Chapter 2. Camp Diary

CAMP SAXTON, near Beaufort, S. C., November 24, 1862.

Yesterday afternoon we were steaming over a summer sea, the deck level

as a parlor-floor, no land in sight, no sail, until at last appeared one

light-house, said to be Cape Romaine, and then a line of trees and

two distant vessels and nothing more. The sun set, a great illuminated

bubble, submerged in one vast bank of rosy suffusion; it grew dark;

after tea all were on deck, the people sang hymns; then the moon set,

a moon two days old, a curved pencil of light, reclining backwards on a

radiant couch which seemed to rise from the waves to receive it; it sank

slowly, and the last tip wavered and went down like the mast of a vessel

of the skies. Towards morning the boat stopped, and when I came on deck,

before six,

"The watch-lights glittered on the land,

The ship-lights on the sea."

Hilton Head lay on one side, the gunboats on the other; all that was raw

and bare in the low buildings of the new settlement was softened into

picturesqueness by the early light. Stars were still overhead, gulls

wheeled and shrieked, and the broad river rippled duskily towards

Beaufort.

The shores were low and wooded, like any New England shore; there were a

few gunboats, twenty schooners, and some steamers, among them the famous

"Planter," which Robert Small, the slave, presented to the nation. The

river-banks were soft and graceful, though low, and as we steamed up to

Beaufort on the flood-tide this morning, it seemed almost as fair as

the smooth and lovely canals which Stedman traversed to meet his negro

soldiers in Surinam. The air was cool as at home, yet the foliage seemed

green, glimpses of stiff tropical vegetation appeared along the banks,

with great clumps of shrubs, whose pale seed-vessels looked like tardy

blossoms. Then we saw on a picturesque point an old plantation, with

stately magnolia avenue, decaying house, and tiny church amid the woods,

reminding me of Virginia; behind it stood a neat encampment of white

tents, "and there," said my companion, "is your future regiment."

Three miles farther brought us to the pretty town of Beaufort, with its

stately houses amid Southern foliage. Reporting to General Saxton, I had

the luck to encounter a company of my destined command, marched in to

be mustered into the United States service. They were unarmed, and all

looked as thoroughly black as the most faithful philanthropist could

desire; there did not seem to be so much as a mulatto among them.

Their coloring suited me, all but the legs, which were clad in a lively

scarlet, as intolerable to my eyes as if I had been a turkey. I saw them

mustered; General Saxton talked to them a little, in his direct, manly

way; they gave close attention, though their faces looked impenetrable.

Then I conversed with some of them. The first to whom I spoke had been

wounded in a small expedition after lumber, from which a party had just

returned, and in which they had been under fire and had done very well.

I said, pointing to his lame arm,

"Did you think that was more than you bargained for, my man?"

His answer came promptly and stoutly,

"I been a-tinking, Mas'r, dot's jess what I went for."

I thought this did well enough for my very first interchange of dialogue

with my recruits.

November 27, 1862.

Thanksgiving-Day; it is the first moment I have had for writing during

these three days, which have installed me into a new mode of life so

thoroughly that they seem three years. Scarcely pausing in New York or

in Beaufort, there seems to have been for me but one step from the

camp of a Massachusetts regiment to this, and that step over leagues of

waves.

It is a holiday wherever General Saxton's proclamation reaches. The

chilly sunshine and the pale blue river seems like New England, but

those alone. The air is full of noisy drumming, and of gunshots; for the

prize-shooting is our great celebration of the day, and the drumming is

chronic. My young barbarians are all at play. I look out from the broken

windows of this forlorn plantation-house, through avenues of great

live-oaks, with their hard, shining leaves, and their branches hung with

a universal drapery of soft, long moss, like fringe-trees struck with

grayness. Below, the sandy soil, scantly covered with coarse grass,

bristles with sharp palmettoes and aloes; all the vegetation is stiff,

shining, semi-tropical, with nothing soft or delicate in its texture.

