Improvement of Chickahominy River Virginia: 1895 Report

IMPROVEMENT OF CHICKAHOMINY RIVER VIRGINIA

This river is one of the principal tributaries of the James River and is navigable at high water for vessels drawing 12 feet to Binn Bar 2 miles below Windsor Shades. The latter place is the head of navigation and is 25 miles from the mouth of the river. Previous to artificial betterment the channel from Binn Bar to Windsor Shades was obstructed by several shoals with a depth of 4 to 5 feet at low water and the entrance to the river was obstructed by a bar. The present project of improvement is to dredge a channel from 100 to 150 feet wide and not less than 8 feet deep at low water through the shoals near the head of navigation and a channel 200 feet wide and 14 to 15 feet deep at low water through the bar at the entrance. The rise of the tide is about 3 feet. The amount expended on the present project to June 30, 1894 was 23,829.91 The channel through the bar at the entrance to the river has been dredged to the projected dimensions An examination made in January 1891 of the work hitherto done showed that very little shoaling had taken place in the channels dredged since 1878 the worst shoals being near Old Fort. These shoals and those between Binn Bar and Windsor Shades have since been dredged to a depth not less than 8 feet at low water and to a width of 50 feet excepting a part of Windsor Shades Bar where the width is only 40 feet.

Five thousand dollars was appropriated for this improvement by act of July 13, 1892. A contract was entered into with Chester T. Caler, of Norfolk Va., on March 18, 1893 to do the required dredging at 23 cents per cubic yard for material deposited on shore and 13 cents per cubic yard for material deposited by dumping. Work under this contract which was commenced June 9, 1894 was continued during the present fiscal year until July 29, 1894. 18,188 cubic yards of material being removed during July. Thirty-five thousand six hundred and thirty four cubic yards was removed and deposited from scows under this contract from Upper and Lower Binn, Osborn, Old Fort. and Windsor Shades bars increasing the channel width through each bar to 100 feet with 9 feet depth at low water. The aggregate length of the channels dredged was 5,875 feet. The project for this improvement is now complete a channel 100 feet wide and 8 feet deep at low water being completed from the mouth to the head of navigation and this is deemed sufficient for the present and prospective commercial interests of the locality. The amount expended on this improvement during the fiscal year ended June 30, 1895 is $5,170.09 for payment on contract inspection and office expenses

This work is in the collection district of Petersburg, Va which is the nearest port of entry

Nearest light house: Deep Water Light in James River Virginia

Nearest port Fort Monroe Va

The amount of revenue collected at the port of Petersburg, Va during the fiscal year ended June 30, 1895 is $00.00

 The following statistics relative to the commerce of the Chickahominy River Virginia during the calendar year 1894 were furnished by Mr L. F. Barnes of Boulevard, Va.

                                                 Articles

                    Amount      Value
                          tons   $
Cordwood 18 000 90 000
Sawed lumber    6 000 50 000
Vegetables           500 25 000
Fish                     250 10 000
Fertilizer              500 4 000
Total               25 250     179 000

Vessels Number     Average draft    Average tonnage
Feet.
Steam 2 6 6
Sail          200              12 250
Barges 25 6 175
Lighters     25 4 100
Rafts 10

Total 262

-Report of the Chief of Engineers U.S. Army, Part 2
Annual report (United States. War Dept.)
 U.S. Government Printing Office, 1895

Rev. George Washington Nolley

Some biographical information about the Reverend George Washington Nolley mentioned in the post of  November 12.

THIS venerable man, now verging on eighty years, with a service in the ministry beyond a half-century, was a son of thunder in his prime, and of tireless zeal. He was a person of marked features and manner, tall, robust, brusque and positive, with "a face as the face of a lion." Even in his ashes the old fire often kindles. There is a fitness of things in such a veteran living near the training school of the sons of the prophets. His residence at Randolph Macon College, and the association with the young men preparing for the ministry, will be of enduring gain to them. 

 He was born of pious parents, in the county of Mecklenburg, Virginia, on the 25th of December, 1803. His father, James Nolley, was a native of Greensville County, of the same State, and, for several years of the last century, he was an earnest and laborious travelling preacher of the Virginia Conference. His health failed him, however, from excessive labors, and he soon retired to the local ranks. The mother of Mr. Nolley was originally a Miss Seward, of Brunswick County, in his own words "one of the best women that ever lived." Her remains rest in the soil of that county till the morning of the resurrection. 

 Mr. Nolley received a tolerable academic education in his early life, and he still remembers with pleasure, an incident which occurred when he was about twelve years of age, and before he embraced religion. His father took him some distance from home to a boarding-school. The teacher, an educated Scotchman, examined him to ascertain what progress he had made in knowledge, and among other questions he asked him, "What is religion?" The youth replied, "It is the love of God in the heart of men." He doubts now, after an experience of about sixty years, if he could give a better definition of it. 

 On the 9th of October, 1819, young Nolley was born again at a camp-meeting in Mecklenburg, his native county, and soon afterwards connected himself with the Methodist Church. He devoted several following years to the business of teaching school. 

 But it seems that Providence designed another field of instruction for him: It is a singular fact, in his history, that, long before he embraced religion, he received the impression that he would become a minister of the gospel. The church seems to have had a similar impression, for not very long after his conversion, without any application or knowledge of his own, he was licensed to preach. In the fall and winter of 1824 he was employed to labor on the Bedford Circuit by the Rev. H. G. Leigh, P. E., in connexion(sic) with the Rev. William H. Starr, who was then the preacher in charge of that Circuit. In February, 1825, he was received on trial in the Virginia Conference and sent to labor on Banister Circuit, embracing the lower part of Pittsylvania, and the whole of Halifax County. The most of this county was missionary ground, but, with the blessing of God, he succeeded in forming a circuit which has since occupied a high position in the Virginia Conference. One incident on this circuit deserves to be remembered. The young preacher made an appointment to preach at an old Continental church, eight miles out of his usual course. He attended and preached as well as he could to a large congregation of respectable-looking hearers but at the close of the sermon no one asked him to go home with him, and take any refreshment or lodging for the night. So he returned, with a rather heavy heart to the family which he had left in the morning. Immediately he retired to his room to seek some comfort in prayer and reading the Scriptures. Providentially he opened his Bible upon the sixth verse in Psalm cxxvi: "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." This passage gave him comfort and encouraged him to go back to that church again. On this occasion the wealthiest man in the neighborhood took him home with him, and would have him preach to his own servants in his parlor at night. 

 In 1826 young Nolley was stationed on Granville Circuit, North Carolina. One of the most important incidents that occurred on this circuit was the fact, that, from the experience of a pious lady given in a class-meeting, on one occasion, he was brought to feel the need, and seek blessing of perfect love, and he never rested till he obtained it. In 1827 he was where there were upwards of two hundred souls converted during the year. In 1828 he was stationed in Norfolk, in 1829 in Raleigh, and in 1830 again in Norfolk. In each of these stations he witnessed 44 times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord." In 1831 he was stationed at Trinity Church, in Richmond, which was favored with a good revival in the course of the year. In 1832 he was on Princess Anne Circuit; in 1833 on Caroline; 1834 on Gates Circuit; 1835 on Cumberland Circuit; and in 1836 on Buckingham Circuit. In all of these appointments he witnessed displays of Divine power in the salvation of souls.

 In 1837-'38-'39 and '40, he was on the Norfolk District. In 1841 he was, stationed at Shockoe Hill Church, in the city of Richmond. During this year there was a glorious revival of religion in that church, in which between one and two hundred persons made a profession and joined the church, and some are living now, steadfast and useful members.

