May 12

       We are now in a great state of excitement, all the low country getting into the upper country. Flying from our Ruthless foes, we expect an attack and people are leaving their houses and families[,] servants and furniture, crowding up to the Rail Road. The upper districts are crowded with this unusual population and food is not abundant or cheap. The people in many instances take advantage of this state of things and put a great price on their houses refusing to rent but choosing to sell. Papa came from the country in wretched health and after remaining with us 3 weeks went with Mrs Butler to Spartanburg and there intend spending the summer. We have since heard of all his Bonyhab negroes going off and some of the Mount Hope. I expect they will all go. He is very weak and can hardly stand this state of things.—

       Mr Grimball went to Darlington to look for a place to put his negroes and to stay himself but saw nothing very satisfactory. A farm of 150 acres 15 miles from the Rail Road and a house in the sand hill near Darlington Court House.—He then went to Aiken and could not get fixed there it seemed too near the enemy.—We are now trying in Spartanburg, the last thing proposed was to take with Mrs Barnwell the Cherokee Springs for 1 thousand dollars for a year, Mrs B. paying 500. & we paying 500. Mrs Wilkins dividing our part with us. Mr Grimball went up to arrange it if possible. I do not feel at all certain about it for he might now refuse to rent it to us for that sum.—

       The Town is nearly deserted by the Inhabitants, there are some soldiers in it and the poor creatures will soon suffer from the effects of the climate, people look forward to a terrible summer. I feel perfectly dispondent at times but there is no use in that we must bear it as well as we can. Since the Fall of New Orleans and the Giving up of Nolfork I expect to hear of all sorts of dreadful things and it will be only necessary for the Gun boats to come here to have them take possession of the Town.—La!

Steamer Knickerbocker.

If my letter smells of “Yellow B.” sugar, it has a right to, as my paper is the cover of the sugar-box. Since I last wrote I have been jumping round from boat to boat, and Saturday came on board the Knickerbocker at Mr. Olmsted’s request, with Mrs. Strong and some others, to put things in order, and, privately, to be on hand to “hold” the boat, which had been made over to the Commission, over the heads of the New Jersey delegation. Dr. Asch was on board, and we had the New Jersey dinner table abolished and 56 Sanitary Commission beds made on the dining-room floor that night. The 200 wounded and sick brought down to Fortress Monroe under our care were transferred to the shore hospital, where we stole some roses for our patients on the Small. Saw regiments embarking for Norfolk, which surrendered the next day. Saw Mr. Lincoln driving past to take possession of Norfolk; and by Tuesday had the boat all in order again, with the single exception of a special-diet cooking-stove. So we went ashore at Gloster Point and ransacked all the abandoned rebel huts to find one, coming down finally upon the sutler of the “Enfants Perdus,” who was cooking something nice for the officers’ mess over a stove with four places for pots. This was too much to stand; so under a written authority given to “Dr. Olmsted” by the quartermaster of this department, we proceeded to rake out the sutler’s fire and lift off his pots, and he offered us his cart and mule to drag the stove to the boat and would take no pay! So through the wretched town filled with the debris of huts and camp furniture, old blankets, dirty cast-off clothing, smashed gun-carriages, exploded guns, vermin and filth everywhere, and along the sandy shore covered with cannon-balls, we followed the mule,–a triumphant procession, waving our broken bits of stovepipe and iron pot-covers. I left a polite message for the Colonel “Perdu,” which had to stand him in place of his lost dinner. I shall never understand what was the matter with that sutler, whose self-sacrifice was to secure some three hundred men their meals promptly.

We set up our stove in the Knickerbocker, unpacked tins and clothing, filled a linen-closet in each ward, made up beds for three hundred, set the kitchen in order, and arranged a black hole with a lock to it, where oranges, brandy and wine are stored box upon box; and got back to Yorktown to find everybody at work fitting up the “Spaulding.” I have a daily struggle with the darkeys in the kitchen, who protest against everything. About twenty men are fed from one pail of soup, and five from a loaf of bread, unless they are almost well, and then no amount of food is enough.

