Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Tuesday, September 2, 1862

Cold. I drew my rations. Paper, 5c. Fuss about meals. Supper, 25c.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 4

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: May 2, 1863

As the sun peeped over the eastern horizon, we slipped out of camp and went our way rejoicing. Oh, how beautiful the morning; calm and pleasant, with the great variety of birds warbling, as though all was peace and quiet. When camping in the darkness of night, our surroundings astonish us in the broad day light. We scarcely know our next door neighbor until the morning light gleams upon him. While waiting orders to move, many thousand troops passed to the front, so I think our regiment will see another day pass with unbroken ranks. We have the very best fighting material in our regiment, and [are] ever ready for action, but are not particularly “spoiling for a fight.” Our turn will come, as it did at Fort Donelson, Shiloh and many otber fields of glory. It is quite common to hear soldiers who have never seen the first fight say they are afraid they will never get any of the glories of this war. They never “spoil” for the second fight, but get glory enough in the first to last them. When our regiment was living upon soft bread and luxuries of sweet things from home, while camped in the rear of Covington, Kentucky, we thought that the war would be over and our names not be spread upon our banners as the victors in a battle. There is glory enough for all. We stopped awhile in Port Gibson, and the boys found a lot of blank bank currency of different denominations, upon the Port Gibson bank. They signed some of them, and it is quite common to see a private of yesterday a bank president to-day. This may not become a circulating medium to a very great extent, but it is not at all likely that it will be refused by the inhabitants along our route when tendered in payment for corn-bread, sweet potatoes, etc. In the afternoon we stopped awhile, and taking advantage of the halt made coffee, which is generally done, whether it is noon or not. There is a wonderful stimulant in a cup of coffee, and as we require a great nerve tonic, coffee is eagerly sought after. Dick Hunt, of Company G, and Tom McVey, of Co. B, discovered a poor lonely confederate chicken by the roadside. By some hen strategem it had eluded the eyes of at least ten thousand Yankees, but when the 20th Ohio came along the searching eyes of these two members espied its place of concealment. They chased it under an outhouse, which was on stilts, as a great many of the southern houses are. Dick being rather the fleetest crawled under the house and secured the feathered prize, but Tom seeing his defeat in not securing a “preacher's dinner,” found a coffee-pot under another corner of the house, which he brought to daylight, and it proved to be full of silver coin mostly dollars. These he traded off to the boys for paper, as he could not carry his load. How foolish it is for the Southern people to flee and leave their beautiful property to the foe. We only want something to eat. There are some who would apply the torch to a deserted home, that would not do so if the owners remained in it. It is quite common here to build the chimneys on the outside of the houses, and I have noticed them still standing where the house had been burned. The march to-day, towards Black River, has been a very pleasant one. I suppose Grant knows where he is taking us to, for we don't, not having had any communications with him lately upon the subject.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 5-6

Captain William Thompson Lusk & Elizabeth Adams Lusk, November 26, 1862

Near Falmouth,

Nov. 26th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I have selected the most inviting of the paper Nellie sent me to write you to-day — such nice paper I thought it would be to write a love-letter on, to some dainty little lady. I have lighted a real good cigar, and fancy I might be delightfully sentimental, but nearly five years absence from home has left me, alas! with no dainty little lady acquaintances, time having changed them into interesting matrons. So as my own mother is the most interesting matron of my acquaintance, I find myself writing to her.

To-morrow will be Thanksgiving Day. The manner in which it is supposed to be observed in camp you will find interestingly pictured in last week's “Frank Leslie.” I suppose we will dine in reality to-morrow on coffee and crackers and fried beefsteak. Still these things satisfy the appetite, and are even capable of producing dyspepsia, notwithstanding the popular notion that such an evil is confined to the pampered denizens of cities. You must take Sam Elliott's descriptions of camp-life cum grano salis, remembering what wonderful descriptive powers he possesses. I do not doubt he pictures the horrors so vividly that the hearers suffer far more from listening to his accounts, than the actual victims do from experiencing the reality.

You will see Wm. Elliott I suppose. Tell him then that I must have written authority from him to collect the money for his lost horse. I wish to serve him, but need the writing to enable me to act. My special friend, Lt.-Col. Morrison, played me another amiable trick tonight, having appointed More Major of the Regiment, subject to the approval of the Governor of New-York. This was in the first place unnecessary, as More has not yet reported for duty. Then it was a thing he had no special power to do, Col. Farnsworth (so he writes me) having already recommended me to the Gov. for the position. But it was a cunning trick, as, should my appointment occur in the face of his own published to the Regiment, endless troubles could easily be made to result. Yet Morrison to my face is the sweetest, most amiable among the artificers of brasses for andirons.

