March 17th.–To-day our sick, instead of being put into General Hospital, are marched from depot to the camp. McDowell’s Division is ordered back to Arlington Heights. We are sending to Washington for our tents. Our General Smith is building stables, and it looks as if we were again settling down. What does it mean? Is there another change of programme? and are we not to embark after all? Have we discovered the muzzle of another wooden gun, which we must besiege for nine months? Many of the troops begin to question McClellan’s claim to infallibility. I have to regret that I have again failed to prevail on the Governor to interest himself in getting me transferred to another Regiment, where I could be much more useful. The opposition which I meet here from some of my superior officers, is rapidly destroying the interest which I have felt in the Regiment. (At night) a great hurrah and rejoicing in camp, in consequence of an order to prepare, immediately, five days’ rations, and to be ready. This may mean, embark, but our Gen. McC. has so often cried “wolf” of late, that when the wolf does come, we may not be ready. Shall we embark tomorrow?

Sunday March 16th 1862

Has not rained today. A Regt passed this morning with Band playing &c just as people were going to church. Col Dutton had his horse sent down and he left for the Camp (as he said) cured. Col Durkee left early this morning. Col Dutton had an ambrotype of his family, self, wife & five children. I noticed that he was very attentive to it this morning. We think him a very fine warm hearted man. It is probable that he will be called into active service very soon. Maj McCamby of Oswego and Q Master Francis of Bridghampton LI called today, they belong to the 81 NY Regt.

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The three diary manuscript volumes, Washington during the Civil War: The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865, are available online at The Library of Congress.

MARCH 16th.—I omitted to note in its place the gallant feat of Commodore Buchanan with the iron monster Merrimac in Hampton Roads. He destroyed two of the enemy’s best ships of war. My friends, Lieutenants Parker and Minor, partook of the glory, and were severely wounded.

Sunday, 16th–We are still lying on the boats waiting for orders. Two gunboats came down from Pittsburg Landing. The weather is very disagreeable, with rain every day and rather cold besides.

16th. Sunday. Helped clean up in and about the quarters of Co. “H.” Heard the Chaplain preach from “Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he reap.” Used strong language against the drunkenness and profanity of officers especially, and of the men. Spoke of the increase of immorality–sad, but true.

We Attend Church.

March 16. Today, for the first time since we left home, Chaplain James held services in a meeting-house. We occupied the large house of the Presbyterian society, which was well filled with a miscellaneous congregation of soldiers, sailors, citizens and negroes, both men and women. Col. Upton had improvised a choir, and, with the aid of the organ, led the singing. The chaplain preached a very good discourse, and I hardly knew which felt the best, he or the colonel. There are several other meetinghouses here, which are or have been occupied by the Methodist, Baptist, Episcopalian, Catholic and negro societies. It would seem that this people have sometime been a God-fearing people, but since Jeff. Davis inaugurated a new regime, every man has done that which seemed good in his own sight. Hence we are here on this little excursion.

March 16th, 1862.—The entire family wrote to Brother Amos this morning, he will surely find out he has a young daughter. As scarce as paper is Eddie had to have a whole sheet to write his letter on. He looked so in earnest that I asked what he was writing? He said, “I is sayin’, Father come home and wear de beautiful cloes.” He admires the gray and gold as much as the rest of us do.

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

An observation from 2012: The march back to Alexandria was likely on the 15th.   Please see discussion in Ron Baumgarten’s comment below.   – Mike Goad, 3-18-2012¹

Alexandria, 16th.–Received orders last night to march at 4 this A. M. Simultaneously with the receipt of the order came a northeast wind and heavy clouds. The clouding up kept pace with our preparations to march, and such a day of rain I have not witnessed in Virginia. To-night, after a march of twelve miles through mud and rain, the men lie out without shelter, except the little tents debris, which in time of rain are good for nothing. I shudder when I think of them, exposed, after a hard day’s march, to the driving storm. And whilst they are thus exposed, I feel almost guilty that I am in a fine hotel, by a fine coal fire, “comfortable and cozy.” But sickness brought me here. For three nights I have not slept, and last night I had an attack of cholera morbus. This morning, being sick and worn out, I asked permission to return to Vienna, (two and a half miles), and come in by rail. Permission was denied me. Sick or well, I must march, and look after the management of ambulances, and transportation of hospital stores. Arose at three o’clock, working part of time, and the rest cholera-morbus-ing till four. Started with the Brigade, but at Fairfax, for the first time since I entered the army, had to fall out. Went to bed, slept two hours, arose, took a cup of coffee, mounted my horse, and pressing my way through dense masses of the army for five or six miles, overtook the Brigade. When within a few miles of this city I was so sick that I insisted on being permitted to seek lodgings out of the weather, and having received permission, came on here. Have got dry and warm, and am now feeling better. I am gratified to learn to-night that my two poisoned boys are doing well, though it will be a long time before they entirely recover.