 In 1842-'43-'44 and '45, he was on the Charlottesville District. In 1846-'47-'48 and '49 he was on the Lynchburg District. In 1850 and '51 he was stationed on Chesterfield Circuit. In 1852 he was stationed on Louisa Circuit. 

 It may be mentioned that, on the last four named appointments, excepting the Lynchburg District, he purchased and furnished very comfortable parsonages. In 1853-'54 he was stationed on Hanover Circuit, when, in the town of Ashland, he built and furnished another parsonage. At the close of his term on this circuit, he purchased a house for himself and settled his family in Ashland. He attended the following Conference, which was held in Petersburg, with some degree of fear and trembling, doubting whether Bishop Andrew, who was to preside, would approve of his course. He sought the earliest opportunity to state his case to the Bishop. That noble old man replied, "Nolley, you have done exactly right, when a man has travelled as long as you have, and has as large a family as you have, he ought to provide a home for them and settle them in it."

That decision of the Bishop removed a mountain from the mind of the veteran preacher-and since then, although his family has remained in Ashland, he has not hesitated to receive any appointment the Bishop has given him, however distant from home, even down to the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. 

 From 1854 to 1863 Mr. Nolley was stationed at the African Methodist Church in the city Richmond. He found here a church of one hundred and seventy-five members, and left a membership of five hundred. 

 At the close of the war in 1865, being excluded from his pulpit in Richmond by the Federal authorities, he repaired to his old friends on Princess Anne Circuit, then destitute of a preacher, and tendered them his services for the remaining part of the Conference year. He was returned to that circuit the following year in 1866. In '67 and '68 he was stationed on (the) New Kent Circuit. This country was overrun by both armies during the late war. The result was, the churches were mostly destroyed, and the people so impoverished that they were not able of themselves to repair them; but nothing dismayed, Mr. Nolley went into the chief cities of the North, and begged money enough to rebuild some houses of worship and repair many others. In 1868 he was stationed on Pasquotank Circuit, where he spent a most pleasant year, and witnessed a great many conversions. In 1869 and 1870 he was stationed in the town of Gordonsville, where he succeeded in completing and furnishing one of the most beautiful and commodious churches within all the bounds of the Virginia Conference. In addition to this, during the last year of his labors there, he had the happiness of seeing some thirty or forty persons converted and added to the church. 

 Since then, on account of the failure of his health, he has been laid aside from the regular work of the ministry. But still he preaches occasionally to his neighbors, and the students of our College in the town of Ashland, where his zeal and example in religious life is "as an ointment poured forth."  Notwithstanding his infirmities, he has answered to the call of his name on the first morning of every Annual Conference for the last fifty-five years, and now in the seventy-seventh year of his age, he is waiting for the call of his Master too the Conference and communion of Heaven! 

 He gave considerable aid to the Duncan Memorial Church in that town, by his large and liberal collections in different parts of the State. 

--Sketches of the Virginia Conference, Methodist Episcopal Church, South.  by Rev. John J. Lafferty Richmond, Va., Christian Advocate Office 1880.

"Peculiarities to Which a People Cling with so Much Tenacity"- New Kent - 1867

Correspondence of the Richmond Dispatch

Pleasant and Practical- New Kent and Charles City- Wheat and Corn- Waste Land- Deer, Foxes, and Minks- The People- Employments and Amusements of Ladies and Gentlemen- The Kitchen and the Cow-pen- German Settlers- York River Railroad- Destruction and Renovation of Churches- Old St. Peters, &c.

Banks of the Chickahominy,
New Kent county, Va.,
June 3, 1867. 

We have at last a project of easy communication with our neighboring county Charles City, from which we are separated by the Chickahominy, a stream historical since the days of Captain John Smith, and still more noted since the great American war. In these parts it is a much more important affair than it is in your vicinity. There yon call it a swamp; here it is a bona fide river, and at tunes so wide and deep as to he impassable to those acquainted with its fords. The recent action of the courts of New Kent and Charles City for the restoration of the bridges destroyed during the war gives much satisfaction to numerous persons whom the calls of business and social life require to pass from one to the other of these counties.

If the Dispatch will use its influence to get us a mail from Richmond to New Kent Courthouse direct the public hereabout, will be greatly obliged, the circulation of the paper somewhat increased, perhaps, and news letters from this county will be more frequent. Though within twenty-five miles of the metropolis, there is for here no regular communication by public carriers of any sort. As you have not heard from this vicinity for a long time, it may please you to learn how folks are getting along. The wheat promises well: but the people having little or no money last fall to buy seed, the quantity that was put in the ground was small. On the low grounds of the James in Charles City the prospect, though far short of that which prevailed in years past, is good for the times. There is one party in that region of country who has 800 acres, and another who has 900 acres, nearly ready for the sickle. The stalks are as high as the heads of either of the proprietors of the Dispatch, and stand so closely together, that if they were to throw there hats upon their heads (I mean upon the heads of the wheat) they (the hats) would he sustained. When Mr. Jack Baker stopped one day on the upper James to examine a wheat- field of this sort, the little horse from which he had dismounted, while browzing (sic) about, disappeared from the sight of his master. "Boys," exclaimed Mr. Baker to the gentlemen with whom he was travelling, "do help me to catch my horse, for if he gets into this wheat-field I shall not find him till after harvest." He would have been exposed to the same risk among these fields in Charles City at this time. In some of these cases this year a single farmer may send to the Richmond mills twelve or fifteen thousand bushels of wheat; and this will be something that has not taken place for a long time. 

In this county the reduction of labor necessitates the neglect of a considerable part of the land, which is now lying out enjoying such a Sabbath as it never had in former days. Of course the swamps will extend their area, and the old field pines will rapidly take possession. The width of unoccupied land being so much increased, the hounds having been dispersed or destroyed, and the gentlemen having much less time to hunt, the deer and foxes begin to multiply; the latter take great liberties; they are sometimes seen playing in the fields in the day, and at night they are distinctly heard barking near the houses, or more quietly creeping up to the premises; they make fearful havoc among the fowls. The minks are equally troublesome, or more so; and one of them will in a single night destroy more hopes and prospects of income from eggs and chickens than were ever contained in the brain of that farmer's milk-maid in the fable, the toss of whose head brought all her future glory to the ground. 

The corn has a tolerably good stand. On the low grounds it is greatly overrun with grass, the frequent rains of late having made it impossible to weed it. As soon as the earth becomes dry much that is now almost out of sight will be reclaimed. But with all this work, and the replanting that is necessary, and the wheat harvest pressing, the people will be very busy, and the despondent will be discouraged. 

But I do not think there are many of this class. Those who have been wont to abuse the people of Eastern Virginia as a lazy set may now discover that the wealth and leisure which once enabled them to cultivate their minds, and acquire those social refinements that were, and still are and long will be, their striking characteristic, did not extinguish their more hardy and vigorous qualities. They have adapted themselves to their new and laborious duties with wonderful diligence and cheerfulness. An elegant lady tells you that she has tried white labor, and is heartily sick of it; but away who goes, with a smile, to the kitchen or the cow-pen; and If you be her guest, will entertain you in the meanwhile by sending you to the spring for a pail of water to let you see how it feels just for a joke, and reward you for your toil by feasting you afterwards on some of her own handiwork. A colonel or captain whom you may happen to visit apologizes to you at the table with assumed gravity, and regrets that under the new order of things he is compelled to ask you to sit down with the cook and the washerwoman; and these ladies in turn inform you with a quick retort and hearty laugh, that you are eating with the ostler and bootblack. If they bring you buttermilk in a gourd instead of a goblet, (that was carried off, we will not say whither; for who knows!) or help you to ice cream with a wooden spoon; you are entertained with lively chat, and not with the long, dolorous strain of "what the Yankees took from us," of which everybody is heartily tired. Some persons fear that our women will lose their delicacy, and our old Virginia homes will be less hospitable and open to company; but it is not easy to destroy peculiarities to which a people cling with so much tenacity, and to which they find stronger reasons everyday to be more attached than ever. But before I leave this subject I must tell you about the horse carts. Did you ever ride in one? They are just better than one of your four-muled street wagons, which, with their intolerable din, are among the greatest nuisances of Richmond. The horse-cart  a vehicle without springs  is the equipage of Eastern Virginia; our carriages and buggies are not. And now, Messrs. Editors, when you travel into this county be careful how you pass the people who ride in horse-carts. A word to the wise is sufficient. I have seen fine carriages; but comparisons are odious; only remember the words of Solomon: "I have seen servants upon horses and princes walking as servants upon the earth"; and again he says, "The thing that hath been is that which shall be." 

