Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Wednesday, April 20, 1864

Back in town again. I've done something but havn't the least idea what, to displease somebody and havn't the least idea who. Perhaps some one of my friends here, will, after a day or so find the important secret too burdensome to keep alone, and will share it with me.

Just think what it is, Hallicarnassus, to go abroad and see the world-and feel it too, for that matter.

But in order to think as little as possible of that terrible crime of which I've been guilty, before finding out what it is, am going to hunt up enough work to keep my head and hands busy in the hospitals about town.

Glad to meet my travelling companion, Miss O., again. She has remained at this home of the Christian Commission, engaged in the preparation of delicacies, which are taken out to hospitals, or barracks, as needed.

This building, to which we came upon our arrival, is a spacious three story brick, at No. 14 Spruce Street. It was deserted by a rebel banker just before our forces entered Nashville, who took nothing south, except his gold and silver. A man from New York, whose conscience permitted him to take the oath of allegiance, removed and stored up against the return of his rebel friend, the silver and glass service, curtains, works of art, &c., but left much fine furniture, such as massive sofa bedsteads, marble-topped stands, tables, bureaux, a well-filled book-case, writing table and piano.

In Secretary Stanton's own handwriting, we saw permission given to occupy this building till the close of the war, to Mrs. H., of the Philadelphia Ladies' Aid Society, "together with other ladies who might be associated with her, in any benevolent enterprise having for its object the relief of invalid Union soldiers."

She is confident he meant benevolent gentlemen, also, so one half of the house is given up to the Rev. E. P. Smith and family, who make a home for the delegates of the Christian Commission.

Thus are many of the private as well as public buildings reduced from their lofty position of serving southern chivalry, to the vile misuse of northern mudsills. "Oh, Babylon how art thou fallen!" must be the lamentation of the Nashvillians, as they see the desecration of their beautiful edifices by northern vandals.

"Oh! the citizens here would tear us to pieces very quick," said Mrs. Smith, the eve of our arrival, "were it not for the 'blue coats' about. Our dependence is in those and the guns of Fort Negley."

Evening.

Visited the Refugee Home again, this P. M. Saw some of those mentioned in a previous date. As I entered one room, a woman was bustling about in a great passion, and picking up a few personal rags, while ordering her son to get up and they would find a place to stay where she shouldn't be "set to do niggar's work!"

She was a healthy, strong woman, and had been repeatedly requested to make her own and son's bed, and assist in sweeping or cooking for the numerous inmates. Indeed, I think she had received a gentle hint that it might be as well to see that her son and herself had clean linen as often as once in two or three weeks, and that the use of a comb occasionally would not detract from their personal appearance. But she had her own peculiar ideas, obtained from living under the domination of a peculiar institution, and didn't fancy being dictated to in the delicate matter of her personelle.

Upon entering what is called the lecture-room we saw several families and parts of families, which had within two hours arrived on the trains from Alabama or Georgia.

I found that some of these snuff-dipping, clay-colored, greasy and uncombed ladies "from Alabam and Gorgee," are as expert marksmen as any of our northern exquisites, as they deposit the "terbaker" juice most beautifully into and around any knot-hole or crack in the floor, and while they are at the distance of several feet. Its wonderful how they do it am afraid I should never be able to learn.

We approach one woman who is standing by a rough board bunk, upon and around which are several children overcome by the fatigue of travelling. She, unlike the generality, is neatly dressed in a clean dark calico and sunbonnet, and wears a cheerful and intelligent look. She informs us that these are all her children—six of them, that her husband is in the Union army, only a few miles out, that he had sent for her to come here, and she expects to see him in a few days. She cannot write, for she hasn't been to school a day in her life, and she says:

"An' that thar's suthin' you people hev' up north, thet we don't. Poor folks thar, hev' a chance to give thar children some larnin'; but them as owns plantations down our way, don't give poor folks no chance. Larnin's only for rich folks. But my children shan't grow up to not know no more nor thar father nor thar mother, ef I kin' help it. Ef this war don't close so's to make it better for poor folks down har, we'll go north. Thar's a woman what kin' write," she adds with an admiring glance to the other side of the room, "an' she's writin' a letter for me to my husband."

We glance that way, and see a youngish woman, whose entire clothing evidently consists of one garment, a dress which is colored with some kind of bark. She sits in conscious superiority, scarcely deigning to notice us, as we approach, while she is carefully managing the writing with one eye, while her head is turned half way from it, so that the ashes or coal, from the long pipe between her lips, may not fall upon the paper. Her air and manner are evidently intended to be regal, for isn't she the woman "what kin' write?" At a little distance sat a hale, broad-shouldered, stalwart man, who looked as if he were able to do the work of half a dozen common men, who inquired of us, where "Hio was-if 'twas in Illinois"—and whether if he went to either of those places he would be "pressed into the service." In reply, we informed the gentleman that "Ohio was not in Illinois, but that if he went to either, he would probably have to stand his chance of being drafted, together with other good loyalists with the physicians, lawyers, editors, and ministers. He did not reply to that, but his looks spoke eloquently,

"For a lodge in some vast wilderness,-

Some boundless contiguity of shade"

Where war and draft come not.