Numerous plantation-buildings totter around, all slovenly and

unattractive, while the interspaces are filled with all manner of wreck

and refuse, pigs, fowls, dogs, and omnipresent Ethiopian infancy. All

this is the universal Southern panorama; but five minutes' walk beyond

the hovels and the live-oaks will bring one to something so un-Southern

that the whole Southern coast at this moment trembles at the suggestion

of such a thing, the camp of a regiment of freed slaves.

One adapts one's self so readily to new surroundings that already the

full zest of the novelty seems passing away from my perceptions, and I

write these lines in an eager effort to retain all I can. Already I am

growing used to the experience, at first so novel, of living among

five hundred men, and scarce a white face to be seen, of seeing them go

through all their daily processes, eating, frolicking, talking, just as

if they were white. Each day at dress-parade I stand with the customary

folding of the arms before a regimental line of countenances so black

that I can hardly tell whether the men stand steadily or not; black is

every hand which moves in ready cadence as I vociferate, "Battalion!

Shoulder arms!" nor is it till the line of white officers moves forward,

as parade is dismissed, that I am reminded that my own face is not the

color of coal.

The first few days on duty with a new regiment must be devoted almost

wholly to tightening reins; in this process one deals chiefly with the

officers, and I have as yet had but little personal intercourse with the

men. They concern me chiefly in bulk, as so many consumers of rations,

wearers of uniforms, bearers of muskets. But as the machine comes into

shape, I am beginning to decipher the individual parts. At first, of

course, they all looked just alike; the variety comes afterwards, and

they are just as distinguishable, the officers say, as so many whites.

Most of them are wholly raw, but there are many who have already been

for months in camp in the abortive "Hunter Regiment," yet in that

loose kind of way which, like average militia training, is a doubtful

advantage. I notice that some companies, too, look darker than others,

though all are purer African than I expected. This is said to be partly

a geographical difference between the South Carolina and Florida men.

When the Rebels evacuated this region they probably took with them the

house-servants, including most of the mixed blood, so that the residuum

seems very black. But the men brought from Fernandina the other day

average lighter in complexion, and look more intelligent, and they

certainly take wonderfully to the drill.

It needs but a few days to show the absurdity of distrusting the

military availability of these people. They have quite as much average

comprehension as whites of the need of the thing, as much courage (I

doubt not), as much previous knowledge of the gun, and, above all,

a readiness of ear and of imitation, which, for purposes of drill,

counterbalances any defect of mental training. To learn the drill, one

does not want a set of college professors; one wants a squad of eager,

active, pliant school-boys; and the more childlike these pupils are the

better. There is no trouble about the drill; they will surpass whites

in that. As to camp-life, they have little to sacrifice; they are better

fed, housed, and clothed than ever in their lives before, and they

appear to have few inconvenient vices. They are simple, docile, and

affectionate almost to the point of absurdity. The same men who stood

fire in open field with perfect coolness, on the late expedition, have

come to me blubbering in the most irresistibly ludicrous manner on being

transferred from one company in the regiment to another.

In noticing the squad-drills I perceive that the men learn less

laboriously than whites that "double, double, toil and trouble," which

is the elementary vexation of the drill-master, that they more rarely

mistake their left for their right, and are more grave and sedate while

under instruction. The extremes of jollity and sobriety, being greater

with them, are less liable to be intermingled; these companies can

be driven with a looser rein than my former one, for they restrain

themselves; but the moment they are dismissed from drill every tongue

is relaxed and every ivory tooth visible. This morning I wandered about

where the different companies were target-shooting, and their glee was

contagious. Such exulting shouts of "Ki! ole man," when some steady

old turkey-shooter brought his gun down for an instant's aim, and then

unerringly hit the mark; and then, when some unwary youth fired his

piece into the ground at half-cock such guffawing and delight, such

rolling over and over on the grass, such dances of ecstasy, as made the

"Ethiopian minstrelsy" of the stage appear a feeble imitation.

Evening. Better still was a scene on which I stumbled to-night.

