Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, October 16, 1862

First division, and one section of our battery and two sections of Hazlett's Battery, went across the Potomac as far as Kearneysville. We drove the rebels from the river to Charlestown, Va., having several skirmishes, with losses on our side small. In our battery we had one man, Charles Donahoe, slightly wounded, and one horse killed. Stopped at Kearneysville that night, and returned across the river the morning of the 17th, passing through Shepherdstown on the way. Gen. Humphreys commanded the Union forces.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 268

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, September 6, 1861

I introduce the following letter to a friend, as sufficiently explicit as to the occurrences since the last date:

CHAIN BRIDGE, VA., Sept. 6, 1861.

 

I commence this letter with the reiteration, Poor Virginia! That State, which for forty years has stood as the guiding star of our galaxy of States,—that State, which alone could, six months ago, have assumed the position of umpire to the belligerents, and which only would have been respected in the assumption—now stands at the very foot of the list. In the commencement of this contest she degraded herself by offering to become the cat's paw for South Carolina, and was still farther degraded by South Carolina rejecting the proposition to become her menial. By her officious subservience, however, she got her paw into the fire, and how dreadfully it is burned only those who are on her soil can form any idea. Everywhere is the destruction going on. Her soil is the battle-field, and, so far as the destruction of property is concerned, it matters but little which party is successful. Armies must have room to move and manœuvre, soldiers will have the fruits and vegetables which grow around their encampment, and camp life is a poor fertilizer of that moral growth which marks the line of "meum et tuum."

This letter is written on sheets taken from the former residence of Hon. W. W. Slade, once a member of Congress from Virginia. I rode around with a foraging party. We entered his fine old mansion, and I could not but weep over the sad changes which I could see had taken place within a few hours, Within no living soul was left. The soldiers entered; for a time I stood back, but when I did go in what a sight presented itself! Already the floors were covered knee-deep with books and papers, which it must have required a long life of toil and trouble to amass, fine swinging-mirrors shivered into thousands of pieces—a fit emblem of the condition to which efforts are being made to reduce this glorious government—each piece reflecting miniature images of what the whole had shown, but never again to reflect those pigmy images in one vast whole. In the large and spacious drawing-room stood the ruins of one of those old-fashioned sideboards, around which had grown so much of the reputation of Southern high life and hospitality; its doors, wrenched from their hinges, lay scattered on the floor; large mahogany sofas, with their covers torn off, marble-top tables, stationery, china, stoves and spittoons, were there in one promiscuous heap of ruins. I stepped into the library, hoping to bring away some relic that had been untouched by the soldiers, but I was too late—all here was ruin. In a corner I picked up a few yellow pamphlets, and read "Constitution and By-Laws of the National Democratic Association." Sadly enough I left the house, and seated myself, to rest and think, on the spacious verandah. For a moment I looked on the vast orchards, the beautiful flower garden, the long rows of laden grape vines, the broad acres of corn and clover, and thought, "What a place and what a condition to pass old age in comfort and quiet," and my heart began to lighten. How momentary the lightning, for just then company after company from the different regiments came up; gates were thrown open, fences thrown down, and horses, cattle and mules were destroying all these evidences of prosperity and comfort. And this is but one feature in the great haggard countenance of war which stares at us whenever we look at Virginia's "sacred soil." Alas, poor Virginia! This subject alone would give interest to a whole volume, but I must leave it.