Miss Ada M., the Matron of the Refugee Home, was, in our room this eve, and said that she was yesterday preparing some sewing for some young Misses, who were conversing earnestly about the Yankees. Finding their ideas rather erroneous with regard to that class of people, she made a remark to the effect that she was one herself.

"Why, you 'aint a Yankee?" exclaimed a Miss of fifteen dropping her work in blank astonishment. "Yes, indeed, I am," was the reply.

"Why," said the girl, with remarkably large eyes, "I've allays hearn tell that the Yankees has horns, and one eye in the middle of their foreheads!"

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 54-8

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Friday, April 22, 1864

Yesterday morning, Mr. F., a gentleman from my native State, Massachusetts, and who has charge of the Refugee Farm, asked if I would not like to ride out to the place, they "wanted a teacher and perhaps I might be willing to engage as one, if not the ride and fresh air would do me good." "Yes, I should enjoy it."

Then hour after hour passed away, with the fresh morning air, and not until at the dinner table did I meet my expected cavalier. He explained:

The fact was the poor old nag, which had been turned out some months before by government to die, like some other contrabands of war, wouldn't work—he was free! But he had confiscated another animal from Government and hoped he might not long say of that as in the nursery ballad, that

"The horse wouldn't go,"

as it was

"Time he and I were gone an hour and a half ago."

One, two and three o'clock came, and I overheard Lucy, one of the black girls, of about fourteen—though she doesn't know her age—laughing about "that thar Mr. F., who had been for two long hours, a curryin' an' pattin' an' feedin' that old horse with sugar, to coax it to be good: but I know by its actions it has never been harnessed 'fore a carriage in its life. For it acts, for all the world, like I did, when I ran away to find my freedom. I couldn't tell for my life, whether to go backwards or forward, to keep out of danger."

In answer to my questions, she tells me that she was "the very first one that Lincoln set free in Winchester, but that as soon as she was gone, all the other nigs left."

Of course, her remarks about the horse were not very encouraging as regarded the safety or pleasure of the trip, even if he decided at last to go forward instead of backward. At half-past three, the equipage was announced in readiness, when, with a most self-denying spirit, I assured the gentleman, that I would willingly forego the pleasure, if the animal was not perfectly safe. But he was quite positive upon that subject, and as I perceived the appearance of the contraband did not indicate anything vicious or powerful enough to be very dangerous, we started. Had a ride of perhaps two miles upon the other side of the town, stopped a moment by the guard, then allowed to proceed a mile farther to the Refugee Farm.

This is best known to citizens as the Eweing farm. It was a splendid place, but has been nearly ruined by General Buel's army who camped upon it. Trees were felled, fences torn down, windows broken entirely out, and several fine outbuildings destroyed, such as a spring-house and conservatory, which I would like to have seen in its glory. Picked a beautiful bouquet of apple-japonica and pomegranate blossoms. Saw a "Butternut" planting cotton. He told me he expects, if the crop does well, to realize "one bale of picked cotton" from the two acres, which at present prices will bring $250. The yield, he said, was only about a half or a third what it would be three degrees farther south.

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 58-9

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Saturday, April 30, 1864

The aptness of the pupils, as a whole, is really surprising. Some have learned the alphabet, I am told, in three days, and others in a week.

It is said that all northern people who visit the school, very soon fall a victim to that fearful disease, known by the southern chivalry and northern copperheads, as "niggar on the brain." And I will confess my belief that were I to teach in this school very long, I might become so interested in some of my pupils I should sometimes forget that they were not of the same color as myself, and really believe that God did make of one blood all nations of the earth.

They present every shade of color from the blackest hue to a fairer skin than my own. It is often necessary to find out who the mother is before you know whether the person is white or black. The age varies from four to thirty.

The progress of some is really astonishing. One little black girl of seven years, and with wooly head, can read fluently in the Fourth Reader, and studies primary, geography, and arithmetic, who has been to school but one year. I inquired if any one taught her at home, or if she had not learned how to read before that time. "Oh, no, I learned my letters when I first came to school, and I live with my aunt Mary, and she can't read. She's no kin to me, and I havn't any kin, but I call her aunt."

Perhaps she never had any, or is related to Topsey, and if questioned farther, might say she "spects she grew." A boy of about twelve, who has been to school but nine months, and who learned his letters in that time, reads in the Third Reader and studies geography. Some are truly polite. The first day of my taking charge of one of the divisions, a delicate featured, brown-skinned little girl of about nine years came to me and said with the sweetest voice and manner : "Lady will you please tell me your name?" I did so, when she thanked me and said:

"Miss P—— can you please hear our Third Reader this morning." It was not an idle question either, for the school is so large that now, while two of the teachers are absent, from illness, some of the classes are each day necessarily neglected. And so eager are the generality of the pupils to learn, that most of them are in two or three reading and spelling classes at the same time.

