Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: November 19, 1861

To-day Monsieur Paul, French Consul, applied in person for passports on behalf, I believe, of some French players (Zouaves) to Norfolk. Of course I declined granting them. He grew enthusiastic, and alleged that British subjects had enjoyed the privilege. He said he cared nothing for the parties applying in this instance; but he argued vehemently against British subjects being favored over French subjects. I sent a note concerning our interview to the Secretary; and while Monsieur Paul still sat in the office, the following reply came in from the Secretary: “All you need do is to say to the French Consul, when he calls, that you obey your instructions, and have no authority to discuss with him the rights of French subjects. J. P. B.” Monsieur Paul departed with “a flea in his ear.” But he received an invitation to dine with the Secretary to-day.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 94

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: November 20, 1861

I had a protracted and interesting interview to-day with a gaudily dressed and rather diminutive lieutenant, who applied for a passport to the Mississippi River, via Chattanooga, and insisted upon my giving him transportation also. This demand led to interrogatories, and it appeared that he was not going under special orders of the adjutant-general. It was unusual for officers, on leave, to apply for transportation, and my curiosity was excited. I asked to see his furlough. This was refused; but he told me to what company he belonged, and I knew there was such a company in Bishop or Gen. Polk's command. Finally he escaped further interrogatories by snatching up the passport I had signed and departing hastily. But instead of the usual military salute at parting, he courtesied. This, when I reflected on the fineness of his speech, the fullness of his breast, his attitudes and his short steps, led me to believe the person was a woman instead of a lieutenant. Gen. Winder coming in shortly after, upon hearing my description of the stranger, said he would ascertain all about the sex.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 94

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: February 20, 1864

Mrs. Preston was offended by the story of Buck's performance at the Ive's. General Breckinridge told her “it was the most beautifully unconscious act he ever saw.'” The General was leaning against the wall, Buck standing guard by him “on her two feet.” The crowd surged that way, and she held out her arm to protect him from the rush. After they had all passed she handed him his crutches, and they, too, moved slowly away. Mrs. Davis said: “Any woman in Richmond would have done the same joyfully, but few could do it so gracefully. Buck is made so conspicuous by her beauty, whatever she does can not fail to attract attention.'”

Johnny stayed at home only one day; then went to his plantation, got several thousand Confederate dollars, and in the afternoon drove out with Mrs. K–––. At the Bee Store he spent a thousand of his money; bought us gloves and linen. Well, one can do without gloves, but linen is next to life itself.

Yesterday the President walked home from church with me. He said he was so glad to see my husband at church; had never seen him there before; remarked on how well he looked, etc. I replied that he looked so well “because you have never before seen him in the part of ‘the right man in the right place.’” My husband has no fancy for being planted in pews, but he is utterly Christian in his creed.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 291-2

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: February 23, 1864

At the President's, where General Lee breakfasted, a man named Phelan told General Lee all he ought to do; planned a campaign for him. General Lee smiled blandly the while, though he did permit himself a mild sneer at the wise civilians in Congress who refrained from trying the battle-field in person, but from afar dictated the movements of armies. My husband said that, to his amazement, General Lee came into his room at the Executive Office to “pay his respects and have a talk.” “Dear me! Goodness gracious!” said I. “That was a compliment from the head of the army, the very first man in the world, we Confederates think.”

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 292

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: February 24, 1864

Friends came to make taffy and stayed the livelong day. They played cards. One man, a soldier, had only two teeth left in front and they lapped across each other. On account of the condition of his mouth, he had maintained a dignified sobriety of aspect, though he told some funny stories. Finally a story was too much for him, and he grinned from ear to ear. Maggie gazed, and then called out as the negro fiddlers call out dancing figures, “Forward two and cross over!” Fancy our faces. The hero of the two teeth, relapsing into a decorous arrangement of mouth, said: “Cavalry are the eyes of an army; they bring the news; the artillery are the boys to make a noise; but the infantry do the fighting, and a general or so gets all the glory.”

