Diary of Private Louis Leon: May 30, 1863

We see the Yankees in balloons every day, reconnoitering our lines.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 29

Diary of Private Louis Leon: April 16, 1863

At 7 this morning we resumed our march. Went two miles, halted a half hour, then turned about and went to our old camp, but again were ordered back at 2 P.M. to our picket posts, one mile from Washington. As we got there the Yankees gave us a good reception in shot, shell and musketry, but all the damage they did was to rail fences. and perhaps a few owls that are plentiful in the swamps. Our line is on the edge of the swamp. They shelled heavy all night, but no lives were lost on our side. At 8 P.M. our pickets fired on them, but they did not respond. We laid here until 2 at night, when we went to Bellevue under fire from the enemy. We stayed here the balance of the night.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 23

Mr. Sumner’s Condition — published June 5, 1856

WASHINGTON, Thursday, May 29, 1856

Mr. Sumner is more comfortable this morning and the symptoms of erysipelas are subsiding. Drs. Perry, Miller and Lindsly held a consultation this morning. No one is yet admitted into his room.

WASINGTON, May 30th.

Mr. Sumner passed a comfortable night, but is in a very bad condition. It turns out that the scalp was torn from the [skull] for an inch or two in width beyond cuts, which was not observed when they were first sewed up.—The surface of inflammation and suppuration is thus very extensive, and exhibits a malignant and serious wound.—Two physicians are in attendance this morning. The greatest care has to be taken to keep the patient quiet. It is likely to be long before he can get to the Senate. He will be removed from the city as soon as his condition will permit.

WASINGTON, May 31st.

A consultation of physicians was held at 10 o’clock this morning in regard to the state of Mr. Sumner’s health.—No person whatever is yet admitted to see him, absolute repose being necessary for him. He was rather more comfortable last night.

WASHINGTON, June 1, 1856.

Mr. Sumner is weak and feeble, but his wounds are doing as well as could be expected. He has been able to sit up about an hour to-day.

We copy the above from the N. Y. Tribune—being the four days’ bulletins of the martyred Sumner’s critical condition. When one bears in mind, that the man has never been seriously hurt—that he might have gone about his business the next day—with what ineffable scorn must he regard this whining hypocrisy? It is even more disgusting than the falsehoods they have put forth in regard to the outrages in Kansas. We see that these last are to be used as Yankees use every thing—for turning a penny. Accounts are already made up for property destroyed to the amount of $100,000—which the Government at Washington will be called upon to pay. We don’t know but they have some such scheme in expatiating upon the intense suffering, and “extensive suppuration” of Sumner. The greater his afflictions—the greater should be the bill for damages.

SOURCE: Richmond Daily Whig, Richmond Virginia, Thursday Morning, June 5, 1856, p. 2

Diary of Private Louis Leon: April 2, 1863

Our regiment was sent on picket this morning at daylight-one mile from camp and two miles from the enemy. Companies B and G are on the left, A and D on the right, F and I in the center. We are within hailing distance of the Yankee line of pickets. There is not much firing. Tom Tiotter and I are on the color guard. We have nothing to do if we don't want to, except stay with the colors. So this evening at 4 o'clock we went as near the Yankees as we dared, to see the town of Washington. Saw the place, their breastworks and their camps very plainly. We then returned and slept on our arms all night that is, we tried to sleep, but could not for the infernal noise from the owls that are in the swamps around us.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 20-1

Diary of Private Louis Leon: April 8, 1863

This morning Tom Tiotter, Katz and myself went with Captain White to meet three Yankees with a flag of truce; but they would not come half way, so Colonel Owens ordered us back. We then we three—went to our siege-gun and saw the town very plainly. They fired at us while we were there. The fire was returned, and we could see the Yankees dodge.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 22

