April 21st. At 1 o’clock this morning our gunboats returned, having succeeded in cutting the chain and setting two schooners adrift. At 3 o’clock all hands were aroused to ward off a large fire raft which among many others the enemy had sent adrift for our destruction, but like its predecessors it passed by harmless.

21st. A rainy day. Felt most sick, feverish, took a blue pill. Did not do much during the day.

April 21st.–Have been ill. One day I dined at Mrs. Preston’s, pâté de foie gras and partridge prepared for me as I like them. I had been awfully depressed for days and could not sleep at night for anxiety, but I did not know that I was bodily ill. Mrs. Preston came home with me. She said emphatically: “Molly, if your mistress is worse in the night send for me instantly.” I thought it very odd. I could not breathe if I attempted to lie down, and very soon I lost my voice. Molly raced out and sent Lawrence for Doctor Trezevant. She said I had the croup. The doctor said, “congestion of the lungs.”

So here I am, stranded, laid by the heels. Battle after battle has occurred, disaster after disaster. Every morning’s paper is enough to kill a well woman and age a strong and hearty one.

To-day, the waters of this stagnant pool were wildly stirred. The President telegraphed for my husband to come on to Richmond, and offered him a place on his staff. I was a joyful woman. It was a way opened by Providence from this Slough of Despond, this Council whose counsel no one takes. I wrote to Mr. Davis, “With thanks, and begging your pardon, how I would like to go.” Mrs. Preston agrees with me, Mr. Chesnut ought to go. Through Mr. Chesnut the President might hear many things to the advantage of our State, etc.

Letter from Quinton Washington. That was the best tonic yet. He writes so cheerfully. We have fifty thousand men on the Peninsula and McClellan eighty thousand. We expect that much disparity of numbers. We can stand that.

21st–Occasional firing between the batteries on Warwick Creek to-day, without results worth noting. Sickness among the troops rapidly increasing. Remittent fever, diarrhÅ“a, and dysentery prevail. We are encamped in low, wet ground, and the heavy rains keep much of it overflowed. I fear that if we remain here long we shall lose many men by sickness.

This neck of land, between Yorktown and Jamestown, it seems now is to be made the point d’appui of the armies in Virginia. If we can, and will break up this army, it will put an end to the war, and until this army is overcome or dispersed, be it a month or a year, there will be no progress in the direction of a satisfactory peace. We are getting forward our siege guns, concentrating forces, in a word, preparing for battle. My request to be relieved of the Brigade Surgeonship is to-day granted, and I return to the charge of my regiment.

20th.—On Wednesday we saw eight thousand troops pass through town. We were anxious to see many who were among them. The sidewalks were thronged with ladies, many of them in tears. General C. passed with his brigade, containing the 17th, with its familiar faces. Colonel H. and himself rode to the sidewalk for a shake of the hand, but the rest could only raise their hats in recognition. I knew the cavalry would pass through Franklin Street, and hurried there to see my dear W. B. N. The order “Halt” was given just as he, at the head of his troop, was passing. I called him aloud. Amid the din and tumult of course he could not hear, but as he raised his cap to salute the ladies near him, his quick eye met mine; in an instant he was at my side: “My dear aunt, what are you doing here?” “I came to look for you; where are you going?” “Our orders extend to the steamers at the wharf,” he replied; “but don’t be uneasy, we are going to the right place.” His face glowed with animation, and I meant to appear cheerful to him, but I found, after he was gone, that my face was bathed in tears. They all looked as if the world were bright before them, and we were feeling the appalling uncertainty of all things. A mother stood by, straining her weeping eyes for the parting glance at her first-born; and so many others turned their sad, weary steps homewards, as their dear ones passed from their sight.

Sunday, 20th–John T. Rice, a member of Company E, Eleventh Iowa, was buried this afternoon with military honors.^[1] He died of his wound accompanied with fever. Three other men who died of disease were also buried today. We learned that Wilson Simmons of Company E died of lung fever on the 15th at Mound City, Illinois.

[1] Rice was buried in the Shiloh National Cemetery, Pittsburg Landing, Tennessee, his grave being 175, Section 9.—A. G. D.

20th. Sunday. Moved the camp over the creek. Heard the stories, pitiful indeed, of Union refugees driven from home by the jayhawkers. Wrote home.

I Get Arrested.