Strolling in the cool moonlight, I was attracted by a brilliant light

beneath the trees, and cautiously approached it. A circle of thirty or

forty soldiers sat around a roaring fire, while one old uncle, Cato by

name, was narrating an interminable tale, to the insatiable delight of

his audience. I came up into the dusky background, perceived only by a

few, and he still continued. It was a narrative, dramatized to the

last degree, of his adventures in escaping from his master to the Union

vessels; and even I, who have heard the stories of Harriet Tubman, and

such wonderful slave-comedians, never witnessed such a piece of

acting. When I came upon the scene he had just come unexpectedly upon a

plantation-house, and, putting a bold face upon it, had walked up to the

door.

"Den I go up to de white man, berry humble, and say, would he please gib

ole man a mouthful for eat?

"He say he must hab de valeration ob half a dollar.

"Den I look berry sorry, and turn for go away.

"Den he say I might gib him dat hatchet I had.

"Den I say" (this in a tragic vein) "dat I must hab dat hatchet for

defend myself _from de dogs_!"

[Immense applause, and one appreciating auditor says, chuckling, "Dat

was your _arms_, ole man," which brings down the house again.]

"Den he say de Yankee pickets was near by, and I must be very keerful.

"Den I say, 'Good Lord, Mas'r, am dey?'"

Words cannot express the complete dissimulation with which these accents

of terror were uttered, this being precisely the piece of information he

wished to obtain.

Then he narrated his devices to get into the house at night and obtain

some food, how a dog flew at him, how the whole household, black and

white, rose in pursuit, how he scrambled under a hedge and over a high

fence, etc., all in a style of which Gough alone among orators can give

the faintest impression, so thoroughly dramatized was every syllable.

Then he described his reaching the river-side at last, and trying to

decide whether certain vessels held friends or foes.

"Den I see guns on board, and sure sartin he Union boat, and I pop my

head up. Den I been-a-tink [think] Seceshkey hab guns too, and my head

go down again. Den I hide in de bush till morning. Den I open my bundle,

and take ole white shut and tie him on ole pole and wave him, and

ebry time de wind blow, I been-a-tremble, and drap down in de bushes,"

because, being between two fires, he doubted whether friend or foe would

see his signal first. And so on, with a succession of tricks beyond

Moliere, of acts of caution, foresight, patient cunning, which were

listened to with infinite gusto and perfect comprehension by every

listener.

And all this to a bivouac of negro soldiers, with the brilliant fire

lighting up their red trousers and gleaming from their shining black

faces, eyes and teeth all white with tumultuous glee. Overhead, the

mighty limbs of a great live-oak, with the weird moss swaying in the

smoke, and the high moon gleaming faintly through.

Yet to-morrow strangers will remark on the hopeless, impenetrable

stupidity in the daylight faces of many of these very men, the solid

mask under which Nature has concealed all this wealth of mother-wit.

This very comedian is one to whom one might point, as he hoed lazily

in a cotton-field, as a being the light of whose brain had utterly gone

out; and this scene seems like coming by night upon some conclave

of black beetles, and finding them engaged, with green-room and

foot-lights, in enacting "Poor Pillicoddy." This is their university;

every young Sambo before me, as he turned over the sweet potatoes and

peanuts which were roasting in the ashes, listened with reverence to

the wiles of the ancient Ulysses, and meditated the same. It is Nature's

compensation; oppression simply crushes the upper faculties of the head,

and crowds everything into the perceptive organs. Cato, thou reasonest

well! When I get into any serious scrape, in an enemy's country, may I

be lucky enough to have you at my elbow, to pull me out of it!

The men seem to have enjoyed the novel event of Thanksgiving-Day; they

have had company and regimental prize-shootings, a minimum of speeches

and a maximum of dinner. Bill of fare: two beef-cattle and a thousand

oranges. The oranges cost a cent apiece, and the cattle were Secesh,

bestowed by General Saxby, as they all call him.

December 1, 1862.