Last year there came down some German people to this county to cut timber to make casks for a lager-beer establishment in Washington. A leading man of this class has bought a fine farm on the Williamsburg road, on which stands a very handsome residence, well known to those who pass that way. Others are looking for land, and some have, I hear, made purchases. The gentleman to whom I first alluded, says that where one German goes others are sure to follow. He predicts a considerable emigration of his people to this country; and the citizens here are so favorably impressed with their political views, and their general conduct, as to look with considerable favor upon the movement. Everything connected with the improvement of the country will he helped forward by the opening of the York River railroad, on which regular trains for freight and passengers are soon to run to the White House.

In respect to churches, this peninsula suffered greatly during the war. Rev. George W. Nolley has devoted himself this year with great energy and perseverance to the collection of funds to restore several Methodist churches on his circuit, and has met with considerable success in the cities which he has visited. Emmaus, the Baptist church, escaped destruction. This congregation has for its pastor Rev. Mr. Wallace, formerly of Richmond, a zealous and laborious minister. At old St. Peter's  the Episcopal church near the White House, so famous as the place where General Washington was married to the widow Custis- there has not been a sermon since the war. The building, by the ravages of war and relic-hunters, is reduced to a mere shell, and the congregation, greatly reduced by death and removals, is without a minister, it will, however, be opened for divine service on the fifth Sabbath in this month, when a sermon is to be preached by the Rev. Dr. Wade, of Charles City. A new church of the same denomination, some miles nearer Richmond, and not far from Bottom's bridge, is standing and in good repair, but most of the people who once worshipped(sic) there have left the neighborhood, and several of the places where they once lived in peace and plenty are indicated only by chimneys standing silent and desolate. Olivet, the Presbyterian church; six or eight miles above New Kent Courthouse, is uninjured. The building is fresh and neat, the yard handsomely laid off and planted with shade trees, and well enclosed, with a brick walk from the gate of the yard to the door of the house. Within, it is well carpeted, and so furnished as to make it altogether one of the most attractive country churches anywhere to be found in the State. Its preservation through the war was a marvel, and, under Providence, due to the earnest intercessions of some persons living near it, one of them a highly respectable colored man. It has lately had for its minister Rev. P. Fletcher, whose removal was deeply regretted; and until it secures another pastor is supplied by clergymen from Richmond. The congregation is a good one, and increasing, and the Sabbath school very regular at all seasons, and useful. 

J.B.J.

The Steamer West Point- April 1861

RICHMOND AND YORK RIVER

      RAILROAD AND STEAMBOAT LINE

STEAMER WEST POINT, Capt. J.C. Rowe, leaves Norfolk MONDAYS, WEDNESDAYS and FRIDAYS At 6 A.M. connecting with the CARS at White House at 2 P.M., and arrive in Richmond at 3:15 P.M.  

Passenger Train leaves Richmond DAILY at 6 A.M.,  (Sundays excepted.) connecting at White House with Steamer for Norfolk on TUESDAYS, THURSDAYS and SATURDAYS. Returning, on TUESDAYS, THURSDAYS SATURDAYS, Car leave White House at 11 A.M., and arrive in Richmond 12:15 P.M.  

 April 2d                                       R.H. TEMPLE Gen'l Supt. 

-Richmond Enquirer,  27 April 1861

The steamer West Point is now in Norfolk harbor where she has been with the exception of occasional short trips to Hampton Roads and one to Fortress Monroe with a flag of truce ever since the 20th day of April last. On the second trip made by her from the Pamunkey river to Norfolk, after the proclamation of President Lincoln of 15th April and before any indication had appeared that the federal government considered Virginia in a state of war Capt Rowe, commanding the steamer, was informed by tho military authorities at Fortress Monroe that she would not be permitted to pass that place again and that she would be stopped and seized if it were attempted. It was accordingly deemed proper not to put so valuable a piece of property at so great a risk, and the captain was directed not to make the attempt. Since that time the steamer has occasionally been in the use of the government for a per diem compensation.

-President's Report of the Richmond and York River Rail Road Company- Annual Report of the Board of Public Works to the General Assembly of Virginia, with the Accompanying Documents, Parts 3-4- (October 1861)

A Vermonter in New Kent - 1862 - Coda

Now that the series is over, the question remains, who was "See See Ess?" Deciding to crack the case forthwith I started with the logical assumption that "See See Ess" was an acronym of a sort for C. C. S. So then a soldier with the initials C. C. S.- or better yet and officer or at least non-commissioned officer, from the easy way he seemed to get around and mingle with various rank. After searching through the combined rosters of the Union regiments from Vermont I almost immediately came across a Lieutenant C. C. Spaulding serving in the Company D of the Fifth Vermont. What is more, Charles Carroll Spaulding, born left the Fifth Vermont in the fall of 1862 and went on to FOUND A NEWSPAPER in Montpelier, Vermont. Further research revealed that Spaulding was a Democrat, which would seem to match the correspondent's praise of McClellan and occasionally critical remarks about Lincoln. His obituary also revealed he had been to the West which would gibe with some of the comments in the letters to the paper. 

I was rather pleased that I had pulled all these facts together in order to find the identity of the letter writer. And then I found this in the Green Mountain Freeman of October 16, 1862

Lieut. C. C. Spalding(sic), Co. D, Fifth Vermont, has been honorably discharged from the service on account of ill health. He has now gone to Washington hoping to get some Situation whose duties his health will allow him to perform. We hope to hear from him occasionally over his familiar signature      See. See. Ess.

So, not so a great piece of detective work as I thought. Pride goeth before a fall and a newspaper clipping you should have checked in the first place.

Here is Spaulding's full obituary:

Charles C. Spaulding, editor of the Newport News while it existed, died in Boston last Thursday. He was the son of Dr. Azel Spaulding of Montpelier. He graduated from the university of Vermont in the class of 1847, and chose the profession of civil engineer, but did not follow it long. In 1849, when the California gold fever broke out, he was one of the pioneers who bought that numerous land, making the passage in a sailing vessel around Cape Horn. His success at mining was indifferent. Returning home via the Pacific coast and the Gulf of Mexico, he spent about a year in Montpelier, when he went to New York and entered the service of Harnden & Co. as express messenger between New York and Boston. Soon going West, he engaged in surveying and railroad engineering in Ohio, Illinois and Kentucky. At the time of the establishment of Kansas a territory, he was living in one of the border counties of Missouri, where he married a Missouri lady. He took part in the establishment of its territorial government, making preliminary surveys and encouraging immigration by writing special letters to tho New York Tribune, which attracted no little attention in the East. He published a paper in Lawrence, Kansas, and was elected an alderman, and was for a short time mayor of the city. He took the democratic side on the out break of the Kansas war, and soon after left the state. He afterwards taught school, and at the breaking out of the war returned to the East, enlisting in tho sixth Vermont regiment, served two years, came home and started the Newport News, at Newport. This he sold, and went to Boston in 1866 and took a position on the Boston Post. In 1869, he became connected with the Boston Herald, and remained with that paper up to the time of his decease. He had been suffering from a complication of diseases involving the heart and other vital organs, and bis death was not unexpected.

