Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 12, 1864

Clear and warm-the earth refreshed.

Gen. Johnston telegraphs to Gen. Bragg to have the United States prisoners at Andersonville “distributed immediately.” He does not allege a reason for the necessity. It may be danger of an outbreak—or that the yellow fever has broken out among them.

I think Grant is about to have a race with Lee for Washington. The news from the Northern frontier is interesting.

A slight shower in the evening-heavy a few miles distant.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 248

William T. Sherman to George Mason Graham, March 1, 1860

 SEMINARY OF LEARNING, March 1, 1860.

SIR: I send you herewith the resignation concerning which I have already troubled you too much. Had not the relations between us become more than official I should not have complicated this move by an expression of my private views and feelings, but I believe you and all are sincere in the many expressions of respect shown me, and that you are really willing to bear a little with me, and even overlook an inconvenience that no change should occur in the organization of the academic staff at this time.

I therefore admit that personally I should prefer to remain here trusting that, in the progress of this institution, the Board of Supervisors will do all in their power to make me and my family comfortable, but I am so far from them that letters are inadequate to explain these things to them, and pressed as they are by interested parties, they remain so urgent that I am in a measure forced to comply with their claims to my protection.

Yet I have an idea, that if I could go to Ohio, I might change this naked view of the case. The salary offered me abroad is so much better than what this institution can or should offer, that they cannot for a moment make a favorable comparison; but it may be that by going to Baton Rouge, seeing that the bills reported are either the law or have sufficient probability of being so, I might in four or five days reach Ohio, and if possible return with my family by the close of March. In which [case] I should be most willing to remain and abide the fate of the Seminary, be it fully successful or otherwise. On this score I should ask no guarantee or promise of any kind, but place myself where I now am.

I am fully conscious that I may utterly fail in this move [because] our people have an utter dread of the yellow-fever and other epidemics of the South, not so much for themselves as for children, but I do believe if my family could stay here a few years, this prejudice would wear away, and then I could have that conscious faith that would enable me to devote all my time, energy, and experience to my real duty here. But you know full well how disturbing it is to reside in one place, with a family in another place ever disturbed by fears and anxieties however ill founded.

If therefore you in your individual capacity will consent to my thus leaving, I will start early next week, satisfy myself at Baton Rouge of the situation of our interests there and thence proceed to Ohio. If possible I will return with expedition bringing my family or I will send you prompt and emphatic word as to my absolute determination — all within March — and in either event I will return, to turn over my charge here to a successor. In the meantime you and others could cast about for a successor or arrange for my final departure. If this be not entirely, fully, and absolutely satisfactory I beg you will treat this as private — and put the formal resignation herewith before the Board for their final action. I need not add that I could any day close my accounts and hand my cash balance to any party appointed to receive it.

SOURCE: Walter L. Fleming, General W.T. Sherman as College President, p. 183-5

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: September 15, 1864

WE LEAVE VIRGINIA.

NEWBERN. On the 5th of this month the 23d and 25th Massachusetts embarked on the steamer Winona, from Bermuda Hundred bound for Newbern. The 9th New Jersey and 27th Massachusetts embarked on another boat at the same time for the same destination. On the morning of the 6th we ran up to Portsmouth, taking our camp equipage and knapsacks aboard, and ran back into Hampton Roads and anchored. There was a heavy storm blowing outside and we lay at our anchorage all day the 7th. On the 8th we steamed up and anchored off Fortress Monroe, but soon received orders to put out to sea. The captains of both boats objected to going, saying it was too rough to venture outside. On the morning of the 9th we received peremptory orders to pull up our mudhooks and start. Then ensued a sharp correspondence between our captain and some one in the fort, said to be Gen. Butler, and it certainly sounded a great deal like him. The captain objected to taking out his boat on the ground that she was only a light river boat and entirely unfit for an ocean trip, and besides was only chartered for the bay and rivers, and he did not feel like taking her out without first consulting her owners at Baltimore. Word came back that it made no difference about the owners or for what she was chartered, the boat was going to Newbern or go to pieces. In this dilemma the captain said that the boat might go but that he shouldn't take the responsibility of taking her out. Soon word came back that he would take her out, or go into the fort, wearing a ball and chain. The captain, finding himself of no more account than a common soldier, was obliged to accept the situation. Toward night our consort, which was a sea-going boat, led off, we following after.

I felt a little nervous about going out to sea in so frail a craft, and thought it rather rough that after having gone through what we had we should be taken out to sea and drowned. I comforted myself with the thought that soldiers were not supposed to have any choice in the manner of their death. We found it rough going round Cape Henry, as there is almost always a chop sea there even in mild weather. Getting around the cape, we encountered heavy swells and rollers and every little while a big roller would strike us under the port guard and make every timber in the old craft snap. I expected every minute to see the guard, if not the whole deck torn off. I remained awake the whole night watching our consort, which kept just ahead of us, and reckoned on my chance for a swim.

We reached Hatteras inlet early on the morning of the 10th, and landed at Fort Spinola, on the south side of the Trent river at Newbern, in the afternoon. After landing we marched up into the camp of the 9th Vermont—a sick, ragged, dirty, lousy crowd. The Vermonters gathered wonderingly around us, extending us every sympathy and hospitality that lay in their power. The old regiment was divided off into three or four small companies, one of which under command of Capt. Emery, was sent out to Price's creek, about a mile from here, to go into quarters and do some light picket duty. We have once more got ourselves cleaned up, our hair trimmed and dressed in clean, whole clothing, and begin to look quite like ourselves again.

We are again on our old stamping ground, but, alas, how changed! Only a small remnant now remains of that grand old regiment that left Worcester three years ago. They fill honored graves on half a hundred battlefields, they are inmates of every hospital from Boston to Newbern, and are wasting away in rebel prisons; a handful only remaining to tell the sad tale. In a few days more they will be still further decimated by a hundred or more whose time will be out and go home. The whole south for the past three years has been singularly exempt from the scourge of yellow fever, but it has now broken out in Newbern, and is raging to a great extent, 30 or 40 dying daily. It has not yet reached the camps outside the city, and hopes are entertained that it will not.

OFF FOR HOME.

On the 5th of October, two days before the expiration of our term of service, an order came to Price's creek, ordering all those who were entitled to muster out to turn over to the proper authorities our arms and equipments and report at the railroad station near Fort Spinola. This was just after dinner. Capt. Emery sent to the pickets across the creek for all those who had not re-enlisted to report at quarters. In a few minutes we were all there; the captain read the order and the boys cheered. I was all ready to comply with the order, and bidding faithful Spitfire a long and final farewell, I handed it to the captain. It was soon found out what was up, and for the next half hour the enemy was left to take care of themselves, and all hands gathered at quarters to say their good-byes and see us off. We went aboard the cars at Fort Spinola and picked up others along the road, arriving at Morehead about dusk. There about 100 of us went aboard the steamer Dudley Buck, and soon after were sailing out the harbor of Beaufort, leaving behind us the scenes of our triumphs and hardships. The next morning we were around Cape Lookout and out to sea. Pretty soon saw the officers come up out of the cabin, they were talking among themselves and seemed to wear a troubled look. It was soon discovered that there was a lot of citizens aboard coming down with yellow fever, and before noon one was brought up out of the cabin dead and laid in a boat that hung on the davits.

AN INDIGNATION MEETING.