Diary of Private Louis Leon: February 9, 1863

We established a regular camp here. This last march has been a very hard one, and only a distance of thirty miles. But it took us from Wednesday to Saturday, through snow, rain and mud ankle-deep and without rations. Kinston is a perfect ruin, as the Yankees have destroyed everything they could barely touch, but it must at one time have been a very pretty town-but now nothing scarcely but chimneys are left to show how the Yankees are trying to reconstruct the Union.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 17

Diary of Private Louis Leon: March 6, 1863

Several of us out of our company went to Kinston and the battlefield. The Yankees are very poorly buried, as we saw several heads, hands and feet sticking out of the ground, where the rain had washed the dirt off of them.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 18

Diary of Private Louis Leon: March 13, 1863

Resumed our march at 8 this morning, got eight miles, when we got to our extreme picket posts. They told us the Yankees were one mile and a quarter from us. Then we marched half a mile further, when our artillery commenced the fight. It kept on all day, but very light. We drove in their pickets and advanced our line until dark. We are eight miles from Newbern—marched eleven miles.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 18

From the Valley of Virginia, published July 25, 1864

The enemy achieved a small success in the vicinity of Winchester on the 22d, which will be duly magnified by the Northern papers into a brilliant victory. It appears that, misled by information in regard to the enemy’s strength, a Confederate force marched out to attack them, when they suddenly found themselves in the presence of Averill’s and Crook’s entire commands.  In the fight which ensued we lost some two hundred and fifty men captured, and four pieces of artillery. The force engaged was not a portion of the command which entered Maryland, but simply a party stationed at Winchester as a guard.

All the property captured by our “army of invasion” has reached a place of security, and will speedily be rendered available to the Confederate cause.

All accounts received of the engagement at Snicker’s represent that the Yankees were badly whipped on that occasion.  It is stated that some fifteen hundred of the enemy fell to rise no more, and only six were made prisoners.  It is probably that a considerable number were drowned in their attempt to recross the Shenandoah

SOUCE: Richmond Dispatch, Richmond, Virginia, Monday, July 25, 1864, p. 1

Diary of Gideon Welles: Friday, April 7, 1865

We have word that Sheridan has had a battle with a part of Lee's army, has captured six Rebel generals and several thousand prisoners. His dispatch intimates the almost certain capture of Lee.

In the closing up of this Rebellion, General Grant has proved himself a man of military talent. Those who have doubted and hesitated must concede him some capacity as a general. Though slow and utterly destitute of genius, his final demonstrations and movements have been masterly. The persistency which he has exhibited is as much to be admired as any quality in his character. He is, however, too regardless of the lives of his men.

It is desirable that Lee should be captured. He, more than any one else, has the confidence of the Rebels, and can, if he escapes, and is weak enough to try and continue hostilities, rally for a time a brigand force in the interior. I can hardly suppose he would do this, but he has shown weakness, and his infidelity to the country which educated, and employed, and paid him shows gross ingratitude. His true course would be to desert the country he has betrayed, and never return.

Memo. This Rebellion which has convulsed the nation for four years, threatened the Union, and caused such sacrifice of blood and treasure may be traced in a great degree to the diseased imagination of certain South Carolina gentlemen, who some thirty and forty years since studied Scott's novels, and fancied themselves cavaliers, imbued with chivalry, a superior class, not born to labor but to command, brave beyond mankind generally, more intellectual, more generous, more hospitable, more liberal than others. Such of their countrymen as did not own slaves, and who labored with their own hands, who depended on their own exertions for a livelihood, who were mechanics, traders, and tillers of the soil, were, in their estimate, inferiors who would not fight, were religious and would not gamble, moral and would not countenance duelling, were serious and minded their own business, economical and thrifty, which was denounced as mean and miserly. Hence the chivalrous Carolinian affected to, and actually did finally, hold the Yankee in contempt. The women caught the infection. They were to be patriotic, Revolutionary matrons and maidens. They admired the bold, dashing, swaggering, licentious, boasting, chivalrous slave-master who told them he wanted to fight the Yankee but could not kick and insult him into a quarrel. And they disdained and despised the pious, peddling, plodding, persevering Yankee who would not drink, and swear, and fight duels.