On Tuesday night, at half-past ten o'clock, the "long roll" brought our brigade, of five regiments, to their feet, when we found ourselves under orders to march at once for the Virginia side of the river, where, it was said, a large body of rebels had been collecting just at night. We had had slight skirmishing in that neighborhood for several days, and now the crisis was expected, and our regiment was to have a chance. All was excitement, and in half an hour from the alarm we were ready to start. By the time we arrived here it had commenced raining—we found no enemy—bivouaced for the night, and slept in the rain to the music of the tramp, tramp of infantry, and the rattling, roaring tear of artillery wagons over the roughly macademized road which passed by our encampment. Yesterday it rained all day, as if every plug had been pulled out; still we kept on our arms and ready for action—our general and brigade officers dashing about all the time, and warning us to be ready for an attack. Day before yesterday a scouting party of our brigade went in pursuit of a party of cavalry who had been seen hovering about us. When they came in sight the cavalry took to their heels, leaving to us only three large contrabands, who "tink massa oughten to run away from poor nigga so, heah! heah! They just run and leab us to de mercy of de darn abolishuns, heah! heah!" They report that around Fairfax and Centreville there are sixty or seventy regiments, who are well provisioned, but that there is a great deal of sickness among them, measles being the prevailing disease. We had, when we left Kalarama, about twenty-five in the hospital, whom we left there under the charge of Dr. There are three or four here who have sickened in consequence of exposure to the two days and two night's rain, but they will be out in a day or two. We have not yet lost a man by disease or accident, though I hear that one man yesterday received a musket ball through his cap, but as it did not hit his head it is thought he will recover. The musket was carelessly fired by some soldier in our camp.

A little occurrence to-day has caused quite a stir in our camps, and I deem it worthy to be noted here for my remembrance. Capt. Strong, of the Second Regiment of Wisconsin Volunteers, was with a small party on picket guard. He strolled away from his company, and suddenly found himself surrounded by six of the rebel pickets. Being out of reach of help from his men, he surrendered himself a prisoner. After a short consultation as to whether they should kill the "d----d Yankee" on the spot, they concluded that they would first take him into camp. They demanded his pistols, which he took from his belt and presented. But at the moment when the rebels were receiving them, they both went off, killing two of his captors on the spot. But there were four left, two on foot, two on horseback. He dashed into a pine thicket, they discharging their pieces after him and immediately giving chase. He struck into a deep hollow or ravine leading down to the Potomac. It was so precipitous that the horsemen could not follow. But when he emerged from it near the river; he found himself confronted by the two horsemen who had ridden around and reached the spot in time to head him off. He had received a shot through his canteen. Immediately on seeing his pursuers he fired again, killing one more of them, and simultaneously he received another shot through his cheek. He continued firing with his revolvers till he had made in all eleven shots. By this time the fourth man had been unhorsed. The footmen did not pursue, and he made his way into camp. This is the story, though some are so uncharitable as to discredit it, notwithstanding one hole through his canteen and another through his cheek.

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. 21-5

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

On the high land overlooking the Potomac, about six or seven miles above the Navy Yard at Washington, we have, since our arrival here, thrown up a small fort, formed extensive abattis, and made redoubts and fortifications to command the turnpike leading down the river, and the bridge over which any enemy must pass from any direction above here to reach Washington. This looks like business. The earthwork fort is small, but very strong, and its large siege guns, from twelve to eighteen feet long, with their sullen faces watching up and down the road in every direction, give it a most formidable appearance. A brigade (I have not learned what one) has just advanced beyond us to commence another fort, about two miles to the southwest of us. Neither fort has yet been officially named, but the one just finished is called by the soldiers Fort Mott; the one about to be built they will for the present distinguish by the name of Fort Ethan Allen. In this manner we are closing on the enemy by slow approaches, or parallels. Let Dupont and Butler, from North Carolina, advance to meet us, whilst Fremont takes care of the Mississippi, and we shall have an early closing up of the war. Every day's observation more and more satisfies me that the enemy will not fight us here.

9 P. M.—Our fort is completed, and we have just received orders to cook three days rations, and be ready to move at a moment's notice.

I will here note, once for all, the manner of the soldiers taking care of themselves in a storm, when they have no tents. They all have "rubber blankets." Two forks are set, and a pole laid from one to the other, some four or five feet from the ground. A kind of lean-to roof is made by placing brush or poles against this, one end resting on the ground, the other end resting on the pole. To make this roof water-proof, the rubber blankets are stretched, like tiles on a roof, and no water gets through. In moderate weather the men cuddle together under this, and are reasonably comfortable. In cold weather they make large log fires in front of these "bivouacs," and pass the nights without freezing.