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 292

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: January 23, 1863

The gentlemen had their friend, General Lovell, to spend last night with them. I was sorry not to be able to see more of him, as I was too sick to remain in the parlour, having been occupied night and day with my dear B., who has been again very dangerously ill, with erysipelas in his wound. We are troubled about our son J., who has just been ordered to North Carolina; but we have no right to complain, as his health is good, and his position has hitherto been very pleasant.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 186-7

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: January 31, 1863

We are in statu quo, and our armies quiet. The Northern army seems to be in commotion. Burnside has resigned, and “fighting Joe Hooker” has been put in his place. Sumner and Franklin have also resigned their “grand divisions.” Pourquoi? Won't the men advance? Perhaps the Stafford mud has been more than a match for them. Burnside had issued but a few days ago an address to his men, saying they were about to “strike the final blow at the rebellion.” All was in readiness, and the “Grand Army” moved forward; just then the “rain descended and the floods came,” and, attempting to cross the Rappahannock ten miles above Fredericksburg, ambulances, wagons, big guns and all stuck in the mud; the order, “To your tents, O Israel,” had to be given, and the “rebellion” still flourishes.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 187

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, July 21, 1861

RICHMOND, July 21st.

No news except that Gen. Johnston has joined Beauregard with a large force. A part of his troops are left still at Winchester, but the greater part are with him. The President went down to-day, but I don't know exactly in what capacity, whether he will command or not.  . . . The troops are pouring in, and a general battle at Manassas is expected very soon. We brought up by one train, upwards of 50 prisoners brought from Winchester, and crowds gathered on the way, at every roadside station, to see “the Yankees.” I was almost sorry for them.

9 o'clock. You will have heard that we have gained a second victory, and a “glorious though a dear bought one,” Mr. Davis telegraphs, at Manassas. Only some of the deaths are known as yet; Lieut. Colonel Johnson of the Hampton Legion and poor Col. Bartow they say are killed; Wade Hampton slightly wounded. All Beauregard's staff are safe. Poor Mrs. Bartow is here, but does not yet know the sad tidings. The enemy they say were in full retreat. All is excitement here and the people seem almost wild.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 73

Diary of Sarah Morgan: June 3, 1862

Baton Rouge. Well! Day before yesterday, I almost vowed I would not return, and last evening I reached here. Verily, consistency, thou art a jewel! I determined to get to town to lay both sides of the question before mother; saving home and property, by remaining, thereby cutting ourselves off forever from the boys and dying of yellow fever; or flying to Mississippi, losing all save our lives. So as Mrs. Brunot was pani c-stricken and determined to die in town rather than be starved at Greenwell, and was going in on the same wagon that came out the night before, I got up with her and Nettie, and left Greenwell at ten yesterday morning, bringing nothing except this old book, which I would rather not lose, as it has been an old and kind friend during these days of trouble. At first, I avoided all mention of political affairs, but now there is nothing else to be thought of; if it is not burnt for treason, I will like to look it over some day — if I live. I left Greenwell, without ever looking around it, beyond one walk to the hotel, so I may say I hardly know what it looks like. Miriam stayed, much against her will, I fear, to bring in our trunks, if I could send a wagon.

A guerrilla picket stopped us before we had gone a mile, and seemed disposed to turn us back. We said we must pass; our all was at stake. They then entreated us not to enter, saying it was not safe. I asked if they meant to burn it; “We will help try it,” was the answer. I begged them to delay the experiment until we could get away. One waved his hat to me and said he would fight for me. Hope he will — at a distance. They asked if we had no protectors; “None,” we said. “Don't go, then”; and they all looked so sorry for us. We said we must; starvation, and another panic awaited us out there, our brothers were fighting, our fathers dead; we had only our own judgment to rely on, and that told us home was the best place for us; if the town must burn, let us burn in our houses, rather than be murdered in the woods. They looked still more sorry, but still begged us not to remain. We would, though, and one young boy called out as we drove off, “What's the name of that young lady who refused the escort?” I told him, and they too expressed the greatest regret that she had not accepted. We met many on the road, nearly all of whom talked to us, and as they were most respectful in their manner (though they saw us in a mule team!), we gave them all the information we could, which was all news to them, though very little. Such a ride in the hot sun, perched up in the air! One of the servants remarked, “Miss Sarah ain't ashamed to ride in a wagon!” With truth I replied, “No, I was never so high before.”