Capt. who so flatteringly presented my prospects and deserts to Uncle Phelps, was at the same time, Farnsworth writes me, the bitterest of my opponents, and using his best efforts to ruin me in New-York and Albany. They are a sweet set among whom I have fallen. They owe Elliott and myself an old grudge for the favor Stevens showed us, which they now have an opportunity to repay. They have fixed Elliott's case for him, and they are busy settling mine. However I have recovered my amiability, and no longer feeling any hope of escape, am not a little amused at the trouble they take regarding me. I tell them everything candidly, so that they need be at no pains on my account, but they, not supposing it possible for a man to be staightforward, exhaust any amount of useless cunning to gain their ends. And the best of it all is, that while all this working is going on, we are all such capital friends that it is really delightful to see brethren live in such harmony together.

With regard to the intended Army movements we are all utterly in the fog, the time passing and the mud growing deeper, while batteries are being built by the enemy under our very noses. What's the use of questioning? Time will show.

I shall think of you feasting merrily to-morrow, mindful of the absent son and brother, and wish you all joy.

I am wearing the stockings you sent me and find them glorious. I am generally quite comfortable now, from the contents of the box my friends prepared and sent me. You must thank all those to whom I am indebted, in my name. I shall send this letter to New-York direct, supposing it may reach you sooner so. Love to Lilly, Mary, Hunt, Tom, and the Infant Department.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 233-5

Diary of Sergeant Major Luman Harris Tenney: July 11, 1863

Started at daylight. Thede, Steve and I went ahead to town. Several met us with “Have you been to breakfast?” “Come with us.” We accepted an invitation of a gentleman, but a Mr. Lyon insisted on Thede and me going with him. Very pleasant people. Wanted to do everything for us. A girl, Emma, Ella or Anna Lyons, beautiful girl, 16 or 17 years. She went up town and we had a good visit here. Brought me some paper. Wrote home and to Fannie. Depot and bridges burned. Stores gutted. Levies made upon the people. A good many pretty girls — one Miss Reed. Oh it cheered our hearts to meet with such kindness and friends. Passed through Lexington and camped at 12 P. M. Morgan 25 miles.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 78

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Friday, August 19, 1864

Another day gone. I am still improving. Walk out on crutches a few steps. Am very, very weak. Rainy still. Major Morfit, commanding prison, must have noticed the scrap of paper on which I wrote Agnes, for to-day he sent me up several sheets of note-paper with his compliments. Reading all day, “Artist's Bride,” Emerson Bennett. Poor trash. I long to hear from home. I have an egg for breakfast now, with some toast, and clover or hay tea; for dinner, boiled rice which has to be examined; for supper, baked apple and tea.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 127

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: November 16, 1864

As I could not obtain in Covington what I went for in the way of dye stuffs, etc., I concluded this morning, in accordance with Mrs. Ward's wish, to go to the Circle. We took Old Dutch and had a pleasant ride as it was a delightful day, but how dreary looks the town! Where formerly all was bustle and business, now naked chimneys and bare walls, for the depot and surroundings were all burned by last summer's raiders. Engaged to sell some bacon and potatoes. Obtained my dye stuffs. Paid seven dollars [Confederate money] a pound for coffee, six dollars an ounce for indigo, twenty dollars for a quire of paper, five dollars for ten cents' worth of flax thread, six dollars for pins, and forty dollars for a bunch of factory thread.

On our way home we met Brother Evans accompanied by John Hinton, who inquired if we had heard that the Yankees were coming. He said that a large force was at Stockbridge, that the Home Guard was called out, and that it was reported that the Yankees were on their way to Savannah. We rode home chatting about it and finally settled it in our minds that it could not be so. Probably a foraging party.

