Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, September 27, 1862

On Thursday last, we performed our first public duty, after drilling in the loadings and firings, in which we excelled, after firing "higher" several times. Six companies, of which "E" was one, under command of Lieut.-Col. Cabot, started for Jamaica Plain, by the Providence Railroad, to attend the funeral of Lieut.-Col. Dwight, of the 2nd Mass Vols., who died of wounds on the 13th [sic] of September. We performed escort duty to the grave where we fired three very creditable volleys, considering our practice. When we arrived at camp that afternoon "E" was decidedly cross, and we well remember the sight, as we marched to our quarters, we could not imagine what could be the matter, great piles of what looked to us like rubbish in front and rear of the barracks, proved to be our all. In fact every blessed thing but our government clothes and blankets were to go by the board. All the extra comforts, the fancy signs on our bunks, even Miller lost his chicken, and accused one of the innocents, who was left at the camp to help to clean up, with taking it. The unfortunate man will be known always as Chicken Hayes among the few evil-minded men of the company, who really think Hayes fraudulently reached for that chicken. We were a sorry set, but wondered if the despoliation was as thorough in the officers' tents. We never found out, for we visited there very seldom, and were there only upon business of more importance. It was called a sanitary improvement to rob us of all these little things. The boys did not cater for such improvements at all.

SOURCE: John Jasper Wyeth, Leaves from a Diary Written While Serving in Co. E, 44 Mass. Dep’t of North Carolina from September 1862 to June 1863, p. 10

Major Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, September 17, 1862

[September 17, 1862.]

Dearest Mother, — I am wounded so as to be helpless. Good by, if so it must be. I think I die in victory. God defend our country. I trust in God, and love you all to the last. Dearest love to father and all my dear brothers. Our troops have left the part of the field where I lay.

Mother, yours,

Wilder.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 293

Major Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, September 17, 1862

near Sharpsburg, September 17, 1862. On the field.

Dear Mother, — It is a misty, moisty morning; we are engaging the enemy, and are drawn up in support of Hooker, who is now banging away most briskly. I write in the saddle, to send you my love, and to say that I am very well so far.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 292

Major Wilder Dwight: September 11, 1862

WASHINGTON, D.C., September 11, 1862

I am here now two days getting arms for our recruits. All is reported quiet beyond Rockville, and I do not return till to-morrow.

Charley is spoken of as having shown gallantry and conduct. His career is an honorable one.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 288

Major Wilder Dwight: September 7, 1862

Camp Beyond Rockville, Maryland, September 7, Sunday.

It is a hot, sunny, breezy afternoon. We are in line of battle with Sumner's corps, as we have been ever since yesterday noon. The air is full of rumors, but my opinion is firm that the Rebels will not cross in force into Maryland. If they do, and if our hearts have not really died within us, then we shall be fit to strike them. We want Soldiers, SOLDIERS, and a General In Command. Please notice the words, all of them; for the history of the past fifteen months is the sad record of that want. Nothing surprising happened in Virginia. The force brought against us was not larger than our own, was equally fatigued, and, still more, without food. But we allowed them, — impotently and with fatal blindness, allowed them to outgeneral us. We ignored what was passing under our eyes, denied the familiar maxims of military science, blustered up to the moment of defeat, and then fled back to our base.

“No line of retreat.” “No base of supply.” “No strong positions.” What is the issue of that policy? A starving army hunting lines of retreat upon the firm base, and up to, and within, the strong fortification of its capital. We stood on the banks of the Rappahannock a week, while the enemy steadily pushed his columns up the other bank, and through a well-known mountain pass upon our rear. O, it is heavy to see life and hope and peace and honor withering away daily under such influences! Nor do I see any evidence of tone or wisdom in power anywhere

It has come back to McClellan! I met him as I went into Washington the other day. His manner was gay, confident, elate. His staff were jubilant. Again he takes the reins, and what do you expect? I must hope, though I know not why.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 287-8

Major Wilder Dwight: September 5, 1862

camp Near TennallytowN, Maryland, September 5, 1862.

