Boston, August 27, 1861

Your tone is too dull in your letters and I feel for you sincerely in your Bull-run panic in England. Here things certainly look much better and people feel much better. The money market is easy and our exportation of breadstuffs seems likely to continue. Finally, this steamer will advise you that at least the government is thoroughly in earnest and that spies and traitors can no longer enjoy immunity. Nor is this all. Last week we were in a terrible panic and Monday was the blackest day I ever saw; but now the Government is working for its life. McClellan has the complete confidence of the people, government securities are rising, money is plenty, and finally the indications are strong that the confederates are being ground to atoms by the very weight of their defensive preparations. Bull-run was a blessing to us, for it startled the people from the conceit, arrogance and pride which must have proved their ruin. There is a universal feeling of confidence abroad, and England may refuse our loan if she chooses to; but I don’t think she will for seven and three-tenths per cent is too much of the flesh-pots not to be longed for, and our securities must drift to England. . . .

27th.–On my arrival here, I found our tents pitched on ploughed ground, in a swale. The bottoms of the tents were very damp, and the mud in the streets over shoe-top. I at once set to work to correct this. I had the streets all ditched on either side, the dirt thrown into the middle, and already, instead of the mud and water streets and tents, we have them so firm, smooth and dry that they are swept every day. I hope by this, and by constant care in ventilating the tents, to arrest the rapidly increasing sickness.

Having finished the above note for the day, I have, on the point of retiring, just received an order from Gen. King to be ready to move at a minute’s notice. The enemy is probably again threatening Washington. I must prepare.

August 27, 1861

• Union forces take fortifications on Cape Hatteras.

AUGUST 26th.—What a number of cavalry companies are daily tendered in the letters received at this department. Almost invariably they are refused; and really it is painful to me to write these letters. This government must be aware, from the statistics of the census, that the South has quite as many horses as the North, and twice as many good riders. But for infantry, the North can put three men in the field to our one. Ten thousand mounted men, on the border of the enemy’s country, would be equal to 30,000 of the enemy’s infantry; not in combat: but that number would be required to watch and guard against the inroads of 10,000 cavalry. It seems to me that we are declining the only proper means of equalizing the war. But it is my duty to obey, and not to deliberate.

August 26th.–The Terror has full swing at the North now. All the papers favorable to us have been suppressed. How long would our mob stand a Yankee paper here? But newspapers against our government, such as the Examiner and the Mercury flourish like green bay-trees. A man up to the elbows in finance said to-day: “Clayton’s story is all nonsense. They do sometimes pay out two millions a week; they paid the soldiers this week, but they don’t pay the soldiers every week.” “Not by a long shot,” cried a soldier laddie with a grin.

“Why do you write in your diary at all,” some one said to me, “if, as you say, you have to contradict every day what you wrote yesterday?” “Because I tell the tale as it is told to me. I write current rumor. I do not vouch for anything.”

We went to Pizzini’s, that very best of Italian confectioners. From there we went to Miss Sally Tompkins’s hospital, loaded with good things for the wounded. The men under Miss Sally’s kind care looked so clean and comfortable–cheerful, one might say. They were pleasant and nice to see. One, however, was dismal in tone and aspect, and he repeated at intervals with no change of words, in a forlorn monotone: “What a hard time we have had since we left home.” But nobody seemed to heed his wailing, and it did not impair his appetite.

At Mrs. Toombs’s, who was raging; so anti-Davis she will not even admit that the President is ill. “All humbug.” “But what good could pretending to be ill do him? ” “That reception now, was not that a humbug? Such a failure. Mrs. Reagan could have done better than that.”

Mrs. Walker is a Montgomery beauty, with such magnificent dresses. She was an heiress, and is so dissatisfied with Richmond, accustomed as she is to being a belle under different conditions. As she is as handsome and well dressed as ever, it must be the men who are all wrong.

