain Hood's intentions, or how he feeds his army. One thing is certain: if Sherman gets a fair chance at him so far away from his base, with no line of communications to fall back upon, he will smash him. We shall know very little of the political campaign this year, but we shall probably survive that.

Poor Dr. Heath! He was one of the best men I ever knew, — a pleasant, genial, kind-hearted companion, and as good a surgeon as I have ever seen in the army; his loss has been felt throughout the whole division. He fairly wore himself out in the service; this whole summer he has been surgeon of our division hospital and principal operator, in which position he worked himself to death. I hope we may get a good man in Heath's place. Crowninshield and Storrow will probably arrive here by the first through train.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 194-5

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Monday, June 8, 1863

I arrived at Charleston at 5 A.M., and drove at once in an omnibus to the Charleston hotel. At nine o'clock I called at General Beauregard's office, but, to my disappointment, I found that he was absent on a tour of inspection in Florida. He is, however, expected to return in two or three days.

I then called on General Ripley, who commands the garrison and forts of Charleston. He is a jovial character, very fond of the good things of this life; but it is said that he never allows this propensity to interfere with his military duties, in the performance of which he displays both zeal and talent. He has the reputation of being an excellent artillery officer, and although by birth a Northerner, he is a red-hot and indefatigable rebel. I believe he wrote a book about the Mexican war, and after leaving the old army, he was a good deal in England, connected with the small-arms factory at Enfield, and other enterprises of the same sort. Nearly all the credit of the efficiency of the Charleston fortifications is due to him. And notwithstanding his Northern birth and occasional rollicking habits, he is generally popular.

I then called on Mr Robertson, a merchant, for whom I had brought a letter of introduction from England. This old gentleman took me a drive in his buggy at 6 P.M. It appears that at this time of year the country outside the city is quite pestilential, for when we reached the open, Mr Robertson pointed to a detached house and said, “Now, I am as fond of money as any Jew, yet I wouldn't sleep in that house for one night if you gave it to me for doing so.”

I had intended to have visited Mr Blake, an English gentleman for whom I had a letter, on his Combahee plantation, but Mr Robertson implored me to abandon this idea. Mr Robertson was full of the disasters which had resulted from a recent Yankee raid of the Combahee river. It appears that a vast amount of property had been destroyed and slaves carried off. This morning I saw a poor old planter in Mr Robertson's office, who had been suddenly and totally ruined by this raid. The raiders consisted principally of Northern armed negroes, and as they met with no Southern whites to resist them, they were able to effect their depredations with total impunity. It seems that a good deal of the land about Charleston belongs either to Blakes or Heywards. Mr Blake lost thirty negroes in the last raid, but he has lost since the beginning of the war about 150.

Mr Robertson afterwards took me to see Mrs –––, who is Mr Walter Blake's daughter. To me, who had roughed it for ten weeks to such an extent, Charleston appeared most comfortable and luxurious. But its inhabitants must, to say the least, be suffering great inconvenience. The lighting and paving of the city had gone to the bad completely. Most of the shops were shut up. Those that were open contained but very few goods, and those were at famine prices. I tried to buy a black scarf, but I couldn't find such an article in all Charleston.

An immense amount of speculation in blockade-running was going on, and a great deal of business is evidently done in buying and selling negroes, for the papers are full of advertisements of slave auctions. That portion of the city destroyed by the great fire presents the appearance of a vast wilderness in the very centre of the town, no attempt having been made towards rebuilding it; this desert space looks like the Pompeian ruins, and extends, Mr Robertson says, for a mile in length by half a mile in width. Nearly all the distance between the Mills House hotel and Charleston hotel is in this desolate state. The fire began quite by accident, but the violent wind which suddenly arose rendered all attempts to stop the flames abortive. The deserted state of the wharves is melancholy — the huge placards announcing lines of steamers to New York, New Orleans, and to different parts of the world, still remain, and give one an idea of what a busy scene they used to be. The people, however, all seem happy, contented, and determined. Both the great hotels are crowded; and well dressed, handsome ladies are plentiful; the fare is good, and the charge at the Charleston hotel is eight dollars a day.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 179-82

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: July 31, 1864

Near Atlanta, July 31, 1864.