One gets toughened on one’s fourth hospital ship and now I could stop at nothing; but it is amusing to see the different ways taken to discover the same thing. Dr. McC.: “Well-my-dear-fellow-is-anything-the-matter-with-your-bowels-do-your-ears-ring-what-’s-your-name?” Dr. A.: “Turn over my friend, have you got the diaree?” Dr. A. was in a state of indignation with Miss Dix in the shore hospital at Yorktown. She has peculiar views on diet, not approving of meat, and treating all to arrowroot and farina, and by no means allowing crackers with gruel. “Them does not go with this,” as Dr. A. gracefully puts the words into Miss Dix’s mouth.

May 12th.–Mr. Chesnut says he is very glad he went to town. Everything in Charleston is so much more satisfactory than it is reported. Troops are in good spirits. It will take a lot of iron-clads to take that city.

Isaac Hayne said at dinner yesterday that both Beauregard and the President had a great opinion of Mr. Chesnut’s natural ability for strategy and military evolution. Hon. Mr. Barnwell concurred; that is, Mr. Barnwell had been told so by the President. “Then why did not the President offer me something better than an aideship?” “I heard he offered to make you a general last year, and you said you could not go over other men’s shoulders until you had earned promotion. You are too hard to please.” “No, not exactly that, I was only offered a colonelcy, and Mr. Barnwell persuaded me to stick to the Senate; then he wanted my place, and between the two stools I fell to the ground.”

My Molly will forget Lige and her babies, too. I asked her who sent me that beautiful bouquet I found on my center-table. “I give it to you. ‘Twas give to me.” And Molly was all wriggle, giggle, blush.

12th.–No move to-day. Still encamped near West Point. Selected out our men disabled by sickness, and sent them off to general hospital. This is usually the precurser of active work. The crisis approaches. Let it come.

Corinth and Hamburg Road, Miss., May 11, 1862.

You remember that in my last I spoke of a reconnoisance our people made on the 8th inst. On the 9th Beauregard returned it with interest, driving our advance back some two miles and almost scaring this wing of the Eagle. He appeared on our left flank, where I think Pope thought it impossible for him to reach, and drove Paine’s division from the front like a drove of sheep. Tis said that a charge made by the 2d Iowa Cavalry was the salvation of both of Paine’s brigades. The charge, if we hear correctly, was one of the most gallant things of the war. One of our battalions was out yesterday examining our left to see if the Rebels were still there. They found no signs of them, but on their return to camp were fired into by some of General Buford’s artillery, and one man killed by a 6-pound solid shot from Company A. There is almost incessant firing along the front but too light and scattering to forbode an immediate fight of itself, although ‘twould surprise no one to hear of the dance commencing at any hour. Corinth is a tremendously strong place, very [continue reading…]

MAY 11th.—The Baltimore detectives are the lords of the ascendant. They crook a finger, and the best carriages in the street pause, turn round, and are subject to their will. They loll and roll in glory. And they ride on horseback, too—government horses, or horses pressed from gentlemen’s stables. One word of remonstrance, and the poor victim is sent to Castle Godwin.

Sunday, 11th–The Iowa Brigade moved two miles to the right, nearer to Corinth, and some of our boys came in upon the rebel pickets. We established another camp—camp number 6. The Eleventh Iowa was relieved from picket duty this evening.

May 11th.

I –I am disgusted with myself. No unusual thing, but I am peculiarly disgusted this time. Last evening, I went to Mrs. Brunot’s, without an idea of going beyond, with my flag flying again. They were all going to the State House, so I went with them; to my great distress, some fifteen or twenty Federal officers were standing on the first terrace, stared at like wild beasts by the curious crowd. I had not expected to meet them, and felt a painful conviction that I was unnecessarily attracting attention, by an unladylike display of defiance, from the crowd gathered there. But what was I to do? I felt humiliated, conspicuous, everything that is painful and disagreeable; but – strike my colors in the face of the enemy? Never! Nettie and Sophie had them, too, but that was no consolation for the shame I suffered by such a display so totally distasteful to me. How I wished myself away, and chafed at my folly, and hated myself for being there, and every one for seeing me. I hope it will be a lesson to me always to remember a lady can gain nothing by such display.