One might now not only exclaim with Gallileo, "the world does move," but add, and we move with it. For though but a little time since the negro dared not say "I think," lest the master might exclaim, — "You think, you black niggar—never you mind about that, I'll do your thinking for you," but would instead, say deferentially, with bent head and hand in his wooly hair, "Wall, massa, I'se been a studyin' about dat dar," is now learning to stand erect and confess that he does think, as well as learn to read and write.

One of the more advanced pupils told me that her father taught her to read and write before it was safe to let any one know that he did, or that he could himself read.

EVENING.

Eureka! That wonderful secret, like "murder," has "out." I have been very cautiously, and little by little, and with many charges not to tell any body, informed of the terrible crime for which I was tried, convicted, sentenced and banished, while all the time in blissful ignorance of the crime itself. This is the way of managing affairs here, I am told, and it is called military style. I like it. It saves one all the trouble and worry of defending one's self. And that might make one nervous and excited. It saves also confusion in the mind of the adjudging party, the same as of a certain judge in Missouri, who having heard evidence on the side of the plaintiff, refused to listen to that of the defendant, with the profound remark, that "whenever he heard both sides he always got things so mixed up, that he never could tell upon which side to give judgement!"

But the grave charge, as ferreted out by some two or three friends, of which I am accused, and to most of which I should have plead "not guilty" had opportunity been given, runs thus, that upon a certain occasion, I presented myself before the surgeon of the division and told him with an authoritative air, that I wished he "would see that a certain patient had a mustard poultice on his chest, for he wanted it."

This is my defence. One morning, I found a man suffering greatly with a pain in the chest from pneumonia, according to the physician's diagnosis. He was convalescing from varioloid and had taken cold. He breathed very short, seemed in extreme pain and begged for a mustard poultice. I said I dare not apply it without permission from the surgeon, but would ask him immediately. He was in another tent—the third above, and while going there I recollected hearing that some physicians were offended even by a request, and hesitated. Then thinking of the moans and apparent danger of the sufferer, I proceeded. These contradictory emotions, I can now realize, gave an unusual brusqueness to my manner, as I said :

"Doctor there is a patient in the third tent below, on bed, No. 9, who is in great pain and wants a mustard poultice. Will you see if he needs it? If so, I can make it."

There was a flash in his eyes, as he replied "I will attend to the man. As for the mustard poultices, it is not necessary that you should attend to them, as the men nurses do that."

The patient did not have the poultice, but presume the physician gave him something which removed the pain, as it had left him at noon. This trouble was caused simply by a misunderstanding. He used the word want for need, so that when I said the man "wanted" it—meaning he had asked for it, he interpreted it so as to convey the idea of my assuming the responsibility of saying, "he needed" it. He also understood me to order him to "see" that the man had it, when I simply asked if he would "see if he needed it."

I respect this physician and his wife, but wish he had been certain of my meaning before reporting the speech to the surgeon-in-charge.

There is also another little matter which I am certain had something to do with my departure, but which it would scarcely be policy for them to mention. It was this. The next day after speaking to Chaplain S. about visiting those sick men who had sent for him, and whom, though he was obliged to pass the tents where they lay in going to his room, he did not visit, I sent a slip of paper, saying in pencil, that as he had probably forgotten it, and as they were anxious to see him, I would remind him of this request. I received no response to the same, although I am certain he received the note, and the day passed without his visiting the sick men, although, at noon, I saw him out for half an hour, engaged in pitching quoits. I certainly did feel somewhat indignant, when the next morning came, and I found from the lips of the sick soldiers that he had not been in the tent; and I wondered, when I knew he had not been in to see a single sick or dying soldier in my division since my stay, nor preached a funeral sermon for the many who had died in my division alone, what could occupy his time. I asked for information of two of the ladies, and was told in excuse for him, that his time was fully occupied in discharging the duties of clerk for the surgeon-in-charge. So here was a chaplain neglecting the sacred duties of his own profession, though amply paid for the same, and earning more of the filthy lucre, to the neglect of dying men!

Thus endeth the defence. Mrs. Gala Days, you were entirely correct in your assertion that one must go abroad and see the world, to have "personal experiences."