-Vermont Farmer (Newport, Orleans County, Vt.)January 26, 1877

William Cullen Bryant on the Chickahominy- 1872

Illustration by G. W. Bagby.-engraver W. L. Sheppard

We append to our series of Virginia scenes a view upon steel of the Chickahominy. This now historic stream was hardly known outside the limits of the State previous to the war; and yet there is much that is interesting about it, not only to the lover of the picturesque, but to the observer and student of Nature, The stream is a tributary to the James. Its volume is inconsiderable until it nears Richmond, and it is navigable for some twenty-five or thirty miles only from its junction. 

To the physical geographer the Chickahominy is interesting, from the fact that it is the northernmost locality that retains features, in its flora, which are common on the rivers of the Carolinas and the States farther south, in company with the growth of the colder climates. The cypress here protrudes its curious roots, and the funereal moss trails from the trees. The beech sends its horizontal branches over the darksome waters; the maples, so brilliant in their autumn foliage; and the gum-tree, more gorgeous still at the same season, with its rich variations from vermilion to royal purple — here keep company with the Southern interlopers. Vines encumber the trees, and harassing bamboo-thickets bar the way on the higher banks. The columnar gum-trees, in most cases, rise from an intertwined assembly of arched and knotted roots, especially where they are liable to be washed by the overflow of the stream. These arched bases have sometimes a clear distance from the earth of three and four feet, and constitute a unique feature in the forest. Immense masses of debris washed down by the freshets lodge against the standing timber, and the stream is bridged in hundreds of places by the trees which have lost their equilibrium from being undermined. The river contiguous to Richmond is invariably spoken of as the Chickahominy Swamp; and here, in effect, it is a swamp. The main stream, with its coffee-colored water, is well defined, but in many places, for a quarter of a mile on both sides of it, the ground is a slimy ooze, affording a very unstable footing. Where this ooze exists, it is covered with a dense growth of water-plants, generally of the peculiar whitish green found in plants little exposed to the light of the
sun. 

The Chickahominy is the chosen abode of all the known varieties of "varmints" of that region. The raccoon can here ply his trade of fisherman for the cat-fish and pike, or raid upon sleeping creepers or young wood-ducks. The "possum" has store of gum-berries, with the same variety in meat-diet which his nocturnal fancies; otters are still to be found; muskrats innumerable, and snakes — some of the aquatic species beautifully colored — in proportion. The wood-duck, of splendid plumage, flits like a prismatic ray over the brown water, and, though web-footed, builds his nests in the towering trees. In fine, the Chickahominy cannot fail to attract the artist and naturalist; it always would have done this, but now the added interest of historical association brings hundreds to visit its banks; and the stream which, heretofore, had but scanty mention in the common-school geography will find a place in man's record beside the Rubicon and the Tweed. 

-Picturesque America; or, The land we live in. A delineation by pen and pencil of the mountains, rivers, lakes, forests, water-falls, shores, cañons, valleys, cities, and other picturesque features of our country by William Cullen Bryant 1872

A Vermonter in New Kent - 1862 - Part VII

  The final letter to the The Daily Green Mountain Freeman from New Kent during the Peninsula Campaign of 1862


                                                    (Our War Correspondence.)

                                  From the Fifth Vermont Regiment.

                                                          Camp at the White House, Va.,
                                                                                                 May 17. 1862

Mr. Willard: Well I yes, well! And that ejaculation don't begin to express what I wish it to convey. About two hours ago I closed a letter for your columns, informing you that we were to march at meridian. Everything was made ready for the "fall in" command. Tents were struck, rations dealt out for sixty hours, knapsacks packed and slung, the usual amount of grumbling, questioning and swearing done and performed, baggage cut down below the army standard, mess chests thrown out, sick call made, and last, but not least, the grounds swarmed with mounted specials, all accounted for another harvest of bloody news. The day being bright and balmy the boys felt well, expecting before nightfall to reduce the distance, if not some military obstructions, between them and Richmond. But back comes the rattling, surging caissons and artillery, and the long, glistening lines of infantry "stack arms," "break ranks," and commence again another siege of resting, loafing and growling. How pic-tur-es-que! Did you ever sit down to a dainty meal, hungry and over-impatient for the eating ceremonies to begin, and just as your dish was tilled and ready tor the thirsting, longing palate, have some saucy blackguard or roguish friend tell a story that blockaded every avenue of nourishment and appetite as effectually as if a doctor bad administered some drug emetic? If you have, you can form some idea of the sensations of a soldier when orders are countermanded, after he has packed, and swore, and growled enough to scare at least a full regiment of rebels. But this is only one, and by no means the most trying perplexity of soldiers on the march. Well, we shall probably go sometime. The distance, some twenty-five miles, is nothing, but heavy bodies move slow, especially if they happen to collide with other bodies of equal gravity and momentum. But sooner or later, perhaps not as speedily as you or we may desire, this army will be in Richmond.

That Power that holds destiny in one hand, and grace, love and pit dun in the other, has he decreed it, and as well might the enemy attempt to choke the roar, or catch the rain-bowed spray of Niagara's falling waters, or one by one to pick the orbs of night from the blue behind the breaking, drifting clouds, as to stay the slow, heavy, steady tread of McClellan's squadrons and battalions. Richmond is ours, not to day, but one June day sim will ever warm the viper of treason that now so safely slumbers in its streets.

But I have written you once to-day, and as I only a few minutes ago received a letter from Montpelier with something very much like, but still it was not quire a rebuke, for "writing three letters in one day," I think I will be more prudent hereafter, and give a finale to this before it assumes the proportions of a correspondence." 

Yours, &c., See See Ess.


-The Daily Green Mountain Freeman, May 29, 1862


Next time, who was "See See Ess?"

A Vermonter in New Kent - 1862 - Part VI

Continuing a series on the Civil War in New Kent with reports to the The Daily Green Mountain Freeman from their correspondent in the Vermont Brigade during the Peninsula campaign of 1862. In this letter our correspondent continues his adoration of "Little Mac," and denounces the "cruelty and barbarity"  . . . of those who he has traveled half the country to kill.

(Language warning)

(Our War Correspondence)

                                 From the Fifth Vermont Regiment

                                                                   Camp at White House Farm, Va,
                                                                                    May 17th, 1862.

Mr. Willard: We have been in this camp since the forenoon of the 14th inst., and troops are concentrating here all the time. Transportation has been greatly impeded by the long rain storm, making the roads almost impassable. I learned yesterday that the roads between this camp and our last one, at Cumberland, are filled with our wagons fast in the mud. But slowly thy keep coming up, and should say that now we have at least sixty thousand men at this camp- all on one level, open field, the east side being skirted by the river with its raking musts and smoking chimneys. Near the northeast comer is the White House, a very respectable, but not costly or fancy residence. Its yard and garden grounds are extensive, unique, and very pleasant, just the place to satiate the extravagant home feelings of the most princely American.

Upon these grounds Little Mac ins pitched his tents, and himself and staff are evidently quite at home in their shade and clover. Though strictly guarded, the premises are constantly surrounded by thousands of anxious soldiers,- anxious for what? Why, more to see their General than this deserted homestead of the arch traitor, for we all love him, and it is a satisfaction that no soldier can express to belong to this army, to share their trials and sufferings with one they so much honor and esteem. Yea, I have told you this before. Nothing can shake our confidence in that man, for it in absolute, like the faith of the Christian mother in her God.