How absurd is the impression bequeathed by Slavery in regard to these

Southern blacks, that they are sluggish and inefficient in labor! Last

night, after a hard day's work (our guns and the remainder of our tents

being just issued), an order came from Beaufort that we should be ready

in the evening to unload a steamboat's cargo of boards, being some of

those captured by them a few weeks since, and now assigned for their

use. I wondered if the men would grumble at the night-work; but the

steamboat arrived by seven, and it was bright moonlight when they went

at it. Never have I beheld such a jolly scene of labor. Tugging these

wet and heavy boards over a bridge of boats ashore, then across the

slimy beach at low tide, then up a steep bank, and all in one great

uproar of merriment for two hours. Running most of the time, chattering

all the time, snatching the boards from each other's backs as if they

were some coveted treasure, getting up eager rivalries between different

companies, pouring great choruses of ridicule on the heads of all

shirkers, they made the whole scene so enlivening that I gladly stayed

out in the moonlight for the whole time to watch it. And all this

without any urging or any promised reward, but simply as the most

natural way of doing the thing. The steamboat captain declared that they

unloaded the ten thousand feet of boards quicker than any white gang

could have done it; and they felt it so little, that, when, later in the

night, I reproached one whom I found sitting by a campfire, cooking a

surreptitious opossum, telling him that he ought to be asleep after such

a job of work, he answered, with the broadest grin, "O no, Gunnel, da's

no work at all, Gunnel; dat only jess enough for stretch we."

December 2, 1862.

I believe I have not yet enumerated the probable drawbacks to the

success of this regiment, if any. We are exposed to no direct annoyance

from the white regiments, being out of their way; and we have as yet no

discomforts or privations which we do not share with them. I do not as

yet see the slightest obstacle, in the nature of the blacks, to making

them good soldiers, but rather the contrary. They take readily to

drill, and do not object to discipline; they are not especially dull

or inattentive; they seem fully to understand the importance of the

contest, and of their share in it. They show no jealousy or suspicion

towards their officers.

They do show these feelings, however, towards the Government itself; and

no one can wonder. Here lies the drawback to rapid recruiting. Were

this a wholly new regiment, it would have been full to overflowing, I

am satisfied, ere now. The trouble is in the legacy of bitter distrust

bequeathed by the abortive regiment of General Hunter, into which they

were driven like cattle, kept for several months in camp, and then

turned off without a shilling, by order of the War Department. The

formation of that regiment was, on the whole, a great injury to this

one; and the men who came from it, though the best soldiers we have in

other respects, are the least sanguine and cheerful; while those who

now refuse to enlist have a great influence in deterring others. Our

soldiers are constantly twitted by their families and friends with their

prospect of risking their lives in the service, and being paid nothing;

and it is in vain that we read them the instructions of the Secretary

of War to General Saxton, promising them the full pay of soldiers. They

only half believe it.*

*With what utter humiliation were we, their officers, obliged to confess

to them, eighteen months afterwards, that it was their distrust which

was wise, and our faith in the pledges of the United States Government

which was foolishness!

Another drawback is that some of the white soldiers delight in

frightening the women on the plantations with doleful tales of plans for

putting us in the front rank in all battles, and such silly talk,--the

object being perhaps, to prevent our being employed on active service

at all. All these considerations they feel precisely as white men

would,--no less, no more; and it is the comparative freedom from such

unfavorable influences which makes the Florida men seem more bold and

manly, as they undoubtedly do. To-day General Saxton has returned from

Fernandina with seventy-six recruits, and the eagerness of the captains

to secure them was a sight to see. Yet they cannot deny that some of the

very best men in the regiment are South Carolinians.

December 3, 1862.--7 P.M.