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 61-6

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

Boggs, Buttons and I went over the river this morning on an old flat log. About 10 o'clock Si Livingston and I had permission to go out and get some chickens. We crossed over on the log, baled out an old canoe, and took a ride up the river two miles and a half, and stopped at a beautiful plantation. We could buy nothing. We then struck back for camp, and stopped on the way at another plantation and got five chickens. The steamer "Louisiana" came around this morning with provisions. Two men from company E knocked down an old Negro and robbed him. It was proven, and Major Peates had them tied up by the hands, with a card on their backs.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, pp. 38-9

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, Tuesday, February 19, 1863

Warm and pleasant. Mud drying up very fast. Work on the ditch was continued today by four hundred Nigs. We draw rations for twelve hundred Negroes, wenches, children and all. The women and children will be sent into the cotton fields to work. Men are detailed to oversee them.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 40

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, Friday, February 22, 1863

On guard. Stood picket in a large cotton field which contains five or six hundred acres of cotton, unpicked. I went back to the cane brake and got a fish pole. The guard of our forage train came in contact with some cavalry in the vicinity of Old River and routed them. In the course of the proceedings a Negro teamster hopped off his horse, drew a revolver and shot a Reb who had just shot one of our Captains, and took two prisoners.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 40

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, February 23, 1863

We were relieved early. The day was fine. A fleet of ten boats landed here this morning, having on board Logan's division. They landed and marched back about three miles and camped on the bank of the lake. John A. Logan looks fine. Colonel Stevenson looks the same as ever. It is rumored that he is trying to get us back into his brigade. A year ago today George and I explored the caves under the bluff below the dam, and one year ago tomorrow we left the dam. Played ball this afternoon. There are about four hundred Negroes at work on the levee.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, pp. 40-1

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones, Saturday, December 6, 1862

Oxford, Miss. Awoke with an unpleasant feeling, a racking pain in back and head. Started out early, the road having frozen hard enough to bear footmen, marched without much difficulty. Reached Oxford by noon. Neat place, two-thirds the size of Holly Springs; compared favorably with it in building but not in situation. Went into camp on the southern limits, saw some 700 prisoners marched in from the advance. Price still ahead. One darky reported him almost to hell.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, pp. 17-8

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones, Sunday, December 14, 1862

Near Oxford. A day of excitement which came near ending in a serious affair, caused by certain members of the 1st Missouri Regular Battery assailing the colored cooks as they were going after water. After dinner as Anthony [the colored cook] was passing by, he was assaulted and abused. He appealed to the boys, when a rush was made, and in an instant a crowd was gathered consisting of the 6th and 12th Wisconsin and 11th Ohio against the Regulars, armed with clubs, revolvers, knives and axes. The officers interposed, which closed it with but a few bloody noses and several knock downs. Warm and heavy.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 19

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, Sunday, January 4, 1863

Clear & Pleasant with frogs jumping about the ponds. This place, Hellena is almost impassible for persons on foot, this day at 10 Oc I started alone & took a ramble up to Col Busseys¹ head quarters found Horis Cutler on his Staff he is an old acquaintance in Keosauqua, I then rambled out back of the town over the poor broken points that skirt the place, was in & viewed the fortifications they seem well arranged to defend the place against any attack by the enemy. at a frame building on one of the points I heard a black man preach text if the earthly house of this tabernacle &c. at 1 Oc same place I heard another black man preach text John 1st ch & 1st v. 2½ Oc our Chaplain preached out in the midst of our camp text 36 Psalm 11th & 12th v. evening I wrote some to my daughter. 4 Oc we ware on Dress perade

_______________

¹ Cyrus Bussey, a merchant of Bloomfield; state senator, 1860; colonel Third Iowa Cavalry, 1861; brigadier-general, 1864-65.

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, pp. 102-3

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Saturday, August 1, 1864

Fresh calls for shoemakers. A few weak ones give their names but are not accepted. Negroes have begun additional fortifications working all night and Sundays, falling trees and making the night air ring. Last night my mind was filled with thoughts of the misery of this place; I could not sleep. One poor boy near cried all night and wished to die and suffer no longer; he is an awful object; his clothing is gone but a rag of a shirt; his body is a mere frame, his hair has fallen from his head; his scurvy ankles and feet are as large as his waist. I never saw a sight more appalling. Then the awful thought that he is a man, somebody's darling boy, dead and yet breathing. And he is but a sample of many. To think of it blunts one's faith in men as brothers.

This forenoon a priest came in saying he had great news; we are to be exchanged. He read his news; it stated nothing definite, a mere if-so-to-be-perhaps, and yet he tried to make us believe it did. Then he preached about the blessed apostles and dealt out hell-fire in big rations unless we accepted certain theories. It was not consoling. It is true Fremont and Lincoln are both nominated. I [visited] an Ohio 100-day man taken in Maryland since the nomination. He thinks the Fremont ticket will be withdrawn.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 94-5