I was not ashamed of the flag of my country, – I proved that by never attempting to remove it in spite of my mortification, – but [continue reading…]

11th. Sunday. Issued rations, slept and read Independent. Wrote to Fannie Andrews.

May 11th.—Slept on floor; thought it a pretty hard bed, but guess we will have to get used to such. Took train at 2 A. M.; arrived at Knoxville, A. M. Went out to where some sick are staying in camp; drew guns, knapsacks, etc. Well, here comes trouble! Don’t think this concern will hold all my clothes, but howsomever, I will do the best I can. Reckon I will have to leave my box. Good-bye, boquets, etc. Guess I can’t carry you round on my back. What would they think if they knew I had thrown these away? but, dear me, and them, too, I can’t carry everything. Packed up at last; contents of my knapsack considerable, if not more; holds more than I thought.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

Mr. Bogey.

May 11. This place is what is called a turpentine plantation, where they get the pitch from which turpentine is distilled. The owner, Mr. Bogey, a harmless, inoffensive old gentleman, claims to be a Union man, and I reckon he is, because he does not run away or seem to be afraid of us. He tells me he owns 2000 acres of land, nearly all turpentine forest, and has 10,000 trees running pitch. He said the war had ruined him and thinks it has the whole south. He said the rebels had taken all but one of his horses and about everything else he had that they wanted. His niggers had all left him and gone down town. He expected that when we came, but cared very little about it, as he had only a few and they were about as much trouble and expense to him as they were worth. He said he was getting old, his business was all broke up and by the time the war was over and things settled he would be too old for anything. I asked him if all those pigs running about in the woods were his. He reckoned they were. I inquired if he knew how many he had. He couldn’t tell exactly, but reckoned there was right smart. The thought occurred to me that if that was as near as he could tell, if a few of them were gobbled they would never be missed, provided the squeal could be shut off quick enough. I learn that Gen. Burnside has given [continue reading…]

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Open Content Program
Title: [William C. Bartlett, Civil War soldier]
Artist/Maker: Charles DeForest Fredricks (American, 1823 – 1894)
Culture: American
Date: 1862
Medium: Albumen silver print
Object Number: 84.XD.1157.2130

___________
Mike’s notes:

Note – This image has been digitally adjusted for one or more of the following:
– fade correction,
– color, contrast, and/or saturation enhancement
– selected spot and/or scratch removal
– cropped for composition and/or to accentuate subject

11th.–No move to-day. Nothing of importance transpiring. Atmosphere filled with all kinds of rumors of battles, but nothing authentic. We are in a beautiful country, and about thirty miles from Richmond. I am not surprised at the enemy having made a point at Warwick Creek. It separates the most God-forsaken, from the most Godly favored country. From Newport News to Warwick is truly forbidding; but on crossing that stream we strike into a country the natural advantages of which are extremely inviting; but still the same antiquated appearance of the improvements prevails, and there are no evidences of thrift or economy. We are having warm days, but the nights are cool and invigorating.

MAY 10th.—The President’s family have departed for Raleigh, and the families of most of the cabinet to their respective homes, or other places of refuge. The President has been baptized (at home) and privately confirmed in St. Paul’s Church.

Saturday, 10th–The Eleventh Iowa went out today to reinforce pickets again. Our cavalry had quite a skirmish with the rebel pickets out on the flanks while driving them in.

May 10th.

Last night about one o’clock I was wakened and told that mother and Miriam had come. Oh, how glad I was! I tumbled out of bed half asleep and hugged Miriam in a dream, but waked up when I got to mother. They came up under a flag of truce, on a boat going up for provisions, which, by the way, was brought to by half a dozen Yankee ships in succession, with a threat to send a broadside into her if she did not stop – the wretches knew it must be under a flag of truce; no boats leave, except by special order to procure provisions.

