Showing posts with label George B McClellan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George B McClellan. Show all posts

Friday, March 27, 2026

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 3, 1861

There is a rumor here to-day that our troops are in possession of both Savannah and Pensacola. I do not believe it.

What do our leaders mean to do with us this winter? Here we are, the 3d December, a cold, freezing, windy day, in our open tents, without intimation of what we are going to do with no more preparation for winter quarters than we had a month ago. Are we to be kept in this condition all winter? We are getting tired of McClellan's want of vim. How long is he going to be "getting ready?" All is conjecture, except that the wind howls dreadfully around our tents this cold night.

This morning the three divisions of the army here sent out five hundred to a thousand men each, to beat the bush. This moment comes the statement that they woke up about four hundred rebel cavalry, surrounded them, and that they are even now endeavoring to fight their way out; that they have killed about fifteen of our men; that we have taken about two hundred prisoners, and are fishing in the dark for the rest. All this may be true, but I am getting to be a great doubter of the truth of anything I hear in camp. We shall know all about it to-morrow.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 58-9

Monday, February 16, 2026

Diary of Private William S. White, July 1, 1862

We remained in position all night, and a more uncomfortable night I never spent; 'twas almost a matter of impossibility to sleep, but nature must at length claim its own, and so we slept at last as only broken down soldiers can.

This morning the enemy threw a few shell toward us, but we made no reply.

Longstreet's division has been relieved to-day by Magruder, and my company has been ordered back to the rear. As we moved back the terribly bloody and disastrous was commencing, but we did not participate in it. Here Lee's army received a check which enabled McClellan, who conducted his retreat in masterly style, to make good his escape.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 124

Sunday, January 18, 2026

Diary of Adam Gurowski, October 1861

As in the mediæval epoch, and some time thereafter, anatomists and physiologists experimented on the living villeins, that is, on peasantry, serfs, and called this process experientia in anima vili, so this naïve administration experiments in civil and in military matters on the people's life-blood.

McClellan, stirred up by the fools and peacocks around him, has sent to the War Department a project of a showy uniform for himself and his staff. It would be to laugh at, if it were not insane. McClellan very likely read not what he signed.

The army is in sufficient rig and organization to take the field; but nevertheless McClellan has not yet made a single movement imperatively prescribed by the simplest tactics, and by the simplest common sense, when the enemy is in front. Not a single serious reconnoissance to ascertain the real force of the enemy, to pierce through the curtain behind which the rebels hide their real forces. It must be conceded to the rebel generals that they show great skill in humbugging us. Whenever we try to make a step we are met by a seemingly strong force (tenfold increased by rumors spread by the secessionists among us, and gulped by our stupidity), which makes us suppose a deep front, and a still deeper body behind. And there is the humbug, I am sure. If, on such an extensive line as the rebels occupy, the main body should correspond to what they show in front, then the rebel force must muster several hundreds of thousands. Such large numbers they have not, and I am sure that four-fifths of their whole force constitutes their vanguard, and behind it the main body is chaff. The rebels treat us as if we were children.

McClellan fortifies Washington; Fremont, St. Louis; Anderson asks for engineers to fortify some spots in Kentucky. This is all a defensive warfare, and not so will the rebel region be conquered. We lose time, and time serves the rebels, as it increases their moral force. Every day of their existence shows their intrinsic vitality.

The theory of starving the rebels out is got up by imbeciles, wholly ignorant of such matters; wholly ignorant of human nature; wholly ignorant of the degree of energy, and of abnegation, which criminals can display when firmly decided upon their purpose. This absurdity comes from the celebrated anaconda Mississippi-Atlantic strategy.

Oh! When in Poland, in 1831, the military chiefs concentrated all the forces in the fortifications of Warsaw, all was gone. Oh for a dashing general, for a dashing purpose, in the councils of the White House! The constitutional advisers are deaf to the voice of the people, who know more about it than do all the departments and the military wiseacres. The people look up to find as big brains and hearts as are theirs, and hitherto the people have looked up in vain. The radical senators, as a King, a Trumbull, a Wade, Wilson, Chandler, Hale, etc., the true Republicans in the last session of Congress — further, men as Wadsworth and the like, are the true exponents of the character, of the clear insight, of the soundness of the people.