An order was received to-day from the War Department, that in future no labor shall be required of soldiers on the Sabbath, except what is absolutely necessary for our defence.

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. 25-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, February 15, 1863

We are now on the “heaving sea and the bounding wave.” We were aroused yesterday morning at four o'clock, ordered to prepare breakfast and be ready to march at a minute's notice. At five-thirty the bugle sounded "fall in." We slung our accoutrements, the first time since the battle of Fredericksburg, and in fifteen minutes were en route to the depot, distance about two miles. After some delay we took cars for Aquia Creek, where we arrived at 10 o'clock a. m., and were immediately transferred to transports, bound for Fortress Monroe. The Seventy-ninth New York and Seventeenth Michigan were crowded on the North America, an old Hudson River propeller. There was hardly standing room, much less room to walk about. The day is fine, and the bay, unruffled by a breeze, presents a lively and picturesque appearance. Steamers are continually arriving and departing, sailboats of all sorts and sizes spread their white wings and glide leisurely through the still waters, while the active little tugs go whisking and snorting here and there, assisting larger and more unwieldly vessels. We left Aquia Creek at 10:30 o'clock a. m., expecting to reach the Fortress by nine o'clock next morning. I love the sea in all its forms and phases, and it was with a thrill of joy I took my seat on deck, prepared to enjoy whatever of interest might present itself. The Potomac, at Aquia Creek, is truly a noble stream, if stream it may be called, for there is no perceptible current, being, I judge, one and one-half miles wide, gradually broadening out as it nears the bay, until at its mouth it is nine miles wide. There is a striking contrast between the Maryland and Virginia shores. The Virginia side, nearly the entire distance, presents a rugged, mountainous aspect, with very few buildings in view, while the Maryland shore is level, dotted with farm buildings, and, at frequent intervals a village with its church spires glittering in the sun. In contemplating these peaceful scenes of rural life, the quiet farm houses surrounded by groves of trees, the well-tilled fields, outbuildings and fences undisturbed by war's desolating hand, the genial air of quiet repose that pervades the scene calls up emotions that have long lain dormant. For many long months, which seems as many years, my eyes have become inured to scenes of blood, of desolation and of ruin; to cities and villages laid waste and pillaged; private residences destroyed; homes made desolate; in fact, the whole country through which we have passed, except part of Maryland, has become through war's desolating touch, a desert waste. As I gazed on these peaceful scenes and my thirsty soul drank in their beauty, how hateful did war appear, and I prayed the time might soon come when “Nations shall learn war no more.”

Gradually the wind freshened, increasing in force as we neared the bay, until it became so rough the captain thought it unsafe to venture out, and cast anchor about five miles from the mouth of the river to await the coming of day. I spread my blanket on the floor of one of the little cabins and slept soundly until morning. When I awoke in the morning the first gray streaks of early dawn were illuminating the eastern horizon.

The gale having subsided, we were soon under way, and in about half an hour entered the broad Chesapeake. And here a most grand and imposing scene met my enraptured gaze. Not a breath of air disturbed its unruffled surface. Numerous vessels, floating upon its bosom, were reflected as by a mirror. A delegation of porpoises met us at the entrance to welcome us to their domain; they were twenty-two in number, were from six to eight feet in length; in color, dark brown. It was truly amusing to witness their sportive antics as they seemed to roll themselves along. They would throw themselves head foremost from the water half their length, turning as on a pivot, perform what seemed to be a somersault, and disappear.

A flock of sea gulls fell into our wake, sagely picking up any crumbs of bread that might be thrown them. They are a strange bird, a little larger than a dove, closely resembling them in color and gracefulness of motion. They followed us the whole distance, and as I watched their continuous, ceaseless flight, the effect on the mind was a sense of weariness at thought of the long-continued exertion.

Soon after we entered the bay I observed what I thought to be a light fog arising in the southeast. We had not proceeded far, however, before I discovered my mistake, for that which seemed to be a fog was a shower of rain. I was taken wholly by surprise, for I had been accustomed to see some preparation and ceremony on similar occasions. But now no gathering clouds darkened the distant sky, warning me of its approach, but the very storm itself seemed to float upon the waves and become part of it, and before I was aware, enfolded us in its watery embrace. The storm soon passed, but the wind continued through the day, and, as we neared the old Atlantic and met his heavy swells, they produced a feeling of buoyancy that was, to me, truly exhilerating.