The speeches and letters of James Hamilton and his associates from 1825 forward will be found impregnated with the romance and poetry of Scott, and they came ultimately to believe themselves a superior and better race, knights of blood and spirit.

Only a war could wipe out this arrogance and folly, which had by party and sectional instrumentalities been disseminated through a large portion of the South. Face to face in battle and in field with these slandered Yankees, they learned their own weakness and misconception of the Yankee character. Without self-assumption of superiority, the Yankee was proved to be as brave, as generous, as humane, as chivalric as the vaunting and superficial Carolinian to say the least. Their ideal, however, in Scott's pages of "Marmion," "Ivanhoe," etc., no more belonged to the Sunny South than to other sections less arrogant and presuming but more industrious and frugal.

On the other hand, the Yankees, and the North generally, underestimated the energy and enduring qualities of the Southern people who were slave-owners. It was believed they were effeminate idlers, living on the toil and labor of others, who themselves could endure no hardship such as is indispensable to soldiers in the field. It was also believed that a civil war would, inevitably, lead to servile insurrection, and that the slave-owners would have their hands full to keep the slaves in subjection after hostilities commenced. Experience has corrected these misconceptions in each section.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 276-8

Major-General Ulysses S. Grant to Acting Rear Admiral David D. Porter, June 21, 1863

Head Quarters Dept of the Tennessee        

Near Vicksburg June 21st 1863

Admiral D. D. Porter Comdg Miss Squadron.

Admiral:—

Information received from Vicksburg last night confirms your theory of the probable method Pemberton will take for escaping in the last extremity. One of our Pickets and one of the enemy by mutual consent laid down their arms, met half way and had a long conversation. The rebel said that our cannonading killed and wounded a great many in the rifle pits, otherwise done no great damage. They fully counted upon an assault as being intended and were prepared for it. Finding that no assault was made, the feelings of the troops was canvassed to see if they could be got out to attack the Yankees They not only declined this, but those on the right and left almost mutinied because their officers would not surrender. They were only reassured and persuaded to continue on duty by being told that they had provisions enough on hand to last seven days. In that time they would have 2000 boats finished, and they could make their escape by the river. The rebel said they were tearing down houses to get the material out of which to build boats. I will direct Mower (Gen) to keep a strong Picket in the river in front of Vicksburg at night, to place his battery behind the levees or hold it in some good position to be used if an attempt should be made to escape in that way. If possible fix up Material to light and illuminate the river should a large number of boats attempt to cross. I will direct Gen Mower to call on you, and consult as to the best plan for defeating this method of escape. You will find Gen Mower an intelligent and gallant officer, capable of carrying out any plan that may be adopted

Very truly your Obt Servt

U. S. Grant 

Maj. Genl.

SOURCE: John Y. Simon, Editor, The Papers of Ulysses S. Grant, Volume 8, p. 398-9

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 25, 1864

Hot and dry.

Twelve hundred Federal prisoners passed our door to-day, taken at Petersburg—about half the number captured there during the last two days.

The news of the cutting of the Danville Railroad still produces despondency with many. But the people are now harvesting a fair crop of wheat, and the authorities do not apprehend any serious consequences from the interruption of communication with the South — which is, indeed, deemed but temporary, as sufficient precaution is taken by the government to defend the roads and bridges, and there seems to be discussions between the generals as to authority and responsibility. There are too many authorities. Gen. Lee will remedy all this.

The clerks are still kept out, on the north side of the James River, while the enemy is on the south side—the government, meantime, being almost in a state of paralysis. Such injustice, and such obtuseness, would seem to be inexcusable.

The Secretary has sanctioned the organization of a force in the Northern Neck, to capture and slay without mercy such of the enemy as may be found lurking there, committing outrages, etc.

The President still devotes much time to the merits of applicants for appointments on military courts, brigadier-generals, etc.