“Did you give Lawrence that fifty-dollar bill to go out and change it?” I was asked. “Suppose he takes himself off to the Yankees. He would leave us with not too many fifty-dollar bills.” He is not going anywhere, however. I think his situation suits him. That wadded belt of mine, with the gold pieces quilted in, has made me ashamed more than once. I leave it under my pillow and my maid finds it there and hangs it over the back of a chair, in evidence as I reenter the room after breakfast. When I forget and leave my trunk open, Lawrence brings me the keys and tells me, “You oughten to do so, Miss Mary.” Mr. Chesnut leaves all his little money in his pockets, and Lawrence says that’s why he can’t let any one but himself brush Mars Jeems’s clothes.

Lenox, Aug., 1861.

My dear Georgy: You need not speak so coolly of our staying here three months. Three weeks will give us enough, I guess. It is actually tiresome not to have anything to do, after being so busy in New York. We only take one paper too now–the Tribune, and that does not come in till four o’clock, so that our mornings are very blank. There is a newsboy here however –think of that! who sells the New York and Boston papers every day on the hotel steps, after the arrival of the stage. And there is a brick store and a telegraph office, connecting with the telegraph in Springfield. Messages come over the wires in the short space of three days, I am told! . . . Is there not some newsstand or book-store, on Pennsylvania Avenue where Moritz can buy you the illustrated papers for the hospitals? I hope so, as we cannot send anything now except perhaps a stray Boston paper which everybody here has finished. I sent word to Edward Gilman, who has been in New York, when he goes home to Maine to mail you every now and then a Bangor paper for some sick Maine volunteers. . . . When we go back, we will constitute ourselves into a society, and do things more systematically and thoroughly. . . .

Our letters must be few and stupid. Your last to us was Eliza’s, written last Monday in camp. What scenes you must have gone through there, in the arrest and examination of those women spies! What strange romance history will be, by and bye, to May and Bertha. Gay ladies and courtly gentlemen, and ragged rebel volunteers, and city brokers, and wily politicians, all assigned their respective cells side by side, perhaps, in Fort Lafayette. You wonder what “horse-cakes” are, which the old woman declared her packets of letters to be, when found between her shoulders. They are gingerbread of the “round heart” consistency, cut in the flat, rude shape of a prancing horse with very prominent ears and very stubbed legs, sold in various small shops in Alexandria, along with candy balls, penny whistles and fly-specked ballads. “Horse-cakes” are an Alexandria institution. You should buy a few for lunch some day in the bakery. . . . We live in the newspapers and in your letters. It is impossible to think of anything else. I have tried on successive afternoons to get interested in Motley’s Netherlands, and give it up as a bad job. One reads a sentence over and over without getting the sense of it. And then, I remembered, that I couldn’t remember a name, or fact, or date in the three volumes of Motley’s other work; so what’s the use of reading anything? “Fort Sumter” is ancient history enough for me. To-day we have quite a budget of news–the  details of Butler’s expedition to Fort Hatteras, which of course had to be successful. They went against the weakest point of the coast, with an overwhelming force. Little as it is, it serves for a subject of brag for us, and the newspapers glory over it as a splendid naval victory in the style of true Southern reports. We have the text of Fremont’s proclamation. It is all very well in itself, but I don’t see the object of setting slaves free in Missouri, and setting soldiers to catch them in Virginia;–shooting rebels out west and letting them off with “a mild dose of oath of allegiance” in Washington. . . . It is my growing conviction that nothing would be worse for the country than to be let off easy in this war. We should learn to think lightly of Divine guidance and Divine judgments. Providence means to humble and punish us thoroughly before full success is granted, and it is best so.

MONDAY, AUGUST 26, 1861.

Went to the Provost Marshalls with Julia this morning and after much trouble got a “Pass” to go on the Boat to Alexandria. Took the Boat with Julia at 1 o’clock. Went directly to the Camp of the NY 27th 3/4ths of a mile back of the City and near Fort Ellsworth East of “Shooters Hill.” Walked over to the Fort with Surgeon Barnes and Lieut Swan, found Lieut Link of Newark & Col Lansing and went through the Fort. Saw Brigade Drill afterwards and back to the Camp. Soldiers in good health.

______

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, 26th–There was a heavy rainstorm last night. I worked all day, picking onion seed, and in the evening went down to Inland to make arrangements to go back to Davenport in the morning to join the camp.