What a life is this I lead! It is a dark, mild, drizzling evening, and

as the foggy air breeds sand-flies, so it calls out melodies and strange

antics from this mysterious race of grown-up children with whom my lot

is cast. All over the camp the lights glimmer in the tents, and as I sit

at my desk in the open doorway, there come mingled sounds of stir and

glee. Boys laugh and shout,--a feeble flute stirs somewhere in some

tent, not an officer's,--a drum throbs far away in another,--wild

kildeer-plover flit and wail above us, like the haunting souls of dead

slave-masters,--and from a neighboring cook-fire comes the monotonous

sound of that strange festival, half pow-wow, half prayer-meeting,

which they know only as a "shout." These fires are usually enclosed in

a little booth, made neatly of palm-leaves and covered in at top, a

regular native African hut, in short, such as is pictured in books, and

such as I once got up from dried palm-leaves for a fair at home. This

hut is now crammed with men, singing at the top of their voices, in

one of their quaint, monotonous, endless, negro-Methodist chants,

with obscure syllables recurring constantly, and slight variations

interwoven, all accompanied with a regular drumming of the feet and

clapping of the hands, like castanets. Then the excitement spreads:

inside and outside the enclosure men begin to quiver and dance, others

join, a circle forms, winding monotonously round some one in the centre;

some "heel and toe" tumultuously, others merely tremble and stagger on,

others stoop and rise, others whirl, others caper sideways, all keep

steadily circling like dervishes; spectators applaud special strokes of

skill; my approach only enlivens the scene; the circle enlarges,

louder grows the singing, rousing shouts of encouragement come in,

half bacchanalian, half devout, "Wake 'em, brudder!" "Stan' up to 'em,

brudder!"--and still the ceaseless drumming and clapping, in perfect

cadence, goes steadily on. Suddenly there comes a sort of snap, and the

spell breaks, amid general sighing and laughter. And this not rarely and

occasionally, but night after night, while in other parts of the camp

the soberest prayers and exhortations are proceeding sedately.

A simple and lovable people, whose graces seem to come by nature, and

whose vices by training. Some of the best superintendents confirm the

first tales of innocence, and Dr. Zachos told me last night that on his

plantation, a sequestered one, "they had absolutely no vices." Nor have

these men of mine yet shown any worth mentioning; since I took command

I have heard of no man intoxicated, and there has been but one small

quarrel. I suppose that scarcely a white regiment in the army shows

so little swearing. Take the "Progressive Friends" and put them in red

trousers, and I verily believe they would fill a guard-house sooner

than these men. If camp regulations are violated, it seems to be usually

through heedlessness. They love passionately three things besides their

spiritual incantations; namely, sugar, home, and tobacco. This last

affection brings tears to their eyes, almost, when they speak of their

urgent need of pay; they speak of their last-remembered quid as if it

were some deceased relative, too early lost, and to be mourned forever.

As for sugar, no white man can drink coffee after they have sweetened it

to their liking.

I see that the pride which military life creates may cause the

plantation trickeries to diminish. For instance, these men make the most

admirable sentinels. It is far harder to pass the camp lines at night

than in the camp from which I came; and I have seen none of that

disposition to connive at the offences of members of one's own company

which is so troublesome among white soldiers. Nor are they lazy, either

about work or drill; in all respects they seem better material for

soldiers than I had dared to hope.

There is one company in particular, all Florida men, which I certainly

think the finest-looking company I ever saw, white or black; they range

admirably in size, have remarkable erectness and ease of carriage, and

really march splendidly. Not a visitor but notices them; yet they have

been under drill only a fortnight, and a part only two days. They have

all been slaves, and very few are even mulattoes.

December 4, 1862.

"Dwelling in tents, with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob." This condition

is certainly mine,--and with a multitude of patriarchs beside, not to

mention Caesar and Pompey, Hercules and Bacchus.

A moving life, tented at night, this experience has been mine in civil

society, if society be civil before the luxurious forest fires of

Maine and the Adirondack, or upon the lonely prairies of Kansas. But a

stationary tent life, deliberately going to housekeeping under canvas, I

have never had before, though in our barrack life at "Camp Wool" I often

wished for it.