It is reported that Grant has announced to his army that the fighting is over, and that the siege of Richmond now begins. A fallacy! Even if we were unable to repair the railroads, the fine crop of wheat just matured would suffice for the subsistence of the army—an army which has just withstood the military power of the North. It is believed that nearly 300,000 men have invaded Virginia this year, and yet, so far from striking down the army of Lee with superior numbers, we see, at this moment, the enemy intrenching himself at every new position occupied by him. This manifests an apprehension of sudden destruction himself!

But the country north and east and west of Richmond is now free of Yankees, and the railroads will be repaired in a few weeks at furthest. Gen. Hunter, we learn to-day, has escaped with loss out of the State to the Ohio River, blowing up his own ordnance train, and abandoning his cannon and stores. So we shall have ammunition and salt, even if the communication with Wilmington should be interrupted. No, the war must end, and is now near its end; and the Confederacy will achieve its independence. This of itself would suffice, but there may be a diversion in our favor in the North—a revolution there—a thing highly probable during the excitement of an embittered Presidential campaign. Besides, there may at any moment be foreign intervention. The United States can hardly escape a quarrel with France or England. It may occur with both.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 237-8

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Sunday, April 19, 1863

Last night it rained very hard, giving everybody and everything a general wetting. The boys are now busy pulling balls and getting their guns in order. The rebel cavalry are now seen lurking along our front. Changing position, the 3d brigade are secreted in the brush for the purpose of ambushing the rebels in case of an advance by them. The pickets have been removed and a battalion of cavalry sent out to engage them and draw them down the road towards the river; but for once the rebels were too wary for the artful Yankees. In the evening we return to the camp occupied by the Seventh the day and night before. Reinforcements arrive this evening—the Ohio brigade, and the Kansas Jayhawkers. It is rumored that the command will move forward in the morning. The boys are all in fine spirits this evening in consequence of the rumor. All are anxious to follow the old flag up the Tuscumbia valley, and drive the enemy across the mountains into Georgia.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 148-9

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: February 29, 1864

SECESH LADIES.

Most of the residents in town are women and small children, and a few old men. Of course the colored people are with us always. All the men being away makes society for the ladies a little one-sided. At the evacuation most of the women remained here to take care of their property, and there are very few empty houses. These ladies pretend to have a great contempt for Yankees, but still they don't appear to have quite enough to prevent their talking or chatting with us. On Sunny days they may be seen at the windows or on the verandas, and a passing soldier who touches his cap in a respectful manner will perhaps get an invitation to call. If he conducts himself with propriety and is agreeable, they will ask him to be seated or perhaps ask him into the house, and on leaving, if he happens to suit them, they will invite him to call again, but some of them are not always so agreeable that a second call is desirable. These ladies pride themselves on being the regular F. F. V's, and have a great pride of birth and ancestry; they will sit by the hour and talk and boast of it. They claim to be the real thoroughbreds and can trace their lineage in a direct line right straight back to William and Mary.

One day, while a party of them were talking that kind of nonsense and making right smart of fun of the mixed Yankee race, I said: “So far as anything that I know to the contrary that may all be as you say, but if appearances go for anything one would naturally conclude that some of the colored people about here might boast that some of William's and Mary's blood coursed through their veins.” That seemed to bring a sort of coldnessover the meetin', and I began to suspect that I had seriously offended, but they soon rallied and the conversation drifted into other and more agreeable channels.

Some of the ladies are very agreeable conversationalists when they converse on something besides politics and secession, but what they say does not disturb me. I rather enjoy it, and have the fun of laughing at them. One day, in company with a party of them, they were having right smart of fun, laughing and making sport of the Yankees. I kept my end up as well as I could against such odds until they tired of it, when they switched off into secession and the war. On a table lay a small Confederate flag which one of them took up, and flaunting it around asked me how I liked the looks of it, remarking that it would finally triumph. I said that was no novelty to me, I had had the honor of helping capture quite a number of those things, “That does not represent anything, ladies; if you take any pleasure in keeping that little flag to look at occasionally as a curiosity, I presume there is no one who has the slightest objection, but be sure of one thing, you will never again see it floating in the breeze in this town.”