Two miles from home we met the first Federal pickets, and then they grew more numerous, until we came on a large camp near our graveyard, filled with soldiers and cannon. From first to last none refrained from laughing at us; not aloud, but they would grin and be inwardly convulsed with laughter as we passed. One laughed so comically that I dropped my veil hastily for fear he would see me smile. I could not help it; if any one smiled at me while I was dying, I believe I would return it. We passed crowds, for it was now five o'clock, and all seemed to be promenading. There were several officers standing at the corner, near our house, who were very much amused at our vehicle. I did not feel like smiling then. After reducing us to riding in a mule team, they were heartless enough to laugh! I forgot them presently, and gave my whole attention to getting out respectably. Now getting in a wagon is bad enough; but getting out —! I hardly know how I managed it. I had fully three feet to step down before reaching the wheel; once there, the driver picked me up and set me on the pavement. The net I had gathered my hair in, fell in my descent, and my hair swept down halfway between my knee and ankle in one stream. As I turned to get my little bundle, the officers had moved their position to one directly opposite to me, where they could examine me at leisure. Queens used to ride drawn by oxen hundreds of years ago, so I played this was old times, the mules were oxen, I a queen, and stalked off in a style I am satisfied would have imposed on June herself. When I saw them as I turned, they were perfectly quiet; but Nettie says up to that moment they had been in convulsions of laughter, with their handkerchiefs to their faces. It was not polite!

I found mother safe, but the house was in the most horrible confusion. Jimmy's empty cage stood by the door; it had the same effect on me that empty coffins produce on others. Oh, my birdie! At six, I could no longer stand my hunger. I had fasted for twelve hours, with the exception of a mouthful of hoecake at eleven; I that never fasted in my life! — except last Ash Wednesday when Lydia and I tried it for breakfast, and got so sick we were glad to atone for it at dinner. So I got a little piece of bread and corn beef from Mrs. Daigre's servant, for there was not a morsel here, and I did not know where or what to buy. Presently some kind friend sent me a great short-cake, a dish of strawberry preserves, and some butter, which I was grateful for, for the fact that the old negro was giving me part of her supper made me rather sparing, though she cried, “Eat it all, honey! I get plenty more!”

Mother went to Cousin Will's, and I went to Mrs. Brunot's to sleep, and so ended my first day's ride on a mule team. Bah! A lady can make anything respectable by the way she does it! What do I care if I had been driving mules? Better that than walk seventeen miles.

I met Dr. DuChêne and Dr. Castleton twice each, this morning. They were as kind to me as they were to the girls the other day. The latter saved them a disagreeable visit, while here. He and those three were packing some things in the hall, when two officers passed, and prepared to come in, seeing three good-looking girls seemingly alone, for Miriam's dress hid Dr. Castleton as he leaned over the box. Just then she moved, the Doctor raised his head, and the officers started back with an “Ah!” of surprise. The Doctor called them as they turned away, and asked for a pass for the young ladies. They came back bowing and smiling, said they would write one in the house, but they were told very dryly that there were no writing accommodations there. They tried the fascinating, and were much mortified by the coldness they met. Dear me! “Why wasn't I born old and ugly?” Suppose I should unconsciously entrap some magnificent Yankee! What an awful thing it would be!!

Sentinels are stationed at every corner; Dr. Castleton piloted me safely through one expedition; but on the next, we had to part company, and I passed through a crowd of at least fifty, alone. They were playing cards in the ditch, and swearing dreadfully, these pious Yankees; many were marching up and down, some sleeping on the pavement, others — picking odious bugs out of each other's heads! I thought of the guerrillas, yellow fever, and all, and wished they were all safe at home with their mothers and sisters, and we at peace again.