The accommodations here are about as liberal as my quarters there,

two wall-tents being placed end to end, for office and bedroom, and

separated at will by a "fly" of canvas. There is a good board floor and

mop-board, effectually excluding dampness and draughts, and everything

but sand, which on windy days penetrates everywhere. The office

furniture consists of a good desk or secretary, a very clumsy and

disastrous settee, and a remarkable chair. The desk is a bequest of the

slaveholders, and the settee of the slaves, being ecclesiastical in its

origin, and appertaining to the little old church or "praise-house,"

now used for commissary purposes. The chair is a composite structure: I

found a cane seat on a dust-heap, which a black sergeant combined with

two legs from a broken bedstead and two more from an oak-bough. I sit

on it with a pride of conscious invention, mitigated by profound

insecurity. Bedroom furniture, a couch made of gun-boxes covered with

condemned blankets, another settee, two pails, a tin cup, tin basin

(we prize any tin or wooden ware as savages prize iron), and a valise,

regulation size. Seriously considered, nothing more appears needful,

unless ambition might crave another chair for company, and, perhaps,

something for a wash-stand higher than a settee.

To-day it rains hard, and the wind quivers through the closed canvas,

and makes one feel at sea. All the talk of the camp outside is fused

into a cheerful and indistinguishable murmur, pierced through at every

moment by the wail of the hovering plover. Sometimes a face, black or

white, peers through the entrance with some message. Since the light

readily penetrates, though the rain cannot, the tent conveys a feeling

of charmed security, as if an invisible boundary checked the pattering

drops and held the moaning wind. The front tent I share, as yet, with my

adjutant; in the inner apartment I reign supreme, bounded in a nutshell,

with no bad dreams.

In all pleasant weather the outer "fly" is open, and men pass and

repass, a chattering throng. I think of Emerson's Saadi, "As thou

sittest at thy door, on the desert's yellow floor,"--for these bare

sand-plains, gray above, are always yellow when upturned, and there

seems a tinge of Orientalism in all our life.

Thrice a day we go to the plantation-houses for our meals,

camp-arrangements being yet very imperfect. The officers board in

different messes, the adjutant and I still clinging to the household of

William Washington,--William the quiet and the courteous, the pattern

of house-servants, William the noiseless, the observing, the

discriminating, who knows everything that can be got, and how to cook

it. William and his tidy, lady-like little spouse Hetty--a pair of

wedded lovers, if ever I saw one--set our table in their one room,

half-way between an un glazed window and a large wood-fire, such as is

often welcome. Thanks to the adjutant, we are provided with the social

magnificence of napkins; while (lest pride take too high a flight)

our table-cloth consists of two "New York Tribunes" and a "Leslie's

Pictorial." Every steamer brings us a clean table-cloth. Here are we

forever supplied with pork and oysters and sweet potatoes and rice and

hominy and corn-bread and milk; also mysterious griddle-cakes of corn

and pumpkin; also preserves made of pumpkin-chips, and other

fanciful productions of Ethiop art. Mr. E. promised the

plantation-superintendents who should come down here "all the luxuries

of home," and we certainly have much apparent, if little real variety.

Once William produced with some palpitation something fricasseed,

which he boldly termed chicken; it was very small, and seemed in some

undeveloped condition of ante-natal toughness. After the meal he frankly

avowed it for a squirrel.

December 5, 1862.

Give these people their tongues, their feet, and their leisure, and they

are happy. At every twilight the air is full of singing, talking, and

clapping of hands in unison. One of their favorite songs is full of

plaintive cadences; it is not, I think, a Methodist tune, and I wonder

where they obtained a chant of such beauty.

"I can't stay behind, my Lord, I can't stay behind!

O, my father is gone, my father is gone,

My father is gone into heaven, my Lord!

I can't stay behind!

Dere's room enough, room enough,

Room enough in de heaven for de sojer:

Can't stay behind!"

It always excites them to have us looking on, yet they sing these songs

at all times and seasons. I have heard this very song dimly droning on

near midnight, and, tracing it into the recesses of a cook-house, have

found an old fellow coiled away among the pots and provisions, chanting

away with his "Can't stay behind, sinner," till I made him leave his

song behind.