But now, on we go. It is only eight o'clock, and at twelve we march again, -that is, this division, and for aught I know, others. But I think the order is for this division only, us we have all the time been pushed in advance, and shall be until somebody's appointment as a Brigadier General is confirmed; at least, that is what we all think. But no matter; if we are to fight so as to kill two birds with one stone, so much the better. Yet, it may cost us a little more blood to do this "heavy and perilous work."(1) We have a fierce, bitter and desperate foe before us, and from many specimens that I have seen of their rank and file, as also of their officers, and from the further evidence before us of their cruelty and barbarity, it is hard, very hard indeed, to persuade myself that these men were ever amenable to the influences of Christianity. God knows I pity them, and while we fight them as enemies, and day by day become more familiar with their folly, perverseness and crime, our shame for them as countrymen is augmented. But, as I have just told you, we are to proceed on, -onward to Richmond, and should it be my good fortune to live to pass this equator of Rebeldom, I expect to see enough more of treason and its blind adoration to enable me to finish this partial exordium of my hate. 

What is to be the character of our march from this point, cannot be known. Ayers' battery has just gone on gunboats. Our order is to march at noon with two days' rations, but as a remark, apt and spicy, and too good to be lost, amid not contraband, I think, I must inform you that my friend, Maj. Joyce, says "very man is to be put in a runner case and floated up the river." Not bad; we are short of transportation, and the idea, impromptu and original is not much behind Gen. Mitchells cotton bale bridge(2). By the way, this reminds me of an other good thing on a Washington County officer. and when you are short for "copy,' just ask, in a mild but not exactly leading manner, Capt. Randall about his novel mule trade, and he will sell you something rich. I once owned a mule myself, and can in a measure sympathize with the Captain when his transaction, like my own, comes to be a standing joke. Don't be afraid; the Captain is the best natured man in the world, and in self-defence(sic), will give you at least "a plain, unvarnished title." 

For a wonder, we have not seen a wood-tick since we have been in this camp. Yet it is no wonder either, for we are fully a quarter of a mile from timber. But we have the marks of our old friends still about us, in the shape of blotches and sears, and to make a clean breast of it, we are just about as well tick, flea and bug bitten, dirty, ragged and cross as we can he and still be in a condition to make a good fight. Soldiers must have something ail them besides hunger, or they would be of little account. I said hunger, for I can think of nothing else that plagues us more. Yet we have enough to eat, such as it is; at the same time we can't call it nourishment; it is simply subsistence. And just as I feel now, though I am not hungry, and do not expect to die just yet, I would freely give five dollars, if I had it, for the measure of good bread and milk that I could "mow away." That may look a little extravagant in your " price current," but the late sutler tariff has used us soldiers to such extravagance. "Uncle Ira" says, "he saw a nigger this milking milking a cow, and he had a mind to run up and knock him over and take the milk; and there are many soldiers here who would not have showed a good revolution in that way, they would have knocked him over. 

But I am writing more than I intended to, and taking time that I should be giving to preparations for the march, Richmond! Richmond, the great Babel of rebellion, is all we think about. Shall we ever get there? I hope so, and if we do, your correspondent will have something besides a dearth of news for his letters. What a field will then he open for the rivalship of scribblers. Somebody will "spill" in attempts at sensation. Artemas (3) will be there to tell his tale and open his show, exhibiting to the astonished natives "wax works" of their forefathers, and the Dixie mummies of their descendants. And can't Greeley, or some one else, be there to read Othello's tale, of "men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders, the anthropophagi,"(4) and other monsters that picture best his horror and his hate? Certainly we can. Well, well see by-and-by. We may be weeks on the road, -the 2d Vermont has been a year already,- but some of us will get there, or the war will not, as predicted, he speedily closed. 

Yours, &c , See See Ess.

-The Daily Green Mountain Freeman, May 28, 1862

(1) Gen. Ormsby M. Mitchel had recently used a cotton bale pontoon bridge to cross a creek in                  Tennessee.

(2) In April the "Yorktown Correspondent" of the New York Herald Tribune had written,

"When the advance is made whenever that day be -Gen. Wm. F. Smith's division will be first in all heavy and perilous work. No one in the army enjoys the confidence of Gen. McClellan and his generals more than Gen. Smith."

 (3) I assume Artemas Ward, 

"Artemus Ward was a persona dreamed up by 23-year-old New Englander and newspaperman Charles Foster Browne (née Brown—he added the e to affect an English air). Browne started out as a humble typesetter but rose to transatlantic fame thanks to this immensely popular alter ego he created to fill out the pages of the Cleveland Plain Dealer."- American University Magazine, March 2015

 (4) Othello,  (1.3, lines 141-146)

A Vermonter in New Kent - 1862 - Part V

Continuing a series on the Civil War in New Kent with reports to the The Daily Green Mountain Freeman from their correspondent in the Vermont Brigade during the Peninsula campaign of 1862. In this letter our correspondent reads purportedly stolen mail and shows himself to be less than a fan of Honest Abe.

A Vermont Civil War flag on display in Barre, Vermont

(Our War Correspondence.)

From the Fifth Vermont Regiment.

                                                                                            White House Va.,
                                                                                                 May 15, 1862.

Mr. Willard: -It was raining terrible hard yesterday afternoon when I finished my letter at that date, and I told you that there were no indications of its ceasing. It has rained without stint ever since, is coming down now at a good rate, and beat into us by a driving, chilling wind. But I hear no grumbling, though every body looks surly and cross. To prevent sickness from this much exposure, especially colds and ague, the medical staff have just issued to the whole Brigade rations of whisky and quinine, and I have heard of none so temperate as to refuse the dose, and not a few would be glad to have it repeated, that is, it the storm continues. I gave you yesterday a bit of history about our present camp ground, and told you, of course, all I knew, not expecting that I should ever have occasion to write again about these White House people or premises. but I saw a letter to day, that was found about here by some one in the Second Vermont, some of the contents of which are quite interesting and in some senses important.

The letter (without date) was written at Fredericksburg, Va., by Col. W. F. Lee, son of Gen. Lee, to his mother, or "ma," as he terms her, now domiciled at the White House on this place. Alter a pithy and quite sharp rebuke to his wife for neglecting to write him as often as he expected, the Colonel says, (I give you his very words,) "The many reverses we have met with have not discouraged me." He may have told the truth then, but the signs of the times indicate that most of the F.F.V.s are tired and disappointed, if they are not discouraged. "The whole people seem to be panic stricken, and vie with each other in circulating the most improbable reports." If the Northern people were "panic-stricken" and "vieing" in that way, I think that some of our Colonels would feel discouraged.

"I must say that the surrender of Nashville by the Tennesseans caps the climax, and I think that Pillow and Floyd ought to be hung for disgracefully leaving their commands." The young man is no fool, if he is a rebel. Pillow and Floyd had ought to be hung, first by Uncle Sam for stealing and treason, and then by old Jeff for cowardice and treachery. 

He then, after a few remarks about domestic affairs says, I hear it reported that "pa" is to be made Secretary of War. I should n't consent to that, us I do not wish to have him mixed up in polities, but should be glad to see him made Commander-in chief." Ain't he a brick? That '"mixed up in politics" is a splendid idea, for that is just about us bad a mix as most men ever get into. And then his desire to see him Commander-in-chief." There's pride and aspiration for you by the wholesale. I guess the young man ain't badly  discouraged alter all, for his F. F. V. blood seems to circulate freely. "Pa" Commander in chief! Ain't that sublime? "Pa" Gen. Lee, going into Little Mac's bag first and foremost, the bell weather of treason! Keep on aspiring young man, but beware the ides of June.