McClellan, and even the administration, seem not to realize that pure military considerations cannot fulfil the imperative demands of the political situation.

October 6th. — I met McClellan; had with him a protracted conversation, and could look well into him. I do not attach any value to physiognomies, and consider phrenology, craniology, and their kindred, to be rather humbugs; but, nevertheless, I was struck with the soft, insignificant inexpressiveness of his eyes and features. My enthusiasm for him, my faith, is wholly extinct. All that he said to me and to others present was altogether unmilitary and inexperienced. It made me sick at heart to hear him, and to think that he is to decide over the destinies and the blood of the people. And he already an idol, incensed, worshipped, before he did anything whatever. McClellan may have individual courage, so has almost every animal; but he has not the decision and the courage of a military leader and captain. He has no real confidence in the troops; has scarcely any idea how battles are fought; has no confidence in and no notion of the use of the bayonet. I told him that, notwithstanding his opinion, I would take his worst brigade of infantry, and after a fortnight's drill challenge and whip any of the best rebel brigades.

Some time ago it was reported that McClellan considered this war had become a duel of artillery. Fools wondered and applauded. I then protested against putting such an absurdity in McClellan's mouth; now I must believe it. To be sure, every battle is in part a duel of artillery, but ends or is decided by charges of infantry or cavalry. Cannonading alone never constituted and decided a battle. No position can be taken by cannonading alone, and shells alone do not always force an enemy to abandon a position. Napoleon, an artillerist par excellence, considered campaigns and battles to be something more than duels of artillery. The great battle of Borodino, and all others, were decided when batteries were stormed and taken. Eylau was a battle of charges by cavalry and by infantry, besides a terrible cannonading, etc., etc. McClellan spoke with pride of the fortifications of Washington, and pointed to one of the forts as having a greater profile than had the world-renowned Malakoff. What a confusion of notions, what a misappreciation of relative conditions!

I cannot express my sad, mournful feelings, during this conversation with McClellan. We spoke about the necessity of dividing his large army into corps. McClellan took from the table an Army Almanac, and pointed to the names of generals to whom he intended to give the command of corps. He feels the urgency of the case, and said that Gen. Scott prevented him from doing it; but as soon as he, McClellan, shall be free to act, the division will be made. So General Scott is everywhere to defend senile routine against progress, and the experience of modern times.

The rebels deserve, to the end of time, many curses from outraged humanity. By their treason they forced upon the free institutions of the North the necessity of curtailing personal liberty and other rights; to make use of depotism for the sake of selfdefence.

The enemy concentrates and shortens his lines, and McClellan dares not even tread on the enemy's heels. Instead of forcing the enemy to do what we want, and upturn his schemes, McClellan seemingly does the bidding of Beauregard. We advance as much as Beauregard allows us to do. New tactics, to be sure, but at any rate not Napoleonic.

The fighting in the West and some small successes here are obtained by rough levies; and those imbecile, regular martinets surrounding McClellan still nurse his distrust in the volunteers. All the wealth, energy, intellect of the country, is concentrated in the hands of McClellan, and he uses it to throw up entrenchments. The partisans of McClellan point to his highly scientific preparations his science. He may have some little of it, but half-science is worse than thorough ignorance. Oh! for one dare-devil in the Lyon, or in the old-fashioned Yankee style. McClellan is neither a Napoleon, nor a Cabrera, nor a Garibaldi.

Mason and Slidell escaped to Havana on their way to Europe, as commissioners of the rebels. According to all international definitions, we have the full right to seize them in any neutral vessel, they being political contrabands of war going on a publicly avowed errand hostile to their true government. Mason and Slidell are not common passengers, nor are they political refugees invoking the protection of any neutral flag. They are travelling commissioners of war, of bloodshed and rebellion; and it is all the same in whatever seaport they embark. And if the vessel conveying them goes from America to Europe, or vice versa, Mr. Seward can let them be seized when they have left Havana, provided he finds it expedient.

We lose time, and time is all in favor of the rebels. Every day consolidates their existence — so to speak, crystallizes them. Further — many so-called Union men in the South, who, at the start, opposed secession, by and by will get accustomed to it. Secession daily takes deeper root, and will so by degrees become un fait accompli. Mr. Adams, in his official relations with the English government, speaks of the rebel pirates as of lawful privateers. Mr. Seward admonished him for it. Bravo!