One replied: “You seem to feel pretty secure in your holding here, but it would not take a large force of our troops to set you Yankees scampering towards Fortress Monroe."

“I know, but whatever force it might take, your people don't care to pay the cost of retaking it. Your people have too many other jobs on hand at present, and a good prospect of having more to take much trouble about this place, besides it is of no use to them anyway and but very little use to us."

Some of the women here seem to think it a mark of loyalty to their cause to exhibit all the contempt they can towards the Yankees. I fell in with a party of that kind one afternoon out in the churchyard. I sometimes go in there and spend an hour looking around and scraping the moss off those ancient stones to find names and dates, and I have found some that date back into the 17th century. In this yard are some 20 or 30 mounds beneath which sleep the Confederate dead, killed in the battle here or brought from other fields; at any rate they are here and the mounds are kept covered with flowers and evergreens. while looking around there a party of women entered, bringing wreaths of evergreen and commenced decorating those graves.

I approached to within a respectful distance and watched them perform their sad rites of love and affection. When they had finished one of them, pointing at me, addressed me in this beautiful language: “But for you, you vile, miserable Yankees, these brave men would now be adorning their homes.”

Not knowing exactly whether they would or not, or just how much of an adornment they would have been, I deemed the most fitting reply to that crazed woman was dignified silence.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 130-1

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: April 1, 1864

Cloudy all day, with occasional light showers. No war news; but the papers have an account of the shooting of an infant by some Yankees on account of its name. This shows that the war is degenerating more and more into savage barbarism.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 179

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: March 20, 1864

Bright and beautiful weather.

There are fires occurring now every night; and several buildings have been burned in the immediate vicinity of the War Department. These are attributed to incendiary Yankees, and the guard at the public offices has been doubled.

Mrs. Seddon, wife of the Secretary of War, resolved not to lose more wine by the visits of the Federal raiders, sent to auction last week twelve demijohns, which brought her $6000–$500 a demijohn.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 174

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, February 13, 1863

February 13, 1863.

Tonight I have been talking with Cato Waring, one of my old nurses in the hospital. The attempt to give a report of his history seems futile. He is a quiet old black man, this Cato, with singular combination of intellect and ready shrewdness, a subtlety of character that makes you feel as if a serpent might silently coil around you at any moment, without the rustle of a leaf. He appears dull and heavy, but is full of unspent sharpness and agility. He is old, but not gray, body and spirit alike intact. The night after our return from our expedition, I was telling them in the hospital about it and old Cato sat, with his dull eyes bent upon the fire, seemingly indifferent to all, till I came to the death of the rebel officer in the woods. Then his eyes sparkled and glared at me. “Did you know his name?" “No." “Oh, I hope to God it was my young master who went down that way.”

Tonight Cato came to my tent and began very quietly to tell me of his life in slavery and his escape from it, but it was not long before his tone and manner became too dramatic for me to take notes, and I felt as if all the horrors of the accursed system were being poured upon my naked nerves. His voice was always low, but commanding. He was born on the Santee river and “raised by Mas’r Cooper as a pet.” But he was sent away to learn the carpenter's trade, and after seven years apprenticeship returned home to find his old master was dead and the estate involved by mismanagement on the part of the widow and children. Finally, he and the other slaves were sold to pay the debts. Dr. Waring, his new master, was a bad man, but not so bad as his wife.” The Dr.'s family increased rapidly and his expenses were so great that Cato was made not only driver, but overseer of the estate, a position he held till his escape, a period of sixteen years. Dr. Waring and his wife ranked among the affectionate specimens of humanity. “Dey ollus kiss wen he go out an wen he come in.” Mrs. Waring was a neat housewife and made her servants “clean all de brasses an eberyting befo' daylight in de mo’nin.” When she arose in the morning and examined the furniture with her white handkerchief for dust, there were usually one or two victims selected for the lash. It was Cato's business to wait at the door for orders to apply from one hundred to five hundred lashes every morning before going out to the plantation. If the victim was male, he was stripped and cords were fastened to his fingers and then drawn over a horizontal pole above his head, till his toes only, touched the ground; then the master would stand behind Cato with a paddle and knock him over for any delinquency on his part. The same treatment was applied to women, except that instead of stripping off the clothing, the skirts and chemise were drawn up over the head. When the parlor was filled with visitors, the mistress would wind a towel around the end of a stick and have it thrust into the throat of the victim and it would come out all covered with blood thus the screams of the tortured would be smothered. These statements would seem exaggerated to me if I had not, over and over, in my medical examinations in this regiment, found enormous horizontal scars around the body, and, on inquiry, been told “Dat's what my ole Marsa had me whipped.” Never once have these revelations come to me except by inquiry.