When I left Fairfax this morning the scene was grand beyond description. The soldiery, densely filling the road, leading from the town, had been pouring steadily forward for more than two hours. I looked back, and as far as the eye could reach down the two roads coming in, the dense body blocked them in both directions. The three roads presenting a long blue line rendered more striking by the glare of the bayonets, which at a short distance looked like a solid body of glittering steel over the blue bulk below. How far back the lines extended, I could not see, but I pressed forward for six miles, through the dense crowd. Verily, the army is now in motion.

16th.–’Tis Sunday morning. Returned to my regiment this morning; found all quiet. No one yet knows our destination. But from the fact that some forty river steamers await us, we infer that we are not going to sea. A singular fact, worthy of note: On our arrival here to embark, not a steamer had coaled, and there was no coal to take on!!– Why is this? ‘Tis terrible to even suspect that treason may be at work in the very heads of our departments.

1. Comment by Ron Baumgarten, March 16, 2012:
   First off, I wanted to thank you for bringing this diary to my attention. I have been blogging about Camp Griffin for quite some time now, and, thanks for your blog, I was amazed to discover this source, which contains entries related to Castleman’s time in the camp. In fact, I live right near the home that was used as W.S. Hancock’s brigade hospital. Castleman mentions this house at least a few times. This diary is the first mention I have seen of this hospital in primary sources. In any event, recent research I have done on the movement of Baldy Smith’s division to Alexandria from the camp at Flint Hill raises questions about Castleman’s entry for March 16. In fact, Smith’s division appears to have marched from Flint Hill, through Fairfax Court House, to Alexandria starting at around 6 a.m. on March 15, 1862. This March 15 date is confirmed in a variety of sources. (See, for example, Vermont in the Civil War (1886) by Benedict; the Adjutant General’s Report for the State of Wisconsin (1863); OR, 1:5, 55, 755.) The weather and other descriptions in Castleman’s entry for March 16 sound very much like the March 15 movement to Alexandria I recently wrote about. (See http://dclawyeronthecivilwar.blogspot.com/2012/03/mud-march-to-alexandria-mccall-and.html ) The weather actually was pretty clear on March 16, and was stormy on the 15th, as depicted in Castleman’s entry for the 16th. Moreover, Smith’s division moved en masse on the 15th through Fairfax Court House. I think that the “last night . . . at 4 A.M.” that Castleman is referring to may be 4 a.m. on March 15, and that he wrote this entry in the early morning hours of March 16, when he described how “[t]on-night…the men lie without shelter.” In fact, that night of March 15/16 was miserable by all accounts. In any event, this date issue does remind us all of how primary sources, although reliable, sometime raise as many questions as they answer! Thanks again for bringing this source to modern readers’ attention.

15th.—Our army has fallen back to the Rappahannock, thus giving up the splendid Valley and Piedmont country to the enemy. This, I suppose, is right, but it almost breaks our hearts to think of it. Winchester was occupied last Wednesday! Lord, how long shall our enemies prosper? Give us grace to bear our trials.

Saturday Night.—Spent to-day at the hospital. Heard of the shelling of Newbern, N. C., and of its fall. My heart sickens at every acquisition of the Federals. No further news from Arkansas. Yesterday evening I went to see the body of our dear Bishop; cut a piece of his hair; kissed his forehead, and took my last look at that revered face.

Saturday March 15th

The River is full of Steam Boats for transporting troops down the River, probably to “Old Point”. It has rained incessantly and this evening it pours. Col D. is well (he says). We went down to “Browns,” saw Maj Williams, Maj Fletcher & other officers. Col Durkee came in about 8 o’clock and is to stay all night. Our House for the time being seems to be the Head Quarters. Col Dutton is acting Brigadier Genl.

