31st.–As a relief to the dullness induced by bad weather, and disappointed hopes that something will turn up to awaken the activity of the army, I am constantly amused by the merry chirpings of myriads of “crickets on the hearth.”[1] Now and then after night-fall a little mouse, nearly white, suddenly appears amongst them, and such a scampering, “such a gettin’ up stairs I ever didn’t see.” Mousey looks around for a little while as if surprised at their timidity, then sets up a-beautiful little song of his own, much resembling the trilling efforts of the young canary. Yes, I have the reality of a singing mouse; and at all hours of the night, either he or the crickets may be heard, in their cheering and now familiar singings. A few nights ago I heard a sound as of some small animal struggling in the water. I arose quickly, and on striking a light, found my little musical companion struggling in the water-pail for dear life. He had “leaped before he looked.” I had him. I warmed him, and dried him, and then I let him go. And why should l not have let him go? True, I sometimes see him gliding away with stolen portions of my dearly-bought cheese. Now and then the print of his little foot, just pulled out of Virginia mud, is found on my butter roll. Once, as I was preparing for breakfast, I found the little fellow taking his morning bath in my cream cup. But what are all these? The cheese I can afford to divide with him. I cut the print of his little foot from my butter roll, and enjoy what is left all the better. Though I lose the cream from my coffee, I become more attached to the cup, because it has afforded pleasure to my little friend. Have we any roses without thorns, good people without failings, or friends without faults? When I examine the catalogue of my friends, should I strike off every one who has a failing, I fear I should have very few left. Go on, then, little mousey, this world was intended alike for you and me. There is not a night but your little song more than pays me for all your depredations of the day, and for all my interest in and affections for you.
[1] My quarters are now, an old farm house with one room, with an immense rough stone chimney, and a flag-stone hearth.
Jan. 30. Our canteens are again filled with the contraband water, so we shall be all right today as far as that is concerned. Some of the boys made a raid last night on the sutler’s stuff and appropriated to themselves pretty much what he had. I cannot approve of that, as the sutler is at a good deal of trouble and expense to get a few notions for us and probably sells them as cheap as he can afford. The boys ought not to steal from him, at this time especially, as there are those who would be glad to buy. A schooner came down today to take a look at us, one of our boats gave chase, but a good breeze blowing, the schooner had the advantage and got away. This afternoon a small boat was seen coming down flying a white flag. The boat contained one darkey who had risked the perils of the sound to escape from the land of Jeff, the house of bondage.
A Discovery.
A great discovery has just been made and isn’t there larks now, though. The skipper is foaming with rage. An account of stock has been taken, and a cask or two of water is missing. On inspection it was found tapped at the wrong end. A very mysterious circumstance, but such things are liable to happen. A strong guard has been placed over the other casks.
Thursday 30th
Rain again today. The Lyons friends left for home this evening. The boys have staid in the house and attended to their lessons better than usual. I Have not been out tonight, been drawing some and reading the “Star” aloud. No particular war news but a good deal expected soon. The Boys went to bed at 8 o’clock, Julia at 10, it is now near 11. Wife is mending boys clothes, has a great deal of that business to do.
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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.
Thursday, 30th–A part of our company went out into the timber to gather persimmons. They are very plentiful in this locality; the trees are quite large and some of them are loaded with the finest fruit.
JANUARY 30th.—Some of the mysterious letter-carriers, who have just returned from their jaunt into Tennessee, are applying again for passports to Baltimore, Washington, etc. I refuse them, though they are recommended by Gen. Winder’s men; but they will obtain what they want from the Secretary himself, or his Assistant Secretary.
Eliza Woolsey Howland to Joe Howland.
Jan. 30th.
The only thing of interest I have to tell you is of a very nice call we had last evening from General Williams (your friend Seth). He got Miss Wilkes to bring him round and introduce him, and told us he had long wanted to call on us and offer his services. He hoped we would call on him for anything he could do for us, and said if I would send my letters to you up to Army Headquarters he would send them out at once by the orderly who comes in every day. So I will begin to-day by sending this one. They say that General Williams is as good as gold, and as modest as he is good. Miss Wilkes, who came with him, asked us all to spend Friday evening with them to meet a small party of Washington people and a few strangers. “Mrs. McClellan would be there and they hoped to see the General too,” and I suppose the Franklins and Porters, and our friend General Williams and other “officers of note.” Don’t you want to come in? We shall go, as it will be a nice chance for Mother and Hatty to see the notabilities and will be pleasant for all. . . . How dismal it is again and how wretched the camp must be!