Finally, the war began. Old Cato heard the guns of Fort Sumter and waited and waited to hear his master speak of it. He and all his fellow slaves felt that the hour of deliverance had come. Finally, he said one night to his old master, — young Doctor who “had been off to some place dey calls Paris,” and who was worse than the old man; “What all dat tunder mean way off dar?” “Oh, it's the d—d Yankees who want to steal all our property.” Of course Cato was indignant at the Yankees and promised to stand by his master. Time went ou and the rebels began to doubt their success and at the same time began to swear that they would “work de niggers to deať [death] before the d—d Yankees should have them.” Cato was compelled to exact tasks of the slaves that were before unheard of. He could not do it, and told his master so one Sunday night. The Doctor swore vehemently and ordered Cato to report himself in the morning for chastisement. Cato said “I tanked him berry much for de information an’ went to my hut an’ hung all de keys whar de ole woman could fin’ ’em, but didn’t tell her what I'se gwine to do, cause she’d make such a hullaboo about it.” But “Sunday mornin' befo' de hen git up,” Cato was in a dugout pushing his way through the rice swamp, so that the dogs could not follow his trail. He had gone far before daylight, and, during the day, lay quietly in his boat. Finally he lost his way and had to leave the swamp and his boat, for he had been three days without eating. When he unexpectedly met a white lady, he assumed nonchalance, touched his hat and said, “howdye,” and told such a plausible story that he got something to eat. At another time he went four days without eating and in the evening saw a black man nailing up a coon-skin by torchlight on the side of a hut. “Dis big ole man look like a religion feller,” and Cato was almost on the point of trusting him enough to go up and ask for food, but finally thought it safer to wait a little and try to steal something. He had just entered the yard when a great dog caught him by the chest, but, fortunately, got only his clothing in his mouth. His hickory cane silenced that dog, but others came, the dogs. “an’ all de blacks an’ whites came down togedder.” He ran to the woods and found a pond and waded half the night to escape “I didn't git nullin for eat, but I wasn't hungry no mo' that night.”

At last he found shelter and food and rest under the roof of a negro whom he could trust. He was then twenty-two miles from the river and in the night a black horseman came and said a Yankee gunboat was “comin' up de ribber, an’de Cap'n was holdin' out his arms an’ beck’nin’de niggahs fus' from one sho' an' den from de odder.” Cato straightway started toward the river, but there were many roads. The horseman agreed to break off pine boughs and drop one in the right path at the parting of the ways. All during the dark night Cato would get on his hands and knees to find the boughs at such partings and then go on rejoicing. By some mistake he did not reach the river at the point designated, and afterwards learned that his mistake had saved him from a trap of the rebels for whom the black horseman was acting.