What a day I have had! Here mother and I are alone, not a servant on the lot. We will sleep here to-night, and I know she will be too nervous to let me sleep. The dirt and confusion were extraordinary in the house. I could not stand it, so I applied myself to making it better. I actually swept two whole rooms! I ruined my hands at gardening, so it made no difference. I replaced piles of books, crockery, china, that Miriam had left packed for Greenwell; I discovered I could empty a dirty hearth, dust, move heavy weights, make myself generally useful and dirty, and all this is thanks to the Yankees! Poor me! This time last year I thought I would never walk again! If I am not laid up forever after the fatigue of this last week, I shall always maintain I have a Constitution. But it all seems nothing in this confusion; everything is almost as bad as ever. Besides that, I have been flying around to get Miriam a wagon. I know she is half distracted at being there alone. Mother chose staying with all its evils. Charlie's life would pay the penalty of a cotton burner if he returned, so Lilly remains at Greenwell with him. We three will get on as best we can here. I wrote to the country to get a wagon, sent a pass from Headquarters, but I will never know if it reached her until I see her in town. I hope it will; I would be better satisfied with Miriam.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 57-62

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, October 1, 1864

This afternoon the Third and Fourth Divisions of the Seventeenth Corps started on an expedition toward Fairburn, Georgia, where, it is reported, there is a large force of the rebels. We marched about seven miles and went into bivouac for the night. I received a letter from David Cole of the Twenty-fourth Iowa. His regiment is now in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 218-9

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, September 24, 1864 - 10 a.m.

Newmarket, 10 A. M.

Headquarters Res. Brigade (Sept. 24?).

We have been in Luray Valley and entirely away from communications. I send you a little purple Gerardia, picked for you by General Wilson (whom you don't know, but who must have heard Mr. Dana speak of you): he had just handed it to me, when my unfortunate Adjutant-General was shot right behind us (not fatal, though we feared so for some time), so it has not very pleasant associations. We did capture a battle-flag yesterday, so I'm tolerably satisfied. If you could only look in here for a minute, — it's in the loveliest mountain scenery you can imagine.¹

_______________

¹ General Sheridan had sent Torbert, with most of his cavalry, up the Luray Valley, just before the infantry of General Crook flanked and dislodged Early's army from the mountains at Fisher's Hill. He thus expected to cut off the Confederate retreat, and make an end of that army. In his Life, he expresses great disappointment with Torbert on that occasion, as he was held in check by Wickham's Cavalry until after Early got off with the remains of his force.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 349, 465

Major-General John Sedgwick to his Sister, May 9, 1863

May 9, 1863.

My dear sister:

You have no doubt seen the disastrous termination of our late move. I have not time, and but little inclination, to allude to the matter. I have received nothing but congratulations for the splendid conduct of my corps — except from the General, and he dare not come out boldly and accuse me or my corps of any want of skill in handling, or bad behaviour on the part of the men. I will not attempt to say where the fault lay. It will some day be exposed.

Your affectionate brother,

J. S.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 109

Francis Lieber to Senator Charles Sumner, February 12, 1864

February, 12, 1864.

Yes, my dear Sumner, that vote of which you write me — namely, thirty-one out of thirty-nine for your death-blow to slavery — is wonderful. It amazes and rejoices me. Still, I say we want four, perhaps five, amendments; we want them not by way of theoretic perfection or publicistic symmetry, but for plain common-sense adjustment of the Constitution to the state of things, and by the great behest of history.  . . . You know I am not given to extravagance; on the contrary, I consider the constant tendency of over-doing and over-saying things one of our most developed and least manly characteristics; nevertheless I boldly state that, calmly reflecting and keenly remembering the whole course of human affairs, I cannot bring to my mind any change of opinion, conviction, and feeling, as by an afflatus, equal to the change that has been wrought in the American mind concerning slavery within the last one year. I stand amazed. I, for one, would never have dared to believe it possible that but yesterday a Taney could give his opinion boldly and an Abolitionist was treated like a leprous thing, and that to-day a Winter Davis can declare in Congress that the Constitution of the United States never acknowledged man as property. I rub my eyes, and say, “Where are we?” . . .

