8th [March]
Mr Grimball & W came down yesterday with the people remaining, they are lodged in the Jail or work house.
My poor husband finds himself terribly tired by his situation & I really think without God’s mercy he would sink entirely under it.
Mr James Rose the President of the Rail Road Bank told Papa I might draw on his bank for the sum which is due to me and Papa must write to Harry to deposit the Money in the Bank of England. This was another unexpected kindness.
March 8th, 1862.—I do not like Dr. Cleveland. I wonder how much longer he is going to stay? This morning while we were sitting at the breakfast table he was contending with Mother about the “sweet-briar.” It seems he has spent much time in England, perhaps he is an Englishman, but he insists that there has never been any “sweet briar,” or as he says, any “true Eglantine” in America. I think it is rude of him to be so positive with Mother, but Father says, “all scientific men love to dispute with the laity.” At last, when we were rising from the table Mother said, “Sue, show Dr. Cleveland the sweet briar by the school room.”
We went down the walk to the frame where it grew and I pointed it out to him. Now this happened to be the very tangle of vines into which I threw my algebra, on that memorable day when Miss Darner made me pick it up. The vines are all thorns and they scratched me dreadfully. Dr. Cleveland inspected the vine, pinched a leaf, smelled it, sniffing loudly and then he said, “This is the true Eglantine.”
“Mother told you it was,” I replied.
He took from his pocket a small sketch-book and pencil and proceeded to make a picture of it, not a finished drawing but just a sketch. He replaced the book and pencil in his pocket and, trying to speak very pleasantly, he said: “When I get to my drawing materials I shall make and send you a pretty picture of this Eglantine, it is very rare.”
“Do not trouble to do that, please, I have no pleasant associations with that thorny tangle,” I answered, and we returned to the house.
The mail had arrived in our absence and the family were gathered around the library table; aunt Robinson handed me a letter from Brother Junius, saying as she did so, “Here is another birthday gift for you.”
Dr. Cleveland, who was apologizing awkwardly to Mother for contradicting her so flatly as to the sweet briar, turned to Father and asked, “Her birthday, is it, how old?” “Sixteen,” said Father. “Indeed—” went on the talkative man of science, “I should never have imagined it—there is none of the `beaute du diable,’ which we naturally associate with that age.” “No,” said Father, “and I am glad of it, I do not want my baby to grow up too fast.”
Then the whole crowd proceeded to discuss me as calmly as if I had been one of my own dolls. It was embarrassing but I found out what they thought of me. Among other things, I learned that I was bluntly truthful and would have to learn that Madam de Geniis’ “Palace of Truth” was not practical and a white lie could sometimes be used to advantage. Mother’s constant teaching of the Ten Commandments will, I think, make even white lies difficult for me, though I do try to be polite.
I had some pretty presents even if it is war times, and I got a nice letter from Brother Junius, written two days ago so I would get it today. Brother Amos is here and Sister Mag is happy, we are too, for all love our jolly soldier boy, he has been at home for ten days and he has only two weeks furlough. It will be hard for Sister Mag to let him go.
There is something I have never told you, my Diary; ever since that day in August of last year, when we went to the depot to see the Howell Guards off to Virginia, Sister Mag has never failed to lock herself in her room for awhile every day to pray for her husband. I did not know just at first what she was doing, but I heard her tell him she never let a day pass without asking God to take care of him and he might know, wherever he might be, that her thoughts and her prayers were following him.
I felt real mean to have overheard this, for it was never intended for my ears, but I had sung Eddie to sleep and was holding him in my arms in the dark, waiting for Nellie to come for him, and they were talking on the porch just outside.
Saturday, March 8th.
The item this morning is that Colonel Davies was confirmed yesterday by the Senate as Brigadier General, so J. is now Colonel of the 16th by unanimous choice of the officers, and will take command at once.[1] He writes by the orderly that he has been with General Slocum to see the regiment pitch their new tents in the valley of Four Mile Run.
New York, March, 1862.
Dear Mrs. Howland: Mr. Russell has just been in my office and wishes me to say that he has just left Governor Morgan, who informed him that he had to-day signed Joe’s commission as Colonel of the 16th Regiment, and that he was delighted to hear the very high terms in which the Governor spoke of Joe.