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Sunday, August 2, 1864

The policy of enlisting negroes renders it harder for prisoners. So does the emancipation proclamation. The government having enlisted negroes, it is bound by laws of war and all honorable considerations to protect them as soldiers. To do otherwise would be dishonorable, cowardly, pernicious. Their enlistment more excited the unreasonable hatred of Southerners toward the North. The only way they can punish the North for what they deem insulting, is through their military prisons and they open their vials of wrath on "Lincoln hirelings," as they call us, who are wholly in their power. But the ever present fear of retaliation, man for man, men would be slain by hundreds, lined up and shot after being brought beyond the seat of war. As it is they come as near as they dare without displaying the black flag. Exchange was blocked last fall because Rebel authority disregards the negro as a man. That has long been a civil code of Slavedom. They adhere to it with a vengeance when he appears in arms against slavery. He is saved from slaughter if captured, on the theory that he is property, a theory in practice here for 100 years, or more. If any are escaped slaves they are to be returned to masters or used for war purposes indefinitely. If free they are appropriated as laborers, never exchanged, and if their war succeeds he can be sold. Hence the case of a white man is worse than that of a colored. He is deemed deserving of death because his government puts whites and blacks on an equality. The slave codes of the South, written and unwritten are in force, emphasized by the war power. This cruel and absurd animus of "Southern civilization," this unrighteous despotism, is of long standing. It is unquestioned by Southerners; woe be to him who disregarded it during the long arbitrary reign of Slave Kings. The mass accept it as right which is equivalent to thinking it right, and as men think so they are. Hence the critical situation of the white war prisoners at this time. We are wholly at the mercy of this cruel spirit which has transformed the South into a foe of everybody antagonistic to their customs and laws

Shall Lincoln recall his emancipation proclamation for the reason which as surely exists as we are at war? It makes it the deadliest war of any century. Nor should the policy of allowing negroes to fight for liberty be recalled. Shall free men cower and longer concede the injustices of this hell-born slave power? Indeed not. That is the issue-deadly issue to be fought to death. How well do I remember the word passed along the lines at Mine Run and other places last fall and winter: "No exchange of prisoners, men, remember." The same word sounded along the lines in the fiery ordeals in the Wilderness. The die was cast. We fought with it before our eyes. Who does not now realize its import? Davis seeks to supercede the laws of war with his old slave code. Soon after Lincoln's emancipation Davis notified his Congress that he proposed to turn commissioned officer's thereafter over to State authorities in States where captured to be punished under State laws providing for criminals engaged in inciting civil insurrection. That is his disposition, overlooking the fact that codes made to hang "abolition fanatics" can not be safely applied to war prisons in a state of war, where the States he represents are belligerents fighting for independence and asking for foreign recognition. Davis' blood-thirsty fanaticism for slavery, supercedes the intelligence he has been supposed to have and displays his savage inhumanity, thus seeking excuse to hang all U. S. officers.

[Note.—January 12, 1863, Davis, in a message to the Confederate Congress, said: "I shall, unless you, in your wisdom, deem some other course more expedient, deliver to the several State authorities all commissioned officers of the United States that may hereafter be captured by our forces in any of the States embraced in the proclamation, that they may be dealt within accordance with the laws of those States providing for the punishment of criminals engaged in inciting servile insurrection." Confederate War Records now at Washington. The same records show that in May, 1863, the Confederate Congress in its "wisdom," passed a law embodying the above suggestion, but confining its operation to commissioned officers of negro regiments. Negro soldiers, when captured, by its provisions were to be delivered to authorities of States where captured, to be disposed of according to the laws of those States. This law was never repealed, so that, as a legal proposition, any officer of a negro regiment who became a prisoner was liable to be hanged, as John Brown was at Harper's Ferry. The records also show that the prisoner problem was much discussed early in the war. A Yankee caught in slave States to "free niggers" prior to the war could be safely hanged under slave codes. Shallow minds, like Davis, assumed that it could still be done, others saw that having gone to war in the spirit that enacted the codes, they had barred themselves from exercising that sacred function. Some said make Uncle Sam feed them at his own expense though they be kept in the South. Others said starve them; others give them poor bread and water; others, break their legs and turn them loose. Some said make them build railroads or work in other ways to boost the Slave Confederacy.]

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 95-7

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Saturday, August 8, 1864

No sick call; the poor fellows are disappointed. Well dressed officers ride out the street and back. Passing near us they inquire of a fellow who is whittling a bone: "What State you from, young man?"

"Massachusetts."

"Do you rather live here than in Massachusetts?"

"No, sir."

"Well, you'll be apt to live out your days here, for there'll be no exchange till the war closes and that won't be in ten years if Lincoln is your next President."

"There'll not be a corporal's guard left of this crowd before that time, Colonel," remarked the other.

Before they reached the gate they halted to buy a watch, and a few of us followed up and I asked:

"Colonel, will you come back into the Union if Lincoln is not elected?"

"Ho, ho! You Yankees are not fighting for the Union; that's your mistake. It's the nigger you want."

"If McClellan is elected will the South come into the Union?" I repeated.

"Ah, the Union! The Union's gone up!"

By this time the Major had got the watch by paying $100 in "Confed" and they spurred up. We are often taunted by the slur that we are no better than niggers. They say:

"You fight with niggers; you think it's all right to fight us with niggers."