The boys held an indignation meeting, declaring it was wrong and cruel on the part of the government or other authorities to allow these men to come aboard, and it seemed to be the evident intent of the government or some one else to murder us. They had just tried to drown us and failing in that had now, after having gone through one of the most unheard of campaigns, and as though were too obstinate to die, would give us one more chance, and smuggle aboard a lot of yellow fever stricken devils to go home with us. The captain disclaimed all knowledge of how they came aboard, but it was evident they were here and couldn't have got here without the knowledge and consent of somebody. They still further declared that those citizens were of no earthly use nor hadn't been of any, they were simply buzzards who had run away from the draft in New York, and were now running away from the yellow fever, and as a measure of safety and self-protection it was voted to throw them all overboard. The captain thought that would be most too summary a way of disposing of them, besides we would be liable to a charge of mutiny and murder at sea. It certainly was no lack of will, but only our better judgment that prevented their being thrown overboard. We reached Fortress Monroe on the forenoon of the 7th and were detained several hours by some quarantine regulations, but were finally permitted to resume our journey.

IN QUARANTINE.

On the morning of the 9th we sighted Sandy Hook, and on getting nearer we could see quite a fleet of vessels lying there. This was the lower quarantine. We ran through this, arriving at the upper quarantine at Staten Island about 10 a. m.

We were now in sight of New York, and were buoyant in hope that we should soon be there. As we neared a big steamer lying in the middle of the channel we were hailed with “Steamer ahoy!” We slowed down and ran alongside. Some kind of an official came to the middle gangway and said:

“Where are you from?"
“Beaufort, North Carolina."
“Any sick aboard???
“Yes, sir.”
"Any deaths?"
“Yes, sir.”
“How many days out?”
“Four.”
“How many deaths?”
“Four."
“Four deaths in four days. About ship and go back to the Hook.”

Our hearts that a few moments before were buoyant with hope now sank within us. The Hook was a cold, dreary place, and there was no knowing how long we should have to stay, but it was easy enough to know that some of us wouldn't story there very long. We ran back to the Hook, and dropped anchor, not far from the large hospital ship.

After a little while we saw a gig lowered from the hospital ship; a man stepped in and was pulled alongside our boat; he climbed aboard and proved to be some kind of health officer. He looked us all over and then looked over the boat. He signaled a tug to run alongside, he hustled out those citizens, and put them aboard of it. He also took Samuel Champney of company D, whom he found lying down, and took them all over to the hospital ship. We bade Sam good-bye as he went over the side of the boat. We never saw him afterwards, and I have since learned that he died there. The next morning, when the gig was seen coming over, the call went over the boat: “All hands on deck; don't be caught lying down; all out on deck!” When he came aboard he found us all fooling and knocking off caps. He looked us over and remarked that we didn't seem to be ailing very much. He then looked the boat over and not finding any down took his leave, but if he could have looked through the side of the boat he would have seen half of us down by the time he was in his gig.

Capt. Denny of company K, who is in command of this detachment, and who is a genial, big-hearted man, said he would see what he could do for us. He went over to the hospital ship and a little while after we saw him on a tug going towards New York. I knew if there was any help for us, Capt. Denny was the man to do it. He is a good talker and great in diplomacy, and when he sets about a thing he is pretty sure to accomplish something. Tuesday night came but no Denny, and the question, “Where is Denny?" was oft repeated without an answer. I could but feel that the captain was working for us and no news was perhaps good news. Wednesday morning, the 12th, was a cold, bleak, cheerless morning, and we were growing weaker every hour, but all hands rallied on deck when that hospital fiend was seen coming. Noon came but no Denny. Where is Denny? What has happened to him? Can it be possible that he has deserted us? were questions that went unanswered. I said it was possible something may have happened to him, but I cannot believe he has deserted us. He is not that kind of a man, besides he would not miss taking us into Worcester for half the wealth of the city, but if he don't come tonight, we will send Captains Parkhurst and Emery to see what has become of him.

About 3 p. m. we sighted a large tug coming through the narrows, and soon after it headed towards our boat. Long before it got within hail we saw a man in the bow, waving his cap. It Was Capt. Denny. Deliverance had come, and I reckon when that hospital doctor heard our cheers, he must have thought we were not very badly affected with yellow fever. I had known Capt. Demy for sereral years before the war, but cannot remember a time when I was so glad to see him as I was on that afternoon. The tug came alongside and we were not very long transferring ourselves aboard of it and it was again heading for the city, We ran along the starboard side of the Norwich steamer, and boarded her at the forward gangway, and were hustled among the cotton bales and freight like so many lepers. We were not allowed abaft the forward gangway, and were not troubled with visitor's as no one cared to see the brave defenders. But we cared nothing about that so long as we were going towards home, and the accommodations were as good as we had been accustomed to having.

We reached Norwich about 2 a. m. on the 13th, and went aboard the cars, arriving at Worcester at 4 o'clock. At this hour Worcester people were still wrapt in the arms of Morpheus and of course we didn't meet with a very enthusiastic reception. Our little party formed on Foster street and noiselessly wended our way to the City Hall. A few stragglers who were around the depot reported our arrival and an hour after we received an invitation to go back to the depot refreshment room for lunch. This invitation was readily accepted and a famine was created in that refreshment room Soon after our entrance. We had a good breakfast of hot coffee, cold meats, bread, pies, cakes, etc.

After breakfast we returned to the hall to receive visitors, among the first of whom was Col. Pickett, who warmly welcomed us, shaking hands with all. We were right glad to see our colonel, and learn that he was getting the better of his wounds received at Cold Harbor.

By 8 o'clock the hall was filled, and welcoming speeches were made by his honor Mayor Lincoln and others. After which it was proposed we make a parade and show ourselves over the city. This was objected to, not because we didn't wish to please our Worcester friends, but because we were sick and tired, and had had enough of parades and marches; our thoughts were of home and we were in a hurry to get there. Free tickets were furnished us on all the railroads, and we were dismissed for a week or until our muster out. I arrived home at noon, agreeably surprising my family, who were not expecting me for a week to come.

On the 20th of October we again met in Worcester for muster out and discharge papers. I was once more a free man, having been under the care and keeping of others a little more than thirty-seven months.

CLOSING SCENES.

Two months later we again met in Worcester to be paid off. This was to be our last meeting, henceforth we should travel in different paths and our meetings would be only by chance if ever. Shaking hands and wishing each other all manner of good fortune, we said our good-byes and parted. I have been through it and have had a great experience. I shall have no regrets that I did not go and have brought back no sorrowing memories. I have done what I could to preserve the union of the states.

I have met the enemies of the country face to face, and done what I could to roll back the tide of rebellion, and if I have been of any little service to the country, I am glad of it. With all the officers of the regiment my relations have always been on the most amicable footing, and I am vain enough to believe that they will all bear me witness that I have always cheerfully obeyed all their commands and done all the duty required of me; that I have always treated them politely and shown them all the respect due their rank. In my little sports and jokes I have shown no partiality, and I trust there is no one who bears any malice towards me on that account. I have brought from the field no resentments or animosities towards any, but shall always hold in pleasing remembrance all, both living and dead, with whom I have been associated.

Let him not boast who puts his armor on

Like him who lays it off, his battle done.

THE END.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 148-53

Diary of Gideon Welles: Tuesday, October 4, 1864

But little at the Cabinet of special importance. Governor Dennison, the new Postmaster-General, for the first time took his seat.