SOURCE: Thomas Sergeant Perry, Editor, The Life and Letters of Francis Lieber, p. 341

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Tuesday, January 7, 1862

Snowing scattered flakes. Not more than three inches of snow has fallen. The weather is not cold for the season. Seven companies here now.

Joseph Bean resides nine miles from Boyer's Ferry on the old road between pike and river, five miles from Sewell (Mount) Camp; a Union man. . . . Mr. Bean is on the common errand, justice (possibly, vengeance or plunder) against his Rebel neighbors. Very unreliable stories, these.

The day before Christmas private Harrison Brown, Company B, stole a turkey from a countryman who came in to sell it. I made Brown pay for it fifty cents and sent him to the guardhouse over Christmas. I hated to do it. He is an active, bright soldier, full of sport and lawless, but trusty, brave and strong. He just came in to offer me a quarter of venison, thus “heaping coals of fire on my head.” He probably appreciated my disagreeable duty as well as any one and took no offense.

Lieutenant Avery (Martin P.) and Lieutenant Kennedy are my messmates. Avery is a capital soldier. He joined the regular army as a private, five or six years ago, before he was of age, served a year and a half; joined the Walker expedition to Nicaragua, was in several fights and saw much severe service. He joined a company in Cleveland as a private — was made a second lieutenant and has since been promoted to first and was by me appointed adjutant. He is intelligent, educated, brave, thoroughly trained as a soldier and fit to command a regiment.

Kennedy is of Bellefontaine, an agreeable, gentlemanly youngster, dead in love, reads novels, makes a good aide, in which capacity he is now acting. Took a long walk with Avery in the snow.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 180-1

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: November 17, 1861

There are also quite a number of letter-carriers obtaining special passports to leave the Confederacy. They charge $1.50 postage to Washington and Maryland, and as much coming hither. They take on the average three hundred letters, and bring as many, besides diverse articles they sell at enormously high prices. Thus they realize $1000 per trip, and make two each month. They furnish the press with Northern journals; but they give no valuable information: at least I have not conversed with any who could furnish it. They seem particularly ignorant of the plans and forces of the enemy. It is my belief that they render as much service to the enemy as to us; and they certainly do obtain passports on the other side.

Gen. Winder and his alien detectives seem to be on peculiar terms of intimacy with some of these men; for they tell me they convey letters for them to Maryland, and deliver them to their families. This is an equivocal business. Why did they not bring their families away before the storm burst upon them?

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 93

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: February 17, 1864

Found everything in Main Street twenty per cent dearer. They say it is due to the new currency bill.

I asked my husband: “Is General Johnston ordered to reenforce Polk? They said he did not understand the order.” “After five days' delay,” he replied. “They say Sherman is marching to Mobile.¹ When they once get inside of our armies what is to molest them, unless it be women with broomsticks?” General Johnston writes that “the Governor of Georgia refuses him provisions and the use of his roads.” The Governor of Georgia writes: '”The roads are open to him and in capital condition. I have furnished him abundantly with provisions from time to time, as he desired them.” I suppose both of these letters are placed away side by side in our archives.

_______________

¹ General Polk, commanding about 24,000 men scattered throughout Mississippi and Alabama, found it impossible to check the advance of Sherman at the head of some 40,000, and moved from Meridian south to protect Mobile. February 16, 1864, Sherman took possession of Meridian.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 290-1