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The three diary manuscript volumes, Washington during the Civil War: The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865, are available online at The Library of Congress.

MARCH 15th.—For several days troops have been pouring through the city, marching down the Peninsula. The enemy are making demonstrations against Yorktown.

Saturday, 15th–It rained all day. It seems so dark and gloomy. We lay on the boats all day, but we are expecting to receive orders to go on up the river. Boats loaded with troops are passing us and going on up to Pittsburg Landing, Tennessee.

March 15th. Went up to the head of the Passes, which is eighteen miles from the mouth. The rumor prevails that we here wait for Capt. Porter’s mortar fleet. This is a dreary place, but somewhat pleasanter than below; where nothing was to be seen but mud, muddy water, and huge fog banks.

March 15th. Wrote to Sarah Felton and was on duty at the commissary.

March 15. The boys came out this morning, looking a little the worse for wear, lame, sore and stiff; but with a good bumper of whiskey to lubricate their stiffened joints, and a little stirring around to take the kinks out of their legs, a good breakfast, hot coffee, etc., they soon resumed their normal condition. There is not much doing today except lying around in quarters or looking over the town. Negroes are coming in by the hundred, and the city is full of soldiers and marines traveling about and having things pretty much their own way. Guards are sent out to patrol the streets and assist Capt. Dan, the provost marshal, in preserving order preparatory to putting on a provost guard and bringing the city under law and order. Some enterprising party has hoisted the old flag on the spire of the church on Pollock street. There let it proudly wave; let it catch the first beams of the morning, and let the last rays of the setting sun linger and play amid its folds; let it gladden the hearts of every lover of liberty and loyalty, and let it be a notice to these deluded and ill-advised people around here, that it will never again give place to their traitorous rag of secession.

March 15th, 1862.—Sister Mag has a daughter, born this morning. Poor little girl. She will, in all probability, never see her father’s face. I do not believe the war is going to end in even ninety days. Sister Mag is very ill tonight and I have Eddie upstairs with me, that he may not disturb his mother. He is as sweet and good as can be. When I told him about his baby sister he said, “Don’t bring her upstairs, let her be Aunt Pat’s baby, I is yours.” I certainly love him.

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

March 14.

One of General Franklin’s aids has been in to say that his Division is now marching into Alexandria and is to embark on Saturday or Sunday, down the Potomac. . . . We went down to Alexandria and took lodgings at Mrs. Dyson’s, on Water street, for over Sunday, and two more wretched or longer days I never passed. Through a drenching storm McDowell’s corps was marched back from Centreville, 35 miles, and arrived at dusk, cold, hungry, wet to the skin, to find no transports ready and no provision made for their shelter or comfort. The city was filled with the wretched men, many crowded into the market stalls and empty churches, others finding shelter in lofts or under sheds and porches, and some, we know, sleeping in the open streets. In the market they had large fires, but with soaking knapsacks, no dry clothing to put on. In one place, the loft of a foundry, where Chaplain Hopkins found shelter for one company, the steam which rushed out as he opened the door was as that of a laundry on washing day. The poor fellows suffered from hunger as well as cold and fatigue, for on Sunday all the stores were closed. Whiskey could be had, which Moritz and G. and H. distributed among tired and wet volunteers on cellar doors. Some of them actually begged for bread or offered to sell their rings and trinkets for food. It was a wretched and heart-sickening day and shook our confidence in McClellan or McDowell, or whoever the responsible person may be. We sent Moritz up to Washington for a half barrel of socks Aunt E. had just sent on and took them to the churches where the soldiers were quartered, and distributed them among the eager and grateful men. The men were lying on the benches and floors, and in the baptistry of the “Beulah Particular Baptist” and the Presbyterian secesh churches, and we stumbled about, holding the end of a candle for light, distributing socks. All ours were soon gone, and Chaplain Hopkins went back to the hospital, and telling the steward to protest, so that he might be shielded from blame, deliberately took ten dozen pairs from the store-closet and distributed them. The two long useless marches with nothing accomplished, no shelter and no food, have shaken the unbounded faith in McClellan. Congress has been debating a bill displacing him; the Star says it was withdrawn to-day. Our soldier, Joe, and the 16th, were not in that wretched plight but were kept in bivouac out of the town. Joe took final command of the regiment that Sunday morning.