This evening, after working themselves up to the highest pitch, a party

suddenly rushed off, got a barrel, and mounted some man upon it, who

said, "Gib anoder song, boys, and I'se gib you a speech." After some

hesitation and sundry shouts of "Rise de sing, somebody," and "Stan'

up for Jesus, brud-der," irreverently put in by the juveniles, they got

upon the John Brown song, always a favorite, adding a jubilant verse

which I had never before heard,--"We'll beat Beauregard on de clare

battlefield." Then came the promised speech, and then no less than seven

other speeches by as many men, on a variety of barrels, each orator

being affectionately tugged to the pedestal and set on end by his

special constituency. Every speech was good, without exception; with the

queerest oddities of phrase and pronunciation, there was an invariable

enthusiasm, a pungency of statement, and an understanding of the points

at issue, which made them all rather thrilling. Those long-winded

slaves in "Among the Pines" seemed rather fictitious and literary in

comparison. The most eloquent, perhaps, was Corporal Price Lambkin, just

arrived from Fernandina, who evidently had a previous reputation among

them. His historical references were very interesting. He reminded them

that he had predicted this war ever since Fremont's time, to which

some of the crowd assented; he gave a very intelligent account of that

Presidential campaign, and then described most impressively the secret

anxiety of the slaves in Florida to know all about President Lincoln's

election, and told how they all refused to work on the fourth of March,

expecting their freedom to date from that day. He finally brought out

one of the few really impressive appeals for the American flag that I

have ever heard. "Our mas'rs dey hab lib under de flag, dey got dere

wealth under it, and ebryting beautiful for dere chilen. Under it dey

hab grind us up, and put us in dere pocket for money. But de fus' minute

dey tink dat ole flag mean freedom for we colored people, dey pull it

right down, and run up de rag ob dere own." (Immense applause). "But

we'll neber desert de ole flag, boys, neber; we hab lib under it for

eighteen hundred sixty-two years, and we'll die for it now." With which

overpowering discharge of chronology-at-long-range, this most effective

of stump-speeches closed. I see already with relief that there will be

small demand in this regiment for harangues from the officers; give the

men an empty barrel for a stump, and they will do their own exhortation.

December 11, 1862.

Haroun Alraschid, wandering in disguise through his imperial streets,

scarcely happened upon a greater variety of groups than I, in my evening

strolls among our own camp-fires.

Beside some of these fires the men are cleaning their guns or rehearsing

their drill,--beside others, smoking in silence their very scanty supply

of the beloved tobacco,--beside others, telling stories and shouting

with laughter over the broadest mimicry, in which they excel, and in

which the officers come in for a full share. The everlasting "shout"

is always within hearing, with its mixture of piety and polka, and

its castanet-like clapping of the hands. Then there are quieter

prayer-meetings, with pious invocations and slow psalms, "deaconed out"

from memory by the leader, two lines at a time, in a sort of wailing

chant. Elsewhere, there are _conversazioni_ around fires, with a woman

for queen of the circle,--her Nubian face, gay headdress, gilt necklace,

and white teeth, all resplendent in the glowing light. Sometimes the

woman is spelling slow monosyllables out of a primer, a feat which

always commands all ears,--they rightly recognizing a mighty spell,

equal to the overthrowing of monarchs, in the magic assonance of _cat,

hat, pat, bat_, and the rest of it. Elsewhere, it is some solitary old

cook, some aged Uncle Tiff, with enormous spectacles, who is perusing a

hymn-book by the light of a pine splinter, in his deserted cooking booth

of palmetto leaves. By another fire there is an actual dance, red-legged

soldiers doing right-and-left, and "now-lead-de-lady-ober," to the music

of a violin which is rather artistically played, and which may have

guided the steps, in other days, of Barnwells and Hugers. And yonder is

a stump-orator perched on his barrel, pouring out his exhortations to

fidelity in war and in religion. To-night for the first time I have

heard an harangue in a different strain, quite saucy, sceptical, and

defiant, appealing to them in a sort of French materialistic style, and

claiming some personal experience of warfare. "You don't know notin'

about it, boys. You tink you's brave enough; how you tink, if you stan'