Our pleasant acquaintance with General Williams–the Adjutant-General of the Army of the Potomac throughout the war–lasted all his life. A year later than this first call Charley was assigned to duty on his staff as his personal aide, at Headquarters of the Army. General Williams held a position of immense responsibility through all the fearful years of the war, and died insane, at its close.
The Signal Corps Arrives.
Jan. 29. The long lost signal corps arrived today. We gave them a great ovation; flags and streamers flying, bands playing and cheering from all the boats. They have had a hard time of it, having been fourteen days on the passage from Fortress Monroe. They ran out to sea in the first great storm, and the succession of storms has prevented them from getting in. They were well nigh famished when they arrived.
Good Water.
We are today luxuriating on good water, the first we have had for many days. Some of the boys last night got in the rear of the forbidden water casks, and by a vigorous use of a jackknife, succeeded in tapping a cask. Any quantity of canteens (mine among the rest), were filled with the contraband water, and if the thing is kept still today there will be a big haul tonight. Our fare is pretty short, and of a kind never dreamed of in the cabin of a first-class ocean steamer. Still it answers to keep us breathing, and perhaps that is as much as we can expect while on this excursion. We are thriving on a half ration of steamed pork and hardtack, with condensed sea water. [continue reading…]
Wednesday Jan’y 29th 1862
Rained half the day and the streets in a bad condition again. Nothing new today. This evening Mrs A B Williams, Mrs VanMaster and David Griffith came up and took tea with us and spent the evening, leaving about 10 o’clock. Chas & Sally were also here. We all had a very pleasant time of it. “Bud” has rather a bad cough, has not been out today. “Holly,” after geting his lessons, went up to the “White House” with the Lincoln boys who were after ours.
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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.
Wednesday, 29th–Our company has had a fine time while at Lookout Station and the men are all in good health with the exception of two or three who are suffering from varioloid as a result of vaccination.
JANUARY 29th.—What we want is a military man capable of directing operations in the field everywhere. I think Lee is such a man. But can he, a modest man and a Christian, aspire to such a position? Would not Mr. Benjamin throw his influence against such a suggestion? I trust the President will see through the mist generated around him.
Eliza writes Jan. 29, ‘62:
Mother, Hatty and Charley arrived last night in the middle of the storm and mud. Mother is now writing at the table with me, while H. is gazing admiringly at a group of Irish Brigadiers at the door. Charley is out somewhere, and is to meet the rest of us in the Senate Chamber at noon. We are cosily settled and having a very nice time. The roads are almost impassable owing to melting snow and frost and incessant rain. J.’s last ride back to camp the other day was very hard. He and the General floundered about in mud “like unfathomable chewed molasses candy,” and stumbled against the stumps till darkness overtook them before they reached camp. Reports are brought in of private carriages abandoned along the road, and one–Mrs. Judge Little’s–was fairly dragged in two by a government team which tried to haul it out of a hole. J. says we must not think of coming out to camp.
28th. After forty hours reached Weston at two P. M. Fed, watered and marched for Platte City at six P. M. Five letters. Major was fired at.
A Stranger.
Jan. 28. Work is still going on, getting the boats off and getting them across the bar. The Eastern Queen is afloat and will be with us today. The little steamer Pilot Boy, with Generals Burnside and Foster aboard, is flying around among the vessels of the fleet, giving orders to the boat commanders and commanders of troops. The sutler came aboard today; he is quite a stranger and the boys gathered around him, asking him a thousand questions. He brought with him a small stock of fruit and other notions which went off like hot cakes at any price which he chose to ask. Some of the boys thought the prices pretty high, but they should consider that it is with great difficulty and expense that things are got here at all. They have the advantage, however, in not being obliged to buy, if they think the charges too much. The Eastern Queen is coming across the swash, the bands are all playing and cheers are going out from all the fleet.