It is so difficult, not to say impossible, to meet an American who concatenates a long series of effects and causes, or who understands that to explain an isolated fact or phenomenon the chain must be ascended and a general law invoked. Could they do it, various bunglings would be avoided, and much of the people's sacrifices husbanded, instead of being squandered, as it is done now.

Fremont going overboard! His fall will be the triumph of the pro-slavery party, headed by the New York Herald, and supported by military old fogies, by martinets, and by double and triple political and intellectual know-nothings. Pity that Fremont had no brilliant military capacity. Then his fall could not have taken place.

Mr. Seward is too much ruled by his imagination, and too hastily discounts the future. But imagination ruins a statesman. Mr. Seward must lose credit at home and abroad for having prophesied, and having his prophecies end in smoke. When Hatteras was taken (Gen. Scott protested against the expedition), Mr. S. assured me that it was the beginning of the end. A diplomat here made the observation that no minister of a European parliamentary government could remain in power after having been continually contradicted by facts.

Now, Mr. Seward devised these collateral missions to Europe. He very little knows the habit and temper of European cabinets if he believes that such collateral confidential agents can do any good. The European cabinets distrust such irresponsible agents, who, in their turn, weaken the influence and the standing of the genuine diplomatic agents. Mr. S., early in the year, boasted to abolish, even in Europe, the system of passports, and soon afterwards introduced it at home. So his imagination carries him to overhaul the world. He proposes to European powers a united expedition to Japan, and we cannot prevent at home the running of the blockade, and are ourselves blockaded on the Potomac. All such schemes are offsprings of an ambitious imagination. But the worst is, that every such outburst of his imagination Mr. Seward at once transforms into a dogma, and spreads it with all his might. I pity him when I look towards the end of his political career. He writes well, and has put down the insolent English dispatch concerning the habeas corpus and the arrests of dubious, if not treacherous, Englishmen. Perhaps Seward imagines himself to be a Cardinal Richelieu, with Lincoln for Louis XIII. (provided he knows as much history), or may be he has the ambition to be considered a Talleyrand or Metternich of diplomacy. But if any, he has some very, very faint similarity with Alberoni. He easily outwits here men around him; most are politicians as he; but he never can outwit the statesmen of Europe. Besides, diplomacy, above all that of great powers, is conceived largely and carried on a grand scale; the present diplomacy has outgrown what is commonly called (but fallaciously) Talleyrandism and Metternichism.

McClellan and the party which fears to make a bold advance on the enemy make so much fuss about the country being cut up and wooded; it proves only that they have no brains and no fertility of expedients. This country is not more cut up than is the Caucasus, and the woods are no great, endless, primitive forests. They are rather groves. In the Caucasus the Russians continually attack great and dense forests; they fire in them several round shots, then grape, and then storm them with the bayonet; and the Circassians are no worse soldiers than are the Southrons.

European papers talk much of mediation, of a peaceful arrangement, of compromise. By intuition of the future the Northern people know very well the utter impossibility of such an arrangement. A peace could not stand; any such peace will establish the military superiority of the arrogant, reckless, piratical South. The South would teem with hundreds of thousands of men ready for any piratical, fillibustering raid, enterprise, or excursion, of which the free States north and west would become the principal theatres. Such a marauding community as the South would become, in case of success, will be unexampled in history. The Cylician pirates, the Barbary robbers, nay, the Tartars of the 12th, 13th, and 14th centuries, were virtuous and civilized in comparison with what would be an independent, man-stealing, and man-whipping Southern agglomeration of lawless men. The free States could have no security, even if all the thus called gentlemen and men of honor were to sign a treaty or a compromise. The Southern pestilential influence would poison not only the North, but this whole hemisphere. The history of the past has nothing to be compared with organized, legal piracy, as would become the thus-called Southern chivalry on land and on sea; and soon European maritime powers would be obliged to make costly expeditions for the sake of extirpating, crushing, uprooting the nest of pirates, which then will embrace about twelve millions, — every Southern gentleman being a pirate at heart.