I wrote you a hasty scrawl in my hurried visit to Washington, just to assure you of our safety at last. That was Wednesday. We went into camp near Fort Albany, and within a mile of the Long Bridge. Yesterday we got marching orders again; crossed the Potomac at Georgetown, and came out here on the Edwards's Ferry and Darnestown road, about eight miles, and are now in camp. . . . .

We suppose that we are to go up the river towards Edwards's Ferry. You would, perhaps, like to have a record of our life since we occupied the line of the Rappahannock till to-day. It has been so tense and corrosive that I am not yet in tone to write an account of it. Our week on the Rappahannock was a series of marches, countermarches, vigils, pickets, wet bivouacs, always within sound, often within reach, of the enemy's cannon, moving under the hissing importunity of flying shells and round shot. One morning at Beverly Ford we took a position from which our forces had been driven two previous days. Colonel Andrews and I breakfasted under a tree with shell and round shot moving merrily about us. We held the position. On Monday night we lay under arms within half a mile of the battle in which Kearney and Stevens fell, near Fairfax Court-House. The fight was a fierce one. During most of it a violent thunderstorm raged fearfully. I can only leave you to imagine the scene. We were all night under arms, wet through, and without fires. The worst night I ever spent. Tuesday night we came in last over the Warrenton Pike, — the very tail of the Grand Army, as we had been before.

Our risks and chances have been great, but we were not in either of the fights about Manassas or Bull Run. I am glad of it. Unsuccessful battles we have had enough of. I have been too busy to get news of Charley. We have been on the march for eighteen days. Colonel Taylor's account of the matter was encouraging. I met him by chance on Tuesday. Inquired at once for Charley. His answer was, “He is on his way to Richmond.” I was taken aback. Under all the circumstances, you may regard him as lucky.

I hope he will be paroled without being taken to Richmond.

Our recruits have had a hard time. It is an illustration of the folly of our whole system of organization and recruiting, that we should have dragged one hundred and fourteen unarmed recruits through all this business. But I will not begin about follies. The events of the past three weeks are incredible. Disaster, pitiable, humiliating, contemptible! Love to all at home. Now that we are in Maryland, I suppose the absurd order stopping the mails will be rescinded. I shall write again as soon as I can.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 285-7

Major Wilder Dwight: September 3, 1862

Washington, D. C., September 3, 1862

After an experience of sixteen days here, I am humiliated, exhausted, yet well and determined.

The history of Pope's retreat, without a line and without a base, is a military novelty. We lived on the country, with a witness, — green corn and green apples. Twice cut off by the enemy, — everything in discomfort and confusion.

Forced marches, wakeful bivouacs, retreat, retreat. O, it was pitiful! and now a whole city full, here at Washington begins to feel our presence. Bah!

The regiment has behaved well, the brigade has behaved well. Charley's accident was funny. He was taken from his horse in a mêlée, but Colonel Taylor assures me unhurt and lively.* It is the family luck. I will write more when I can, and when I have been to sleep. I am perfectly well, and in as good spirits as can be expected. Have got a large mail to-day. Thanks for letters. Love to all at home.

Keep —— there. The service is not for the young; and though the race seems to be to the swift, the battle is not yet to the strong.

_______________

* Lieutenant Charles Dwight, of General Sickles's staff, while leading a charge on the enemy, was taken prisoner during the battle of Bristow Station, August, 1862.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 285

Major Wilder Dwight: August 20, 1862

in Bivouac Near Rappahannock Crossing, August 20, 1862.

I had hardly finished my last letter when marching orders came. We had a night's bivouac Monday, a tedious, dusty, broiling march yesterday, and another bivouac last night behind the Rappahannock, which is now between us and the enemy, who were, I suppose, themselves awaiting us beyond the Rapidan. I have no spirit for speculation or prophecy, only an aching for result and fulfillment. . . . .