Some of the boys were seasick, and a number "cast up their accounts" in earnest. We entered the harbor about sundown and cast anchor for the night under the frowning guns of Fortress Monroe.

Vessels of war of every class, monitors included, and sailing vessels of all sizes, crowded the harbor. It was a magnificent scene, and one on which I had always longed to gaze.

In the morning we learned our destination was Newport News, distant about five miles. We arrived about eight o'clock, marched two miles to Hampton Roads, our camping ground, pitched tents and, at noon, were ready for our dinner of coffee and hardtack.

We have a pleasant camping ground, lying on the beach, where we can watch the vessels as they pass and can pick up oysters by the bushel when the tide is out.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 30-3

Diary of Musician David Lane, March 27, 1863

Louisville, Ky. We did not go to Suffolk as I anticipated. Third Division went in our stead, while we took another direction, and in eight days, by water and rail, landed in Louisville. We broke camp at Newport News on the 19th inst., marched on board a fleet of transports, went to Norfolk, where we took in coal. While lying there a heavy storm of snow set in, which lasted several hours. It was bitterly cold, or so it seemed to us, and we suffered severely. Toward night the storm abated and we sailed for Baltimore. There we were transferred to cars and came by the way of the B. & O. R. R. to Parkersburg, W. Va. From Harper's Ferry our route followed the course of the Potomac River to Columbia, a lovely city far up among the mountains, and near the head of that river. The country from Harper's Ferry is mountainous, and Columbia is near the dividing line, from which point the water flows in opposite directions. We were three days and three nights on the cars, winding around or darting through the rocky barriers that opposed us. For, where they could not be evaded, the energy and power of man pierced their huge forms and ran his fiery engines beneath their towering summits. There are twenty-seven tunnels on this road, twenty-five of which we passed through in the daytime. Some of the shorter ones are arched with brick, others with heavy timbers, while some are cut through solid rock and need no support. At Parkersburg our three regiments were crowded into one vessel, and away we went "down the Ohio." We made a short stop at Cincinnati, where we received orders to report at once to Louisville, as an attack at that place was apprehended. We halted on our way through Louisville and partook of a free dinner, prepared for us by the loyal ladies of that city. Soft bread, potatoes, boiled ham, cakes and hot coffee were served us till all were filled (and many a haversack was also filled), when we gave three cheers and a tiger for the generous donors.

We found much excitement, as bands of guerillas came within six miles of the city the night before, conscripting men and confiscating horses and other supplies.

We stole a march on the Johnnies in coming here, they having notified the citizens that they would breakfast with them on the morning of our arrival, and when they—the citizens—saw their streets filled with soldiers, they thought the promise about to be fulfilled, but the Stars and Stripes soon undeceived them. Here our brigade was divided, the Eighth Michigan and Seventy-ninth New York going to Lebanon, the Seventeenth and Twentieth Michigan remaining at this place.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 35-7

Northern Sentiment

The following sweet morsel of her fierce defiance and blustering braggadocio appears in the Philadelphia Transcript, under the head of “Crush the Traitors.” It will be perused with more of pity than of anger toward the poor wretches whose ignorance would counsel its indorsement:

The Point has been reached where forbearance is a crime against our country. The seceding States, for five months past, have been perpetrating a continual series of outrages against the Constitution, against the common courtesy of nations and states, against all public decency and right. Whatever may have been their complaints or wrongs, they have resorted, not to any remedy of them, but to disgraceful violence, robbery, murder and treachery. They have spurned all offers of conciliation or adjustment; they have inaugurated wholesale schemes of revolution; they have made war upon the Union, simply because it attempted to victual its starving soldiers, and they have attacked and murdered volunteer troops peacefully marching to defend the capital. Virginia and Maryland are not out of the Union, and yet, instigated and applauded by the Cotton States, they commit monstrous acts of avowed treason. Baltimore has capped the climax by its cowardly assault upon unarmed men, and by its brutal murder of many of them.