This is what the Northern people know by experience and by intuition, and what makes the people so uneasy about the inertia of the administration.

Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Seward, Gen. Scott, and other great men, are soured against the people and public opinion for distrusting, or rather for criticising their little display of statesmanlike activity. How unjust! As a general rule, of all human sentiments, confidence is the most scrutinizing one. If confidence is bestowed, it wants to perfectly know the why. But from the outset of this war the American people gave and give to everybody full, unsuspecting confidence, without asking the why, without even scrutinizing the actions which were to justify the claim.

Up to this day Secesh is the positive pole; the Union is the negative, — it is the blow recipient. When, oh, when will come the opposite? When will we deal blows? Not under McClellan, I suspect.

SOURCE: Adam Gurowski, Diary from March 4, 1861, to November 12, 1862, pp. 104-114

Tuesday, December 30, 2025

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Thursday, April 3, 1862

Hampton Roads. Great concentration of McClellan's army. Our battery has to give up the tents.

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

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Saturday, April 5, 1862

Marched at daybreak. Cannonading going on in front of Yorktown. General McClellan passed the line amidst great cheering of the troops. Strong intrenchments were found near Howard's Mills. At six o'clock P. М. we went to camp three miles from Yorktown.

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

Saturday, October 18, 2025

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, October 12, 2025

Diary of Private William S. White, June 30, 1862

BATTLE OF WILLIS'S CHURCH, OR FRAYSER'S FARM, MONDAY, JUNE 30TH, 1862.

I was in the saddle from a little after sunrise yesterday morning until daybreak this morning, and then, after taking a nap of an hour, had to move on to find my company. McClellan, having been so terribly punished on his right flank by the fierce onslaughts of Lee and Jackson, has now concentrated his forces on this (the south) side of the Chickahominy, and is making his way to his gun-boats on the James River. We are following him up as rapidly as possible. Our two divisions moved a few miles farther down the Darbytown Road, when our advanced guard captured a Yankee picket, who reported their men to be but a short distance in advance.

Longstreet quickly disposed his troops, and advanced to meet the enemy; my battery was posted in an open field, but we could see no enemy, as a heavy wood was between us.

The enemy soon rained a storm of shot and shell upon us, and we returned the fire with vigor, but as soon as our infantry charged beyond us, as at Gaines's Mill, we were compelled to cease firing," our guns being of such short range.

Nevertheless, we were compelled to receive their fire, and, being unable to return it, it made our situation anything but pleasant. Nothing is more demoralizing to troops than to be subjected to a heavy fire from an unseen foe and to remain perfectly inactive. The wood completely shut us out from sight, yet shielded us but little from the shot and shell.

Here a member of my company (Edward F. Cullen) was struck upon the forehead by a piece of shell; we thought at first he was seriously wounded, but we were mistaken. I also made a very narrow escape, for a two ounce ball from a Belgian rifle passed through my gunner's-bag, which was, as is customary during an engagement, thrown over my shoulder. I had in this bag about 500 friction primers, each and every one a little miniature cannon of itself, filled with rifle and a poisonous fulminating powder, the explosion of one of which would have caused the explosion of the whole. The ball passed through three thick pleats of leather, breaking the fourth and last pleat. Had it not have been for this leather bag, I would have received this ball just below my heart. The fighting was still going on in our front at a terrific rate. Again and again our men charged the enemies' works, but were as often driven back. At one time Featherstone's brigade had to reform a few yards to the right of our battery, and could only muster 250 men. One more grand effort—a dashing charge and our men have carried the entrenchments. Kemper's men are holding their position without ammunition; Featherstone's brigade has melted away from 1,200 to 200; still our brave troops hold their position, and have captured many a piece of artillery. Night comes on, but still the fight continues—volley after volley of musketry pours its stream of death into our ranks, but our men cannot be driven back, and McClellan has to keep moving on. Our field of observation is so extremely limited, we can learn but little of the general plan of the battle or of the specific results. The wounded stragglers all pass through our battery and tell the same old tale of being "cut up," "badly whipped," etc., so that for a long time we were really in doubt whether we or the Yankees had been successful. The enemy fought bravely and contested the ground inch by inch. Our General, Featherstone, has been badly wounded. We have captured many prisoners and a number of pieces of artillery; also, a Brigadier-General by the name of McCall.