26th.–I was visited by my Colonel to-day. He introduced the subject of reducing my hospital force. I was extra-polite, and replied that I had not the slightest objection, provided it was done with the understanding that it would shift the responsibility of the care of the sick from my shoulders to those of others. The subject was dropped, and will hardly be renewed. The jealousy existing in the military towards the medical department of the army astounds me. The military commanders claiming that the medical have no authority except through them, has driven the medical officers to assume the other extreme, and claim that they are the only officers in the army who are really independent of command. This quarrel is often bitter, and makes not only themselves uncomfortably captious, but subjects the sick and wounded to suffering whilst these settle their unnecessary quarrels.

August 26th.–General Van Vliet called from General M^cClellan to say that the Commander-in-Chief would be happy to go round the camps with me when he next made an inspection, and would send round an orderly and charger in time to get ready before he started. These little excursions are not the most agreeable affairs in the world; for M^cClellan delights in working down staff and escort, dashing from the Chain Bridge to Alexandria, and visiting all the posts, riding as hard as he can, and not returning till past midnight, so that if one has a regard for his cuticle, or his mail days, he will not rashly venture on such excursions. To-day he is to inspect M^cDowell’s division.

I set out accordingly with Captain Johnson over the Long Bridge, which is now very strictly guarded. On exhibiting my pass to the sentry at the entrance, he called across to the sergeant and spoke to him aside, showing him the pass at the same time. “Are you Russell, of the London Times?” said the sergeant. I replied, “If you look at the pass, you will see who I am.” He turned it over, examined it most narrowly, and at last, with an expression of infinite dissatisfaction and anger upon his face, handed it back, saying to the sentry, “I suppose you must let him go.”

Meantime Captain Johnson was witching the world with feats of noble horsemanship, for I had lent him my celebrated horse Walker, so called because no earthly equestrian can induce him to do anything but trot violently, gallop at full speed, or stand on his hind legs. Captain Johnson laid the whole fault of the animal’s conduct to my mismanagement, affirming that all it required was a light hand and gentleness, and so, as he could display both, I promised to let him have a trial to-day. Walker on starting, however, insisted on having a dance to himself, which my friend attributed to the excitement produced by the presence of the other horse, and I rode quietly along whilst the captain proceeded to establish an acquaintance with his steed in some quiet bye-street. As I was crossing the Long Bridge, the forbidden clatter of a horse’s hoofs on the planks caused me to look round, and on, in a cloud of dust, through the midst of shouting sentries, came my friend of the gentle hand and unruffled temper, with his hat thumped down on the back of his head, his eyes gleaming, his teeth clenched, his fine features slightly flushed, to say the least of it, sawing violently at Walker’s head, and exclaiming, “You brute, I’ll teach you to walk,” till he brought up by the barrier midway on the bridge. The guard, en masse, called the captain’s attention to the order, “all horses to walk over the bridge.” “Why, that’s what I want him to do. I’ll give any man among you one hundred dollars who can make him walk along this bridge or anywhere else.” The redoubtable steed, being permitted to proceed upon its way, dashed swiftly through the tête de pont, or stood on his hind legs when imperatively arrested by a barrier or abattis, and on these occasions my excellent friend, as he displayed his pass in one hand and restrained Bucephalus with the other, reminded me of nothing so much as the statue of Peter the Great, in the square on the banks of the Neva, or the noble equestrian monument of General Jackson, which decorates the city of Washington. The troops of M^cDowell’s division were already drawn up on a rugged plain, close to the river’s margin, in happier days the scene of the city races. A pestilential odour rose from the slaughter-houses close at hand, but regardless of odour or marsh, Walker continued his violent exercise, evidently under the idea that he was assisting at a retreat of the grand army as before. [continue reading…]

Civil War Era Photographic Portraiture No. 11

Almost 10 years ago, this tintype was the subject of a couple of involved NPR articles/podcasts on the image and identifying who the soldier in the Union Zuave uniform was.

In the first, Unknown No More: Identifying A Civil War Soldier¹, he is identified as Thomas A. Ardies from the 14th Brooklyn Regiment², also known as the “Red Legged Devils.” The identification was based on letters carved into the stock of his gun—A.T., thought to be his initials—, his distinctive uniform, and his height in comparison to the weapon.