Now the time has come to end all this. The slaveholding States must be taught a lesson that will never be forgotten—a lesson of fire and blood. Their threats, bluster, arrogance, and outrages must be forever terminated. They must be made to feel that they cannot and dare not arrest and assault our Union and our flag. They are as weak as they are insolent. The gigantic strength, the superior civilization, and the boundless resources of the free States are able to carry desolation from the Potomac to the Rio Grande. The whole North, from Maine to California, although usually “slow to wrath,” patient and forbearing, is at last fearlessly aroused. The descendants of the heroes of Bunker Hill, Saratoga, Brandywine, Tippecanoe, Chippawa, and Fort Meigs, are flying to arms. Presently the continent will resound under the stern and steady tramp of unprecedented myriads of the free laborers and mechanics of the North.

Let them finish their enterprise. Let them plant the stars, stripes, and eagles of an indissoluble Republic on the steeples of Richmond, Charleston and New Orleans. Let the traitor States be starved out by blockade and given to the swords and bayonets of stalwart freemen. No matter at what cost of treasure, blood and suffering, the slaveholding States must be scourged into decency, good behavior and subjection.

The cannon is now the sacred instrument of union, justice, and liberty. The Union heretofore has been a smiling angel of benignity. Now it must be an angel of death, scattering terror and destruction among its enemies. If necessary, myriads of Southern lives must be taken, Southern bodies given to the buzzards, Southern fields consigned to sterility, and Southern towns surrendered to the flames. Our flag must wave in triumph, though it float over seared and blackened expanses, over the ruins of razed cities. Our Union must be maintained, and our Constitution respected, and the supremacy of Federal law vindicated, if it requires armies of millions of men.

So let no true man shrink or flinch. All duties, all occasions must be postponed, until the cannon and the musket have restored decency to the South, and peace and order to our country.

Our only desire is that just such fellows as the valorous editor of the Transcript may be sent on the above delightful “enterprise.”

SOURCES: “Northern Sentiment,” The Memphis Daily Appeal, Memphis, Tennessee, Thursday, May 2, 1861, p. 1; "Specimens of Northern Civilization," Nashville Union and American, Nashville, Tennessee, May 22, 1861, p. 2.

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, September 20, 1862

Went into battery on the banks of the Potomac. In the mean time the first brigade of the first division went across the river to reconnoitre, but were driven back by the rebels with considerable loss. Our battery, as well as the First Rhode Island and Battery D, shared in the fight. The One Hundred and Eighteenth Pennsylvania Volunteers lost severely. When the rebels retreated across the Potomac, after the battle of Antietam, they left a number of pieces of artillery behind them, and also left in Sharpsburg a lot of their wounded. On picket at Sharpsburg, with our guns in battery, from Sept. 20 till Oct. 30, with the rebels on the other side of the Potomac. Gen. Porter's division was reviewed by Gen. McClellan and President Lincoln on the 3d of October.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 268

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 3, 1862

October 3d, 1862.

We have moved camp three miles, and are now five miles above Harper's Ferry, on the banks of the Potomac. The days are extremely hot; the evenings deliciously cool, and mornings cold. We had a grand division review this morning, in honor of the President, who favored us with his presence. My curiosity was gratified by seeing a "live President," and, above all, "Old Abe." He looks much better than the likenesses we see of him—younger, and not so long and lank.