March 15th.–When we came home from Richmond, there stood Warren Nelson, propped up against my door, lazily waiting for me, the handsome creature. He said he meant to be heard, so I walked back with him to the drawing-room. They are wasting their time dancing attendance on me. I can not help them. Let them shoulder their musket and go to the wars like men.

After tea came “Mars Kit”–he said for a talk, but that Mr. Preston would not let him have, for Mr. Preston had arrived some time before him. Mr. Preston said “Mars Kit” thought it “bad form” to laugh. After that you may be sure a laugh from “Mars Kit” was secured. Again and again, he was forced to laugh with a will. I reversed Oliver Wendell Holmes’s good resolution–never to be as funny as he could. I did my very utmost.

Mr. Venable interrupted the fun, which was fast and furious, with the very best of bad news! Newbern shelled and burned, cotton, turpentine–everything. There were 5,000 North Carolinians in the fray, 12,000 Yankees. Now there stands Goldsboro. One more step and we are cut in two. The railroad is our backbone, like the Blue Ridge and the Alleghanies, with which it runs parallel. So many discomforts, no wonder we are down-hearted.

Mr. Venable thinks as we do–Garnett is our most thorough scholar; Lamar the most original, and the cleverest of our men–L. Q. C. Lamar–time fails me to write all his name. Then, there is R. M. T. Hunter. Muscoe Russell Garnett and his Northern wife: that match was made at my house in Washington when Garnett was a member of the United States Congress.

Vienna, March 15th.–Did not lie down last night, but worked in separating and disposing of my sick. Most of them I have brought to this place to embark such as cannot march to Alexandria, by rail. The Brigade did not meet me here, as I expected, and I got to it at Flint Hill (where I left it) last night. I cannot look upon our possession of this place and the railroad without deeply feeling how much we have been outwitted. Here we have been held still with 150,000 to 200,000 men, since July last, by a little village mounting wooden guns. Poor McClellan, I fear a wooden gun will be the death of him yet, though his failure here may be attributable to the interference of others. I will not hastily condemn him.

March 14th.—Our beloved Bishop Meade is dead! His spirit returned to the God who gave, redeemed, and sanctified it, this morning about seven o’clock. The Church in Virginia mourns in sackcloth for her great earthly head. We knew that he must die, but this morning, when we had assembled for early prayers, it was announced to us from the pulpit, a thrill of anguish pervaded the congregation, which was evident from the death-like stillness. A hymn was read, but who could then sing? A subdued effort was at last made, and the services proceeded. Like bereaved children we mingled our prayers and tears, and on receiving the benediction, we went silently out, as in the pressure of some great public calamity, and some bitter, heartfelt sorrow. Thus, just one week after the solemn public services in which he had been engaged, it pleased Almighty God to remove him from his work on earth to his rest in heaven. During his last illness, though often suffering intensely, he never forgot his interest in public affairs. The blessed Bible was first read to him, each morning, and then the news of the day. He had an eye for every thing; every movement of Government, every march of the troops, the aspect of Europe, and the Northern States, every thing civil and military, and all that belonged to God’s Church upon earth—dying as he had lived, true to Virginia, true to the South, true to the Church, and true to the Lord his God.

Friday March 14th

Col Dutton is better today. Lieut Col Durkee and nearly all the officers of the Regt have been here to see the Col. The Regt has rcd marching orders and the Col is very uneasy. Mr Short called on me today. He is going down to Fortress Monroe, an attack is to be made upon Norfolk it is supposed. Troops are returning from Virginia to embark down the River.

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The three diary manuscript volumes, Washington during the Civil War: The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865, are available online at The Library of Congress.

MARCH 14th.—The Provost Marshal, Col. Porter, has had new passports printed, to which his own name is to be appended. I am requested to sign it for him, and to instruct the clerks generally.

Friday, 14th–We left Fort Henry at dark last night, going on up the river, and arrived at Savannah, Tennessee, this afternoon. The river seems to be lined with transports loaded with troops going up-stream. There are two gunboats in our fleet, also two tugboats and several barges.