A week later, in Photo Mystery Solved, Then Doubted, Then Deciphered, Thanks To Readers³, author Ramona Martinez revealed that their attempt to identify the subject in the photo had resulted in “a misidentification, a historical wild goose chase, and a lively, collaborative conversation online.”

It turns out that the letters carved into the stock weren’t A.T. but, rather, T.A..

The photo of the mystery soldier is a tintype, a direct positive of the scene, which produces laterally reversed images. The process produces mirror images of what they actually are — like belts, hats and, of course, initials. (The Library of Congress has a good explanation of this.)

Based on pension files from the 14th Brooklyn, there were eight soldiers with the initials A.T.. Six were eliminated as being too old or too tall.  A seventh, Albert C. Tibbals, was eliminated because one of the commenters actually owned a picture of Tibbals—and he wasn’t the man in the tintype.

The remaining soldier with the initials A.T. was a fellow named Alonzo S. Thompson.  He is very probably the soldier in the tintype, but the proof is not totally definitive as there are no other known photos of him to compare the tintype to.

Thompson was discharged for illness and died of chronic diarrhea on Long Island in 1863.

Title: [Unidentified soldier in Union zouave uniform with bayoneted musket with initials A.T. on stock]
Date Created/Published: [between 1861 and 1865]
Medium: 1 photograph : quarter-plate tintype, hand-colored ; 11.1 x 9.5 cm (case)
Reproduction Number: LC-DIG-ppmsca-32681 (digital file from original, tonality adjusted) LC-DIG-ppmsca-32126 (digital file from original item)
Rights Advisory: No known restrictions on publication.
Access Advisory: Use digital images. Original served only by appointment because material requires special handling.
Call Number: AMB/TIN no. 2805 [P&P]
Repository: Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print
Notes:
…..Possibly identified as Alonzo F. Thompson of Company C, 84th New York Infantry Regiment (earlier known as 14th Regiment New York State Militia). (Source: Martinez, Ramona. Photo Mystery Solved, Then Doubted, Then Deciphered, Thanks to Readers; http://www.npr.org/blogs/pictureshow/2012/04/17/150801239/ and American Civil War Database)
…..Title devised by Library staff.
…..Case: Rinhart, no. 108.
…..Gift; Tom Liljenquist; 2011; (DLC/PP-2012:127).
…..More information about this collection is available at http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.lilj
…..Forms part of: Liljenquist Family Collection of Civil War Photographs (Library of Congress).
…..Published in: Civil War news. Tunbridge, Vt. : Historical Publications, June 2012 (XXVIII, 6), p. 5.
…..Published in: Civil War news / by Stephen W. Sylvia & Michael J. O’Donnell. Orange, Va. : Moss Publications, c1978.
…..Exhibited: “The Civil War in America” at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., 2013.

Library of Congress permarecord

Mike’s notes:

Image restoration 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 matter
– straighten image

Image restoration is the process of using digital restoration tools to create new digital versions of the images while also improving their quality and repairing damage.

1. Martinez, Ramona. “Unknown No More: Identifying a Civil War Soldier.” NPR. NPR, April 11, 2012. https://www.npr.org/2012/04/11/150288978/unknown-no-more-identifying-a-civil-war-soldier.
2. On 7 December 1861, the State of New York officially changed the regiment’s designation to the 84th New York Volunteer Infantry (and its unit histories are sometimes found under this designation). But at the unit’s request and because of the fame attained by the unit at First Bull Run, the United States Army continued to refer to it as the 14th. (Wikipedia)
3. Martinez, Ramona. “Photo Mystery Solved, Then Doubted, Then Deciphered, Thanks to Readers.” NPR. NPR, April 17, 2012. https://www.npr.org/sections/pictureshow/2012/04/17/150801239/photo-mystery-solved-then-doubted-then-resolved-thanks-to-readers.