With congratulations, I am, etc
7th.—Just returned from the hospital. Several severe cases of typhoid fever require constant attention. Our little Alabamian seems better, but so weak! I left them for a few moments to go to see Bishop Meade; he sent for me to his room. I was glad to see him looking better, and quite cheerful. Bishops Wilmer and Elliott came in, and my visit was very pleasant. I returned to my post by the bedside of the soldiers. Some of them are very fond of hearing the Bible read; and I am yet to see the first soldier who has not received with apparent interest any proposition of being read to from the Bible. To-day, while reading, an elderly man of strong, intelligent face sat on the side of the bed, listening with interest. I read of the wars of the Israelites and Philistines. He presently said, “I know why you read that chapter; it is to encourage us, because the Yankee armies are so much bigger than ours; do you believe that God will help us because we are weak?” “No,” said I, “but I believe that if we pray in faith, as the Israelites did, that God will hear us.” “Yes,” he replied, “but the Philistines didn’t pray, and the Yankees do; and though I can’t bear the Yankees, I believe some of them are Christians, and pray as hard as we do; [“Monstrous few on ’em,” grunted out a man lying near him;] and if we pray for one thing, and they pray for another, I don’t know what to think of our prayers clashing.” “Well, but what do you think of the justice of our cause? don’t you believe that God will hear us for the justice of our cause?” “Our cause,” he exclaimed, “yes, it is just; God knows [continue reading…]
Friday March 7th 1862
A beautiful clear day but rather cool out, in the office as usual. Nothing new in the city that I hear of tonight. I have been down to Charleys. He has been doing some writing for me, my work in the Land office. Troops are coming into the City and moveing about a good deal. We may expect lively times soon over the River. All seems to be quiet now.
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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 7th.—Gen. Winder has established a guard with fixed bayonets at the door of the passport office. They let in only a few at a time, and these, when they get their passports, pass out by the rear door, it being impossible for them to return through the crowd.
Friday, 7th–Orders came for us to get ready to leave for St. Louis, and everybody is happy. Drill was discontinued for the day.
7th. Passed through the village and again struck the prairie. Pleasant day, enjoyed the ride very much indeed. Rode by the side of Lieutenant Nettleton, enjoyed visiting with him much.
March 7th. Weighed anchor for the mouth of the Mississippi River; arrived in the evening, where we found the Pensacola and Brooklyn at Pass á l’Outre on the blockade. Our object in coming here was to go up the river, with the subsequent view of capturing New Orleans. Preparations were immediately made to cross the bar, a constantly shifting mud bank at the mouth of each pass of the Mississippi.
March 7th.–Mrs. Middleton was dolorous indeed. General Lee had warned the planters about Combahee, etc., that they must take care of themselves now; he could not do it. Confederate soldiers had committed some outrages on the plantations and officers had punished them promptly. She poured contempt upon Yancey’s letter to Lord Russell. ¹ It was the letter of a shopkeeper, not in the style of a statesman at all.
We called to see Mary McDuffie. ² She asked Mary Preston what Doctor Boykin had said of her husband as we came along in the train. She heard it was something very complimentary. Mary P. tried to remember, and to repeat it all, to the joy of the other Mary, who liked to hear nice things about her husband.
Mary was amazed to hear of the list of applicants for promotion. One delicate-minded person accompanied his demand for advancement by a request for a written description of the Manassas battle; he had heard Colonel Chesnut give such a brilliant account of it in Governor Cobb’s room.
The Merrimac ³ business has come like a gleam of lightning illumining a dark scene. Our sky is black and lowering.
The Judge saw his little daughter at my window and he came up. He was very smooth and kind. It was really a delightful visit; not a disagreeable word was spoken. He abused no one whatever, for he never once spoke of any one but himself, and himself he praised without stint. He did not look at me once, though he spoke very kindly to me.
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¹ Lord Russell was Foreign Secretary under the Palmerston administration of 1859 to 1865.
² Mary McDuffie was the second wife of Wade Hampton.
³ The Merrimac was formerly a 40-gun screw frigate of the United States Navy. In April, 1861, when the Norfolk Navy-yard was abandoned by the United States she was sunk. Her hull was afterward raised by the Confederates and she was reconstructed on new plans, and renamed the Virginia. On March 2, 1862, she destroyed the Congress, a sailing-ship of 50 guns, and the Cumberland, a sailing-ship of 30 guns, at Newport News. On March 7th she attacked the Minnesota, but was met by the Monitor and defeated in a memorable engagement. Many features of modern battle-ships have been derived from the Merrimac and Monitor.