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: January 19, 1863

Colonel Bradley Johnson has been with us for some days. He is nephew to Bishop J., and as bright and agreeable in private as he is bold and dashing in the field. Our little cottage has many pleasant visitors, and I think we are as cheerful a family circle as the Confederacy can boast. We are very much occupied by our Sunday-schools — white in the morning, and coloured in the afternoon. In the week we are often busy, like the “cotter's” wife, in making “auld claes look amaist as weel as new.” “New claes” are not attainable at present high prices; we are therefore likely to become very ingenious in fixing up "auld anes.” My friend who lately arrived from Washington looked on very wonderingly when she saw us all ready for church. “Why, how genteel you look!” at last broke from her; “I had no idea of it. We all thought of you as suffering in every respect.” I told her that the Southern women were as ingenious as the men were brave; and while we cared little for dress during such anxious times, yet when our husbands and sons returned from the field we preferred that their homes should be made attractive, and that they should not be pained by the indifferent appearance of their wives, sisters, and mothers. She was still more surprised by the neatly fitting, prettily made dresses of Southern manufacture. “Are they of Virginia cloth?” she asked. No, poor old Virginia has no time or opportunity for improving her manufactures, while almost her whole surface is scarred and furrowed by armies; but Georgia and North Carolina are doing much towards clothing the first ladies in the land. Sister M. has just improved my wardrobe by sending me a black alpaca dress, bought from a Potomac blockade-runner. We, ever and anon, are assisted in that way: sometimes a pound of tea, sometimes a pair of gloves, is snugged away in a friendly pocket, and after many dangers reaches us, and meets a hearty welcome; and what is more important still, medicine is brought in the same way, having escaped the eagle eyes of Federal watchers. A lady in Richmond said laughingly to a friend who was about to make an effort to go to Baltimore, “Bring me a pound of tea and a hoop-skirt;” and after a very short absence he appeared before her, with the tea in one hand and the skirt in the other. It is pleasant to see how cheerfully the girls fall into habits of economy, and occupy themselves in a way of which we never dreamed before.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 185-6

Brigadier-General P. G. T. Beauregard to Louis T. Wigfall, July 8, 1861

manassas Junction, Va.,

July 8th, 1861.

My dear Col.,

I believe we are about to be attacked by the enemy, who has been increasing his forces rapidly in the last few days. He no doubt has at present on this side of the Potomac at least 30,000 men —  and probably as many in or about Washington; and I am informed on good authority, that he is crossing over reinforcements in large numbers every night; so that very shortly we probably will be attacked by about 40,000 men! What do you suppose is my effective force to resist this attack? About 15,000 effective men! How can it be expected that I should be able to maintain my ground, unless reinforced, and that immediately? I am determined to give the enemy battle no matter at what odds against us — but is it right and proper to sacrifice so many valuable lives (and perhaps our cause) without the least prospect of success?

I think not; but I hope that it will delay the forward movement of the enemy, and give our friends time to come to the rescue!

I have applied two or three times for the most essential things required here. To obtain anything with despatch, I have to send a special messenger to Richmond. Is that the way to direct and control the operations of an army in the field? Cannot that evil be remedied? I am sure it could, if properly represented to the President.

I am afraid General Johnston is no better off than I am — but his section of the country is, I believe, more easily defended, being wooded and mountainous.

My troops are in fine spirits and anxious for a fight. They seem to have the most unbounded confidence in me!

Oh! that I had the genius of a Napoleon to be more worthy of our cause and of their confidence! If I can only get the enemy to attack me — as I am trying to have done — I will stake my reputation on the handsomest victory that could be desired.

Yours very truly,

G. T. Beauregard.

col. L. T. Wigfall,

Member of C. S. Congress, Richmond, Va.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 71-2

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

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Friday, September 30, 1864

The weather is quite pleasant. Nothing of any importance. I have made loans to the boys of my company as follows: Samuel Bain, $5.00; John Ford, $5.00; Samuel Metcalf, $5.00; Burtis Rumsey, $3.00; William Green, $3.00, and Monroe Blazer, $1.00. I also loaned $5.00 to John Hemphill of Company I of the Sixteenth Iowa. All loans are to be paid back on next pay day. I paid a debt of $5.00 to Thomas Armstrong. I bought a gold pen from Jason Sparks for $5.00. All is quiet on the post.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 218