What tales they had to tell! They were on the wharf, and saw the ships sail up the river, saw the broadside fired into Will Pinckney’s regiment, the boats we fired, our gunboats, floating down to meet them all wrapped in flames; twenty thousand bales of cotton blazing in a single pile; molasses and sugar thrown over everything. They stood there opposite to where one of the ships landed, expecting a broadside, and resolute not to be shot in the back. I wish I had been there! And Captain Huger is not dead! They had hopes of his life for the first time day before yesterday. Miriam saw the ball that had just been extracted. He will probably be lame for the rest of his life. It will be a glory to him. For even the Federal officers say that never did they see so gallant a little ship, or one that fought so desperately as the McRae. Men and officers fought like devils. Think of all those great leviathans after the poor little “Widow Mickey”! One came tearing down on her sideways, while [continue reading…]

10th. Saturday. Boys broke into P. O. and a store. Major was very angry and arrested Lt. Lockwood there and made three boys walk to Carthage. Boys were mad. This morning I was sick of service or rather longed to get into some other department. Spencer, Archie and I went ahead and got a good dinner at Mr. Hammond’s–old secesh. Found an old gun, which we carried through. Reached Carthage before dusk. Letter and papers from home. Learned that the day before, Co. “I” while out foraging met a squad of rebel soldiers. One was killed, two wounded and three taken prisoners. Next day Sergt. Smith was released on parole to get an exchange of three of Jockman’s men for them.

May 10th.—Bid farewell to friends and home; took train at Ringgold, Ga., at 2 P. M. Arrived at Chattanooga, 6 o’clock; remained in car-shed until 2 A. M.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

May 10th, 1862.—There are rumors that McClellan has been removed from Richmond and McDowell appointed instead. With this new commander we may expect more fighting. “A new broom sweeps clean,” they say. Sister Mag has made up her mind to go to the front where she can be at hand if Brother Amos should be wounded. This dreadful waiting, waiting, has almost broken her heart. In June she will take her children, Eddie and the baby girl, whom her father has never seen, and go to Richmond. Sister Mart will accompany her and, of course, there are nurses for both babies. The whole neighborhood is interested and is busy embroidering pretty things for the children. No other trimming to be had in this blockaded country. But that is the least of all the inconveniences.

The book-keeper is getting on quite well with the work and Mrs. Ansell is a really cultivated woman, she comes to every meeting of the Sewing Society and seems as patriotic as the rest. Her little son sticks to me like a burr.

Susan Bradford is 16 years old when this entry was made.

“Ocean Queen.”

It seems a strange thing that the sight of such misery should be accepted by us all so quietly as it was. We were simply eyes and hands for those three days. Strong men were dying about us; in nearly every ward some one was going. Yesterday one of the students called me to go with him and say whether I had taken the name of a dead man in the forward cabin the day he came in. He was a strong, handsome fellow, raving mad when brought in, and lying now, the day after, with pink cheeks and peaceful look. I had tried to get his name, and once he seemed to understand and screeched out at the top of his voice, John H. Miller, but whether it was his own name or that of some friend he wanted, I don’t know. All the record I had of him was from my diet-list, “Miller, forward cabin, port side, No. 119, beef tea and punch.”

Last night Dr. Ware came to me to know how much floor-room we had. The immense saloon of the after-cabin was filled with mattresses so thickly placed that there was hardly stepping room between them, and as I swung my lantern along the row of pale faces, it showed me another strong man dead. E. had been working hard over him, but it was useless. He opened his eyes when she called “Henry” clearly in his ear, and gave her a chance to pour brandy down his throat, but he died quietly while she was helping some one else. We are changed by all this contact with terror, else how could I deliberately turn my lantern on his face and say to the Doctor behind me, “Is that man dead?” and stand coolly, while he listened and examined and pronounced him dead. I could not have quietly said, a year ago, “That will make one more bed, Doctor.” Sick men were waiting on deck in the cold though, and every few feet of cabin floor were precious; so they took the dead man out and put him to sleep in his coffin on deck. We had to climb over another soldier lying up there, quiet as he, to get at the blankets to keep the living warm.

Abby Howland Woolsey to Georgy and Eliza.