The evening of the 29th, I went on duty as Field Officer of the day of this brigade. After posting my picket and seeing that all was right, I lay down to take a little sleep.

I must now explain our position. The right of our brigade rests on the Chattanooga Railroad and connects with the left of the Fourteenth Corps; the picket line was about one hundred and fifty yards in advance of the line of works. The rebel rifle pits extended along a crest about two hundred and fifty yards in front of their works, which consist of strong redoubts connected by a heavy line of breastworks ; at a point about in front of the centre of my picket, the ridge rose into a prominent mound. It was swept by the guns of two forts and several batteries, and appeared to be untenable even if taken.

About half-past two A. M., on the 30th, I received an order to advance and take the rifle pits in my front, if possible, and then hold the position. I was told that the pickets on my right and left would advance with me and protect my flanks. My picket consisted of one hundred and sixty-one men and five officers. At a given signal, just at dawn, the whole line rose up and moved out of their little works; for fifty yards not a shot was fired, then the enemy discovered us and opened their fire. I gave the order, “Double-quick,” and in a moment we were upon them; in less than two minutes we had captured seventy-two prisoners, including four captains and three lieutenants. I caught one fellow by the collar as he was making off; he seemed almost frightened to death. Says he, “Don't kill me, — I surrender, I surrender.” I told him that I wouldn't kill him, but he must tell me truly if there was anything between the pits and the works. He said no, but that there were lots of men and guns in the works. On my left, the picket had come up well, refusing its left so as to connect with our old line. On my right, as I soon learned, the Fourteenth Corps picket, seeing that we were being peppered a good deal, thought they would stay where they were, so I had to bend my right away round to cover my flank. The mound was now ours; the question was, could we hold it? The instant that we were fully in possession, I set to work fortifying. The men were in high spirits, knowing that they had done a big thing, and I felt confident that they would fight well. In a very few minutes we had rails piled along our whole front, and bayonets and various other articles were in requisition for entrenching tools.

As soon as the rebels were fully aware of our proximity, and just as it was becoming fairly daylight, they opened on us along our front with musketry and artillery, throwing enough bullets, cannister and shell for a whole corps instead of an insignificant picket detail.

Work, of course, was now suspended. Our greatest annoyance was the fort, which mounted heavy guns, and these were so near that they seemed almost to blaze in our faces and were doing a great deal of damage. I ordered part of the men to fire into the embrasures. In less than five minutes, heavy doors were swung across the openings, and the fort closed up business for the day; the other batteries were out of sight, and kept up their fire. After about an hour of this kind of work, I found that I had lost a good many men, and the others were much exhausted. I sent off an orderly with the report that I must have reinforcements, if I was expected to hold my position. Word came back that I should have more men, and that General Thomas said that the position must be held. Shortly after, three companies reported to me, and about six A. M., the old “Second” came up.

All the men who could be spared from their muskets were kept at work digging, so that every minute we were becoming stronger, and the danger was growing less; still the artillery fire was terrible. At ten o'clock, Colonel Coggswell sent in word that his men could stand it no longer; they had fired over a hundred rounds of cartridges apiece; they were perfectly exhausted and must be relieved. The Thirteenth New Jersey came out and the Second went in; this regiment was under command of a captain, so that it came under my control. At eleven the fire began to decrease, and from then till two P. M., as the rebels found we were to hold on, it continued to subside. A little after two, an officer was sent out to relieve me. My loss was forty-nine killed and wounded, at least half having been hit by solid shot and shell.

I had a whole chapter of wonderful escapes. One shell burst within ten feet of me, throwing me flat by its concussion and covering me with dirt. As I was trying to eat a little breakfast, a rifle bullet struck the board on which was my plate, and sent things flying; but it seemed that my time to be hit had not come.

Our regiment lost three killed and seven wounded. George Thompson was slightly wounded by a piece of shell, nothing serious. The recruits behaved well, without exception.

The best news we have is that General Slocum is coming back to this corps.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 182-5

Major Wilder Dwight: March 13, 1862

Camp Near Winchester, March 13, 1862.