P.S. August 26. After studying over the accounts of the battle and reading Russell’s letter to the Times, I hardly know whether to laugh or cry. Of all the ridiculous battles that ever were fought, this seems to me the most so. To a foreigner or to any one not interested in it, the account must be laughable in the extreme. But the disgrace is frightful. The expose of the condition of our army is not calculated to do us anything but the most unmixed harm here, though it may have the good effect at home of causing these evils to be corrected. If this happens again, farewell to our country for many a day. Bull’s Run will be a by-word of ridicule for all time. Our honor will be utterly gone. But yesterday we might have stood against the world. Now none so base to do us reverence. Let us stop our bragging now and hence-forward. Throw Bull’s Run in the teeth of any man who dares to talk large. In spite of my mortification, I could not help howling with laughter over a part of Russell’s letter. Such a battle of heels. Such a bloodless, ridiculous race for disgrace, history does not record. Unpursued, untouched, without once having even crossed bayonets with the enemy, we have run and saved our precious carcasses from a danger that did not exist. Our flag, what has become of it? Who will respect it? What can we ever say for it after this?

My determination to come home is only increased by this disgrace. I cannot stay here now to stand the taunts of every one without being able to say a word in defence. Unless I hear from you at once, I shall write myself to Governor Andrew and to Mr. Dana and to every one else I can think of, and raise Heaven and earth to get a commission. If we must be beaten, and it looks now as though that must ultimately be the case, I want to do all I can not to be included among those who ran away. Our accounts say nothing of the Massachusetts regiments. So far as we have learned, the Pennsylvania and foreign regiments are the only ones known to have disgraced themselves, and the Rhode Island ones stood well. Hurry up and send me my commission quick.

Norwood, Near Berryville, August 26.—On a visit of a few days to our relative, Dr. M. The people of this neighbourhood occupied as they are in the one I left. All hearts and hands seem open to our army. Four heavily laden wagons have left Berryville within a few days, for the hospitals below. We are all anxious about Western Virginia, of which we can hear so little. General Lee and General Floyd are there, and if they can only have men and ammunition enough we have nothing to fear.

The army in Fairfax seems quiet. Colonel Stuart, with his cavalry, has driven the enemy back, and taken possession of “Chestnut Hill” as head-quarters. There they are overlooking Washington, Georgetown, and our neighbourhood, all bristling with cannon, to prevent their nearer approach. Some of those young men can almost point from the hills on which they are encamped, to chimneys of their own firesides, the portals of their own homes. The woods are cleared away for miles; even the yard trees are gone, leaving the houses in bold relief, with nothing to shade, nothing to obscure them. I do pity those who were obliged to stay in Southern homes, with Southern hearts, surrounded by bitter and suspicious enemies. My old friend Mrs. D. is sometimes in their lines, sometimes in ours. When our men are near her, they are fed from her table, and receive all manner of kindness from her hands. Some of my nephews have been invited to her table, and treated as her relations. When they entered her house she [continue reading…]

Monday evening, August 26.– Marched today up the beautiful valley, “Tygart’s Valley” I believe, to this pretty camp in the hills, eighteen miles. Saw our general. About forty-five, a middle-sized, good-looking man, educated at West Point. An army man, good sense, good talker–General Reynolds. Oh, what a lovely spot!

_______

August 26, 1861.

DEAR UNCLE:–We are camped somewhere near, I think, the head of Tygart’s Valley, near Cheat Mountain Pass. Several regiments are in sight, and the enemy under Lee so near that our outposts have fights with his daily. We are under a capital general, and are fast getting ready. I think we are safe; if not, we shall be within a very short time. We expect to stay here until we or the enemy are whipped, or back out for fear of a whipping–probably weeks.

We are in [a] lovely little valley on a fine clear trout stream, with high mountains on all sides and large trees over us. A perfect camp, perfectly protected by entrenchments for miles up the valley, pickets and scouts in all directions, etc., etc. A telegraph finished to headquarters of our general from General Rosecrans’ at Clarksburg, and rapid mail carriers daily to the same place. For instance, your letter of the 19th was handed to me at my tent by the courier within half an hour after our arrival here.

Glad Fanny is with you. Lee will not whip us unless we attack him with a force too small. If he attacks us, we are the best off. The postage stamps are all gone.

Sincerely,

R. B. HAYES.

I got four Fremont Journals. Much obliged.

S. BIRCHARD.

_______

SOMEWHERE IN TYGART’S VALLEY, NEAR CHEAT
MOUNTAIN PASS, VIRGINIA,
August 26, Monday evening, 8:30
P.M., after a march of eighteen miles, 1861.