Lieutenant Mills has reported for duty, and finds himself very busy. He comes at the moment when we need every officer's service. He will do well. Last evening when we came on to the field, I found Private Kent Stone waiting for me, looking bright and earnest. He came on in charge of the new recruits from Washington; and as soon as we were established, he marched his recruits into our field, and they were assigned to their companies. I advised the Stones to go into Company C, Captain Cogswell, and they will be well cared for there. . . . . There is nothing to tell. I suppose our movements are for the purpose of effecting a junction with McClellan's forces, which are, at all events, expected by us.

This is the end of my week since joining. It has been a full one.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 284

Major Wilder Dwight: Sunday, August 17, 1862

Camp Near Culpeper, Virginia,

August 17, 1862, Sunday.

The battle of Cedar Mountain, or, correctly, Slaughter's Mountain, or, in common speech, Slaughter Mountain, seems to be proclaimed by General Pope, accepted by General Halleck, and, probably, welcomed by the country, as one of the most obstinate, desperate, and gallant contests of the war.

It is claimed loudly and with argument by both sides as a victory, and therefore lacks the best test of success, namely, to prove itself. It failed to be decisive. What Jackson intended by his move across the Rapidan is known, perhaps, to himself. If he meant to hurt and to get hurt, he succeeded. If he meant anything further, he failed. But he left a sting behind him.

The right wing of Banks's army was certainly hurled into a storm that wellnigh wrecked it. The field of battle was well chosen by the enemy. From the slopes of Slaughter's Mountain on his right, whence he commanded the whole field and viewed it at a glance, to his left in the wood the enemy were strong. Our men attacked, and held them back most gallantly.

But you must get the outline and details of the battle from other sources. I will attempt to follow my regiment as it went into action without me, in its hot and toilsome march from Hazel River to Culpeper, where it arrived on Friday at midnight, and bivouacked near its present camp, in its weary and feverish approach to the field on Saturday, and in its sharp trial as the day closed.

The regiment marched from Culpeper about six miles to the field, and arrived soon after noon. It went into position on the right, on high ground, in the edge of a wood. There the men waited, rested, and lunched. The battle was going on, on our left and centre, mainly with artillery.

At last, and after five o'clock, P. M., the sharper musketry on our right told that they would probably be called on. Suddenly Colonel Andrews got an order to move immediately to the support of Crawford's brigade, then engaged in a wood about one third of a mile in our front. General Crawford, it seems, had, with mysterious wisdom, and without full examination of the field, pushed his brigade out into an open wheat-field, bounded on two sides by woods which the enemy was holding. There he was, suffering and perishing, at the moment the order came to the Second. Colonel Andrews moved them, as ordered, at a double-quick, down the hill, across the field, through the bog, over the ditch or “run,” up a steep hillside, and into a wood dense and thickly grown, on, on, on till out they came upon an open field, of which I give you a sketch on the opposite page.

The regiment was a good deal disordered when it got through the woods. It marched out through a gap in the fence into the open wheat-field, in which the recently cut shocks of wheat were standing, as indicated on the plan. It was formed under a fire from the woods opposite, but soon brought inside of the fence, and ordered to lie down behind the fence. A few words more about the ground.

The open field is not level; there is a swell of the ground, which falls off gently toward the enemy's side, and becomes a marsh; but as it approaches the enemy's wood, it rises again rather suddenly, and the hillside thus made is densely wooded.

On this wooded hillside the enemy were piled up. The woods indicated on the plan on the right of the open field are a low, bushy growth, hardly taller anywhere than a man, but so very thick as to be a perfect cover.

Recollect that the enemy held this approach to our right.

When Colonel Andrews entered the woods through which he came to this open field, he met dismayed soldiers of Crawford's brigade, saying, “We are beaten!” Crawford had driven his brigade, before this, at a charge, across this field, or tried to do so, and the fire from both directions upon them proved very destructive.