Before closing his lengthy and quite interesting epistle he advises his mother, as a prudent measure, to take an inventory of the White House property, cattle, horses, sheep, hogs, &c. Now, what does that mean? Putting this and that together, the "inventory" and the "not discouraged" sentiment, and we have quite a puzzle. He certainly must be a very prudent young man, or else be had got on the scent of a big mice. Well, if ever I should meet Col. Lee, I am not sure but that I should be just curious and impudent enough to ask him for an explanation of that puzzle.

Every day we see new evidences of the demoralization of the confederate army. Yesterday, not long after we left Cumberland Landing, a rebel captain, sergeant, and forty men without arms marched into camp and gave them selves up as prisoners of war. What account they gave of themselves or of their army, I have not heard, but expect to do so to-day, but such a desertion is as good an index of the condition of the army as the Barometer is of wind and rain.

You will recollect that just before we left Fairfax County, Gen. McClellan in his address to the army, told us that his movements would seem mysterious to us, and so indeed they are just at this time at any rate. What he intends to do with us now is truly mysterious none of us are able to figure it out. Were we to make a central advance, and reduce their works on the Chickahominy, why make such a halt here?

We do not understand it, but at the same time we have no misgivings about the Generalship of the army. It a flank movement is contemplated, then here is just the place to cross the Pamunkey, and make towards McDowell's column, and why not make such a move? There can certainly be nothing gained by reducing their fortifications on the Chickahominy, when this army can get in position upon their flank much nearer Richmond. With Burnside, on the South, Banks on the West, and McDowell and McClellan on the North of Richmond, there can certainly be no retreat left for them, save this Peninsula, and it is the last place that army will ever fall back upon. McDowell can not come to us or even make an advance near enough to act as a support, but we can go to him, or near enough to allow him to take his forces over the river without danger. But the speculations of a soldier amount to but little. There is a plan, and soon it will be fully carried out.

You have heard, of course, about Old Abe, and our naval forces at Fortress Monroe. What the "special" or official report is I do not know, but the camp story is a little spicy: 

In "ye olden time" Old Abe served his time upon a flat boat, "warping" and pinting"* his craft up and down the Wabash and other Western waters, marketing and peddling lumber and fruit, such as hop poles and pumpkins. In the course of time he became an adept at the business, and could "pint" a craft and cargo equal to the best of the flat boat marines. The rail business offering better inducement for his capital and labor, he soon left the muddy deep, and invested his all in the "stake and rider" business, in which the historian informs us he was very successful, and by dint of a little good management on his part, as also that of his friends, the rail business elevated him to his present exalted position, which he has thus far filled with the most consummate ability. He now visits Fortress Monroe, the great theatre of our naval operation, for the purpose of giving to his distressed country the benefit of his early and finished education upon navigation, and the ebb and flow of tides in our inland waters. Flotillas and squadrons will now be commodored by Old Abe himself, and it would I not be surprising if the first gun boat,  that takes the Stars and Stripe, to the very portals of the rebel metropolis should be "pinted" by Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. He is there, I say it in no jesting spirit, for a special and heroic purpose. Should this war close without a signal exhibition of heroism on the part of the President, there would be some thing wanting in the embellishments of history, and how could he better show his prowess as well as patriotism, than as the officer first in command of those iron clad monsters that have routed treason from its every stronghold Second, I may be foolish, whimsical and extravagant in this idea, but I certainly am candid in the statement, that neither the army or the navy will be in advance of the President when Richmond falls. History demands it to make the name and administration of Lincoln, historic. 

So we go. I commenced this story with all the jest and humor I could command, and wind it up with some of the most serious reflections, if not important considerations, connected with the final overthrow of rebellion. The President in Richmond, he will have an army for his cabinet. May we welcome him there.

               Yours, &c., See. See. Ess.

-The Daily Green Mountain Freeman, May 23, 1862

* To "warp" a flatboat is to use a rope tied to something on the riverbank to help it move up the river. To "punt" is to move a small shallow boat through the water through the use of a long pole. Our correspondent for some reason spells it pint throughout.

A Vermonter in New Kent - 1862 - Part IV

Continuing a series on the Civil War in New Kent with reports to the The Daily Green Mountain Freeman from their correspondent in the Vermont Brigade during the Peninsula campaign of 1862. The Daily Green Mountain Freeman was founded in 1844 in Montpelier, Vermont, as an organ of the anti-slavery Liberty Party that contested the presidential election of that year.

The editor of the Freeman was Charles Wesley Williard, the "Mr. Williard" of the correspondence. Williard (1827-1880) served as editor of the paper from 1861 until 1873. In 1868 he was elected as a Republican to the United States Congress where he served three terms.

Charles Wesley Williard by Matthew Brady

Today our correspondent share his thoughts from White House Plantation on wood ticks, sutlers, and other parasites.

Camp on Gen. Lee's Plantation, May 14. 

Mr. Willard: Late last night I closed a letter, telling you that we expected a continuation of our long marches in the morning. The morning has come and gone, and our march has been made, about seven miles, over a road very difficult for the passage of our artillery and transportation wagons; in fact, they are not all on the ground yet. From my tent I can now see a long train of wagons, among them the balloonwagons, looking for all the world like the monkey cages of a caravan. A large number of troops are halted here, several Divisions, I should judge; none, however, that I am acquainted with, but our own and Porter’s.

We move slowly, but I expect sure, and from all that I can see and surmise I should judge that Little Mac would be ready to exhibit his anaconda and wood-tick how in Richmond on or about the 21st inst. A limited number of Congressmen and other adults are expected to be present to see the anaconda hiss, bite and squeeze. During the week he will be fed on ball cartridges and percussion shells, and, - for further particulars see small bills, or the New York Tribune, H. Greeley, editor. 

Our present encampment is historic ground. The plantation, a very large one, not less than a thousand acres, is now the property of Gen. Lee, in the rebel service. It once belonged to Major Curtis, grandchild of Mrs. Washington. We are now in full view of the old home stead (with new buildings, I presume,) where Washington passed his courtship and honeymoon. A strong guard protects the premises and the plantation. I don't recollect the historian's particulars about this era in the life of Washington, further than when betrothed he used to have considerable business in this latitude; and who would not, to win the affections of such a woman as Martha Curtis(sic)? 

I have just used in my remarks about "Mac's show," the expression, "Little Mac's wood ticks." That was truly an original idea with some one of our soldiers. You all must know what a wood tick is, though l am not sure us they are grown in Vermont; but anywhere West or South they are to the manor born. This peninsula is swarming with them, and at every camp we are sure to get our clothes full of them. 

Of all the pesky insects I have ever had to do with, these wood-ticks are the most annoying, save, perhaps, the regular line-back, kangaroo mosquito, indigenous to the swamps and prairies of the West. You can have no peace day or night, for them. They will get in your ears, in your hair, in (act everywhere about your person, in, d the they commence boring for blood upon the regular Artesian well principle and in a little while these insignificant little creatures swell up like a balloon. Go into a camp any where at anytime and you will find any number of soldiers hunting for "ticks," hence the idea so original and apropos Little Mac's wood ticks."

I have not forgotten my promise to give you in "my next" the grand sutler scene I witnessed yesterday at Cumberland landing. At a moderate estimate there was on that landing, less than a mile square, 40,000 troops, some say 60,000. Now not one of this host of soldiers unless they were smarter than the boys of Vermont Brigade, and Gen. Brooks has effectually contradicted that, had had anything to eat or drink better than a soldier's ration of hard tack, raw pork and bareback coffee for months. 