At last! My prophecy of yesterday found its fulfilment rapidly enough. Half an hour after my letter went on its way, Colonel Andrews brought the news that Hamilton's and Williams's brigades were in Winchester, as quietly and easily as if no hostile force had ever held it. Jackson left the night before, having held Hamilton and us in check all the previous day by slight demonstrations of cavalry. It is as I have always supposed, though this general exodus from Manassas and the whole line is more sudden than I believed possible. It gives us a stern chase, perhaps a long chase. After lunch the Colonel and I determined to gallop down from Berryville to Winchester to call on Hamilton and see the place, — a pleasant ride of ten miles. We approached the town from the east. The only symptom of fortification was a long rifle-pit, with a few platforms for guns, and one broken gun “truck,” or ship carriage. We found General Hamilton in command, and in tranquil possession. Jackson cleverly slipped away, carrying with him everything, — guns, stores, men. He had been moving for a fortnight, and has gone to the railway at Strasburg. I think we have lost time uselessly in our over-caution. Our own twenty-four hours' delay at Berryville is inexplicable to me. The effort, I think, should have been made by a movement to Millwood, and so across to the Strasburg pike, to cut off Jackson. A bold game would, perhaps, have bagged him. Still, while the position at Manassas was held, a bold game was too full of hazard. After the broad hint furnished us by the evacuation of Leesburg, however, I think we might have pushed on our intercepting column fearlessly. At any rate, the movement is without brilliancy or effectiveness or fruit, and only postpones and unsettles the time of our success. We got into the saddle again at half past five to return.

Just at dusk we came near Berryville. Whom should we meet but General Abercrombie. “The whole brigade is moving,” said he. “I have a telegraphic despatch from General Banks, that Hamilton is engaged with the enemy at Winchester. Shields has been taken prisoner, and the loss, on our part, is very heavy. We are ordered to march at once to his support.” “But it's all a mistake,” said we. “We just left General Hamilton safe and happy at Winchester, and no enemy within twenty miles.” “Never mind,” said the General; “I have my orders.” It was no use; he would not let us turn the regiment back, as we desired. There was nothing for it but to yield. We stopped and got some supper, and then followed the regiment, overtaking it at about eight o'clock, as it was crossing a stream. At about ten o'clock, wet and cold, we turned into a field near Winchester to bivouac for the night. A cold time we had of it. To-day we have got into camp near the town. I rode out this afternoon to see their vaunted fort on the road toward Bunker Hill; a poor affair enough. Everything tells me that if Patterson had had courage instead of caution, an army instead of a mob, we should have walked into Winchester last July as we have to-day. But we needed the lessons of that campaign to prepare for this.

I must not omit to mention the arrival of the boxes of clothing, from Mrs. Ticknor, on Saturday last at Charlestown. They came, like their predecessors, most opportunely. It was the morning after our night march over rough and muddy roads. Our camp was scourged by a blustering and piercing March wind. The boxes opened their warmth upon men who longed for it. Give our cordial thanks to all the ladies whose kindness has done so much for us.

Great news from Arkansas! Howard is in luck.

My last night's bivouac, after so many previous sleepless nights, has made me rather sleepy. Our regiment turned into a thick pine wood. Colonel Hackleman's Indiana regiment was just in our rear. They brought along with them the hens and chickens of the neighboring farms, and the feathers flew briskly about their beds. Old Hackleman calls them his “boys,” and they, in turn, call him “pap”; and he has a happy, noisy family about him. As they lay by our side last night, I was led to the remark, that Hackleman's babes were in the wood, and Robbin Henroosts had covered them with softer covering than leaves. Our regiment is in perfect condition, and the men have really become practised and expert soldiers. Our train came up this morning, and at about one o'clock we went into camp. Before sunset ovens were built, and we had a perfectly organized camp. We may not stay here a day, but everything takes shape at once. The men march easily and rapidly, and I am more than ever pleased and contented with the Second Regiment.

Have we not a Monitor afloat? Was not her providential arrival at Norfolk an effective admonition to the Rebels? Check to their king. Private enterprise has done what our Navy Department could not. What a glorious trial trip!