The Second took up a position behind the fence, as I have said. Captain Abbott, with his company as skirmishers, had advanced beyond the fence into the field, but were subsequently withdrawn.

Colonel Andrews had, in front of him, the enemy in these woods, and could see only the flash of their guns. Still, he suffered very little. Soon he was ordered to move down toward the right farther, which brought him quite close to the low wood. At this time he got an order to charge across the field.

He said it was impossible, and General Gordon, whom he went to see, agreed with him. Colonel Andrews declined to do it, saying it would be simply the destruction of the regiment.

It afterwards turned out that the order had been misunderstood by the staff-officer who gave it. General Crawford's brigade, it must be remembered, had retired from the scene before Gordon's brigade came up to the field. Gordon's brigade of three regiments, part of one of which, the Third Wisconsin, had already been engaged in Crawford's first charge, were alone in this position, and without support. Soon after this Colonel Andrews saw a Rebel line advancing diagonally across the field. He at once opened a file-fire upon it from our regiment. Gaps opened, the Rebel line wavered, and became very much broken. While this was going on, and when it seemed that this advance might be checked, a fire opened from the woods in which we were, on our right flank, and even in rear of it. Colonel Andrews found that the troops on our right, of our own brigade, had been driven back. This first fire, on our flank, killed Captain Goodwin, commanding the right company, and dropped half of that company. Colonel Andrews then ordered the regiment to fall back. At this time the fire upon us was from front, from beyond our right, diagonally, and, most severely of all, directly upon our flank. The enemy were in overwhelming force, and we were left alone.

Under a fire of this kind no troops can stand or live. This flank fire cannot be replied to without a change of front or a supporting force. These were impossibilities. Under a storm of bullets which our thinned ranks (for then our heavy loss was suffered) attests only too strongly, the gallant regiment withdrew, leaving one third, nearly, behind.

The trees in the wood remain to testify to the severity of the fire. There and then, within a few yards of the fence, fell Goodwin and Abbott and Williams and Cary and Perkins, and many a fine soldier by their sides. The colors were shot through and through, the staff shattered and broken in two, the eagle torn from the staff, but Sergeant George, of Company A, the color-bearer, brought them off in safety and in honor. As soon as the regiment, in its retreat, came outside of the wood, it was re-formed by Colonel Andrews near the point where it had entered. The whole time since it entered the woods was little more than half an hour. Many of the men, besides those actually hit, had stopped to give aid to the wounded or dying, and so the regiment was a mere fragment.

It went back to a point near its original position, and near a house, which at once became a hospital. Colonel Andrews describes the feeling with which he then discovered the losses. Of the captains, seven went in, and one only, Captain Bangs, came back. Of the lieutenants — but you know the record. At first it was thought and hoped that our list would be of wounded. Alas! how speedy was death. The regiment was soon moved toward the centre; and it spent the night, in presence of the enemy, on outpost duty. During the night there was some confusion and fighting. One of our sentinels took five of the enemy's cavalry with skill and courage. His name is Harrington, Company E. I had noticed him previously, as a bold, cool man.

Among the incidents of the fight, Corporal Durgin, one of the color-guard, was approached by three Rebels, as he was looking for Major Savage. He at once called out: “Adjutant, bring that squad here. I've got three prisoners.” The men hesitated; one struck him with his musket, when Durgin doubled him up by a thrust of his rifle, shot a second one, while the third ran away, and Durgin ran too.

Colonel Andrews's horse was shot twice; once in neck and once in shoulder. Major Savage's horse was shot after he dismounted, and he was subsequently wounded. Captain Russell stopped to help him, and was so caught. Captain Quincy, too, was wounded and taken.