Late in the afternoon the President called upon me to inquire respecting arrangements for a proposed exchange of naval prisoners which was making some disturbance at the War Department and with General Butler. For some fifteen months our naval officers and men who had been captured remained in Rebel prisons. Their number was not large, but the omission to exchange, whether from neglect or design, was justly causing dissatisfaction. For more than a year I had, at various times, made inquiry of the Secretary of War and at the War Department, generally oral, but sometimes by letter, and received evasive answers, —  of difficulties on account of remoteness, of unusual prisoners, of refusal by the Rebels to exchange negroes, — but with assurances that matters would be soon adjusted. Some of our men we had learned were in irons and in close confinement, with slight prospect of relief. I gave the President briefly the facts, – that there had been no exchange of naval prisoners for fourteen or fifteen months, that in the exchanges going on no naval prisoners were embraced, that appeals earnest and touching had been made to me by our prisoners and by theirs, but I had been able to afford no relief.

An informal correspondence after months of unavailing effort through the War Department channel had sprung up between Mr. Fox and Webb, who commanded the Atlanta, and was a prisoner in Fort Warren, they having been some years ago shipmates. Fox had written Webb in reply to an application for release that we were willing to exchange but the Rebel authorities would not. This had led the Rebel prisoners in Fort Warren to write most earnestly to Richmond. A few weeks since Lieutenant-Commander Williams had been released at Charleston, and sent to our fleet under flag of truce with thirty days' leave to effect an exchange, and brought me a letter from Mallory, "Secretary Confederate Navy,” stating he had not received letters which had been sent, but accepting a proposition to exchange naval officers, and proposing himself to exchange all naval prisoners. This had been assented to by us, and we now sent orders for the Circassian to proceed with a hundred or two prisoners to Port Royal and bring home our men. But after instructions had been sent to Boston for them to go by the Circassian, we had received by telegram from Ould¹ word that the yellow fever prevailed at Charleston, with a suggestion that the proper exchange could take place on the James River. When this suggestion was made, I objected to it from an impression that it would come within the army cartel and cause difficulty, but after discussing the subject with Mr. Fox, who dwelt on the infection, getting yellow fever in the squadron and at Port Royal, and some conversation with General Hitchcock, I reluctantly yielded assent. Word had been sent to our senior officer, Melancthon Smith, on the James, who had communicated with Butler, and hence the difficulty.

_______________

¹ Acting for the Confederate government.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 168-9

John A. Quitman to Colonel Platt Brush, August 23, 1823

Soldier's Retreat, near Natchez, Aug. 23d, 1823.

Since my last letter, my dear Col. Brush, I have been a refugee from Natchez, where the yellow fever is raging. Our bar is quartered at various country-seats — not boarding; a Mississippi planter would be insulted by such a proposal; but we are enjoying the hospitalities that are offered to us on all sides. The awful pestilence in the city brings out, in strong relief, the peculiar virtues of this people. The mansions of the planters are thrown open to all comers and goers free of charge. Whole families have free quarters during the epidemic, and country wagons are sent daily to the verge of the smitten city with fowls, vegetables, etc., for gratuitous distribution to the poor. I am now writing from one of those old mansions, and I can give you no better notion of life at the South than by describing the routine of a day. The owner is the widow of a Virginia gentleman of distinction, a brave officer, who died in the public service during the last war with Great Britain.¹ She herself is a native of this vicinity, of English parents settled here in Spanish times. She is an intimate friend of my first friend, Mrs. Griffith, and I have been in the habit of visiting her house ever since I came South. The whole aim of this excellent lady seems to be to make others happy. I do not believe she ever thinks of herself. She is growing old, but her parlor is constantly thronged with the young and gay, attracted by her cheerful and never-failing kindness. There are two large families from the city staying here, and every day some ten or a dozen transient guests. Mint-juleps in the morning are sent to our rooms, and then follows a delightful breakfast in the open veranda. We hunt, ride, fish, pay morning visits, play chess, read or lounge until dinner, which is served at two P.M. in great variety, and most delicately cooked in what is here called the Creole style — very rich, and many made or mixed dishes. In two hours afterward every body — white and black — has disappeared. The whole household is asleep—the siesta of the Italians. Tho ladies retire to their apartments, and the gentlemen on sofas, settees, benches, hammocks, and often, gipsy fashion, on the grass under the spreading oaks. Here, too, in fine weather, the tea-table is always set before sunset, and then, until bedtime, we stroll, sing, play whist, or coquet. It is an indolent, yet charming life, and one quits thinking and takes to dreaming.

This excellent lady is not rich, merely independent; but by thrifty housewifery, and a good dairy and garden, she contrives to dispense the most liberal hospitality. Her slaves appear to be, in a manner, free, yet are obedient and polite, and the farm is well worked. With all her gayety of disposition and fondness for the young, she is truly pious, and in her own apartment every night she has family prayer with her slaves, one or more of them being often called on to sing and pray. When a minister visits the house, which happens very frequently, prayers night and morning are always said, and on these occasions the whole household and the guests assemble in the parlor: chairs are provided for the servants. They are married by a clergyman of their own color, and a sumptuous supper is always prepared. On public holidays they have dinners equal to an Ohio barbecue, and Christmas, for a week or ten days, is a protracted festival for the blacks. They are a happy, careless, unreflecting, good-natured race, who, left to themselves, would degenerate into drones or brutes, but, subjected to wholesome restraint and stimulus, become the best and most contented of laborers. They are strongly attached to “old massa” and “old missus,” but their devotion to “young massa” and “young missus” amounts to enthusiasm. They have great family pride, and are the most arrant coxcombs and aristocrats in the world. At a wedding I witnessed here last Saturday evening, where some 150 negroes were assembled, many being invited guests, I heard a number of them addressed as governors, generals, judges, and doctors (the titles of their masters), and a spruce, tight-set darkey, who waits on me in town, was called “Major Quitman.” The “colored ladies” are invariably Miss Joneses, Miss Smiths, or some such title. They are exceedingly pompous and ceremonious, gloved and highly perfumed. The “gentlemen” sport canes, ruffles, and jewelry, wear boots and spurs, affect crape on their hats, and carry huge cigars. The belles wear gaudy colors, “tote” their fans with the air of Spanish senoritas, and never stir out, though black as the ace of spades, without their parasols. In short, these “niggers,” as you call them, are the happiest people I have ever seen, and some of them, in form, features, and movement, are real sultanas. So far from being fed on “salted cotton-seed,” as we used to believe in Ohio, they are oily, sleek, bountifully fed, well clothed, well taken care of, and one hears them at all times whistling and singing cheerily at their work.² They have an extraordinary facility for sleeping. A negro is a great night-walker. He will, after laboring all day in the burning sun, walk ten miles to a frolic, or to see his “Dinah,” and be at home and at his work by daylight next morning. This would knock up a white man or an Indian. But a negro will sleep during the day — sleep at his work, sleep on the carriage-box, sleep standing up; and I have often seen them sitting bareheaded in the sun on a high rail-fence, sleeping as securely as though lying in bed. They never lose their equipoise, and will carry their cotton-baskets or their water-vessels, filled to the brim, poised on their heads, walking carelessly and at a rapid rate, without spilling a drop. The very weight of such burdens would crush a white man's brains into apoplexy. Compared with the ague-smitten and suffering settlers that you and I have seen in Ohio, or the sickly and starved operators we read of in factories and in mines, these Southern slaves are indeed to be envied. They are treated with great humanity and kindness. I have only heard of one or two exceptions. And the only drawback to their happiness is that their owners, sometimes, from extravagance or other bad management, die insolvent, and then they must be sold to the highest bidder, must leave the old homestead and the old family, and pass into the hands of strangers. I have witnessed one of these scenes, and but one, though they occur often, and I never saw such profound grief as the poor creatures manifested. I am opposed, as you know, to all relief laws, but, I confess, I never hear of the sale of old family servants without wishing that there was some provision by which some of them, at least, might be retained as inalienable. It is a grave question for those interested in slavery to determine whether some protection of this nature is not a necessary adjunct of slavery itself.