April 20. Not caring to trouble the captain all the time for passes I have got in the habit of going about town on my sagacity, and I have not yet discovered but it answers the purpose as well as a pass, but I was brought up a day or two ago, when I ran against Charley of company D, who was standing sentinel on the corner of Broad and Middle streets. I was walking leisurely along, when coming to Charley’s post, he halted me and demanded my pass. I said I had not got any. He replied if that was the case it was his duty to march me to the provost’s office. Rather than have any trouble with him, and to have it military in form, I handed him an old pass I happened to have in my pocket. He looked at it and tearing it up, took the position of a soldier, saying. “You non-coms are getting too big for your clothes, you are putting on altogether too many airs, but I will let you know that you can’t put them on over me.” I said, “Perhaps there is a shadow of truth in what you say. It is possible that they maybe somewhat afflicted with inflation, but you know I am one of the meek and lowly kind.” “You? You are the worst pill in the box, you never have a pass, but are all over town, in the back rooms of all the sutler’s stores and taking more liberties and putting on more style than half the commissioned officers.” “Now, Charley, that is a sad state of affairs indeed; but you are the first one that has found any fault with it, but if you desire the honor of escorting me to the provost’s office you can have the job. After you get me there, Old Dan will give you the biggest setting up you have had recently.”

He marched me over, and as we entered, Old Dan looked up and, addressing my escort, asked, [continue reading…]

April 20th. The firing of yesterday was kept up all last night, and to appearances with considerable success. As the evening advanced the scene from the mortar boats rapidly increased in interest; as the shells left the gun the track of them through the air was distinctly visible, and the shots were quite accurate. This morning a deserter from Fort Jackson came aboard to visit the Commodore. He was a Pennsylvanian by birth, and had formerly been attached to Dan Rice’s great shows. He stated that many of our shells lodged and bursted within the fort, much defacing it, and killing and wounding several men; also that the large fire reported in that vicinity was really in the fort, and during the excitement of putting out a second one he had escaped through an embrasure created by our firing.

Preparations were made for destroying the rebel chain by dismasting two of our gunboats, in order the more effectually to conceal them from view. At 10 o’clock, P. M., the Itasca got under way and steamed up to the chain in charge of Capt. Henry IT. Bell. They were no sooner there than discovered, and fired upon with spirit, but owing to the darkness of the night no damage was done to them. During this period green, red, and blue lights went the rounds of our fleet, and the mortar boats opened with vigor, firing so fast that six to seven shells could be seen coursing through the air at once.

Near Fortress Monroe, Sunday, April 20.

No orders. The boat is becoming very dirty and cannot be cleaned as she is so crowded that there is no place to put any number of the men while cleaning is being done. The decks are swept and shoveled once or twice a day, but need washing. The regiment is behaving well. I have had to punish only one man since we left Alexandria, but have made an example of him for smuggling and selling liquor.

We had a nice little service a short time ago and the chaplain is repeating it in different parts of the boat, as it is not safe to assemble the men in any one part where even a couple of hundred could hear. The men were very attentive. The more I see of the regiment the more highly I think of it. I am sure the old 16th will always behave creditably.

APRIL 19th.—All believe we are near a crisis, involving the possession of the capital.

Saturday, 19th–Nothing of importance. Everything appears to be so lonesome.

April 19th, 1862.

Another date in Hal’s short history! I see myself walking home with Mr. McG–– just after sundown, meeting Miriam and Dr. Woods at the gate; only that was a Friday instead of a Saturday, as this. From the other side, Mr. Sparks comes up and joins us. We stand talking in the bright moonlight which makes Miriam look white and statue-like. I am holding roses in my hand, in return for which one little pansy has been begged from my garden, and is now figuring as a shirt-stud. I turn to speak to that man of whom I said to Dr. Woods, before I even knew his name, “Who is this man who passes here so constantly? I feel that I shall hate him to my dying day.” He told me his name was Sparks, a good, harmless fellow, etc. And afterwards, when I did know him, [Dr. Woods] would ask every time we met, “Well! do you hate Sparks yet?” I could not really hate any one in my heart, so I always answered, “He is a good-natured fool, but I will hate him yet.” But even now I cannot: my only feeling is intense pity for the man who has dealt us so severe a blow; who made my dear father bow his gray head, and shed such bitter tears.