On Monday morning, the enemy having drawn back, our burial-party went out. Cary was found, as if placidly sleeping, under an oak near the fence. He had lived until Sunday. His first sergeant, Williston, was at his side, alive, though severely wounded. He had watched with him, and when the Rebels took from him all that was valuable, Williston begged the men to give him Cary's ring and locket for his wife, and their hearts melted, and he was happy in giving them up to be sent to her.

Abbott wore a proud, defiant, earnest look, as when he fell, with the words on his lips: “Give it to that flag, men!” pointing to the Rebel emblem opposite. Goodwin and Williams and Perkins too. Cary and Perkins and Goodwin went to the fight in ambulances, being too sick to go. Goodwin had to be helped along into the fight, but said, “I cannot stay when my men are going.”

It was a sad burden that was brought back to our bivouac on Monday.

I have twice visited and examined the field, and tried to live over again the scene, that I may share, as far as possible, the memories of my regiment.

I was seeking, by description, the spot where my dear friend Cary fell and died, and was in some doubt about it, when my eye caught, among the leaves, a cigarette paper. I knew at once that it must be the place, and looking farther, I found some writing with his name on it. These had doubtless fallen from his pocket.

I took them as mementos, and cut also a piece of wood from the stump on which his head rested. These I have sent to his wife.

Our chaplain was busy near the field with the wounded all night. His fidelity and constancy in remaining there after our forces withdrew deserve recollection.

This morning we have had service, and the camp is now under the influence of its Sunday quiet. There are a good many questions about the fight, and the responsibility of it, which I will not discuss. It seems a pity that we pressed them on our right. The darkness was so near, and the night would have given us time to concentrate our forces. But it is as it is. No troops ever encountered a severer test, and our regiment behaved nobly. Voild!

To-morrow we shall have our muster, and account for our losses.

We may, probably, be here some time, to repair our losses. I went out to dress-parade this evening, and as I marched to the front, with five other officers, to salute Colonel Andrews, our griefs seemed heavy enough. The Third Wisconsin Regiment, so foully slandered by some of the newspapers, behaved gallantly, and did all that men could do.

Tell Colonel William, of Williamsburg, that Crawford pushed his brigade out into that open wheat-field without skirmishing at all on his right, and never sent a skirmisher into the bushes and low woods on the right of the field.

We were rushed up at a double-quick to his support, and occupied the ground that he had just lost. Bah! then it was too late.

I send you a memorandum of my wants on a slip of paper. The weather has been cool for several days; the nights even cold. I am in excellent health, and I hope you are well and in good spirits.

Colonel Andrews's behavior in the fight is the admiration of all.

My love to all at home. Write me, and send me every scrap about the regiment and our lost brave men.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 278-8

Major Wilder Dwight: August 15, 1862

Camp Near Culpeper, Virginia, August 15, 1862.

I have fallen into camp life and its spirit quite easily. It is the virtue of duty in the field that it is persistent, inexorable, exacting. It is the virtue of the military life that it is busy and ardent. Both these considerations urge themselves on me as I sit down to write in cheerful temper, while there are so many reasons for heaviness and sorrow.

Our crippled regiment turns out to its duties and parades as if nothing had happened to it, while its thinned ranks and vacant posts tell the story of its trial and losses, — of its glory too.

Yesterday morning I spent with Colonel Andrews in visiting our wounded, and doing my possible for them. It is hard to see some of the very best of our men disabled; but their pluck and cheeriness are delightful. The regiment behaved wonderfully, but the position into which they were ordered was a hopeless one.

After dinner General Gordon and I rode out to the field of battle, and I examined it thoroughly. I shall write out and send you a full account of the position and the action. The scene was full of interest. I went to the spot where Cary fell and lay till he died on the following day. I found, too, where our other officers fell. The evening was spent with Professor Rogers, Mr. Dean, Mr. Shaw, and others, who have come out to get tidings of our officers.