We retort by saying that it is no worse for a nigger to fight with us than to work for them, and that they would put a gun in his hands if they dared. It is not so bad for them to be hunted by niggers as it is for us to be hunted helpless and half starved, by blood hounds.

A little after noon a man shot and killed. I hastened and learned that he was dipping water from the brook. The sentinel had been observed to be closely watching. The ball passed through the forehead, tearing out his brains. The guard was immediately relieved by the officer of the day as they all are when they make a sure fire. It is a story never denied that for every Yankee killed a furlough is granted. In a few minutes a stretcher smeared with blood and brains bore another Yankee to the dead house.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 102

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Wednesday, August 10, 1864

Soldiers and negroes are rebuilding the fallen wall. Prisoners stand at a distance often shouting: "That is good for you, Rebs"; "That's the way your Confederacy will fall; Grant and Sherman are making bigger holes than these." "Ho, Reb, what are you doing with dat nigger dar; 'pears to us you're reduced to the level of the nigger." "It's hard enough to starve on cob-meal and be hunted by dogs, but when you come to build bull-pens for us with niggers, working by your sides, you are hyenas, you are black abolitionists, you are barbarians." Plenty of other taunts are indulged till men get sick of it.

Two new walls are being built outside of the main one. The most hopeful believers in immediate exchange, are puzzled as to what it means. Tunnelling cannot be successfully done more than sixty or eighty feet horizontally, the air becoming insufferable. The vacuity is necessarily small, just admitting a man as he draws himself along. It cannot be larger for fear of exposure, besides the dirt is dug with hands, sticks, etc., and passed to the opening to be carried to the swamp, or whereever it can be concealed. It cannot be ventilated for that might be a key to discovery. Likely these new walls are to obstruct the digging of tunnels.

For several days barracks have been in course of erection in the north part, the work being done by our men on parole who bring the lumber in on their shoulders. They are allowed an extra ration and occasionally opportunities to trade for their benefit. What do these barracks mean? Are we to stay here all winter? men asked. At the rate they go up, I think we will, if we wait for them. Some say they are for hospitals.

Steward Brown, who is an Englishman and not a soldier, on parole, expresses the belief that it was fortunate for prisoners that Stoneman's expedition failed, for it was the intention of Gen. Winder to use the Florida battery on the prison had any considerable Union force approached Andersonville within seven miles, and had so ordered in the regular way in writing, on July 27th.

[Note-Here is the order. It was found on file among the records at the Confederate War Department at Richmond, and is with other records in possession of the government, so it is plain Steward Brown knew his statement was true. This is the diabolical order:

 

Order No 13.

 

Headquarters Military Prison, Andersonville, Ga., July 27, 1864.

 

The officers on duty and in charge of the Battery of Florida Artillery at the time will, upon receiving notice that the enemy has approached within seven miles of this post, open upon the stockade with grapeshot, without reference to the situation beyond these lines of defense.

 

JOHN H. WINDER, 

Brigadier  General Commanding.]

Five men sunstruck and reported dead; most of us are stupefied by heat. For more than a month it has been almost unbearable. The dazzling rays reflected by sand flash through us like flames of fire. The stench of the filthy earth rises hot and vapory to our nostrils. Oh, that I might feel the shade of the beautiful forest yonder, whose green trees look pityingly over upon us! How relieved we would be by an hour of repose on the fresh earth beneath them!

Go to the gate to help William Kline. A number of the sick are carried through the gate and laid in the yard by the stockade. A Rebel sergeant soon ordered us back, no doctors appearing. The sick had been notified at roll call to go for treatment, and their feeble spirits were animated with hope. Some wept bitterly and sank into despair at the disappointment. The Confederate sergeant, in answer to questions, remarked, "They might as well go to hell as to the hospital. It is a right hard place; the doctors can do nothing."

Naturally we believe the word hospital means something. In this horrid distress men long for its benign influence; many are consoled with the thought of being admitted, even when we know it is a cruel, wicked mockery.

Near the sinks a sentry fired tonight, the ball grazing a man's thigh, near where I walked, and whizzed by into the swamp. No rations today; nothing to eat. Men have loitered near the gate since noon hoping for something but in vain. We lay down to-night hungry, sick and sad. Not a crumb of anything all night, all day and all night again, with no certainty of anything to-morrow.

ODE TO WIRZ.

 

Cheating them who truly trust

Is a coward's villainy;

But when we yield to whom we must,

We suffer viler tyranny:

If venom doth full license wield

To feed the vengeance and the hates

No virtue has for years concealed,

And which a misled South elates.

A brutal knave were he who slay

A child that slumbered on his knee;

But we are thrown within his sway

Who lacks sense and magnanimity,

And glories in a brutal way

Toward men who fight 'gainst slavery.