_______________

¹ The late Gen. F. L. Claiborne.

² Contrast this with life at the North, as recorded by his brother Henry in a letter dated Rhinebeck, Feb. 3d, 1823: “We have not had snow enough for sleighing, so every body has to stay at home. In the morning I feed the cows, take care of the horses, and cut wood until dinner-time. In the evening I take care of the cattle, and go to bed. I would willingly exchange my residence here for one where I might do for myself, were my earnings ever so small, and lay by a little for a rainy day. It is a hard place to get along in — cold winters and hot summers; snow, or slush, or dust, or drought. Work, work, work, and money always scarce. I wish I had been brought up a tailor, or shoemaker, as you say they have none at Natchez.”

SOURCE: John F. H. Quitman, Life and Correspondence of John A. Quitman, Volume 1, p. 83-6

George S. Denison to Salmon P. Chase, September 9, 1862

New Orleans, September 9th, 1862.

Dear Sir: The newspapers which I send, will give you most of the local news.

One Regiment of the Free Colored Brigade is full, and about 500 more are already enlisted. Surgeons and officers speak highly of the physical qualities of the men. Most of them are a very light color, and, I believe, will make good soldiers. I admire the characteristic shrewdness with which Gen. Butler has managed this affair. By accepting a regiment which had already been in Confederate Service, he left no room for complaint (by the Rebels) that the Government were arming the negroes. But, in enlisting, nobody inquires whether the recruit is (or has been) a slave. As a consequence the boldest and finest fugitives have enlisted, while the whole organization is known as the “Free Colored Brigade.” Without doubt it will be a success.

It is understood here that Gen. Phelps' resignation has been accepted. The controversy between Generals Butler and Phelps, is much regretted by the best Union men. Gen. Phelps is beloved by his soldiers, and no man has suspected his integrity and disinterestedness. This is not strictly true of Gen. Butler, for while all admire his great ability, many of his soldiers think him selfish and cold-hearted, and many soldiers and citizens — Union and Secessionists think he is interested in the speculations of his brother (Col. Butler) and others.

Sometimes circumstances look very suspicious, but if I happen to hear his explanation of the same circumstances, suspicion almost entirely disappears. I have never been able to discover any good proof that Gen. Butler has improperly done, or permitted, anything for his own pecuniary advantage. He is such a smart man, that it would in any case, be difficult to discover what he wished to conceal.

But it is the general impression here that money will accomplish anything with the authorities. It seems probable, that this impression would not exist without some foundation. It is much to be regretted, but Gen. B.'s abilities, shrewdness, and just severity toward secessionists — and proper appreciation of the whole rebellion, cause him to be respected and admired even by his enemies. I believe Gen. Butler's opposition to the enlistment of negroes by Gen. Phelps, was not a matter of principle. Gen. Phelps had the start of him, while Gen. B. wanted the credit of doing the thing himself, and in his own way And he is doing it, shrewdly and completely, as he does everything.

Notwithstanding the impression above mentioned, it would be difficult to find a man capable of filling Gen. Butler's place, and who would give the same satisfaction to Union men.

The City is very healthy, and the coming of Yellow Fever is no longer feared.

The Iron Clad Gunboat Essex is here from up the River.

SOURCE: Diary and correspondence of Salmon P. Chase, Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 312-4

George S. Denison to Salmon P. Chase, August 26, 1862

New Orleans, Aug. 26th, 1862.

Dear Sir: The troops at Baton Rouge have evacuated the place, without destroying it, and are now joined to Gen. Phelps' command at Carrolton. His effective force is now about six thousand men and many guns, and is sufficient for the defence of the place. The fortifications are strong, and Gen. Phelps has the entire confidence of his men. An attack on the City was feared, and therefore the troops were brought down from Baton Rouge. The secessionists confidently expect the city to be taken soon, and had they succeeded at Baton Rouge, an attack on the City would have followed immediately. I do not believe it will now be made, but if attempted, will certainly be unsuccessful. They expected aid in the City, but Gen. Butler has disarmed all citizens. About 25,000 arms of various kinds have been given up.

The first Louisiana Reg't. is full and ready for service, and nearly enough men enlisted to form a second Reg't. The men are generally foreigners — many Germans — and will do good service.

A free Colored Reg't. formerly in Rebel service, is being organized. Probably this Regiment will be increased to a Brigade. I urged this matter upon Gen. Butler, but he had already decided upon it favorably. The free negroes of Louisiana, are certainly superior, as a class, to the Creoles (descendants of French and Spanish settlers). They are intelligent, energetic and industrious, as is evident from the fact (as stated to me) that they own one seventh of the real estate in this city. This is their own work, for they commenced with nothing, of course.

These men will be good soldiers. Gen. Phelps has at his camp 1,500 men — escaped slaves. Enough to make a full regiment are drilled (without arms) and go through all movements well. I do not know whether Gen. Butler intends them to have arms. They are good looking men, and I believe will be good soldiers.

The health of the troops is good, except those lately at Vicksburg, among whom however, deaths have been few. The City is quite healthy, and there is no longer much danger from Yellow Fever. This is owing to Gen. Butler's severe quarantine regulations. A few more days of health will render us perfectly secure.

The Union sentiment is developing itself satisfactorily. The laboring classes are our friends. When the great Southern armies are broken up they will no longer be afraid, and all will be well.

Provisions are high, and there is much suffering in the City. It is much to be regretted that the River was not opened, so that provisions might be cheap. The condition of the people now is scarcely better than under rebel rule — as to food, I mean.

For other reasons, the opening of the River is of the utmost consequence.

Much complaint is made by Union men, and justly, that those who have been secessionists, are frequently given employment by the authorities, to the exclusion of Union men. Concerning the Custom House there have been no such complaints, I believe, for I have been particularly careful in selecting officers, but I regret to say that other departments have not exercised the same care.

Col. Butler is a brother of Gen'l. Butler and came out with the army, and immediately commenced doing business. He is not in government employ. He is here for the sole purpose of making money, and it is stated by secessionists — and by some Union men—that he has made half a million dollars, or more. I regret his being here at all, for it is not proper that the brother of the commanding General, should devote himself to such an object. It leads to the belief that the General himself is interested with him, and such is the belief of our enemies and of some of our friends. The effect is bad. General Butler seems entirely devoted to the interests of the Government. I have observed closely his brother's course. I do not believe the General is interested in his speculations. I have delayed mentioning this matter until now, hoping to be better informed. Hon. Reverdy Johnson can give you as much information as I can.¹ I believe Gen. Butler is disinterested and that he is a most able officer though in a difficult position. Should I learn anything further, you will be informed.

_______________

¹ Hon. Reverdy Johnson, Senator from Maryland, was “appointed by the State Department as a special agent, to proceed to New Orleans and investigate and report upon the complaints made by foreign consuls against the late military proceedings in their respective cases.” (Secretary Stanton to General Butler, June 10, 1862, Rebellion Records, Series I, Vol. XV, p. 471. Cf. Series III, Vol. II. Cf. also the appendix to these letters.)

SOURCE: Diary and correspondence of Salmon P. Chase, Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 310-2

George S. Denison to Salmon P. Chase, July 19, 1862

New Orleans, July 19th, 1862.

Dear Sir: I venture to refer to the name of J. L. Riddell (formerly Confederate Postmaster) because he is, or is to be, an applicant for the office of Assistant Treasurer. Though he now pretends to be a Union man, I believe him to be unworthy of your confidence. I can give you full information about him if you desire it.