Strange rumors have been in circulation for several days—rumors of compromise; of almost unconditional surrender. What does it all mean? Is there a bare possibility the Rebels have had enough of it? That "chivalry" will acknowledge itself whipped by "mudsills," and ask for peace, while they have six hundred thousand men in the field? As far as the rank and file of this army is concerned, we would like to see them "line up" in front of us and fight it out, and have done with it.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 14-5

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Thursday, September 5, 1861

At dawn of day, contrary to our expectations, the enemy did not open on us again. Having had no food since the day before, some of us went to the town, and as fortune, would have it, found bread, molasses, and that renowned coffee kettle, the fourth detachment will well remember. We enjoyed a good soldiers' breakfast. Lieut. Tompkins, behaving towards the men like a gentleman, they would have done most anything for him. In several cases he relieved our wants, out of his own purse. Late in the afternoon we left Great Falls, marching towards Seneca Mills, as the enemy made various demonstrations up and down the Potomac. Rain falling incessantly, and passing through dense woods marching became a matter of impossibility, and it was decided to halt by the roadside until daylight. An unoccupied house being close by, we all took possession of it, and found ourselves quite comfortable.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 19-20

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Friday, September 6, 1861

A bright morning greeted our eyes. The clear sky promised a pleasant day. We discovered an orchard near by, which furnished us with a variety of the most beautiful peaches. After taking a good supply of them, marching was resumed. Arrived by nine o'clock A. M. at Camp Jackson, occupied by the Thirty-fourth Regiment New York Volunteers, Col. LaDue. We were well received. Towards evening, the Colonel and Lieut. Tompkins took the fifth piece along, in the direction of the Potomac, getting the gun in position close to the canal, after masking it. All quiet during the night.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 20

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 4, 1862

We have been three days in camp, and have fully recovered from the fatigues of our long journey. Drill is the order of the day, as it is the necessity of the hour. Officers and men have yet to learn the rudiments of military maneuvering. There is not a company officer who can put his men through company drill without making one—or more—ludicrous blunders. Yesterday our First Lieutenant was drilling a squad of men. He was giving all his attention to "time," and did not notice a fence had planted itself directly across our path. Suddenly he shouted: "Who—who—who! Come this way, you fellows in front—don't you see you are running into that fence?"

On Monday morning one of the men had been cleaning his gun, and, wishing to know if it would burn a cap, laid it down for the purpose of getting one. When he returned, instead of picking up his own gun, he took a loaded one that belonged to a guard. As a result of his stupidity, the ball passed through two tents, entered a young man's heel and passed through his foot lengthwise, rendering him a cripple for life. Rumors were in circulation all day Tuesday of Rebel movements. At dusk twenty rounds of ammunition were distributed.

We were then sent to our quarters to await orders. A spirit of unrest pervaded the camp. Men gathered in groups and whispered their conviction of a night attack.

At nine o'clock a picket fired an alarm. The bugle sounded "To arms." Orderlies ran up and down the line of tents shouting. "Fall in! Fall in with your arms; the Rebels are upon us!"

For a moment there was some confusion, but in less than five minutes we were in line, eager to meet the foe. But no enemy appeared. It was a ruse gotten up by the officers as an emergency drill, and, as such, it was a decided success. There were some ludicrous incidents, but, as a rule, the men buckled on their arms with promptness and appeared as cool as on dress parade.

Yesterday morning, as we were forming for company drill, a courier rode into camp with dispatches from headquarters. Five companies from our regiment were ordered to repair at once to Fort Gaines, eight miles distant, on the Virginia side of the Potomac. We started off briskly, but before we had gone a mile the order was countermanded, and we returned to camp.

The news this morning is not encouraging. General Pope has been defeated and driven back upon the fortifications around Washington, and the Rebels are trying to force their way across the Potomac. We are under marching orders. Rumor says we are to join Burnside's forces at Frederic City.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 8-9

Diary of Private Louis Leon: May 13, 1864

Left here this morning and passed through Fredericksburg. Crossed the Rappahannock on pontoon bridges, and got to Belle Plain on the Potomac at 3 o'clock-nineteen miles to-day. It rained all day, and it is very muddy.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 62

Diary of Private Bartlett Yancey Malone, January 18, 1862

was sloppy day And I hird today that peas was made between the North and South and I hird that our men sunk a vessel down on the Potomac last night But indeed I dont beleave a word of it.

SOURCE: Bartlett Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 13

Diary of Private Bartlett Yancey Malone, January 23, 1862

was cloudy and cool but no rain And thir was hevy canonading down on the Potomac to day

SOURCE: Bartlett Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 13

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Friday, August 23, 1861

Rebel cavalry plainly to be seen on the other side of the Potomac.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 18

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 6, 1864

Bright and beautiful. Indian summer apparently.