We spent the night on the field, and, for the season, it was bitterly cold.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 122-4

Monday, August 25, 2025

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Saturday, March 1, 1862

This has been another fine dry and bright day. The roads are geting quite good. The dust is thick on Pa. Ave today. There has probably been no fighting over the River as yet but the next week is expected to be an important time in the history of the War. McClellan has got a “good ready” and is now about to act. Nothing is now allowed to be published in reference to the troops or the War, consequently the papers are quite uninteresting. I have been in the office today as usual, have been at home all the evening, reading &c.

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

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Sunday, March 2, 1862

Pleasant morning but the ground is covered with snow tonight. Snowed very hard the middle of the day. It has thawed all the time. Went to church with family. Chaplin Marks of the Pa. 42nd Regt held forth, quite an interesting man. The military on both sides of the River are under marching orders and all ready to move. Doct Barnes of the 27th came over yesterday & brought his wife. The 27th is all packed up and ready, stirring times looked for now. The Sick in the camps have been placed in Hospitals. Artillery has been moveing for two or three days past. There is an abundance of it on the Potomac. McClellan depends much upon that arm. There is much excitement in the City and much satisfaction expressed now that the immense army here is to move at last. The force must be crushing to “Secesh.” There cannot be less than 250 thousand men on & near the Potomac in the Union Armies under Genl McClellan.

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

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Saturday, March 8, 1862

The weather is now fine & the roads are drying up. Troops are coming into the City and crossing over the River. Rumors afloat of fighting today near Mt Vernon. Nothing is published and little is known publicly of War operations. The prospect now is that there will be a desperate Battle near here soon. The Rebels will try to retrieve their recent losses, and will fight with desperation. McClellan is well prepared and has an immense army near here all ready and anxious for a fight. Went up to Franklin Square with wife & the boys after dinner. Wife & myself continued our walk to Lafayette Square pass [sic] Genl McClellans home. He was standing at the Window. I did not go down to the Ave tonight, got a “Tribune” of the news boy & read Carl Shurze Speech at the Cooper Institute NY.

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

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Tuesday, March 11, 1862

The “Stars & Stripes” are floating over Centreville & Mannasses, the Rebels having ran away. McClellan is there with over two hundred thousand men. News this morning of a desperate battle in Arkansas betwen our forces under Genl Curtis & Price, McCullochs army. The Rebels were totally routed with great loss. It has been a delightful day. Tonight Comodore Smiths son (Capt Smith of the Frigate Congress, killed in the fight with the Merrimac) was brought up to his fathers, funeral tomorrow. Took a walk with Julia & Willie tonight after dinner. “Bud” & “Holly” have gone out to the camp of the 98th Meridian Hill to see their Lyons friends. They stay in the camp tonight. I think one night in the tent will satisfy them.

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

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Thursday, March 13, 1862

There is no particular news today in the papers. Col Dutton concluded to come down and stay with us until he gets better. Doct David came with him. He appears better tonight, but Doct D stays with him all night. It has been a little wet this evening and there seems to be more rain in prospect. McClellan is, it is said, pursuing the fleeing rebels.

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

Friday, August 15, 2025

Diary of Henry Greville: Thursday, December 12, 1861

The Frederick Cadogans and Pahlen dined with me, and we went to Léotard in the evening-his performance is as wonderful as it is beautiful in its way.

Prince Albert's malady, which is a gastric fever, is taking the usual course, and is likely to last twenty-one days.

On going out to-day I heard from Charles that Clarendon had told him the Duc d'Aumale received a letter from the Prince de Joinville, who on hearing of the 'Trent' affair went to General McClellan and told him that it was quite impossible that England could patiently submit to such an outrage that General McClellan had agreed with the Prince, who entreated him to go and tell the President how much better it would be to deliver up Mason and Slidell at once, before any demand were made by us. McClellan did so, but found the President of a different opinion and resolved to do nothing of the sort. This fact makes it almost certain that the Message expected to-night will hold such language as to make war inevitable.

I have a letter from Henry Loch to tell me of his marriage to Miss Villiers.