The moon is rising still higher now, and people are hurrying to the grand Meeting, where the state of the country is to be discussed, and the three young men bow and hurry off, too. Later, at eleven o’clock, Miriam and I are up at Lydia’s waiting (until the boat comes) with Miss Comstock who is going away. As usual, I am teasing and romping by turns. Harry suddenly stands in the parlor door, looking very grave, and very quiet. He is holding father’s stick in his hand, and says he has come to take us over home. I was laughing still, so I said, “Wait,” while I prepared for some last piece of folly, but he smiled for the first time, and throwing his arm around me, said, “Come home, you rogue!” and laughing still, I followed him.

He left us in the hall, saying he must go to Charlie’s a moment, but to leave the door open for him. So we went up, and I ran in his room, and lighted his gas for him, as I did every night when we went up together. In a little while I heard him come in and go to his room. I knew nothing then; but next day, going into mother’s room, I saw him standing before the glass door of her armoir, looking at a black coat he had on. Involuntarily I cried out, “Oh, don’t, Hal!” “Don’t what? Is n’t it a nice coat?” he asked. “Yes; but it is buttoned up to the throat, and I don’t like to see it. It looks –” here I went out as abruptly as I came in; that black coat so tightly buttoned troubled me. [continue reading…]

19th. Went down to the creek and practiced a while with our revolvers. Played chess in the evening.

Richmond, Va, April 19, 1862

“A verdict of guilty followed quickly upon the heels of the partial and antagonistic charge of the judge, and Timothy Webster was convicted of being a spy in the employ of the Federal authorities.”

“Not even then did the brave spirit break down. Firm and heroic he received the fatal verdict, and the satisfaction of his enemies was robbed of its value by the unflinching deportment of their victim.”

“After the trial, he was remanded to a cell, and closely watched. But a little time elapsed, and then came the warrant for his execution.”

“An officer appeared in the cell, the paper was produced, and the faithful, brave, true-hearted man was condemned to be hung on the twenty-ninth day of April, but ten days after the approval of his sentence.”

The Spy of the Rebellion: Being a True History of the Spy System of the United States Army During the Late Rebellion. Revealing Many Secrets of the War Hitherto Not Made Public. Comp. from Official Reports Prepared for President Lincoln, General McClellan and the Provost-marshal-general by Alan Pinkerton; G.W. Carleton & Company, 1883

Fortress Monroe, April 19th, 1862,

Dear Georgy: We were summoned to Yorktown, and about twenty of us left Philadelphia yesterday morning. We passed on the Bay this morning many transports bearing, as I suppose, Franklin’s Division. I presume that Joe and myself were not far apart. He goes, however, if report be true, to the opposite side of York River. They brought down here some wounded yesterday; they are under the care of Surgeon Cuyler and are comfortably located.

We have come only in anticipation that we may be needed, and may therefore remain a short time or for a long while, according to circumstances. . . .

19th.–A flag of truce on the enemy’s parapet. A proposition to suspend hostilities and bury the dead. We crossed the creek and brought over the bodies of 35 (instead of 20, as previously stated) Vermonters, killed in the fight on the other side of the creek. Nothing of importance to-day. All quiet, remaining in camp.

APRIL 18th.—The President is thin and haggard; and it has been whispered on the street that he will immediately be baptized and confirmed. I hope so, because it may place a great gulf between him and the descendant of those who crucified the Saviour. Nevertheless, some of his enemies allege that professions of Christianity have sometimes been the premeditated accompaniments of usurpations. It was so with Cromwell and with Richard III. Who does not remember the scene in Shakspeare, where Richard appears on the balcony, with prayer book in hand and a priest on either side?

Friday, 18th–No news of importance.^[1]

[1] While the battle of Shiloh was a Union victory, nevertheless it was dearly won and could easily have been a defeat. Even at that time the men in discussing it, pointed out some of the mistakes made by the Union forces. I wish to point out how the day at Shiloh was almost lost to the Union Army. In the first place, when the different commanders called out the troops under arms at 6 o’clock on Friday evening, April 4th, they kept them in line until midnight, when, since the immediate danger was past, they ordered them to return to their quarters. Then it was that a great mistake was made, for instead of sending the men back to camp, they should have been put to work, every man with shovel, pick or axe, digging trenches, throwing up breastworks and fortifying their camps. Thus by the morning of the 6th they would have had two or three lines of works. That this was not done must of course be charged to General Sherman. Each man behind the works would have been equal to five men in the open. General Prentiss’ men, protected in the old, sunken roadway, in making their attack upon us proved the worth of a man protected, to one out in the open. The mistake cost the Union army more than a thousand men, besides those captured