Mr. Gray, Deputy Collector, who has been in the New York Custom House more than twenty years, says that more questions and more difficult to' be decided, arise here in a week, than in the New York Custom House during a whole year. This is partly owing to the disturbed condition of the country, and partly to the fact that we avoid the former loose and corrupt manner of doing business. The necessity of immediate decision of many of these questions, obliges me, being at so great a distance from Washington, to assume great responsibility. Almost everything, even most of the furniture, belonging to the Custom House, was destroyed — except the building, which was in a dilapidated state. I was compelled to employ considerable labor to make it habitable. I have discovered and seized rebel boats and launches and repaired them — had the Iron safes drilled, opened and repaired—obtained furniture—preserved and arranged all the old books and papers, and done many other necessary things, so that now we begin to work effectively.

Except salaries of appointed officers, all expenses have, as yet, been paid from the fees of the office — for, of course, money received for duties remains untouched. Hence you see strict economy is practiced. I intend every Government employee in this Custom House shall earn his wages.

No expenses have been, or shall be incurred except such as are absolutely necessary for the thorough establishment of the Custom House, and protection of the Revenue Service.

The whole amount of money collected for duties, is Seventy-Six Thousand Nine Hundred and four 85/100 Dollars ($76,904-85/100) — See my official report of this date. This amount is now in my hands and subject to your order. All the safes are repaired, and the money is perfectly safe, unless the army should be driven out by the Rebels, which is impossible.

The City never was more healthy, and as yet there is no danger of the Yellow Fever.

I do not think the military rule here or elsewhere, is severe enough. It ought to be more dangerous to be a secessionist than to be a loyal citizen, which is not the case here. We should adopt toward rebels, measures as severe as they adopt toward Union men. A real secessionist cannot be conciliated. I begin to incline to the opinion that the Abolition of Slavery is necessary, as a means of terminating the war. The South has persistently forced this issue upon the Government, and perhaps it must soon be accepted.

SOURCE: Diary and correspondence of Salmon P. Chase, Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 309-10

Captain Charles Wright Wills: June 19, 1863

Lagrange, Tenn., June 19, 1863.

The general and Sam went to Memphis yesterday to visit General Hurlbut, and the major and I have charge of the machine. The cavalry under command of Colonel Mizner went south last Tuesday. They have a good sized object in view, and if they succeed will be gone some ten days, though they may possibly be back by Wednesday next. They will operate between Panola and Grenada. Another mounted expedition has gone from Corinth to Okolona, a third from Corinth to Pikeville, Ala., and a fourth also from Corinth to Jackson, Tenn., which place has, since we evacuated it, been occupied by some Rebel cavalry (infantry also reported) from the east of the Tennessee river. All of this cavalry (of course excepting the Rebel) belongs to General Oglesby's command. You see he has it in motion. Deserters are constantly coming in from Johnston's army; and if we can believe their stories, and the information gained from the corps of spies employed along this line, Grant's rear is not in as much danger as our southern brethren would fain have us think. Johnston's army is not in the best condition imaginable; and it is far from being as strong as he would like it. Have no idea that he can march thirty-five thousand men. Grant must have an enormous army. How awful it would be if the yellow fever would visit his camps. I suppose you know that my regiment is at Snyder's Bluff. I think that is on the Yazoo, near Haines. Don't you see some more of my extraordinary fortune in being detached just as the regiment is ordered to where there is a prospect of hard knocks. We were all loaded on the cars ready to move, when Sam came down to the train and took me. The regiment then left immediately. There is a possible chance now of the general's being ordered to Vicksburg; but I've given up all hope of my getting there. We are having a great deal of trouble with the citizens here. A great many secesh citizens ask to be exempted from taking the oath, because they have rendered service to our army. This one gave a quart of buttermilk to a sick soldier, another donated an onion to the hospital, another allowed a sick officer to stay in his house for only $2. per day, etc. A number of the claims really have some point to them, and although 'tis against my theory, I really can't help pitying some of them. We had a sad accident last week near this post. General Hurlbut ordered a small train with a guard of some 60 men to be sent north on the railroad to repair the telegraph line. Twelve miles only from here the train broke through a little bridge over a deep but narrow "swash" and killed five and wounded ten of the party. An examination showed that the bridge had been burned the night before, and afterward the rails had been propped up only strongly enough to keep their places when no weight was upon them. 'Twas a fiendish, cowardly act, but of course committed by men whose business is robbery and murder, and who have no connection with the army.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 181-2

Mary D. Armstead to William Still, August 26, 1855

New Bedford, August 26, 1855.

Mr. STILL:— I avail my self to write you thes few lines hopeing they may find you and your family well as they leaves me very well and all the family well except my father he seams to be improveing with his shoulder he has been able to work a little I received the papers I was highly delighted to receive them I was very glad to hear from you in the wheler case I was very glad to hear that the persons were safe I was very sory to hear that mr Williamson was put in prison but I know if the praying part of the people will pray for him and if he will put his trust in the lord he will bring him out more than conquer please remember my Dear old farther and sisters and brothers to your family kiss the children for me I hear that the yellow fever is very bad down south now if the underground railroad could have free course the emergrant would cross the river of gordan rapidly I hope it may continue to run and I hope the wheels of the car may be greesed with more substantial greese so they may run over swiftly I would have wrote before but circumstances would not permit me Miss Sanders and all the friends desired to be remembered to you and your family I shall be pleased to hear from the underground rail road often

Yours respectfully,

MARY D. ARMSTEAD.

SOURCE: William Still, The Underground Railroad: A Record of Facts, Authentic Narratives, Letters &c., p. 61

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Monday, September 19, 1864 – Part 2

Sheridan restlessly urged the men across a small ravine opposite where he sat, his eyes wandering occasionally everywhere over the large open space which gradually rose to the vast comparatively level but slightly rolling battlefield in our front, as the men looked curiously at him so near I could touch him as we marched, little dreaming that three years after I should be honored for my work that day, which he saw, by being a member of his staff, or that he would be instrumental in saving my life when ill with malignant yellow fever and threatened with fatal black vomit in New Orleans, La. in 1867, by sending his cook, a faithful old colored woman, who was an expert nurse of yellow fever patients, to care for me. It was the nearest we had ever been to him, and as our regiment passed slowly by fours, the line being congested ahead, the men took a good look at him for he was already famous and every soldier's ideal hero; and as they did so they unconsciously slackened their sauntering pace a little which was what caused Sheridan to urge them on.

We were on the eve of the most brilliant spectacular battle of the war, at any rate that I had seen, and my ideal genius developed by the great Civil War — Sheridan was to lead us; and the valor of the renowned Sixth Corps, his pet of all the splendid corps of as grand and valiant an army as ever existed — the Army of the Potomac — was about being placed by him at the most important point in line of battle ready to do and die for him, the Vermont troops or “Green Mountain Boys,” as we were called through every city we passed, and especially our regiment being one of two to occupy the keystone position or place of honor on the famous historic Berryville and Winchester pike in the great assaulting line on a battlefield slightly rolling but level in places as a house floor when once fairly on it, to take another stitch out of rebellion, and to help immortalize our hero, and we did both. Aye! we shall glorify Sheridan continually as a military genius, even as he has honored us as his ideal soldiers and fighters heretofore, now and probably will evermore, the grand old Sixth Army Corps which fights everything everywhere, and rarely gives up fighting till called off, but, alas! which will soon only be a hallowed, glorified memory; and — still — I like to think of it in reflective moments as in a celebrated painting of a bivouacked army at night asleep watched over by an army of hovering angels in midair; that it as a hallowed spiritual body finally at peace in a heavenly paradise, will go marching on throughout the boundless everlasting realms of eternity ever to hover approvingly when occasion shall require over other mortal armies of dauntless valor and constancy such as it has been in the great Civil War—one of God's instruments for the betterment of humanity and civil liberty —the most admired, honored, trusted and beloved by military geniuses of its period.