You can readily conceive what an appetite they had on when the camp news became general that there was a boat-load of sutler's stores at the landing. Chickens to a dough dish is but a poor illustration of the rush to the river's bank for victuals, something that had the smell or taste of buttery about it, cheese, ginger bread, cakes, pies, crackers, and of course tobacco, cider, and I reckon down in the bulkhead a few measures of liquefied rye and com. To their great astonishment and chagrin, the boat was anchored out in the stream some thirty yards from the shore. But there were a dozen or more skiffs about, and all of them in demand taking passengers to and from this boat-load of luxuries. Impatient for passage, many a hungry soldier would wade out in the stream up to his waist to meet the returning bout, while others, still more impatient, threw off their clothes, and plunging in, swam to yonder boat with their mouths crammed full with pocket-book, purse or change. Securing a passage for the moderate sum of twenty-five cents, your correspondent was soon one of them, a lone dollar being all his capital, with which he certainly expected to get as much as a taste of something good to eat, for his bowels yearned exceedingly. The craft was a full rigged schooner of about two hundred tons burthen. Fore and aft there was a hatchway, and down in the hold all the supplies were stored, save a few bands of apple cider on deck. As many as three men at each hatchway officiated as clerks, dealing out the goodies to the hyenas on deck. Now, I cannot believe that any pen can picture out those hatchway scenes; a brush and pencil might do it to advantage, but this little weapon, it is more powerful than the sword, becomes like Samson shorne of his strength when it essays to write out a scene like this. There was first a constant yell, "two pounds of snaps," "one pound of cheese," "three pounds of butter," "ten pounds of tobacco," and now and then you would hear some reckless, hungry, improvident chap sing out, “Here's a dollar get us that's worth of anything, whiskey, tobacco or bread." But, to my great surprise and disappointment, I soon found that a dollar was of much less account there than the same money was in California in 1849, when $12 a dozen for eggs was a moderate charge, and I began to think that by the lime I had paid another quarter for a return passage, my chances for a smell even, say nothing about a taste, would be exceedingly small. However, I saw a cider barrel going, and thinks I to myself, if a half or a quarter has got any show on this boat, that barrel must no the place. So, after pushing, and jamming, and punching, and pulling myself through the crowd, in the course of an hour and a bait I had the good luck to secure a cup full of cider, an excellent article. There was less than a pint, and us it only cost a quarter, I felt relieved after I got myself out of the channel and breathed freely again. Just then I met one of the stark naked customers, and he had a pound of cheese in his arms. What did you pay for that," I asked. "Seventy-five cents." "I'll give you a dollar and a half for it now," put in a ragged, rusty looking soldier by my side. "No you don't," said the cheese man, "I'd rather charge a rebel battery than go naked through that crowd again."

While this conversation was going on an officer came along with a bottle of brandy peaches." How much for that" someone asks. “Two and a half." "Can you get any more." "Yes, you can but I can't, unless you lend me the money." In a little while I soon observed a movement extraordinary near the bow of the schooner. Crowding along up, I soon learned what the matter was. A squad of boys, more liberal in their views of trade and traffic than the proprietor of the concern, had knocked in the head of a cider barrel and were vending the fluid without money and without price, and before the news came to the ears of the sutler, they had sold out. I then stood round the hatchway again and looked in amazement upon these customers packed around, tier above tier, buying their wares. Fully a third of them were swimmers, some Zouaves with their circus riding uniforms and thee balance a crowd of sharp witted, money spending soldiers, the whole group making a tableau such as no artist has ever painted. Tired of all tins, yet I would not have miss id it for an interest in the Tribune's gun factory, I set sail for camp, arriving just in time to settle up my cash account 75 cents for a drink of cider and write up my correspondence for the Freeman and other parties nearer home. 

Great is Diana of Ephesians, but greater still is Horace Greeley of the Tribune, and it seems a pity that he is not a God. Yesterday I made an extract from one of his editorials, wherein he "regretted" that our success at Yorktown was not more sanguinary, that is, he was sorry that your correspondent or somebody else had not mingled their blood with his carnage loving patriotism for the Union and his Brigade. Most of us soldiers are inclined to think that is somewhat cool to say the least, and if we should take time to study on it a little they might get a little wroth. 

It is rainy again, and the signs are that it will continue through the night if not longer. This not just what we could wish, but no move than we can endure. 

By the way that yarn about the Vermont troops going home soon has thickened up a little and last night it was said to be official that all the Vermont troops would soon ho discharged save those who were willing to enlist in the Regular service. You can take as much stock in this as you please and I will sell you all of mine for a small consideration; at the same time I would not be surprised if we should make an advance upon Vermont before the 4th of July. How would it suit women, children and tax-payers?

                              Yours, etc,  See  Ses  Ess.

--The Daily Green Mountain Freeman.(Montpelier, Vt.), May 22, 1862

A Vermonter in New Kent - 1862 - Part III

Continuing a series on the Civil War in New Kent with reports to the The Daily Green Mountain Freeman from their correspondent in the Vermont Brigade during the Peninsula campaign of 1862. The Daily Green Mountain Freeman was founded in 1844 in Montpelier, Vermont, as an organ of the anti-slavery Liberty Party that contested the presidential election of that year. In April 1861, at the beginning of the fighting, Charles W. Willard became the owner/editor. He moved the party away from being strictly an anti-slavery paper to one that also followed the war closely. He is the "Mr. Willard" these missives are addressed to.

(Our War Correspondence.) 

From the Fifth Vermont Regiment.

                                                                   Camp at Cumberland Landing,
                                                                                              May 13, 1862.

Mr. Willard: We are making another halt, either on account of the excessive heat of the day, or for some strategic purpose, I cannot say which; for no one knows, though the questions are in a thousand mouths, what are we halting for. and what are so many troops coming to this one place for? If the thing could be done, I would like very much to have the talent to do it, nor it would be a leather in any man's cap, to write out a complete picture of an army under marching orders. I don't mean a sentimental affair that some novelist could spin out and varnish up for sale in a "yellow kiver,*" but an out and out camp, march and halt story, incident and scene after, that altogether would be a soldier's life, and us such, one of the best inside, green room histories† of the war that can possibly be written. But it is folly to load ourselves down with a bigger back load of aspirations than we can conveniently carry, and at the same time attend to our legitimate business. Now I don't wish to be severe or sarcastic, but I reckon' that truth will set harder on the stomachs of some broken-down politicians than a glass of whisky would. Sir, as we do not aspire to do that other thing, let do what we can for the readers of "our army correspondence" in a plain, off-hand manner.

Last night our brigade, this saucy Vermont brigade, lay five miles in advance of the division, on the road to Richmond, and as we want all the credit we get, I might as well add that we were all as brave as lions. We were sent for ward, I suppose, as an advance guard, that is of infantry, lint our position, after all, was not very perilous, for the enemy was miles ahead of us, as reported by cavalry scouts, their latest news being that a strong rear guard was in position on the Chickahominy.

I ought not to write any more this evening, for I am actually in too good humor to write an army letter. I have a whole book full of notes, some a week old, but I can't get at them as long as I run on in this way. I must have something new. Yesterday some cavalry of the 8th Illinois brought in one of their men wounded. They found him lying on the field where there had been a little skirmish, and a negro was over him trying to cut his throat, but he managed to keep him off with his sabre. They caught the negro and hung him.

It is late, quite, dark, and I'll not write any more to-night, but will close, engaging to give you in my next one of the most graphic sutler scenes ever witnessed. There is no army news that I know of. It seems that we are waiting for the maturing of some new plans; at all events, everything is mysteries to us. There is some talk that we shall have an engagement to-morrow, but I do nut credit it. It may seem foolish for me to say so, Out it is almost impossible for a soldier to obtain any news about our affairs, and if he writes at all he must confine himself to such items us I have just been giving. I hope to write again to-morrow, but may not do so, as we are lo march early, and how far I cannot say. There are a large number of vessels here loaded with supplies, and some with troops. By the way, on our march to-day the 4th regiment got lost. It was marching in the rear, and by some mistake got on to the wrong road, and I understand came near getting into trouble. They are in camp now and all right.