7th.–Received orders to-day to draw rations for my hospital force for five days. This kind of an order is unusual. The roads are improving. Perhaps the dumb watch is nearly old enough to run.
Near New Madrid, Mo., March 6, 1862.
What oceans of fun we are having here. Here goes for all of it to date, and I’ll be lucky if I’m able to tell you the finale. We went down to Commerce the 26th of February. Troops were scattered everywhere over the town and vicinity for 15 miles about. Could form no idea of the number there, but it was variously estimated at from 15,000 to 45,000. On the 28th we started, our regiment in advance, and camped that night at Hunter’s farm, the same place we stopped last fall when going to Bloomfield under Oglesby. We reached Hunter’s at 2 o’clock p.m., and at 11 the same morning Jeff Thompson had been there waiting for us with six pieces of cannon. He skedaddled, but still kept in the neighboring swamps. The next morning we again started in advance and after a ride of five miles heard firing about the same distance ahead. We let the horses go and in a very short time were within the limits of the muss. We came up with a company of cavalry from Bird’s Point standing in line at the end of a lane, about a mile down which we could see Thompson’s forces drawn up with his artillery “in battery.” He saw us about as quick as we got up, and limbered up in double quick and scooted. Then the fun commenced. We chased him for 15 miles over a splendid straight, wide, level road, which he strewed with blankets, guns, hats, and at last dropped his artillery. A dozen of our boys kept up the chase until within a half mile of New Madrid, where they captured a wagon load of grain and a nigger, and returned at leisure. We caught a captain, 1st. lieutenant and some privates. Next day, [continue reading…]
6th.—To-day we saw Bishop Wilmer consecrated—Bishop Meade presiding, Bishops Johns and Elliott assisting. The services were very imposing, but the congregation was grieved by the appearance of Bishop Meade; he is so feeble! As he came down the aisle, when the consecration services were about to commence, every eye was fixed on him; it seemed almost impossible for him to reach the chancel, and while performing the services he had to be supported by the other Bishops. Oh, how it made my heart ache! and the immense crowd was deeply saddened by it.
Thursday March 6th 1862
The event of the day has been the Funeral of the gallant Genl Lander. It took place at the Epiphany church, starting from the Residence of Sec’y Chase. The family (ours) all went. Mrs Doct Barnes & Julia were at the office. I went up into the Hospital with them. They were out to see the procession pass. Mrs O Knight called this evening. Prof Sparks was here an hour. Edwd Dickerson called and he and Julia went to the great Gotschalk concert at Willards Hall, returned about 101/2 o’clock. It has been dry but quite Cool today. The roads are getting better. No news from over the River and no advance as yet.
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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 6th.—Some consternation among the citizens—they dislike martial law.
Thursday, 6th–No news of importance.
Wednesday, 6th. The three battalions of the Second Cavalry marched thirty miles to Harrisonville, the county seat of Cass County, once a thrifty town, almost entirely deserted. Day blustering and chilly. A march makes pretty busy times distributing rations, getting forage for so many horses. Letter from Fannie. Encamped by the side of a little stream.
We Leave Roanoke Island.
March 6. Broke camp, leaving our log barracks, and are once more aboard our old home, the New York. We were cordially welcomed by Capt. Clark, Mr. Mulligan and the crew. Mr. Mulligan said he knew we were doing our duty on the 8th of February by the racket we made and the smoke rising above the tree tops.
6th March
We are now in the midst of a great calamity 84 of Mr Grimball’s negroes went off all together to Edisto we think of course they are the best. Mr Grimball is quite unstrung by it. Fortunately Berkley can come to him and William is still out of Military position and they both can be with him. We shall perhaps remove from the City and Berkley has gone to look for a place in Anderson, or Pickens, to remove to with the remnant of the negroes. I hope Mr Grimball will be sustained through this heavy trial. John & Lewis are in good positions, Lewis gets 13 hundred dollars & John $15 hundred a year which supports them.
I was very much touched this morning by a visit from my Uncle, Mr Charles Manigault who offered me the use of a house of his with 8 rooms as long as I needed it free of rent. This was entirely unexpected.