Straight view of about 800 yards of the pike looking easterly
towards Opequan Creek from the  top of the divide about midway
to the enemy's line of battle in the ravine, from where Sheridan
formed line of battle. The narrow belt of timber has been cut
away behind which we formed. [Click on photo to enlarge.]

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 151-3

Diary of 1st Lieutenant John S. Morgan: Friday, June 18, 1865

Cholera morbus all night, was 6 cases in Regt. quite weak today. Yellow fever in Matamorass. awful hot & poor water.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 8, April 1923, p. 606

Lieutenant-General Winfield Scott's Memoranda for the Secretary of War, March 15, 1861

It seems from the opinions of the Army officers who have expressed themselves on the subject – all within Fort Sumter, together with Generals Scott and Totten – that it is perhaps now impossible to succor that fort substantially, if at all, without capturing, by means of a large expedition of ships of war and troops, all the opposing batteries of South Carolina. In the mean time – six or ten months – Major Anderson would almost certainly have been obliged to surrender under assault or the approach of starvation; for even if an expedition like that proposed by G. V. Fox should succeed once in throwing in the succor of a few men and a few weeks' provisions, the necessity of repeating the latter supply would return again and again, including the yellow-fever season. An abandonment of the fort in a few weeks, sooner or later, would appear, therefore, to be a sure necessity, and if so, the sooner the more graceful on the part of the Government.

It is doubtful, however, according to recent information from the South, whether the voluntary evacuation of Fort Sumter alone would have a decisive effect upon the States now wavering between adherence to the Union and secession. It is known, indeed, that it would be charged to necessity, and the holding of Fort Pickens would be adduced in support of that view. Our Southern friends, however, are clear that the evacuation of both the forts would instantly soothe and give confidence to the eight remaining slaveholding States, and render their cordial adherence to this Union perpetual.

The holding of Forts Jefferson and Taylor, on the ocean keys, depends on entirely different principles, and should never be abandoned; and, indeed, the giving up of Forts Sumter and Pickens may be best justified by the hope, that we should thereby recover the State to which they geographically belong by the liberality of the act, besides retaining the eight doubtful States.

SOURCES: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 1 (Serial No. 1), p. 200-1;  Samuel Wylie Crawford, The Genesis of the Civil War: The Story of Sumter, 1860-1861, p. 363

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 2, 1862

News from the North indicate that in Europe all expectation of a restoration of the Union is at an end; and the probability is that we shall soon be recognized, to be followed, possibly, by intervention. Nevertheless, we must rely upon our own strong arms, and the favor of God. It is said, however, an iron steamer is being openly constructed in the Mersey (Liverpool), for the avowed purpose of opening the blockade of Charleston harbor.

Yesterday in both Houses of Congress resolutions were introduced for the purpose of retaliating upon the North the barbarities contemplated in Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation.

The Abolitionists of the North want McClellan removed — I hope they may have their will. The reason assigned by his friends for his not advancing farther into Virginia, is that he has not troops enough, and the Secretary of War has them not to send him. I hope this may be so. Still, I think he must fight soon if he remains near Martinsburg.

The yellow fever is worse at Wilmington. I trust it will not make its appearance here.

A resolution was adopted yesterday in the Senate, to the effect that martial law does not apply to civilians. But it has been applied to them here, and both Gen. Winder and his Provost Marshal threatened to apply it to me.

Among the few measures that may be attributed to the present Secretary of War, is the introduction of the telegraph wires into his office. It may possibly be the idea of another; but it is not exactly original; and it has not been productive of good. It has now been in operation several weeks, all the way to Warrenton; and yet a few days ago the enemy's cavalry found that section of country undefended, and took Warrenton itself, capturing in that vicinity some 2000 wounded Confederates, in spite of the Secretary's expensive vigilance. Could a Yankee have been the inventor of the Secretary's plaything? One amused himself telegraphing the Secretary from Warrenton, that all was quiet there; and that the Yankees had not made their appearance in that neighborhood, as had been rumored! If we had imbeciles in the field, our subjugation would be only pastime for the enemy. It is well, perhaps, that Gen. Lee has razeed the department down to a second-class bureau, of which the President himself is the chief.

I see by a correspondence of the British diplomatic agents, that their government have decided no reclamation can be made on us for burning cotton and tobacco belonging to British subjects, where there is danger that they may fall into the hands of the enemy. Thus the British government do not even claim to have their subjects in the South favored above the Southern people. But Mr. Benjamin is more liberal, and he directed the Provost Marshal to save the tobacco bought on foreign account. So far, however, the grand speculation has failed.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 161-2

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: September 30, 1862

Lincoln's proclamation was the subject of discussion in the Senate yesterday. Some of the gravest of our senators favor the raising of the black flag, asking and giving no quarter hereafter.

The yellow fever is raging at Wilmington, North Carolina.

The President, in response to a resolution of inquiry concerning Hyde, the agent who procured a substitute and was arrested for it, sent Congress a letter from the Secretary of War, stating that the action of Gen. Winder had not been approved, and that Mr. Hyde had been discharged. The Secretary closes his letter with a sarcasm, which, I think, is not his own composition. He asks, as martial law is still existing, though the writ of habeas corpus is not suspended, for instructions as to the power of the military commander, Winder, to suppress tippling shops! Several members declared that martial law existed in this city without any constitutional warrant. There is much bad feeling between many members and the Executive.

No fighting has occurred on the Peninsula, and I believe Gen. Wise has returned with his forces to Chaffin's Bluff.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 159

Diary of William Howard Russell: April 21, 1861

In the afternoon I went with Mr. Porcher Miles to visit a small farm and plantation, some miles from the city, belonging to Mr. Crafts. Our arrival was unexpected, but the planter's welcome was warm. Mrs. Crafts showed us round the place, of which the beauties were due to nature rather than to art, and so far the lady was the fitting mistress of the farm.

We wandered through tangled brakes and thick Indian-like jungle, filled with disagreeable insects, down to the edge of a small lagoon. The beach was perforated with small holes, in which Mrs. Crafts said little crabs, called “fiddlers” from their resemblance in petto to a performer on the fiddle make their abode; but neither them nor “spotted snakes” did we see. And so to dinner, for which our hostess made needless excuses. “I am afraid I shall have to ask you to eke out your dinner with potted meats, but I can answer for Mr. Crafts giving you a bottle of good old wine.” “And what better, madam,” quoth Mr. Miles, “what better can you offer a soldier? What do we expect but grape and canister?”

Mr. Miles, who was formerly member of the United States Congress, and who has now migrated to the Confederate States of America, rendered himself conspicuous a few years ago when a dreadful visitation of yellow fever came upon Norfolk and destroyed one half of the inhabitants. At that terrible time, when all who could move were flying from the plague-stricken spot, Mr. Porcher Miles flew to it, visited the hospitals, tended the sick; and although a weakly, delicate man, gave an example of such energy and courage as materially tended to save those who were left. I never heard him say a word to indicate that he had been at Norfolk at all.