This morning we have had a grand review (the first occasion of my putting on my sword as Lieutenant-Colonel) of Banks's corps. As we passed out to the field our bands played a dirge, and we paid a marching salute to Colonel Donelly, who had just died of his wounds, and was lying in a house in the town. Then to the field. The loss of the corps is about two thousand five hundred. Their work was done in a few hours, and all you can say is, the enemy went back, but their loss can hardly have equalled ours.

This afternoon I am on duty again, so that I have no time for writing you as I could wish. I hope something can be done to recruit us up to an approach to our former numbers. Nothing can ever make good our losses. Cary and Goodwin and Grafton were all too sick to march, and went up to the battle-field in ambulances, rushing forth when their regiment was ordered forward.

All these and many other memories I could write if I had time. Love to all at home. I am well, and most happy to be back here.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 277-8

Major Wilder Dwight: August 13, 1862 – 9 p.m.

Camp Near Culpeper, Virginia,

August 13, 1862, 9 P.M.

I have a chance to send a line, but hardly time to write. A sharp, sudden half-hour's work, under desperate circumstances, has crippled us sadly, as you must have heard only too well. My return has been simply sad and bitter.

Of the hopes that may be indulged, I think these are accurate. Major Savage, a wounded prisoner, and Captain Russell, unwounded, taken while caring for Major Savage. Captain Quincy, a wounded prisoner, able to walk off the field. Lieutenant Miller, a slightly wounded prisoner. You know of Robeson, Grafton, and Oakey. Lieutenant Browning is also wounded severely, but not dangerously. Our loss in killed, twenty-seven; wounded, one hundred and four; missing, thirty. There will be many deaths from wounds.

Our five brave, honorable, beloved dead * are on their way to Massachusetts. She has no spot on her soil too sacred for them, no page in her history that their names will not brighten.

The regiment looks well, but O, so gloomy! I have much to tell, but to-night, after the fatigue and stress of the last three days, cannot write.

As for myself, I look forward. Love to all.

_______________

* Captain Edward Gardiner Abbott, Captain Richard Gary, Captain Richard Chapman Goodwin, Captain William Blackstone Williams, and Lieutenant Stephen George Perkins.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 276

Major Wilder Dwight to Captain Howard Dwight, a few days after June 6, 1862

Dear Captain, — How are you? I'm prisoner of war. It seems to run in the family.* I hope you won't have it. I wish that you may find a speedy end of your service in the West. I have had a very pleasant week at home, but am very impatient to be back to the regiment.

_______________

* Colonel William Dwight, Jr. was taken prisoner after the battle of Williamsburg.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 271

Major Wilder Dwight: June 6, 1862

The last year has been the richest of my life. For the first time in my life, I have been sure, every day, that I was doing good. I have worked hard in the profession of the law, and gained cases for people, and they have been very grateful to me, but I never knew with certainty whether I had done them good or not. Now I know, every day I live, that I do good to those poor fellows in our regiment, and I shall not give it up. I would not if I could, and I could not if I would, with honor.

Then, as to my life, my experience at Winchester taught me that is God's care, not mine. I took no care of it then myself. I was all the time in front of the line; I went forward into the most exposed positions possible. I saw a dozen men take aim at me. They did not hit me. I was as safe there as I should have been at home. And I shall be so again, till God's time comes to take my life. When that time comes, I am perfectly willing to give it up.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 271

Telegram from Major Wilder Dwight: June 5, 1862

Have order for exchange with Major Davidson at Fort Warren. Shall come home at once and arrange it.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 269

Major Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, June 3, 1862

Dear Mother, — I send you my journal. You will see by it that I became a prisoner by carelessness, mixed, perhaps, with good-nature. D—— is with me. I stay here to see about my exchange, &c. I am sorry you had so much anxiety for me, but thankful to be able to relieve it. Love to all. My reception by the regiment is reward enough. I must get back to them.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 269

Major Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, Monday Evening, June 2, 1862

Williamsport, Maryland, Monday Evening,

June 2, 1862. At last.