Looking at the swamp with its deposit of ordure, intensely alive with billions of flies and maggots, today, it came to me that not only the early but the late bird can catch worms and catch them continually, if fool enough to visit the place. But no bird have I yet seen in this foul realm. Mingled with a sense of disgust, I am prone to wonder. Out of this mass I see a new creation, an emerging of animate life of low order. The flies that feed on the excreta, deposit germs from which, in connection with the deposit, when operated on by solar energy, the sun being the battery, these lives germinate in form of maggots totally unlike the fly, unlike any worm I ever noticed. These millions of loathsome things, squirming in roasting sun, in a few days develop into winged insects larger and darker than maggots, an inch long. From among a cloud of flies and acres of worms I see them rise and fly from the filthy bed of their inception, seemingly seeking existence elsewhere. Interest was first incited in these low fledglings, when they appeared on ground bordering the swamp, where they fell in the mush when men were at repast. Indeed there is life, or principles of life in matter dead. Here is a low order of exhibition of Nature's power to evolve and produce phases of animation degrees above their physical source.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 103-5

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, July 1, 1863

Regiment under arms all afternoon. Logan exploded another mine. He blew up quite a large portion of their works and a number of rebels—seven lit inside our lines dead; one darky was alive and says he was blown up three miles. No assault made. Our mine not yet ready. Everthing indicates another general assault soon. Rumor says it will be on the 4th of July. Weather exceedingly hot.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 19

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty, November 30, 1861

The Third is encamped five miles south of Louisville, on the Seventh-street plank road.

As we marched through the city my attention was directed to a sign bearing the inscription, in large black letters,

"NEGROES BOUGHT AND SOLD."

We have known, to be sure, that negroes were bought and sold, like cattle and tobacco, but it, nevertheless, awakened new, and not by any means agreeable, sensations to see the humiliating fact announced on the broad side of a commercial house. These signs must come down.

The climate of Kentucky is variable, freezing nights and thawing in the day. The soil in this locality is rich, and, where trodden, extremely muddy. We shall miss the clear water of the mountain streams. A large number of troops are concentrating here.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 84

2nd Lieutenant William T. Sherman to John Sherman, January 16, [1841]

[Fort Pierce, Florida, January 16th 1841.]

Upon all scouts or expeditions of danger, all the officers insist upon going, but as it is necessary that at least one should stay at the fort, this is done by rotation, and upon the expedition to the Hanlover, ninety miles distant, it fell to my share to remain. On the 4th instant the boats, seven in all, with four officers and forty-three men, left the fort, intending to travel by night and lay by by day; but not having a guide, and their map being incorrect, they could not find the way, so on the third day out they concluded it was best to hurry on by day, reach the point where they expected to find Indians, and lie concealed; but on the fourth morning they espied a little canoe in a cove, went ashore, found a trail, followed it, and soon came to a cluster of board and palmetto huts, which they rushed upon, but only found a negro family, —— man, wife, and two children, as also an old squaw and papoose. They secured these, and learned that a party of Indians living at this place, and another which our party had previously destroyed, had gone up to the Hanlover or to the big swamp for oranges and ——. The negro said he and his wife had been stolen four years previous, and had been with them ever since. He seemed quite rejoiced at his recapture and offered to act as guide. He was handcuffed, and a noose fixed about his neck as a gentle hint, then told to go on. On the 5th (Saturday) they reached the Hanlover, encamped at the Hanlover, and had the pleasure to receive the visit of a horse at daylight the next morning. They followed his track back for about a quarter of a mile, and came upon a temporary camp of the Indians. The dogs gave the alarm; they all rushed in, when you may well suppose there was a little scattering. Nearly all took to their canoes or the water, where, of course, they were pursued, and after half an hour's popping away and pursuing, they collected together, and found that they had killed two warriors, a woman, and a child; had captured three warriors, eight women, and fifteen children, two tolerably good boats, any quantity of canoes, pots and kettles, etc., corn, pumpkins, and dried fish, and bows and arrows, rifles, bullet-bags, leggins, moccasins, etc.; all this, too, on Sunday. Having destroyed everything that could not be carried with ease, shot the horse, and secured the prisoners, they took to their boats and crossed the lagoon to the other side, from whence the next morning two of the officers and twenty men were sent over to the St. John's, to a place where, the negro said, a couple of families lived. They found it as he had said, but the dogs gave the alarm before they could be surrounded; but in escaping one warrior was shot, and two squaws and their two children, one warrior alone effecting his escape. Here they found two elegant canoes, one of mahogany large enough to carry twenty men, but were destroyed, not being able to bring them away. The houses were burnt, with all the corn, pumpkins, and household stuff. Thus, having captured all they could find in this quarter, and their provisions becoming scanty, they commenced their return, and reached this post after having been out ten days, exposed to some terrible showers, with hard rowing and little to eat, but were in good spirits from their success. They brought with them six boats and thirty-four prisoners. They are encamped here under charge of the guard until they can be sent to Augustine. I wish you could see the group in its savage state; although many have lost their husbands and fathers and wives and children, yet they show no grief. Several are very badly wounded; one little girl, with a ball through the back and coming out in the cheek, scarce utters a murmur; another woman, a buckshot through and through, bears it with the fortitude of a veteran soldier; there are several other wounds, given accidentally, of course, in the pell-mell of the fight and in the pursuit of the canoes.