Just before night I walked up to Joe Perry's to know if they had heard anything of the report. He was just starting off to join the company [the Home Guard], being one of them.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 15-7

A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of Vicksburg: January 7, 1863

I have had little to record here recently, for we have lived to ourselves, not visiting or visited. Every one H–– knows is absent, and I know no one but the family we staid with at first, and they are now absent. H–– tells me of the added triumph since the repulse of Sherman in December, and the one paper published here, shouts victory as much as its gradually diminishing size will allow. Paper is a serious want. There is a great demand for envelopes in the office where H–– is. He found and bought a lot of thick and smooth colored paper, cut a tin pattern, and we have whiled away some long evenings cutting envelopes and making them up. I have put away a package of the best to look at when we are old. The books I brought from Arkansas have proved a treasure, but we can get no more. I went to the only book-store open; there were none but Mrs. Stowe's “Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands.” The clerk said I could have that cheap, because he couldn't sell her books, so I got it and am reading it now. The monotony has only been broken by letters from friends here and there in the Confederacy. One of these letters tells of a Federal raid to their place, and says, “But the worst thing was, they would take every tooth-brush in the house, because we can't buy any more; and one cavalryman put my sister's new bonnet on his horse, and said ‘Get up, Jack,’ and her bonnet was gone.”

 

SOURCE: George W. Cable, “A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of Vicksburg”, The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXX, No. 5, September 1885, p. 767

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: November 25, 1864

Sherman is thundering at Augusta's very doors. My General was on the wing, somber, and full of care. The girls are merry enough; the staff, who fairly live here, no better. Cassandra, with a black shawl over her head, is chased by the gay crew from sofa to sofa, for she avoids them, being full of miserable anxiety. There is nothing but distraction and confusion. All things tend to the preparation for the departure of the troops. It rains all the time, such rains as I never saw before; incessant torrents. These men come in and out in the red mud and slush of Columbia streets. Things seem dismal and wretched to me to the last degree, but the staff, the girls, and the youngsters do not see it.

Mrs. S. (born in Connecticut) came, and she was radiant. She did not come to see me, but my nieces. She says exultingly that “Sherman will open a way out at last, and I will go at once to Europe or go North to my relatives there.” How she derided our misery and “mocked when our fear cometh.” I dare say she takes me for a fool. I sat there dumb, although she was in my own house, I have heard of a woman so enraged that she struck some one over the head with a shovel. To-day, for the first time in my life, I know how that mad woman felt. I could have given Mrs. S. the benefit of shovel and tongs both.

That splendid fellow, Preston Hampton; “home they brought their warrior, dead,” and wrapped in that very Legion flag he had borne so often in battle with his own hands.

A letter from Mrs. Davis to-day, under date of Richmond, Va., November 20, 1864. She says: “Affairs West are looking so critical now that, before you receive this, you and I will be in the depths or else triumphant. I confess I do not sniff success in every passing breeze, but I am so tired, hoping, fearing, and being disappointed, that I have made up my mind not to be disconsolate, even though thieves break through and steal. Some people expect another attack upon Richmond shortly, but I think the avalanche will not slide until the spring breaks up its winter quarters. I have a blind kind of prognostics of victory for us, but somehow I am not cheered. The temper of Congress is less vicious, but more concerted in its hostile action." Mrs. Davis is a woman that my heart aches for in the troubles ahead.

My journal, a quire of Confederate paper, lies wide open on my desk in the corner of my drawing-room. Everybody reads it who chooses. Buck comes regularly to see what I have written last, and makes faces when it does not suit her. Isabella still calls me Cassandra, and puts her hands to her ears when I begin to wail. Well, Cassandra only records what she hears; she does not vouch for it. For really, one nowadays never feels certain of anything.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 334-5

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: July 3, 1863

The scarcity of blank-books, and the very high prices, make them unattainable to me; therefore I have determined to begin another volume of my Diary on some nice wrapping-paper which I happen to have; and though not very pleasant to write on, yet it is one of the least of my privations.

We are still worried by reports that the Yankees are very near us, and we are constantly expecting them to raid upon Ashland. We have a good force at “The Junction,” and at the bridge just above us, which they may respect, as they are dreadfully afraid of our forces.

Spent yesterday in the hospital; the wounded are getting on well. The city was put into a blaze of excitement by the report that General Dix was marching on it from the White House. I dare say they think that General Lee has left it undefended, in which surmise they are vastly mistaken. Our troops seem to be walking over Pennsylvania without let or hindrance. They have taken possession of Chambersburg, Carlisle, and other smaller towns. They surrendered without firing a gun. I am glad to see that General Lee orders his soldiers to respect private property; but it will be difficult to make an incensed soldiery, whose houses have in many instances been burned, crops wantonly destroyed, horses stolen, negroes persuaded off, hogs and sheep shot down and left in the field in warm weather — it will be difficult to make such sufferers remember the Christian precept of returning good for evil. The soldiers in the hospital seem to think that many a private torch will be applied “just for revenge.” It was in vain that I quoted to them, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” One stoutly maintained that he would like to go North “just to burn two good houses: one in return for my own house on Mississippi River; the other for that of my brother-in-law, both of which they burned just after landing from their boat, with no pretence at an excuse for it; and when I think of my wife and children homeless, I feel as if I could set all Yankeedom in a blaze.” Poor fellow! he became so excited that he arose in his bed, as if impatient to be off and at his work of vengeance. I am glad to hear that quantities of horses and fat cattle are driven into Virginia.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 225-6