Just beyond the field in which we are encamped are the remains of the camp of the Second Virginia. An omen, perhaps; but this peaceable succession to vacant camps has in it little of the element that feeds martial ardor or rewards the ecstasy of strife! But how silently and surely we are dealing with slavery. The post at which I placed my grand guard yesterday was near a fine old farm-house. Its Rebel owner left with haste, as threw his shells with brilliant courage at four men and a threshing-machine which his distempered fancy had imagined and exaggerated into some new engine of destruction. All the negro servants were left in charge of the other property. This leaving one kind of property in possession of another kind of property hath in it a certain logical and natural inconsistency, which doth not fail to show itself in the practical result. “Massa's gone to Winchester. He in a big hurry. Yer's welcome to the hams and the other fixins. Massa very hospitable man.” So the negro makes free with his fellow-property with every right of succession and enjoyment that belongs to a next of kin. Why will he not also learn to make free with himself?

If he fails to do so, it will not be for the want of a good deal of rough but sage counsel from the “boys” of the Sixteenth Indiana Regiment, who were posted there. The Hoosiers have very vague notions of property and Rebel ownership at the best. They have not the capacity to rise to the height of contemplating human ownership. A long row of beehives were humming their peaceful labors in the front-yard. I hear that they soon fell into disorder, and that the Hoosiers had a ration of honey! Sic vos non vobis mellificatis apes! My Latin may be lame, but the sense is clear.

I send you a Richmond Enquirer, from the Winchester mail, seized yesterday; I send you also a paper published by the Twelfth Indiana on their advent to town. It is dull enough, but an odd institution, — a sort of turning of the Rebel batteries against themselves

The origin of General Banks's error about a battle at Winchester, which gave us our night stampede, is supposed to have been in the signal corps. Some one blundered a signal or forged one, we have not yet learned which; an investigation is going on.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 206-10

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: July 9, 1864

Near Vining's Station, Ga.,

July 9, 1864.

The 2d of July, Saturday, I was Field Officer of the day, and had charge of the brigade picket. That night I received notice that the enemy were expected to leave very soon, and to watch them closely. I went out to the picket line, intending to stay there till morning; the night was pretty dark, and though only about three hundred yards of open field lay between our line and the rebels', yet nothing could be seen at that distance. Occasionally, shots were fired. At one in the morning I ordered three men and a corporal, whom I knew to be cool, brave men, to crawl up within a few yards of the nearest rebel picket post, if possible, and see if they were still there. In about an hour they returned, and reported that they had been near enough to hear the enemy talking, and had been fired upon twice; however, from general appearances, I made up my mind that they were going, and so reported.

At a little before daylight, the whole picket line was ordered forward. We advanced and got into the enemy's works without opposition, taking quite a number of prisoners. These works were the most formidable I have yet seen, — more of the nature of permanent fortifications than ordinary field works. The breastworks were of the strongest kind; then about ten yards in front was a chevaux de frise of a double row of pointed rails, and in front of this, an almost impenetrable abattis about one hundred yards wide.

I got into Marietta among the first with my skirmishers. I found it to be a beautiful place, though now almost deserted by its inhabitants. We drove out the rear guard of cavalry and artillery; among them could be seen numbers of citizens, men and women, running off like fools, leaving their property to be destroyed. For the first time in the South, I saw here pretty, neat country places, like those of Jamaica Plain and Brookline, with green lawns and hedges, and ornamental shrubs and trees about them; the houses appeared to be well furnished, but I suppose before this, the riff-raff of the army has rifled them of all worth taking. The Military Academy was a fine building, with gymnasium, etc., about it; it has been converted into a hospital. By sunrise the whole army was moving and on the heels of Johnston. We were right on him when he got into another of his lines of works. My skirmishers took about fifty prisoners; judging from that, the army must have taken at least one or two thousand.

July 4th, nothing occurred except a few changes of position. On the morning of the 5th, the enemy were gone from our front; we followed them up, and found them in their next line, about three miles off.

From one part of our line I had a distant view of Atlanta, the spires and towers rising in plain sight above the everlasting forests, which seemed to extend without a break, excepting an occasional corn-field, from Tullahoma to this place. We are now in front of the rebel position, their two flanks resting on the Chattahoochie, as do ours. We are told that we shall be here a few days, so I suppose there can be no obstacle to the enemy crossing the river whenever they want to do so. In my limited sphere of observation, I can give you for facts only what I see; the causes are all beyond me, as I know nothing of any movements beyond our own corps.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 173-5