Yours, &c,  See. See Ess,

-The Daily Green Mountain Freeman.(Montpelier, Vt.), May 22, 1862


*-"yellow kiver" i.e. yellow cover, the color of the cover of cheap periodicals of the time.

†-"Green room history" i.e. a behind the scenes account.
In case you are very interested.

" . . . Green room history, etc- The lobby or reception room behind the boxes is often called the Green-room; but that is a misnomer. The Green-room, properly so called probably from its being at first covered with green, is an apartment behind the scenes, contiguous to the stage, where the performers assemble in readiness, at the call of the prompter."

-A Collection of Poems: On Various Subjects, Including The Theatre, a Didactic Essay . . . by Samuel Whyte

A Vermonter in New Kent - 1862 - Part II

Continuing a series on the Civil War in New Kent with reports to the The Daily Green Mountain Freeman from their correspondent in the Vermont Brigade during the Peninsula campaign of 1862. 
Language warning.

                                                               Camp near New Kent Court House,
                                                                                                 May 12, 1862. 

Mr. Willard: I shall be obliged to with draw my "good bye" apology with which I hastily closed my letter yesterday. It was all right enough then, but things have changed since. Coming in from picket at daybreak this morning I expected to see "the warriors rise from their lowly cots," and all accoutered for the march renew their pursuit after the Flora Temple chivalry of rebeldom. But, hour after hour passed away, and no orders came. What's in the wind, and why don't we march, were questions at large throughout the camp. No one could explain. Hearing that Norfolk was in our possession and that our gunboats were up the James River, I quickly surmised that perhaps Generalship was doing what "long and rapid marches" were originally intended to accomplish, and I soon learned, from quite a reliable source that we were not arching, because fluctuating are the plans of the enemy. Evacuating Norfolk exposes their flank before Richmond, and why should they do this if a stand is contemplated before that city? Still, we may go out to-day (it is not noon yet). I hope so, for every Vermont soldier is anxious to visit Richmond. And this reminds me of an incident worthy of record in any journal.

In making our advances from day today, it is the practice for one Division to lead the column to-day and another to morrow. The same practice extends to Brigades and Regiments the Brigade that leads the Division to day will be in the rear to-morrow.

Now, it so happens that on the day this pursuit commenced, Sunday, the 4th inst., the Vermont Brigade led the column. It was a fine day for marching, and, excited by the many novel scenes of evacuation, the boys let them selves out and did some tall marching. General Keyes and Staff were alone, usually riding at the head of the column, cavalry skirmishers only being in advance. But every now and then he would find himself somewhere behind.

From information given him by these skirmishers and his aids, he had decided on a halt at a place some three miles in the rear of where we finally halted. But the head of the column had already passed this place. So the old General, exhibiting some little restlessness and good nature at the same time, sings out to one of his mounted orderlies: "Orderly, orderly, come here. If your horse has got bottom enough to catch up with that Vermont Brigade, I want you to overtake them and order a halt, tell'em we are not going to Richmond to-day, or to h-ll either." 

So off posted the orderly with his unique order, which I understand he delivered to General Brooks, verbatim, when the old man turned half round, placed his hand upon the rump of his horse, a great habit with him, by the way, and replied, "The h-ll, we ain't." 

A day or two after this we were making an other march, some other Brigade leading. During the day Gen. Keyes had occasion to ride some distance in advance, nearly up to the line of skirmishers or scouts, where he overtook a squad of advance stragglers. It being no place for stray soldiers the General asked them what Regiment they belonged to. "---- Vermont," was the reply. "What, Brooks' Brigade?" "Yes, Sir." Then, after giving the boys a significant look, he remarked, "Well, if that devilish Brigade ain't first into Richmond, some of the men will be," and on he went, leaving the boys alone in their glory. 

It is somewhat late, but there is another incident that I insist upon relating at tins time, and in my own way, for I tell this story not so much to interest your readers, its to give myself an opportunity of hating and almost cursing our fiendish foe.

The morning after the engagement of the 5th inst., before Williamsburgh(sic), the battle ground was strewn with the dead, dying and wounded, "like leaves in Vallambresa."

The night had been very severe upon all save the dead, as the rain fell constantly and the piercing night winds chilled even those, of us who had the few comforts of a bivouac rest - blankets and browse. How acute, then, must have been the sufferings of those bleeding, exhausted and shelterless victims of their own folly At daybreak, however, we had men on the held, and all that could be done to alleviate their sufferings temporarily, until medical an d hospital comforts could be secured, was promptly and cheerfully done. In the rear of the battle ground was a large tobacco house, a building as comfortable as any shelter can be without fire. The floor of this building was covered thick with corn husks, blankets and overcoats were secured, mostly by donation from our own men, and also coffee and other stimulants given those men to warm, nourish and strengthen them, before our medical corps attended to them professionally. Ail was done for the wounded Carolinians that their nearest friends could do under the circumstances, and surely enough to waken gratitude in Sepoys, Savages or Devils. During the day nearly every wound was dressed, several amputations were made, and the beet nourishment that the hospital department hail at command was furnished.

The next day, the second after the battle, they received even additional attentions, very many being forwarded in our ambulances to the river, and sent by boats to northern hospitals. In this building alone there were one hundred and one wounded men, nine-tenths of them Carolinians. Having nothing else to do, I visited these men, conversed very freely with many of them, and not a few who were repentant, and they made to me what I presume they considered an acknowledgement that they were wrong, that they had been deceived, that our soldiers were not vandals; and one of them told me that our wounded at Manassas met a different fate. Passing along, I was soon in conversation with a young Lieutenant who had been wounded near the knee, and as he fell over upon his hands he received another wound in the thigh, the bullet passing up his back and lodging in his neck. His wounds had been well dressed, his bed furnished with matrass(sic), blankets and pillow, and clean under clothes given him by Lieut. Sawyer of the 2d Vermont. In short, he was comfortable, suffering but little from his wounds; and being very talkative, I remained in conversation with him for sometime. Not many, if any, leading questions were asked or answered, he talking mainly upon the relative manhood of the two armies, saying, of course, very much about Southern blood, how the world over it had ever been victorious. For a sick room, and more especially for a sick man, our conversation was quite spirited,- perhaps pointed would be a better word, -and though most of his remarks were pregnant with taunt, boasting and abuse, and that damnable Southern air, accent and emphasis, that alone is enough to vex and irritate the best natured man in the world, I remained perfectly cool. I knew, as Doesticks* used to characterize one of his friends, that he was a "dam phool," for no man with any talents and education could be anything else and hold a commission under Jeff Davis, finally I said something, but his quick and wicked response made me so angry that I could not remember what I did say. "Why," said he, "I hope this war will last twenty years, for the moment I recover, I will be in it. Don"t you think i am weaned or cured by any kindness. No sir, not me I audit you doubt my sincerity, give me a musket and I'll shoot a man now!" I don't wish to be egotistical, but I certainly would be much obliged to the scholar who will point out to me any remarkable difference between the scriptural portraiture of Job's patience and my own sense on that occasion. I wanted, and who would not want, to say something? But my speech was choked with malice, vengeance and disgust. Yes. I wanted to call him a low, ungrateful, nigger suckled descendant of a once proud and heroic ancestry; and why I didn't do it, or something worse, is more than I shall at this time attempt to explain. I at once left the ungrateful, fiendish wretch, but not without several heart promptings to go back and its politely as politely, hate him to death. Comments, postscripts and doxologies are most respectfully solicited to the real, candid, and not overdrawn picture of a Southern rebel, wretch and devil. That's all.

       Yours &c,     See. See. Ess.

-The Daily Green Mountain Freeman, May 21, 1862



* pseudonym of writer Mortimer Q. Thomson.