8 Brevoort Place, Saturday.

My Dear Girls: How little we know where you are and what worlds of work you are doing. It is hard to keep still, I know, where so much ought to be done. . . Yesterday Charley and the Webster were to sail and we had a carriage and all went down with the traps–box of brandy, trunk of towels, etc., bundle of air-beds, bundle of fans, and a basket with a few eatables–some fresh eggs which had just arrived from Fishkill, and three or four bottles of ale, which I hope Eliza will drink; she sometimes used to take a glass of it at home. As for Georgy, I do not expect to have her take anything of that sort, after what mother tells me of the fate of the boxes of claret you took to Washington. One box was still unopened, and, so far as she knew, Georgy had never touched a drop. . . . We found Mrs. Trotter on board. The other ladies soon came –Mrs. Griffin, Miss Katharine P. Wormeley, Mrs. Blatchford and Mrs. H. J. Raymond. . . .

The vessel is a fifth-rate bed-buggy concern, I should say, and the hold where the men were put seemed miserable in spite of your pains, but for which it would have been very forlorn. Charley was so busy running hither and thither that we hadn’t much chance at him. I was sorry we had not packed a great hamper of cooked food for him and Mrs. Trotter. Another time we will do better. They expect to be back by Wednesday with as many sick as they can carry, and judging from the number they brought packed on the Ocean Queen, they will stow them with deadly closeness. We saw Dr. Grymes and liked his looks and manner. He startled us by telling us that the Ocean Queen was coming up the bay with over a thousand sick, four hundred typhoid cases. Couldn’t do without you, he said; “only ladies down there to come –of course they are on board.” Mrs. Griffin, too, was convinced of it and sent back by us a big bundle of tins she had bought for Georgy. We left the Webster at four, when they were to sail at any moment, and drove down to the pier where they said the Ocean Queen was to lie. She was not due till six, so we came home. What with the news from West Point, Va., without details, and with the idea that you were the only women on the Ocean Queen to see after the nurses and the sick, and Charley’s departure, we were sufficiently sobered and excited, a compound of both. This morning Uncle Edward reports us the Herald’s news from West Point, that it was only a skirmish and that the loss of the 16th was two killed, beside wounded. . . . At ten o’clock Dr. Buck landed on the Ocean Queen, came up to his house and sent us word that you were not on board. This morning he has been in for a moment, and says you were indefatigable and indispensable at the front; far more useful in staying than in coming up, that he didn’t know where you went when you left the Ocean Queen, but that you were “all right” with Mr. Olmsted somewhere, and taken care of. . . . Eleven hundred, Dr. Buck said, came on the Ocean Queen. So many of them are virulent fever cases, men who must die, that there is great perplexity what to do with them. The City Hospital, North building, is fast filling up, and the air is so infectious that Mrs. Buck thinks it unsafe to enter it. The Commissioners propose that these new cases should go to Ward’s Island. The government barracks on Bedloe’s and Riker’s Islands won’t be ready for some days, and I dread having the Daniel Webster or some other transport bring a thousand more before these have been decently housed. . . . Mother has driven out to Astoria with Uncle E. Carry has gone to Park Barracks with flowers and cologne sent from Astoria, and Jane is at the City Hospital with oranges for fever men. She goes into the fever ward, considering it duty, and undertakes too much for her nerves, but you needn’t tell her so. Carry and I are going this afternoon to see a “Mr. Woolsey,” who was sent to St. Luke’s, sick of fever.

10th.–Another march of fifteen miles to-day. Have seen nothing of the enemy. We hear that General Franklin remained twenty-four hours at West Point before disembarking his troops, permitting the enemy to pass, and then attacking them in the rear! Has delay and procrastination become a chronic disease with our Generals? I hope he will be able to give a satisfactory reason for his course. It begins to look as if, when this Army of the Potomac can find no apology for digging, it will hunt up other excuses for delay.

I have had to ride in an ambulance to-day, in consequence of lameness from the bite of the horse yesterday.

MAY 9th.—My family, excepting my son Custis, started to-day for Raleigh, N. C., where our youngest daughter is at school. But it is in reality another flight from the enemy. No one, scarcely, supposes that Richmond will be defended. But it must be!

Friday, 9th–We heard some very heavy firing off to the left towards Farmington. General Pope was compelled to fall back from Farmington, but has again taken the town.