Tuesday 28
Rain today and the streets again in a bad condition. Mr Fenwick and Lady, Miss Lucy Munson (Mrs Fenwicks Sister), and Mr Cobb spent the evening here. Mr VanMaster & Lady, Mis Williams and Ed Dickerson call[ed] in a carriage for Julia to go with them to the Presidents Levee, so she got ready while the ladies waited for her (in the house) and went. There is no particular news in the papers tonight. Everything seems to move along as usual. Genl Burnside has at last been heard from at Hatteras Inlet. One vessel & cargo lost in the Storm last week. Three lives also lost (officers), Col Allen, a Surgeon, and Mate.
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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.
Tuesday, 28th–One of the Missouri boys who enlisted in our company while at Jefferson City asked me to go with him to spend the evening with a family about two miles out, where there were three or four young ladies. One of the young women was his best girl and he wished to bid her goodby before we left for the South. He assured me that we would have plenty of good things to eat and that there would be no danger, and so I finally decided that it would be safe to go. We had a very enjoyable time and about midnight started for our quarters, running all the way.[1]
[1] We arrived safely at our quarters, but I made up my mind never again to take such a trip while in the enemy’s country.–A. G. D.
JANUARY 28th.— There must soon be collisions in the West on a large scale; but the system of lying, in vogue among the Yankees, most effectually defeats all attempts at reliable computation of numbers. They say we have 150,000 men in Tennessee and Kentucky, whereas we have not 60,000. Their own numbers they represent to be not exceeding 50,000, but I suspect they have three times that number. The shadows of events are crowding thickly upon us, and the events will speak for themselves—and that speedily.
Eliza to Joe Howland.
January 28.
My only letter by the mail last night was from Major Crane, about some of the patients of his Division who came down the Potomac in a wretched condition on a canal boat some time ago. He is going to do his best to find out who is responsible and prefer charges, and he wants us to help. Don’t mention this, as we shall do it as quietly as possible, but also as thoroughly. . . . We hear every now and then of some new abuse among the surgeons, regular and volunteer,–for instance: Mr. Hopkins told us of one poor fellow of a Vermont regiment who was brought to the hospital in Alexandria with typhoid fever, having both feet frozen and one of them eaten by rats! It is too horrible to think of, but I tell you that you may understand why we feel so strongly on the subject. Good old Dixie hearing of the story went at once to McClellan and told him, and he sent an officer to find out all the facts and bring the responsible person to justice. . . .
The Miss Schuylers went down with us to Alexandria to-day and we showed them through the Hospitals, much to the delight of the nurses.
We have gone into the pension business too! and are going over to Mr. Wrage’s camp to arrange about getting the necessary papers for a poor woman who is applying for a pension and wrote to G. about it. We knew her and her husband here in one of the hospitals and she has the most implicit faith in G’s power and influence.
The end of January Mother and Hatty went on to Washington under Charley’s escort for “two or three weeks,” which lengthened out into three months with G. and E., and proved a great delight to all.
28th.–To-day I was admitted as a witness to the arcana of a field Court Martial, and of all the ridiculous farces in the name of justice, to excite mirth, indignation, pity, and disgust, commend me to a field Court Martial. I will not spoil the ludicrous impression left on my mind, by any attempt to describe the scenes I witnessed to-day. The grey goose has yet to be hatched which can furnish the pen capable of even approximating it. Oh, talent of Barnum! How does it happen that in all your searches after the wonderful and the curious, you have overlooked that nondescript of wonders, a field Court Martial? Strike quickly on this hint, and there is a fortune ahead.
27th. Rode over prairies and rough road to St. Joseph, Mo. Moved toward Weston.
The Curlew.
Jan. 27. Preparations are going on this morning to get the New York across the bar. We were transferred to the steam ferry-boat Curlew, and are now anchored in the sound. The New York is to be lightened of everything on board, and it is thought, with a full sea and some help, she may be able to cross. We are in the most disagreeable and uncomfortable quarters we have yet been in. Every change seems to bring some new hardship, and with a few more changes for the worse we shall be able to learn how great are our powers of endurance. We are packed in here as thick as bees with scarcely standing room, and the old craft is open at both ends admitting the cold winds and rains, besides being as wet and dirty as a stable. If it should rain hard enough to drive us in from the ends of the boat and from off the deck, a part of us would have to lie down in our bunks to give standing room for the rest. I should think the water casks were a cemetery for dead rats by the way the water tastes; condensed sea water is a luxury to it, and byway of encouragement we are told that we are to have some tomorrow. There are, however, a few casks of good water aboard, but we are not allowed any of it. I reckon the boys will manage to get some of it. If they don’t, it will be an exception to their general smartness. The officers and crew of the old hulk are cross and crabbed, and unless they alter their tactics, I fear they will get enough of us before we have been here many days.