All quiet below—but it is anticipated by some that a battle will occur to-day, or in a day or so.

The enemy's negro troops have been brought to this side of the river, and are in full view on picket duty.

The Signal Bureau reports a large number of transports descending the Potomac a few days ago; probably Sheridan's army, to reinforce Grant.

And yet our conscription superintendents, under orders, are busily engaged furloughing and detailing the rich slaveowners! It is developing a rapidly growing Emancipation party, for it is the establishment of a privileged class, and may speedily prove fatal to our cause. Our leaders are mad, and will be destroyed, if they persist in this policy.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 348-9

Congressman Rutherford B. Hayes to Sardis Birchard, April 15, 1866

WASHINGTON, D. C., April 15, 1866.

DEAR UNCLE:— I was at Mount Vernon yesterday for the first time. Washington was a capital judge of fine sites for towns and mansions. His own seat was fitly chosen. The views of the Potomac are beautiful. His farming was on a royal scale. The sentiment merely from "the genius of the place," the tomb, and the like, did not strike me. The truth is, if it were not sacrilege, I should say Lincoln is overshadowing Washington. Washington is formal, statue-like, a figure for exhibition; but both were necessary to complete our history. Neither could have done the other's work.

I bought you a cane which may get to you sometime — a common hickory stick, genuine.

I think some of coming home on a ten days' leave, one of these days. If so will call at Fremont and talk things up with you. I have no plans.

The country will go through all safe. Some dangers ahead, serious dangers, just enough to give interest to what would otherwise be a very dull life.

Sincerely,

R. B. HAYES.

S. BIRCHARD.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 3, p. 23

Congressman Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, April 15, 1866

WASHINGTON, D. C., April 15, 1866.

MY DARLING:—I went to Mount Vernon yesterday. It is a beautiful spot. The extensive views of the Potomac are the great feature. The mere "genius of the place," I hardly thought of. The spot was happily chosen for our great man's home. It was the anniversary of Lincoln's death. It seems to me Lincoln is rather eclipsing Washington. I feel more than ever that, taking him all in all, he was the highest character. But it is like sacrilege to make these comparisons. It is probably

true that neither could have done the other's work, and without the work of both we should have had a different history. Love to all.

Affectionately ever,

R.

MRS. HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 3, p. 23-4

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 29, 1864

Clear and pleasant.

We are beginning to get authentic accounts of the operations on Thursday; and yet, from the newspaper publications, we see that the government has withheld one of Gen. Lee's dispatches from publication. Altogether, it must be regarded as a decisive failure on the part of the enemy to obtain any lodgment nearer to the objective point; while his loss was perhaps two to our one.

A letter from Gen. Howell Cobb, Macon, Ga., in reply to one from the Secretary by the President's direction, states that Gen. Beauregard, in arranging difficulties with Gov. Brown, did not compromise the dignity or interests of the Confederate States Government, or violate any law.

It is now said Sheridan is retreating toward the Potomac, followed by Early. Some 500 more recruits for Early left Richmond yesterday. This would indicate that Gen. Lee has men enough here.

The President suggests that confidential inspectors be sent to ascertain whether Gen. Early's army has lost confidence in him. Both Gen. Lee and the President are satisfied that the charges of drunkenness against Gen. E. merit no attention. The Secretary had indorsed on a paper (referred by him to the President) that he shared the belief in the "want of confidence," etc.—and no doubt would have him removed.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 318

Diary of Private Louis Leon: July 11, 1863

Orders read out to-day from our father, R. E. Lee, that we would fight the enemy once more on their own soil, as they were now in our front. That order got to them, and fulfilled its mission, as we were then on our way to the Potomac. They still thinking we could not cross the river, because the river was very high from the recent rains, and we had but one pontoon bridge. At 10 in the night we formed in line of battle, got to our position, when our regiment was ordered to support a battery. Laid on our arms all night.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 39-40