At the rear of the cottage-like residence (to the best of my belief built of wood), in which the planter's family lived, was a small enclosure, surrounded by a palisade, containing a number of wooden sheds, which were the negro quarters; and after dinner, as we sat on the steps, the children were sent for to sing for us. They came very shyly, and by degrees; first peeping round the corners and from behind trees, oftentimes running away in spite of the orders of their haggard mammies, till they were chased, captured, and brought back by their elder brethren. They were ragged, dirty, shoeless urchins of both sexes; the younger ones abdominous as infant Hindoos, and wild as if just caught. With much difficulty the elder children were dressed into line; then they began to shuffle their flat feet, to clap their hands, and to drawl out in a monotonous sort of chant something about the “River Jawdam,” after which Mrs. Crafts rewarded them with lumps of sugar, which were as fruitful of disputes as the apple of discord. A few fathers and mothers gazed at the scene from a distance.

As we sat listening to the wonderful song of the mockingbirds, when these young Sybarites had retired, a great, big, burly red-faced gentleman, as like a Yorkshire farmer in high perfection as any man I ever saw in the old country, rode up to the door, and, after the usual ceremony of introduction and the collating of news, and the customary assurance “They can't whip us, sir!” invited me then and there to attend a féte champétre at his residence, where there is a lawn famous for trees dating from the first settlement of the colony, and planted by this gentleman's ancestor.

Trees are objects of great veneration in America if they are of any size. There are perhaps two reasons for this. In the first place, the indigenous forest trees are rarely of any great magnitude. In the second place, it is natural to Americans to admire dimension and antiquity; and a big tree gratifies both organs — size and veneration.

I must record an astonishing feat of this noble Carolinian. The heat of the evening was indubitably thirst-compelling, and we went in to “have a drink.” Among other things on the table were a decanter of cognac and a flask of white curaçoa. The planter filled a tumbler half full of brandy. “What's in that flat bottle, Crafts?” “That's white curaçoa.” The planter tasted a little, and having smacked his lips and exclaimed “first-rate stuff,” proceeded to water his brandy with it, and tossed off a full brimmer of the mixture without any remarkable ulterior results. They are a hard-headed race. I doubt if cavalier or puritan ever drank a more potent bumper than our friend the big planter.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 125-7

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Sunday, June 1, 1862

From the news brought by one or two persons who managed to reach here yesterday, I am more uneasy about mother and the girls. A gentleman tells me that no one is permitted to leave without a pass, and of these, only such as are separated from their families, who may have left before. All families are prohibited to leave, and furniture and other valuables also. Here is an agreeable arrangement! I saw the “pass,” just such as we give our negroes, signed by a Wisconsin colonel. Think of being obliged to ask permission from some low plowman to go in or out of our own house! Cannon are planted as far out as Colonel Davidson's, six of them at our graveyard, and one or more on all the other roads. If the guerrillas do not attempt their capture, I shall take it upon myself to suggest it to the very next one I see. Even if they cannot use them, it will frighten the Yankees, who are in a state of constant alarm about them. Their reason for keeping people in town is that they hope they will not be attacked so long as our own friends remain; thereby placing us above themselves in the scale of humanity, since they acknowledge we are not brute enough to kill women and children as they did not hesitate to do.

Farragut pleads that he could not restrain his men, they were so enraged when the order was once given to fire, and says they would strike a few houses, though he ordered them to fire solely at horses, and the clouds of dust in the street, where guerrillas were supposed to be. The dust was by no means thick enough to conceal that these “guerrillas” were women, carrying babies instead of guns, and the horses were drawing buggies in which many a sick woman was lying.

A young lady who applied to the Yankee general for a pass to come out here, having doubtless spoken of the number of women here who had fled, and the position of the place, was advised to remain in town and write to the ladies to return immediately, and assure them that they would be respected and protected, etc., but that it was madness to remain at Greenwell, for a terrific battle would be fought there in a few days, and they would be exposed to the greatest danger. The girl wrote the letter, but, Mr. Fox, we are not quite such fools as to return there to afford you the protection our petticoats would secure to you, thereby preventing you from receiving condign punishment for the injuries and loss of property already inflicted upon us by you. No! we remain here; and if you are not laid low before you pass the Comite Bridge, we can take to the woods again, and camp out, as many a poor woman is doing now, a few miles from town. Many citizens have been arrested, and after being confined a while, and closely questioned, have been released, if the information is satisfactory. A negro man is informing on all cotton burners and violent Secessionists, etc.

Sunday night. The girls have just got back, riding in a mule team, on top of baggage, but without either mother or any of our affairs. Our condition is perfectly desperate. Miriam had an interview with General Williams, which was by no means satisfactory. He gave her a pass to leave, and bring us back, for he says there is no safety here for us; he will restrain his men in town, and protect the women, but once outside, he will answer neither for his men, nor the women and children. As soon as he gets horses enough, he passes this road, going to Camp Moore with his cavalry, and then we are in greater danger than ever. Any house shut up shall be occupied by soldiers. Five thousand are there now, five more expected. What shall we do? Mother remained, sending Miriam for me, determined to keep us there, rather than sacrifice both our lives and property by remaining here. But then — two weeks from now the yellow fever will break out; mother has the greatest horror of it, and we have never had it; dying is not much in the present state of our affairs, but the survivor will suffer even more than we do now. If we stay, how shall we live? I have seventeen hundred dollars in Confederate notes now in my “running-bag,” and three or four in silver. The former will not be received there, the latter might last two days. If we save our house and furniture, it is at the price of starving. I am of opinion that we should send for mother, and with what money we have, make our way somewhere in the interior, to some city where we can communicate with the boys, and be advised by them. This is not living. Home is lost beyond all hope of recovery; if we wait, what we have already saved will go, too; so we had better leave at once, with what clothing we have, which will certainly establish us on the footing of ladies, if we chance to fall among vulgar people who never look beyond. I fear the guerrillas will attack the town to-night; if they do, God help mother!

General Williams offered Miriam an escort when he found she was without a protector, in the most fatherly way; he must be a good man. She thanked him, but said “she felt perfectly safe on that road.” He bit his lip, understanding the allusion, and did not insist. She was to deliver a message from parties in town to the first guerrillas they met, concerning the safest roads, and presently six met them, and entered into conversation. She told them of the proffered escort, when one sprang forward crying, “Why didn't you accept, Miss? The next time, ask for one, and if it is at all disagreeable to you, I am the very man to rid you of such an inconvenience! I'll see that you are not annoyed long.” I am glad it was not sent; she would have reproached herself with murder forever after. I wonder if the General would have risked it?

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 53-7

Brigadier-General Thomas Kilby Smith, August 11, 1865

Headquarters Post Of Mobile,

Mobile, Ala., Aug. 11, 1865.

The chronic complaint with which my system is poisoned, will never be eradicated; the diarrhoea at times is beyond anything you ever saw or dreamed of, and from day to day I look at myself in the glass with wonder and amazement that I am still alive. Change, radical change of air, may possibly alleviate; it is worth the trial. Under the most favorable circumstances, I should die in two weeks in Ohio, and will not come back in warm weather to make the experiment.

The weather here is very warm. We have no epidemic as yet, but I hear of yellow fever in New Orleans. I will do what I can to keep it out; as long as the nights remain warm there is no danger. A little strange, is it not, that in a Southern climate warm weather is a guarantee against infection?

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 408

Brigadier-General Thomas Kilby Smith to Bettie Smith, April 19, 1865

Headquarters District Of South Alabama,

Fort Gaines, Ala., April 19, 1865.