I, of course, regretted very much not having been along, but consoled myself with the idea that I'll have a chance yet. In fact, I was on a scout some time ago, when we ran a large boat and canoe ashore, captured the boats, but the Indians escaped. To-night I start with fifteen men in three boats, my principal object being to capture an Indian for guide up the St. Lucie's River; expect to be gone five days. The boat has just arrived from the bar; it is the schooner Frances from Havana, bound to Augustine, so it will answer my purpose of sending this, though hurried.

I presume you have heard how Colonel Harney had been in the Everglades capturing eleven warriors, ten of whom he hung, and twenty-eight women and children. This boat brings the news that, seeing fires on the beach, about ten miles this side of Key Biscayne, ran in and fired a gun, which was answered from shore, and presently a small canoe came out, hailed, and four soldiers in them taken aboard. They were four of Colonel Harney's men, who said that it was Colonel Harney's camp; that they had gone on the 1st instant, with two hundred men, soldiers, and marines, in boats, with a guide, to Sam Jones' camp. They had found Sam much stronger in numbers than they had expected, and admirably posted, so that he could not have attacked him without receiving at least three deliberate shots from about one hundred warriors, so the Colonel decided to return for an accession to his force. He doubtless took a prudent course, though I think he should have attacked Sam. The secret of the matter is, I think, he felt no confidence in the marines and sailors, for he is no coward. He had, however, attacked a small party, capturing six and killing six.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Your affectionate brother,

W. T. SHERMAN.

SOURCE: Rachel Sherman Thorndike, Editor, The Sherman Letters: Correspondence Between General and Senator Sherman from 1837 to 1891, pp. 16-9

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Thursday, April 3, 1862

Today obtained and sent the Photographs to Tho^s [Bourne?]. They were finished while I was in the Gallery. I sent them by Adams Express. I was in the “National,” saw a number of my friends there. Went to the Festival with wife & Julia, staid till near 11. They had a Negro Band, four or five. It seemed like a Ball but there was no dancing. The place abounded [in] awkward men & Homely women the latter teasing for ones money.

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.

Victor Hugo to Maria Weston Chapman, July 6, 1851

PARIS, 6th July, 1851.

MADAME: I have scarcely any thing to add to your letter. I would cheerfully sign every line of it. Pursue your holy work. You have with you all great souls and all good hearts.

You are pleased to believe, and to assure me, that my voice, in this august cause of liberty, will be listened to by the great American people, whom I love so profoundly, and whose destinies, I am fain to think, are closely linked with the mission of France. You desire me to lift up my voice.

I will do it at once, and I will do it on all occasions. I agree with you in thinking, that, within a definite time—that within a time not distant—the United States will repudiate Slavery with horror! Slavery in such a country! Can there be an incongruity more monstrous? Barbarism installed in the very heart of a country, which is itself the affirmation of Civilization; liberty wearing a chain; blasphemy echoing from the altar; the collar of the negro chained to the pedestal of Washington! It is a thing unheard of. I say more; it is impossible. Such a spectacle would destroy itself. The light of the nineteenth century alone is enough to destroy it.

What! Slavery sanctioned, by law, among that illustrious people, who for seventy years have measured the progress of civilization by their march, demonstrated Democracy by their power, and liberty by their prosperity! Slavery in the United States! It is the duty of this Republic to set such a bad example no longer. It is a shame, and she was never born to bow her head.

It is not when Slavery is taking leave of old nations, that it should be received by the new. What! When Slavery is departing from Turkey, shall it rest in America? What! Drive it from the hearth of Omar, and adopt it at the hearth of Franklin! No! No! No!

There is an inflexible logic which develops more or less slowly, which fashions, which redresses according to a mysterious plan, perceptible only to great spirits, the facts, the men, the laws, the morals, the people; or better, under all human things, there are things divine.

Let all those great souls who love the United States, as a country, be re-assured. The United States must renounce Slavery, or they must renounce Liberty. They cannot renounce Liberty. They must renounce Slavery, or renounce the Gospel. They will never renounce the Gospel.

Accept, Madame, with my devotion to the cause you advocate, the homage of my respect.

VICTOR HUGO.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, pp. 103-4

Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, January 18, 1863

Moved up the Cumberland river from Clarksville to the shoals, where three of our boats were captured two weeks before, and all the negroes who were on board shot and the whites paroled, and the boats fired and burned. We passed safely on up until our two last boats were about over the shoals first spoken off, and the “Mary Franklin” and “Woodside” were fired into, wounding one colonel, but we escaped being captured.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, p. 26