SOURCE: Alice Countess of Stratford, Leaves from the Diary of Henry Greville: 1857-1861, pp. 415-6

Wednesday, August 13, 2025

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Wednesday, March 12, 1862

Some men of the First Minnesota, and Corporal Butler, of our battery, took possession of Gregg's printing office, of "The Berryville Observator," and published quite a number of copies of said paper. News of McClellan's occupation of Manassas arrived, in consequence of which, a salute of forty guns was fired. In the evening, when Captain Tompkins rode into camp, the assembly was blown at once, and he addressed the men as follows: "Boys, a fight is going on at Winchester, and this battery must be there within twenty-five minutes." Camp was struck, and the battery on the road, when the order was countermanded.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 35

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Thursday, March 27, 1862

We are to join McClellan's army on the Peninsula. Had battery drill in the afternoon, and directly after that marched to the foot of G street to load the battery. Recruits arrived from Rhode Island, Joseph Brooks, who was taken prisoner at the Bull Run battle amongst them.

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

Thursday, July 10, 2025

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, October 22, 1861

Went to Washington to see off a friend who has been spending a few weeks with me, as mess-mate. I felt sadly at the parting, and being lonely to-night, I cannot help thinking of home, of home! Where is it? One child in Connecticut, the other in Wisconsin, my wife in New York, and I in Virginia. This separation—disintegration of my family saddens me, and I wish it were otherwise. But the maintenance of government demands war, and war demands sacrifices, to which all patriots must yield. The whisperings of yesterday that we were repulsed at Ball's Bluff, or Edward's Ferry, are more than confirmed, and another good man is sacrificed on the altar of his couutry. General Baker fell in the battle. The particulars have not reached us, but I fear that we have been sorely defeated, notwithstanding General McClellan's promise, a short time since, that we should meet with no more defeats. Shall we have this proclaimed through telegraph and press, as another "Great Victory?" I regret that McClellan made that foolish speech. It has lost him the confidence of many of his friends.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 47-8

Thursday, May 8, 2025

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: August 20, 1861

These mountain streams are unreliable. We had come to regard the one on which we are encamped as a quiet, orderly little river, that would be good enough to notify us when it proposed to swell out and overflow the adjacent country. In fact we had bragged about it, made all sorts of complimentary mention of it, put our tents on its margin, and allowed it to encircle our sick and wounded; but we have now lost all confidence in it. Yesterday, about noon, it began to rise. It had been raining, and we thought it natural enough that the waters should increase a little. At four o'clock it had swelled very considerably, but still kept within its bed of rock and gravel, and we admired it all the more for the energy displayed in hurrying along branches, logs, and sometimes whole trees. At six o'clock we found it was rising at the rate of one foot per hour, and that the water had now crept to within a few feet of the hospital tent, in which lay two wounded and a dozen or more of sick. Dr. McMeens became alarmed and called for help. Thirty or more boys stripped, swam to the island, and removed the hospital to higher ground-to the highest ground, in fact, which the island afforded. The boys returned, and we felt safe. At seven o'clock, however, we found the river still rising rapidly. It covered nearly the whole island. Logs, brush, green trees, and all manner of drift went sweeping by at tremendous speed, and the water rushed over land which had been dry half an hour before, with apparently as strong a current as that in the channel. We knew then that the sick and wounded were in danger. How to rescue them was now the question. A raft was suggested; but a raft could not be controlled in such a current, and if it went to pieces or was hurried away, the sick and wounded must drown. Fortunately a better way was suggested; getting into a wagon, I ordered the driver to go above some distance, so that we could move with the current, and then ford the stream. After many difficulties, occasioned mainly by floating logs and driftwood, and swimming the horses part of the way, we succeeded in getting over. I saw it was impossible to carry the sick back, and that there was but one way to render them secure. I had the horses unhitched, and told the driver to swim them back and bring over two or three more wagons. Two more finally reached me, and one team, in attempting to cross, was carried down stream and drowned. I had the three wagons placed on the highest point I could find, then chained together and staked securely to the ground. Over the boxes of two of these we rolled the hospital tent, and on this placed the sick and wounded, just as the water was creeping upon us. On the third wagon we put the hospital stores. It was now quite dark. Not more than four feet square of dry land remained of all our beautiful island; and the river was still rising. We watched the water with much anxiety. At ten o'clock it reached the wagon hubs, and covered every foot of the ground; but soon after we were pleased to see that it began to go down a little. Those of us who could not get into the wagons had climbed the trees. At one o'clock it commenced to rain again, when we managed to hoist a tent over the sick. At two o'clock the long-roll, the signal for battle, was beaten in camp, and we could just hear, above the roar of the water, the noise made by the men as they hurriedly turned out and fell into line.