Another night he was lying under a garden fence when a rebel was leaning over it, watching, intently, the house beyond, ready to shoot him when he should jump from a window. “My heart did beat so hard I wondered he didn't hear it, but he didn't an’ wen dey come to sarch de garden, I crawl on my belly till I jump troo de gate an’ it rain so fass I knowed deyre guns wouldn't go wen dey snapped em at me.” At last after wandering about “from de secon’ week in May till de las' week in June I reach de gunboat.” His approach to the boat was full of apprehension. Before he could be certain of the boat, he saw soldiers on the shore and did not quite know whether they were Yankees or rebels. So he wavered between holding up his “white rag” and keeping out of sight. At last they saw him in his little boat, which he had somewhere confiscated, and “I hol' up de rag an' de mo' de boat come, de mo' I draw back, but oh, wen I git on de boat I thought I was in hebben.”

I shall not trouble you with more slave stories. It is too much like trying to relate a tragedy acted by Rachel — very tame.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 362-4

Diary of Private Louis Leon: August 6, 1862

We fell in line and returned. We marched to Boykins and took the cars to our regiment again. This expedition was to capture Yankees that are stealing negroes. When we got there they had left.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 9

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: March 21, 1862

I AM INTERVIEWED.

Passing along Pollock, above Middle street, today, I was accosted by a man who was sitting on the veranda of his house and invited to come in, as he wished a talk with me. Noticing that he was a smart-looking, well-dressed, gentlemanly appearing man, and withal an M. D., according to his sign, I was nothing loth to gratify his whim. As I stepped up on the veranda, he invited me to be seated. After a little commonplace talk, he began to inquire about our troops, their number and where they were from. I told him only a few of our troops had landed, that the river and sound were black with them in case they should be needed, and nearly all of them were from New England. He said our capture of the city was wholly unexpected, and at the last moment nearly all the better class of citizens left, leaving their houses and property as we found them. He said in that he thought they had made a great mistake, as he regarded Gen. Burnside as an honorable, high-toned gentleman, who would have dealt fairly with them, if they had remained and taken their chances, and would have allowed them to go whenever they wished. I replied I didn't know how that would have been, but I thought they had made another mistake in burning the railroad bridge and trying to burn the town. In doing as they have, they have shown that they had no regard for their property and they certainly cannot expect us to have much for it, although we have shown some in putting out the fires and saving it.

“Yes, I know,” he said, “but perhaps they thought they would show your people that they were willing to sacrifice their property and make a Moscow of it rather than let it fall into your hands.” “Well, sir,” said I, “in that they made another mistake, for if they had succeeded in burning it, it would have been no Moscow; we should have staid here just the same. Unlike Napoleon, we do not need the town; we care nothing for it; it is the position we want.”

“But you seem to occupy it?”

“Certainly we do, there is no one else to occupy it, and we may as well use it as not.”

“Do you propose to have us vacate our premises for your use?”

“Really, sir, I am not in the secrets of the general, but I presume that you and all others will be protected in your persons and property, so long as you remain loyal and show no opposition to the government.”

“Yes, sir, I supposed it would be something that way. What do you propose doing with that cotton down on the wharf.”

“That cotton belonged to the Confederate government, or at least they were using it against the Federal government, and like other government property it becomes the spoils of war, and some fine morning you will see it going down the river bound for some northern manufacturing city. After a few weeks it will be back here again in the form of tents for the use of the army.”

“Then you intend making this a permanent garrison?”

“We intend to hold this position just as long as it is of any use to us.”

“How long do you think this war will continue?”

“As things look now, I don't think it can possibly hold more than a year longer, if it does so long.”

“Then you think in that time you can subjugate our people?”

“Well, sir, my opinion is that in less than eighteen months, every armed Confederate, unless he sooner surrenders, will be driven into the Gulf of Mexico.”

“You seem to be very sanguine in your opinion, sir; but then we all have our opinions, and I think after a year you will find you have made but little progress. I would like to ask for how long you have enlisted?”

“I have enlisted for three years, unless the job is sooner finished.”

“Well, sir, if nothing serious happens to you (which I really. hope there will not), you will serve your three years, and then, unless your people give it up, you can again enlist, for I can assure you that our people will never give it up.”

“You think then, that with all the odds against you, you will finally succeed?”