Soon after my last words, Mr. Barnhardt, with corpulent and puffy energy, came up stairs. “Well, will you go this morning?” “Yes.” He had previously told me, when I asked him about a wagon for Martinsburg, “O, it worrits me, it worrits me!” Now he said, “I've got a wagon for ye, yes I have, already!”¹ Sure enough, a contraband and his cart were at our door in half an hour. Dr. Stone² and I started at once. Colonel Kenly bade me good by and God speed.

Now for impudence and liberty! On we rode. Four miles, and then came the halt that we dreaded. Two mounted citizens pragmatically inspected our paroles, and at last let us go. Then two cavalrymen, whom we dissuaded. Then we were shouted at to halt! Two mounted men, with bowie-knife, revolver, carbine, and sabre, said, “You must turn back.” Our hearts sank, but we took out our papers, reasoned, persuaded, and, as Providence would guide it, led them to respect our paroles, and let us free. They said, “We will go back to town and ask again.” On we went, and, with only another halt, but with every nervousness of anxiety, we got to Bunker's Hill. There the harness broke, and again we looked to the rear, but on we went again. “What is that?” “Our cavalry?” “It must be”; and sure enough down they charged upon us, and we were, in an abrupt transition, at once within the Union lines. I cannot describe our thankfulness and heart-swell.

We reached Martinsburg. Then our contraband and colored driver, entering into the spirit of our pursuit, agreed to put us through to Williamsport. We crossed the river, met Brown's³ wagon. Brown's ready grin and constant delight prepared me a little for the enthusiasm of the regiment. I cannot describe their welcome. God knows, I should be proud to deserve it. I have never known greater happiness or thankfulness than to-night. Good by, my dear mother. I go to Washington to-morrow. I will come home when I can, and tell you all.

_______________

¹ After Major Dwight left Winchester, some of Mr. Barnhardt's neighbors, who were Rebels, said to him: “You’ll have to suffer yet for keeping your Major so long, and then helping him away.” “I told them,” said the brave old man, “that they couldn’t rob me of much if they took my life, for I was ’most eighty year old.”

² Dr. Lincoln Ripley Stone, then Assistant-Surgeon of the Second Massachusetts Infantry, who would not abandon the hospital in his charge at Winchester, was a prisoner. He was paroled; the parole to be a free release, if at Washington he could secure an agreement that surgeons should not be liable to capture; which was accomplished.

³ George H. Brown, Regimental Wagoner.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 266-7

Journal of Major Wilder Dwight: Monday Morning, June 2, 1862

No news. We are endeavoring to get a wagon to go to Martinsburg, and, if successful, will be off at once for “our lines.”

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 265

John L. Motley to Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr., November 2, 1862

Vienna, November 2, 1862.

My Dear Holmes: More and more does it become difficult for me to write to you. I am greedier than ever for your letters, but the necessary vapidity of anything I can send to you in return becomes more apparent to me every day. It seems to me that by the time one of my notes makes its way to you in Boston it must have faded into a blank bit of paper. Where there is absolutely nothing in one's surroundings that can interest a friend, the most eloquent thing would seem to be to hold one's tongue. At least, however, I can thank you most warmly for your last letter. You know full well how interested I am in everything you can write, whether of speculation or of narration. Especially am I anxious to hear all that you have to say of Wendell's career. Of course his name among the wounded in the battle of Antietam instantly caught our eyes, and though we felt alarmed and uncomfortable, yet fortunately it was stated in the first intelligence we received that the wound, although in the neck, was not a dangerous one. I could not write to you, however, until I felt assured that he was doing well. I suppose Wendell has gone back to his regiment before this, and God knows whether there has not already been another general engagement in the neighborhood of the Potomac. What a long life of adventure and experience that boy has had in the fifteen months which have elapsed since I saw him, with his Pylades, seated at the Autocrat's breakfast-table in Charles Street!