It will not do, however, to conclude that this was altogether a night of terrors. It was, in fact, not so very disagreeable after all. There was a by-play going on much of the time, which served to illuminate the thick darkness, and divert our minds from the gloomier aspects of the scene. Smith, the teamster who brought me across, had returned to the mainland with the horses, and then swam back to the island. By midnight he had become very drunk. One of the hospital attendants was very far gone in his cups, also. These two gentlemen did not seem to get along amicably; in fact, they kept up a fusillade of words all night, and so kept us awake. The teamster insisted that the hospital attendant should address him as Mr. Smith. The Smith family, he argued, was of the highest respectability, and being an honored member of that family, he would permit no man under the rank of a Major-General to call him Jake. George McClellan sometimes addressed him by his christian name; but then George and he were Cincinnatians, old neighbors, and intimate personal friends, and, of course, took liberties with each other. This could not justify one who carried out pukes and slop-buckets from a field hospital in calling him Jake, or even Jacob.

Mr. Smith's allusions to the hospital attendant were not received by that gentleman in the most amiable spirit. He grew profane, and insisted that he was not only as good a man as Smith, but a much better one, and he dared the bloviating mule scrubber to get down off his perch and stand up before him like a man. But Jake's temper remained unruffled, and along toward morning, in a voice more remarkable for strength than melody, he favored us with a song:

Ho! gif ghlass uf goodt lauger du me;

  Du mine fadter, mine modter, mine vife:

Der day's vork vos done, undt we'll see

  Vot bleasures der vos un dis life,

 

Undt ve sit us aroundt mit der table,

  Undt ve speak uf der oldt, oldt time,

Ven we lif un dot house mit der gable,

  Un der vine-cladt banks uf der Rhine;

 

Undt mine fadter, his voice vos a quiver,

  Undt mine modter; her eyes vos un tears,

Ash da dthot uf dot home un der river,

  Undt kindt friendst uf earlier years;

 

Undt I saidt du mine fadter be cheerie,

  Du mine modter not longer lookt sadt,

Here's a blace undt a rest for der weary,

  Und ledt us eat, drink, undt be gladt.

 

So idt ever vos cheerful mitin;

  Vot dtho' idt be stormy mitoudt,

Vot care I vor der vorld undt idts din,

  Ven dose I luf best vos about;

 

So libft up your ghlass, mine modter,

  Undt libft up yours, Gretchen, my dear,

Undt libft up your lauger, mine fadter,

  Undt drink du long life und good cheer.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 58-62

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: August 26, 1861

Five companies of the Twenty-third Ohio and five companies of the Ninth Ohio arrived to-day, and are encamped in a maple grove about a mile below us. A detachment of cavalry came up also, and is quartered near. Other regiments are coming. It is said the larger portion of the troops in West Virginia are tending in this direction; but on what particular point it is proposed to concentrate them rumor saith not.

General McClellan did not go far enough at first. After the defeat of Pegram, at Rich Mountain, and Garnett, at Laurel Hill, the Southern army of this section was utterly demoralized. It scattered, and the men composing it, who were not captured, fled, terror stricken, to their homes. We could have marched to Staunton without opposition, and taken possession of the very strongholds the enemy is now fortifying against us. If in our advanced position supplies could not have been obtained from the North, the army might have subsisted off the country. Thus, by pushing vigorously forward, we could have divided the enemy's forces, and thus saved our army in the East from humiliating defeat. This is the way it looks to me; but, after all, there may have been a thousand good reasons for remaining here, of which I know nothing. One thing, however, is, I think, very evident: a successful army, elated with victory, and eager to advance, is not likely to be defeated by a dispirited opponent. One-fourth, at least, of the strength of this army disappeared when it heard of the rebel triumphs on the Potomac.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 65-6