Monday January 27th 1862
A pleasant day, a good air & cool. There has been no news afloat. I have been in the office all day as usual. Mrs Williams, Mrs VanMaster, D Griffiths & Ed Dick’n visited the Presidents with my wife, saw the President and the “White House.” This evening myself and Julia spent the evening in their (or with them) in Maj Williams Room. Mr W & VanMaster were also there and Mr Pomeroy, the Member from Cayuga. We got home about 10 o’clock. Wife was pretty well tired out tonight and could not go. The Boys have been at the Presidents today riding the Poney. Some of the “sympathizers” with the rebellion are in the habit of starting reports of terrible disasters to our [arms?]. Last evening it was reported at all the Hotels that our troops in Kentucky had be[en] totally defeated. It mad[e] some long faces for a while and some jubilent ones.
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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.
Monday, 27th–The regimental surgeon came down from California to look over the convalescents in our company; he revaccinated all on whom the vaccine had not worked.
JANUARY 27th.—The Secretary of War has issued such a peremptory order to Gen. Wise, that the latter has no alternative but to attempt the defense of Roanoke Island with 3000 men against 15,000 and a fleet of gun-boats. The general is quite sick, but he will fight. His son, Capt. O. Jennings Wise, who has been under fire many times already, commands a company on the island. He will deserve promotion. The government seems to have proscribed the great men of the past and their families, as if this government was the property of the few men who happen to wield power at the present moment. Arrogance and presumption in the South must, sooner or later, have a fall. The great men who were the leaders of this revolution may be ignored, but they cannot be kept down by the smaller fry who aspire to wield the destinies of a great and patriotic people. Smith and Lovell, New York politicians and Street Commissioners, have been made major-generals, while Wise and Breckinridge are brigadiers.
January 27, 1862.
Yesterday I concluded, after writing this, to come to town and get comfortable quarters, as I felt much inclined to chill. I slept pretty well last night, and this morning am not suffering any pain. I hope to be well in the course of a few days. Should I get worse, I will write tomorrow.
(For several days he continued ill at Winchester, and this perhaps hastened the granting of the greatly desired furlough. His next letter shows that he remained at home until February 24, 1862, having been there perhaps twenty days. This was his first visit home since entering the service.)
27th.–Expectation is still on the strain. How long it has been kept up! But no order to move, and I doubt whether we get any soon. Indeed, I think now that we should not move. ‘Tis too late. The roads are excessively bad, and for a long time we have been having an almost continuous storm of freezing rain and snow. An army could not lie out over night in this terrible weather, and be in condition next day to fight against those who had slept in good quarters and been well fed. The time has passed to move. But why are we not ordered to winter quarters? There seems to me to be great recklessness of the soldiers’ health and comfort in this army. There is wrong somewhere.
A sad case has just passed under my notice. Three days ago, as I was busily engaged in attending to hospital duties, I entrusted, necessarily, the light sickness of quarters to others. As I passed out just after morning call, I heard one of my nurses say to a man, “You look sick; why do you not come to hospital, where we can take care of you?”– “That is what I came for, but the doctor’ says I am not sick, and has returned me to duty.” I passed on, but notwithstanding that there is scarcely a day that some “shirk ” who is pretending to be sick to avoid duty, is not treated thus, that voice rang sadly in my ears. In ten minutes I returned, and inquired after the man. The drums had beaten to duty, and he was on parade. I followed to parade ground, found him endeavoring to do his duty, on a “double-quick.” I took him from the ranks, examined him, and sent him to hospital. Before they got him to bed he was delirious. He has just died. ‘Twas a case of typhoid fever, of which he had been sick for two days before I saw him. I ask of army Surgeons, Had you not better excuse ten “seeds” who are worthless, even when in rank, than sacrifice one good man like this, who believes he is not sick, because you tell him he is not?