“I certainly do; you see you Yankees are going to tire of this thing after a spell; you are not used to roughing it, and will soon weary of the hardships and privations of a soldier's life. You Yankees had much rather be spinning cotton, making shoes, trading, speculating and trying to make money, than following the occupation of a soldier.”

“For a choice, there are probably very few of us who would select the occupation of a soldier, but you mistake the Yankee character entirely, if you think, having undertaken anything, they tire of it very easily. That was not the class of men they sprung from. They were an enterprising, untiring class of men; if they had not been, they would never have settled down among the rocks and hills of bleak New England and made of it the richest, most intelligent and powerful little piece of territory the sun shines on. But, my friend, as all things earthly have an end, this will probably prove no exception, and in the end, your people will find that they have got the least value received for the money paid out of any speculation they ever engaged in, and will still find themselves a part and parcel of the United States, subject to all the rules and conditions of the government, in common with the rest of the states.”

After some further talk about state rights and state sovereignty, in which we could not agree, he invited me into his house. Here, like a true Southern gentleman, he entertained and extended hospitalities right royally, and I think we must have sampled his best bottle. He told me it was six years old, and from a silver goblet, I sipped the best native wine I ever tasted; it was rich, mellow and fruity. He said it was made from a choice variety of grape called the Scupperuong. It was really a splendid native wine, as so it appeared to me. After some more small talk, I bade my new found friend good day, and took my leave.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 49-51

Diary of Private Louis Leon: June 10, 1861

At three o'clock this morning the long roll woke us up. We fell in line, marched about five miles, then counter-marched, as the Yankees were advancing on us. We got to our breastworks a short time before the Yankees came, and firing commenced. We gave them a good reception with shot and shell. The fight lasted about four hours. Our company, was behind the works that held the line where the major of the Yankee regiment, Winthrop, was killed. After he fell our company was ordered to the church, but was soon sent back to its former position. This is the first land battle of the war, and we certainly gave them a good beating, but we lost one of our regiment, Henry Wyatt, who was killed while gallantly doing a volunteer duty. Seven of our men were wounded. The Yankees must have lost at least two hundred men in killed and wounded. It was their boast that they could whip us with corn-stalks, but to their sorrow they found that we could do some fighting, too. After the fight some of the boys and myself went over the battlefield, and we saw several of the Yankee dead—the first I had ever seen, and it made me shudder. I am now in a school where sights like this should not worry me long.

Our commander in this fight was Col. Bankhead Magruder. The Yankee commander was Gen. B. F. Butler.

From now on I will never again grumble about digging breastworks. If it had not been for them many of us would not be here now. We returned the same night to Yorktown, full of glory.

On July 18 we heard that our boys had again whipped the Yankees at Bull Run.

Also, on July 21, again at Manassas.

We changed camp a number of times, made fortifications all around Yorktown, and when our six months were over we were disbanded, and returned home. So my experience as a soldier was over.

I stayed home five months, when I again took arms for the Old North State, and joined a company raised by Capt. Harvey White, of Charlotte, and left our home on April 23, 1862, at 6.30 P.M. I stayed in Salisbury until next night, when I, with several others, took the train for Raleigh, where our company was. We went to the insane asylum to see Langfreid, who wanted to go home by telegraph to see his cotton and tobacco. After spending most of our day in town we went to camp four miles from Raleigh. We stopped a carriage, and the driver said he would take us to camp for three dollars. We halved it with him and he drove us there. We reported to Captain White, and he showed us to our hut. We were surprised to find it without a floor, roof half off and “holey” all over. We commenced repairing, and went to the woods to chop a pole for a part of the bedstead. We walked about a mile before we found one to suit us. It was a hard job to get it to our hut. We put it up and put boards across and then put our bedding on it, which consisted of leaves we gathered in the woods. And now it is a bed fit for a king or a Confederate soldier.

It commenced raining at dark, which compelled us to cover with our oilcloth coats. We did not get wet, but passed a bad night, as I had gotten used to a civilian's life again.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 3-5