In the second place, when the Union army was attacked on that Sunday morning, there were but four regiments in line of battle and ready for the assault of the Confederates. The officers did not succeed in forming a continuous line of battle until late in the day. Regiments and brigades would march to the front and form in line, but they were usually unsupported by troops on the right and left at the same time. This enabled the Confederates to come in on the flanks and the rear, thus compelling our forces to fall back or be captured. This continued till late in the afternoon, when Webster succeeded in forming a continuous line of artillery, supported by all arms. This, together with the arrival of Buell’s brigade, which formed a line on the left, saved the day to the Union cause for all time to come.–A. G. D.

April 18th. In order to understand the proceedings of our fleet fully, it will be necessary to explain the position of the enemy. Forts Jackson and St. Philip are situated on a short bend of the river, some forty miles from its mouth, Fort Jackson occupying the right bank and being the principal fort, and the other fort being situated opposite and a little below Jackson. A chain had been stretched across the river on eight schooners, and guarded by a water battery at its extremity. This, with the forts which mounted in the aggregate more than two hundred guns, was considered impregnable and impassable. This morning early the mortar boats were placed in position, and immediately opened fire on the forts, mostly engaging Fort Jackson. We were answered from the forts, but both parties fired slowly and endeavored to get the range, which was in distance some two to two and a half miles. In the meantime our advance fleet of gunboats moved up under cover of the point in the river’s bend, and in turn dealt a few blows, all the time changing their position and dropping down with the current. In the evening a large fire in Fort Jackson gave evidence of the effect of our shells, and at night we hauled off our gunboats and ceased firing.

18th. Marched to Lamar, Mo. Met Major Miner’s command from Carthage. Creek at Lamar was high, so we left the baggage and a detail to guard it, and went up the creek to a bridge. Found the town, county seat of Barton County, almost deserted. Only a few dwellings.

Philadelphia, April, 62.

My dear Georgy: I feel a great interest in dear Eliza and yourself, and also in your dear mother, and all the family, knowing how anxious you must all be about Joe. I do wish you could get to Fortress Monroe, or, as you say, to the Hygiea Hotel. . . . We had a letter this morning from Lenox, dated from on board the steamer Welden, which Dr. Smith has chartered to fit up as a hospital ship for the Pennsylvania wounded. You know we have 50,000 at Yorktown, at least so say the papers.

Lenox seems much pleased that they have the steamer, as it makes them so independent, and enables them to go where they may be most needed, without troubling any one. Dr. Smith’s plan is to have a building on shore for a hospital, and the steamer can convey the wounded to it. Some of the doctors are to attend to their removal from the field, while some are to take charge of them on the steamer, and the remainder to receive them at the hospital. . . . Lenox was just going off to Cheesman’s landing. He is very much interested in all he sees; has visited the Monitor and been all over it, and also he had been over the fortress and visited several camps.

It is a great trial to part with him, but he has wanted so long to do what he could for the cause that it is a great gratification that he can go now without interfering with his duty to his father. The lectures are over, and he can spare him better than he could before, though even now Lenox is a great loss to his father… .

My love to your dear mother and Hatty, and say I am still looking for their promised visit, and shall count on their coming here on their way home. We have Lottie and baby here now, for a little visit, but I have plenty of room for all.

Joe Howland to Eliza Woolsey Howland.

Steamer Daniel Webster, April 18.

I have a chance to send a boat ashore to get a mail and so can say good morning to you. All the steamers are lying in the stream two or three miles below Alexandria receiving their “tows.” There are about a hundred schooners and barges to take down. We tow four. All’s well. The boat is very crowded, but the men are more comfortable than I supposed they would be and are behaving admirably. The work of getting them well on board was a hard one. I have 820 officers and men on this boat and the four schooners. The sick are doing well; the change of air and rest are curing the dysentery. I do not know where we are going.

18th.–Severe picket firing occasionally through the night, by which the army was twice called out. No fighting to-day, but our troops are still throwing up earthworks on the battle field of the 16th. Wrote General H. to-day, asking to be relieved from serving longer on his staff.