DEAREST:–You will think me insane, writing so often and always with the same story: Delighted with scenery and pleasant excitement.

We are camped tonight in a valley surrounded by mountains on a lovely stream under great trees. With the Third Ohio, Thirteenth Indiana, one-half of McCook’s Ninth and the Michigan artillery, which Mother remembers passed our house one Sunday about the last of May, and McMullen’s Battery, all in sight. Our General Reynolds makes a good impression. We are [continue reading…]

August 26, 1861

• Battle of (Kessler’s) Cross Lanes. General John Floyd routs an Ohio regiment
• General Benjamin Butler leads a successful amphibious landing on Cape Hatteras.
• King Kamehameha IV proclaimed the neutrality of the Hawaiian Islands during the Civil War.

A Chronological History of the Civil War in America¹

• Seventh Ohio Regiment, while breakfasting at Summersville, Va., surprised and surrounded by a force of rebels under Floyd, but fought themselves through with a comparatively small loss.
• Naval and military expedition sailed from Fortress Monroe against the forts at Hatteras Inlet.S

1. A Chronological History of the Civil War in America by Richard Swainson Fisher, New York, Johnson and Ward, 1863

Beverly, August 25. Sunday.–A cold night. Clear but foggy this A. M. No orders to march yet. Good! Provisions and provender, i. e. rations and forage, scarce and poor. Captain Clark, a spirited German (Prussian) officer of the “Greys,” dined us yesterday at Widow What’s-her-name’s hotel, Got letters here from Lute, Uncle, and Mother, with a Testament from Mother. Shall read it “in course”–through I mean; begin now.

_______

BEVERLY, VIRGINIA, August 25, 1861, Sunday A. M.

DEAREST:–Supposing I might have to go on towards Cheat Mountain this morning, I wrote you a very short note last night I now write so soon again to show you how much I love you and how much my thoughts are on the dear ones at home.

I never enjoyed any business or mode of life as much as I do this. I really feel badly when I think of several of my intimate friends who are compelled to stay at home. These marches and campaigns in the hills of western Virginia will always be among the pleasantest things I can remember. I know we are in frequent perils, that we may never return and all that, but the feeling that I am where I ought to be is a full compensation for all that is sinister, leaving me free to enjoy as if on a pleasure tour.

I am constantly reminded of our trip and happiness a year ago. I met a few days ago in the Fifth Regiment the young Moore we saw at Quebec, who went with me to see the animals at Montreal one Sunday. Do you remember the rattlesnakes?

Young Bradford goes to Cincinnati today.–We have our troubles in the Twenty-third of course, but it is happiness compared with the Guthries–fine fellows and many fine officers, but, etc., etc.

We saw nothing prettier [last year] than the view from my tent this morning. McCook’s men are half a mile to the right, McMullen’s Battery on the next hill in front of us. The Virginia Second a half mile in front, and the Guthries to the left. We on higher ground see them all; then mountains, meadow, and stream. Nothing wanting but you and the boys.

I want to say to you it will be impossible often, as we get further in the hills, to write, and when I do write it will be only a few lines. Don’t think I am getting weaned from you and home. It is merely the condition of things compels me. I saw young Culbertson, looking strong and healthy, Channing Richards, the Andersons, etc., etc., all ditto. Young Culbertson is now in a scouting party that is after guerrillas who murdered some of their men in an ambulance.

I have got a new boy–a yellow lad in Guthrie Gray uniform, aged about sixteen, named Theodore Wilson.

Sunday evening.–Just got orders to go to Huttonsville. Look on my map of Virginia and you will see it geography style, but the beautiful scenery you will not see there. We are to be for the present under General Reynolds, a good officer, and then General Benham or [continue reading…]

AUGUST 25th.—I believe the Secretary will resign; but “immediate” still lies on his table.

News of a battle near Springfield, Mo. McCulloch and Price defeat the Federals, killing and wounding thousands. Gen. Lyon killed.