Mary told me of his meeting with Hallowell, wounded, being brought from the field at the same time with himself, and of both being put together in the same house. We are fortunate in having a very faithful little chronicler in Mary, and she tells us of many interesting and touching incidents that otherwise might never reach us. She has also given us the details of the noble Wilder Dwight's death. It is unnecessary to say how deeply we were moved. I had the pleasure of knowing him well, and I always appreciated his energy, his manliness, and his intelligent, cheerful heroism. I look back upon him now as a kind of heroic type of what a young New-Englander ought to be and was. After all, what was your Chevy Chase to stir blood with like a trumpet? What noble principle, what deathless interest, was there at stake? Nothing but a bloody fight between a set of noble gamekeepers on one side, and of noble poachers on the other! And because they fought well and hacked each other to pieces like devils, they have been heroes for centuries.

Of course you know of Cairnes's book, and of John Mill's article in the “Westminster Review” for October, and of the sustained pluck and intelligence of the two Liberal journals in England, the “Daily News” and the “Star.” As for John Bright, I hope one day to see a statue raised to him in Washington. We must accept our position frankly. We are mudsills beloved of the Radicals. The negro-breeders are aristocrats, and, like Mrs. Jarley, the pride of the nobility and gentry.

Tell me, when you write, something of our State politics. It cannot be that these factionists can do any harm. But it is most mortifying to me that Boston of all the towns in the world should be the last stronghold of the pro-slavery party. I was interested in the conversation which you report:  “How many sons have you sent to the war? How much have you contributed? How much of your life have you put into it?” I hope there are not many who hold themselves quite aloof. For my own part, I am very distant in body, but in spirit I am never absent from the country. I never knew before what love of country meant. I have not been able to do much for the cause. I have no sons to give to the country. In money I have contributed my mite. I hope you will forgive me for mentioning this circumstance. I do so simply that you may know that I have not neglected a sacred duty. In these days in our country of almost fabulous generosity, I am well aware that what I am able to give is the veriest trifle; but as it is possible you might hear that I have done nothing, I take leave to mention this, knowing that you will not misunderstand me. I am not able to do as much as I ought. Your letters are intensely interesting. It isn't my fault if mine are stupid. Mary and Lily join me in sincerest regards to you and yours.

Ever your old friend,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 291-3

Journal of Major Wilder Dwight: Sunday Evening, June 1, 1862

A thunder-storm is sharply rattling over us. Hope is still deferred. The sound of cannon hushed at about noon. Rumor says, Milroy has been driven back, and Jackson is pushing beyond Strasburg. It adds, that he orders hospitals to be prepared for his wounded here. No news from our front. A foolish doctor from the hospital tried to fire up the engine to go to Charlestown, but was prevented by the citizens, with whom he has had some altercation. A guard is now placed over the hospital again. We are not “out of the woods,” and had better not halloo yet, though we need not be scared by owls! Would that Banks or day after to-morrow were here!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 265

Journal of Major Wilder Dwight: Saturday Evening, May 31, 1862

The streets are quiet tonight. We await events.

The parole under which I have been quietly living at Mr. Barnhardt's since Monday involved only this restraint: confinement to the corporate limits of Winchester, and the duty of reporting every morning at ten o'clock at the office of the Provost Marshal. We have fed on rumors, speculations, fears, hopes, falsehoods, and sensations, but have felt none of the constraints of captivity. The parole which I have given to-day is, not to serve till exchanged, and I may “go at large.”

Mr. Barnhardt, a big Dutchman, who has lived over seventy years, as he says, “just for good eating,” returned from market Wednesday morning. “No market,” says he. “Butter forty cents, eggs twenty-five, lamb twenty; and all because the Confederates is here. I could ha' sot down on the market-steps and ha' cried, as sure as you sit there in that there cheer.” To-night his nervousness has reached that point that he has gone to bed “a'most sick and downhearted.” He is a Union man. “I was born a Union man, I have always been a Union man, and a Union man I 'll die, and the Devil can't make nothing else of me.”

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 264