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: November 6, 1864

Sally Hampton went to Richmond with the Rev. Mr. Martin. She arrived there on Wednesday. On Thursday her father, Wade Hampton, fought a great battle, but just did not win it — a victory narrowly missed. Darkness supervened and impenetrable woods prevented that longed-for consummation. Preston Hampton rode recklessly into the hottest fire. His father sent his brother, Wade, to bring him back. Wade saw him reel in the saddle and galloped up to him, General Hampton following. As young Wade reached him, Preston fell from his horse, and the one brother, stooping to raise the other, was himself shot down. Preston recognized his father, but died without speaking a word. Young Wade, though wounded, held his brother's head up. Tom Taylor and others hurried up. The General took his dead son in his arms, kissed him, and handed his body to Tom Taylor and his friends, bade them take care of Wade, and then rode back to his post. At the head of his troops in the thickest of the fray he directed the fight for the rest of the day. Until night he did not know young Wade's fate; that boy might be dead, too! Now, he says, no son of his must be in his command. When Wade recovers, he must join some other division. The agony of such a day, and the anxiety and the duties of the battle-field — it is all more than a mere man can bear.

Another letter from Mrs. Davis. She says: “I was dreadfully shocked at Preston Hampton's fate — his untimely fate. I know nothing more touching in history than General Hampton's situation at the supremest moment of his misery, when he sent one son to save the other and saw both fall; and could not know for some moments whether both were not killed.'”

A thousand dollars have slipped through my fingers already this week. At the Commissary's I spent five hundred to-day for candles, sugar, and a lamp, etc. Tallow candles are bad enough, but of them there seems to be an end, too. Now we are restricted to smoky, terrabine lamps —  terrabine is a preparation of turpentine. When the chimney of the lamp cracks, as crack it will, we plaster up the place with paper, thick old letter-paper, preferring the highly glazed kind. In the hunt for paper queer old letters come to light.

Sherman, in Atlanta, has left Thomas to take care of Hood. Hood has thirty thousand men, Thomas forty thousand, and as many more to be had as he wants; he has only to ring the bell and call for them. Grant can get all that he wants, both for himself and for Thomas. All the world is open to them, while we are shut up in a bastile. We are at sea, and our boat has sprung a leak.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 332-3

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 25,1861

Mr. Ely, the Yankee member of Congress, who has been in confinement here since the battle of Manassas, has been exchanged for Mr. Faulkner, late Minister to France, who was captured on his return from Europe. Mr. Ely smiled at the brown paper on which I had written his passport. I told him it was Southern manufacture, and although at present in a crude condition, it was in the process of improvement, and that “necessity was the mother of invention.” The necessity imposed on us by the blockade would ultimately redound to our advantage, and might injure the country inflicting it by diminishing its own products. He smiled again, and said he had no doubt we should rise to the dignity of white paper.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 102

Major Rutherford B. Hayes to Sardis Birchard, July 24, 1861

Camp Chase, July 24, 1861.

Dear Uncle: — I am surrounded by the bustle and confusion attendant upon a hurried leaving of camp. We go tomorrow at 5 A. M. to Zanesville by railroad, thence down the Muskingum on steamboats to Marietta, and on the Ohio to Ripley Landing, a short distance from Point Pieasant in Virginia. We are to be a part of General Rosecrans' force against Wise.

Last night I had a good chat with Fremont. He is a hero. All his words and acts inspire enthusiasm and confidence. He and the governor reviewed our regiment today. Lucy, Laura, and many friends were present. It was a stirring scene. I wish you could have been here. You would subscribe heartily to General Fremont. Good-bye. My saddest feeling — my almost only sad feeling — is leaving you in such bad health.

Affectionately,

R. B. Hayes.

P. S. — Always send me full sheets of paper — the blank sheet is so useful. The use and scarcity of paper is appalling.

S. Birchard.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 42-3