6th.–This morning as my newly appointed nurses came in, I was utterly disheartened. There is not a man amongst them who can make a toast or broil a chicken; yet the sick must depend on them for all their cooking. Half of them are applicants for discharge on the ground of disability, yet they are sent to me to work over the sick, night and day, and to carry the wounded from the battle field. Not one has ever dispensed a dose of medicine, and yet I must depend on them for this duty. It is a dreadful thought to me that I must go to the battle field with the set which is now around me. Our sick, our wounded, our dying on the battle field will be from amongst my neighbors and my friends. To the parents of many I have made a solemn vow that their sons shall be properly cared for in times of trouble. Well, I will do the best I can, but when I have trained men to all the little offices of kindness and of care, even to the practice of lifting the wounded and carrying them smoothly on litters,[1] it is hard that they should now be taken from me, at the very moment of expected battle, and replaced by such as these.
This morning the men dismissed from my service for the heinous offence of loving me, came in to bid me good bye. When a long time hence, I read this, I find it written that we all wept, I may then feel ashamed of the weakness. I certainly do not now.
[1] For months, it has been a daily practice to take the nurses to the field and train them to lifting the sick and wounded, and even to the proper step in carrying them off the field. None but those who have witnessed it can imagine the difference in pain or comfort, which a certain kind of step will communicate to those carried on litters.
Winchester, March 6, 1862.
Your first letter since I left home reached me on yesterday, bringing the welcome intelligence that you were all well, and the intelligence, not less gratifying, that you would not have me stay at home whilst the country has such pressing need for the service of every citizen in the field. If such were the feeling and wish of every woman and child, the men would be moved by nobler impulses and we would have a brighter prospect before us. Our soldiers, impelled by influence from home, would all remain in the service, and those left behind would rally to their support, instead of remaining behind until compelled by force to join the army and fight for the liberties of the country. Whatever others may do, their delinquencies will not justify our faults; and you and I must act so that what we do in these times of peril and uncertainty shall hereafter have our own and the approval of those whose good opinion we value.
We came to our present encampment a week ago, and have made little preparation for comfort, not knowing how soon, but expecting every day, we might move again. I doubt not you have heard frequent rumors that a battle was imminent. You had best never alarm yourself with such. From this to the end of the war, I never expect to see the time when a battle may not occur in a few days. Hence I always try to be ready for it, expecting it as something through which I must pass, which is not to be avoided. The facts, so far as I can learn, are that the enemy is in Charlestown with considerable force, in Martinsburg with some 3000, and at Paw-paw tunnel in Morgan with some 12,000 or 15,000. I think it very uncertain whether an advance upon Winchester is intended at this time. Their purpose in crossing the river is probably to rebuild the railroad. When this is done we shall probably be attacked here. If the force of the enemy is far superior to our own,–and it probably will be, I think,–we shall retire from the place without making a defence. So don’t be alarmed at any rumors you may hear.
Since my return we have had a very idle time. My duty is to take charge of the regiment in the absence of the Colonel, and as he is here I have nothing at all to do. I am very anxious to get a job of some sort which will give me occupation.
The wish which lies nearest my heart is for your comfort and happiness in my absence. I will write regularly so that you will get my letters on Sunday morning when you go to church. As soon as you hear what was the fate of Brother’s two boys at Fort Donelson, write me about it.
Ash-Wednesday, March 5.—This morning Dr. Wilmer gave us a delightful sermon at St. Paul’s. He will be consecrated to-morrow Bishop of Alabama. To-night Bishop Elliott of Georgia preached for us, on the power of thought for good or evil. I do admire him so much in every respect.
Wednesday, 5th–Company E had prayer meeting this evening in a vacant room close by their quarters. It is reported that we are to leave for the South in two or three days. The war has certainly struck this place a hard blow. There are many vacant houses and most of the storerooms are standing empty. There are but few men left in town, most of them having gone to war. Families are divided, each member having gone to the army of his choice; there are fathers against sons and brothers against brothers. They are so determined for the side they take that many are killed in the neighborhood by their neighbors, and some even by members of their own families.
March 5th. The Rhode Island arrived, after having been to Galveston, Texas, visiting our ships as she passed them. On her way home she is to call among the blockaders, carrying home the sick and leaving stores. We put four patients aboard her for home. In the evening the U. S. sloop-of-war Richmond arrived from home; also one or two gunboats. Thus the great fleet detailed to our flag-officer’s command is slowly gathering in.