August 25th.–Mr. Barnwell says democracies lead to untruthfulness. To be always electioneering is to be always false; so both we and the Yankees are unreliable as regards our own exploits. “How about empires? Were there ever more stupendous lies than the Emperor Napoleon’s?” Mr. Barnwell went on: “People dare not tell the truth in a canvass; they must conciliate their constituents. Now everybody in a democracy always wants an office; at least, everybody in Richmond just now seems to want one.” Never heeding interruptions, he went on: “As a nation, the English are the most truthful in the world.” “And so are our country gentlemen: they own their constituents–at least, in some of the parishes, where there are few whites; only immense estates peopled by negroes.” Thackeray speaks of the lies that were told on both sides in the British wars with France; England kept quite alongside of her rival in that fine art. England lied then as fluently as Russell lies about us now.

Went to see Agnes De Leon, my Columbia school friend. She is fresh from Egypt, and I wished to hear of the Nile, the crocodiles, the mummies, the Sphinx, and the Pyramids. But her head ran upon Washington life, such as we knew it, and her soul was here. No theme was possible but a discussion of the latest war news.

Mr. Clayton, Assistant Secretary of State, says we spend two millions a week. Where is all that money to come from? They don’t want us to plant cotton, but to make provisions. Now, cotton always means money, or did when there was an outlet for it and anybody to buy it. Where is money to come from now?

Mr. Barnwell’s new joke, I dare say, is a Joe Miller, but Mr. Barnwell laughed in telling it till he cried. A man was fined for contempt of court and then, his case coming on, the Judge talked such arrant nonsense and was so warped in his mind against the poor man, that the “fined one” walked up and handed the august Judge a five-dollar bill. “Why? What is that for?” said the Judge. “Oh, I feel such a contempt of this court coming on again!”

I came up tired to death; took down my hair; had it hanging over me in a Crazy Jane fashion; and sat still, hands over my head (half undressed, but too lazy and sleepy to move). I was sitting in a rocking-chair by an open window taking my ease and the cool night air, when suddenly the door opened and Captain walked in.

He was in the middle of the room before he saw his mistake; he stared and was transfixed, as the novels say. I dare say I looked an ancient Gorgon. Then, with a more frantic glare, he turned and fled without a word. I got up and bolted the door after him, and then looked in the glass and laughed myself into hysterics. I shall never forget to lock the door again. But it does not matter in this case. I looked totally unlike the person bearing my name, who, covered with lace cap, etc., frequents the drawing-room. I doubt if he would know me again.

Sanitary Commission, Washington, D. C.
Treasury Building, Aug. 17th, 1861.

Miss Woolsey: In absence of Mr. Olmsted I answer your note in regard to supplies for the 25th N. Y. We will give immediate attention to this Regiment, and will gladly furnish them any supplies we have on hand for their comfort. There are now no beds or cases to fill with straw in the store-room of the Commission (but very few have ever been sent in). Mr. Olmsted, however, has sent for two hundred to be forwarded from New York as soon as possible, and when these arrive a supply shall be furnished to the 25th.

It has been the endeavor of the Secretary to send notice of the existence and objects of the Commission to the surgeon of each regiment: it may not have reached some, but the visits of the inspectors, now in progress, will ensure this notice to all.

Mr. Olmsted wishes to make the Regimental Hospital comfortable, but not to induce the regimental surgeons to retain patients who ought to be sent to the General Hospital.

I am glad to be able to add, that there is a reasonable prospect that a new General Hospital will be immediately established in or near Alexandria for the sick of the regiments in that vicinity.

Pardon haste,

With sincere regards,

Your obedient servant,

F. N. KNAPP, for

Fred’k Law Olmsted.

SUNDAY 25

Went to church this morning with Julia & Brownson. The day has been delightful, quite a show of soldiers up 14th St., Infantry, Cavalry & Artillery of the Regular Army with a fine Band and Drum Corps. A long train of Army wagons also passed the house. Mr B & wife [Mrs Taft] went to church in the afternoon. Walked down to Lafayette Square and was awhile at Willards with Brownson, not much of a crowd there tonight. Saw Col Clark and Col Chambers, Hon Ira Harris there. Came home 1/2 past nine.

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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.

Sunday, 25th–I stayed over night at Sparks’ and attended meeting at the grove again this morning. We had a basket dinner at noon. At the afternoon service the Lord’s Supper was observed. After the meeting we started for home, a distance of eleven miles.