My Dear Daughter Bettie:

I have just returned from Mobile, where I have been sojourning for three or four days past, and you will want some description of the city and what I saw there. You must know that Mobile, the principal city and only seaport of Alabama, was the original seat of French colonization in the southwest, and for many years the capital of the colony of Louisiana. I shall transcribe for you a little bit of history, while for its geographical position you must go to the map. In 1702, Lemoine de Bienville, acting under the instructions of his brother Iberville, transferred the principal seat of the colony from Biloxi, where it had been established three years previously, to a point on the river Mobile, supposed to be about twenty miles above the present site of the city, where he established a post to which he gave the name of “St. Louis de la Mobile.” At the same time he built a fort and warehouse on “Isle Dauphine,” at the entrance of Mobile Bay (where my headquarters now are).

The settlement at Biloxi was soon afterwards broken up. In 1704, there was an arrival of twenty young girls from France, and the next year of twenty-three others, selected and sent out under the auspices of the Bishop of Quebec, as wives for the colonists. Many of the original settlers were Canadians, like Iberville and Bienville. In 1705, occurred a severe epidemic, supposed to be the first recorded visitation of yellow fever, by which thirty-five persons were carried off.

The year 1706 is noted for the “petticoat insurrection,” which was a threatened rebellion of females in consequence of the dissatisfaction with the diet of Indian corn, to which they were reduced. The colony meanwhile frequently suffered from famine as well as from the attacks of Indians although relieved by occasional supplies sent from the mother country. In 1711 the settlement was nearly destroyed by a hurricane and flood in consequence of which it was removed to its present situation. In 1712 the King of France made a grant of the whole colony to Antoine Crozat, a wealthy French merchant, and in the following year Bienville was superseded as governor by M. de la Motte Cadillac. In 1717 Crozat relinquished his grant to the French government, and Bienville was reinstated. In 1723, the seat of the colonial government was transferred to New Orleans. In 1763, by the treaty of Paris, Mobile with all that portion of Louisiana lying east of the Mississippi and north of Bayou Iberville, Lake Maurepas, and Pontchartrain, passed into the possession of Great Britain. In 1780, the Fort, the name of which had been changed into Fort Condé, and subsequently by the British to Fort Charlotte, was captured by the Spanish General, Don Galvez, Governor of Louisiana, and in 1783, its occupancy was confirmed to Spain by the cession to that power of all the British possession on the Gulf of Mexico. On the 13th of April, 1813, just fifty-two years before the time it had been taken possession of by General Canby, the Spanish Commandant Gayatama Perez surrendered the fort and town to General Wilkinson. At that period, the population, which in 1785 had amounted to eight hundred and forty-six, was estimated at only five hundred, half of whom were blacks. In December, 1819, Mobile was incorporated as a city. Mobile is now a city of moderate size, a population of probably forty thousand inhabitants and before the war was opulent and characterized as the most aristocratic city of the South, though I suppose Charleston would dispute, or rather would have disputed, this point. There has evidently been a lavish display of money and many of the houses and public buildings are elegant and tasteful in their style and adornment. The luxuriance of vegetation in this climate gives great advantages in the adornment of the streets and grounds with shade trees and beautiful shrubs, vines and flowers. The present season corresponds with June with you, and to me it was a rare and beautiful sight yesterday to look down the long vista of “Government” street, their principal avenue through the aisle of magnolia in full leaf and bloom, the pride of China, the crape myrtle and many other trees, the names of which I do not know, but all laden with bud and leaf and flower; while in relief, the houses were wreathed with ivy, climbing roses, while the sweet-scented double violet added delicious perfume to the fragrance of countless varieties of standard roses. The people have great taste and wonderful love for flowers in the South; even the ragged urchins and barefooted little girls carry bouquets that would be the envy of a ball-room belle in Cincinnati. The streets are very broad, and have been paved with shells, but the sandy nature of the soil has caused them to disappear beneath the surface. The sidewalks are brick, as in Cincinnati. The city was like a city of the dead. The principal men being in the army, were either prisoners or had fled. The ladies secluded themselves from the public gaze. A semi-official notice from the headquarters of the rebel General Maury had warned them that General Canby had promised his soldiers three days' pillage; consequently, the people, when our troops took possession, were frightened and anticipated all sorts of enormities. Since, they have been in a constant state of profound astonishment. The drinking houses were all closed, and a rigid system of discipline has been enforced, quiet and order prevails.

While in Mobile, I was the guest of General Canby, who has taken quarters at one of the best houses. I met there in the family of the owner a fair sample of the young and middle-aged ladies of the place, and the schoolgirls.

Everything is as old-fashioned as four years non-intercourse with the “outside barbarians,” as they would style us, would be apt to induce. This in dress, literature, and conversation. You will hear that there is Union sentiment in Mobile, perhaps that not more than ten per cent, of its people are secessionists; but my word for it, that not a man, woman, or child, who has lived in Mobile the last four years, but who prays death and destruction to the “damned Yankees.”

Well, I have given you a birds-eye view of the city. If there is anything more you want to know, you must ask. In case anybody should ask the question, you may say, that there were taken with Mobile upwards of thirty-five thousand bales of cotton, over a million bushels of corn, twenty thousand bushels of wheat, and large stores of tobacco. I don't think that mother, for some time hereafter, will be compelled to give a dollar a yard for domestics and double the price for calico. You must all have new dresses. I am glad to get back from Mobile to my little island. There the weather was warm and the air close and heavy, here I have always a delicious sea breeze. It is very cool and pleasant. I have a fine hard beach as level as your parlor floor, upon which I can ride for twenty miles and see the great ocean with its mighty pulses break at my feet. I have a little fleet of boats; one, a beautiful steamer called the Laura, that had been built by the rebels as a blockade runner, as quick as lightning and elegantly fitted up, was sunk a day or two since by running on to a pile. I am now having her raised again. I have also a beautiful little yacht, a light sailboat rigged as a sloop with one mast bowsprit and jib. She sails beautifully on the wind; is large enough to carry half a dozen very well. I have just had her elegantly painted, and one of my officers is to-day manufacturing a streamer for her. She has been called the Vivian, but I am going to change her name and rechristen her the Bessie and Belle. When I get a little more leisure I shall sail in her down to the coral reefs and fish for pompino, sheepsheads and poissons rouge. Oysters now are going out of season. I am told they eat them here all the year round, but to my notion they are becoming milky. I shall now take to crabs and fish. I have been keeping Lent admirably.

You say you hope “peace will be declared.” I should be glad, my dear daughter, to see your hopes fulfilled; but peace will be long coming to our country and papa; it would do to dream and talk of, but the snake is only scotched, not killed. Our hope may rest on a foreign war, and to-day I could unite many of our enemies to march with us under the folds of our own starry banner to fight the swarthy Mexicans or the dull, cold Englishman, but without this event we must fight on among ourselves for many a year to come. God grant our jubilee may not have rung out too soon. How long will it take the North to learn the South? But these are questions, my dear daughter, not for your consideration, yet, at least. Study your books, my child, and learn to love God and keep his commandments, and when you pray, pray first for wisdom and then for strength, and if you want your prayers answered, study your books and go about much in the open air.

I send you some lines you may put away in your scrapbook and when you get to be an old lady like grandma, and have your own grandchildren on your knee, one day you may get out the old battered book and read to them what your father sent you from the war.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 387-91

Diary of Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, September 5, 1863

No news of importance. The weather continues hot and sultry. Many more of the sick are being sent home on furloughs or taken to hospitals. Although half of our number are sick with the chills and fever, yet a kind Providence has certainly favored the soldiers of the Union armies in this region; for though in past years it was a common thing for the people here to have a siege of cholera or yellow fever, we have thus far been spared such a scourge.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 141