clar in de open field,--here you, and dar de Secesh? You's got to hab

de right ting inside o' you. You must hab it 'served [preserved] in you,

like dese yer sour plums dey 'serve in de barr'l; you's got to harden

it down inside o' you, or it's notin'." Then he hit hard at the

religionists: "When a man's got de sperit ob de Lord in him, it weakens

him all out, can't hoe de corn." He had a great deal of broad sense in

his speech; but presently some others began praying vociferously close

by, as if to drown this free-thinker, when at last he exclaimed, "I mean

to fight de war through, an' die a good sojer wid de last kick, dat's

_my_ prayer!" and suddenly jumped off the barrel. I was quite interested

at discovering this reverse side of the temperament, the devotional side

preponderates so enormously, and the greatest scamps kneel and groan in

their prayer-meetings with such entire zest. It shows that there is some

individuality developed among them, and that they will not become too

exclusively pietistic.

Their love of the spelling-book is perfectly inexhaustible,--they

stumbling on by themselves, or the blind leading the blind, with the

same pathetic patience which they carry into everything. The chaplain is

getting up a schoolhouse, where he will soon teach them as regularly as

he can. But the alphabet must always be a very incidental business in a

camp.

December 14.

Passages from prayers in the camp:--

"Let me so lib dat when I die I shall _hab manners_, dat I shall know

what to say when I see my Heabenly Lord."

"Let me lib wid de musket in one hand an' de Bible in de oder,--dat if

I die at de muzzle ob de musket, die in de water, die on de land, I may

know I hab de bressed Jesus in my hand, an' hab no fear."

"I hab lef my wife in de land o' bondage; my little ones dey say eb'ry

night, Whar is my fader? But when I die, when de bressed mornin' rises,

when I shall stan' in de glory, wid one foot on de water an' one foot

on de land, den, O Lord, I shall see my wife an' my little chil'en once

more."

These sentences I noted down, as best I could, beside the glimmering

camp-fire last night. The same person was the hero of a singular little

_contre-temps_ at a funeral in the afternoon. It was our first

funeral. The man had died in hospital, and we had chosen a picturesque

burial-place above the river, near the old church, and beside a little

nameless cemetery, used by generations of slaves. It was a regular

military funeral, the coffin being draped with the American flag, the

escort marching behind, and three volleys fired over the grave. During

the services there was singing, the chaplain deaconing out the hymn in

their favorite way. This ended, he announced his text,--"This poor

man cried, and the Lord heard him, and delivered him out of all his

trouble." Instantly, to my great amazement, the cracked voice of the

chorister was uplifted, intoning the text, as if it were the first verse

of another hymn. So calmly was it done, so imperturbable were all the

black countenances, that I half began to conjecture that the chaplain

himself intended it for a hymn, though I could imagine no prospective

rhyme for _trouble_ unless it were approximated by _debbil_, which is,

indeed, a favorite reference, both with the men and with his Reverence.

But the chaplain, peacefully awaiting, gently repeated his text after

the chant, and to my great relief the old chorister waived all further

recitative, and let the funeral discourse proceed.

Their memories are a vast bewildered chaos of Jewish history and

biography; and most of the great events of the past, down to the period

of the American Revolution, they instinctively attribute to Moses.

There is a fine bold confidence in all their citations, however, and the

record never loses piquancy in their hands, though strict accuracy may

suffer. Thus, one of my captains, last Sunday, heard a colored exhorter

at Beaufort proclaim, "Paul may plant, _and may polish wid water_, but

it won't do," in which the sainted Apollos would hardly have recognized

himself.

Just now one of the soldiers came to me to say that he was about to

be married to a girl in Beaufort, and would I lend him a dollar and

seventy-five cents to buy the wedding outfit? It seemed as if matrimony

on such moderate terms ought to be encouraged in these days; and so I

responded to the appeal.

December 16.

To-day a young recruit appeared here, who had been the slave of Colonel

Sammis, one of the leading Florida refugees. Two white companions came

with him, who also appeared to be retainers of the Colonel, and I asked

them to dine. Being likewise refugees, they had stories to tell, and

were quite agreeable: one was English born, the other Floridian, a dark,

sallow Southerner, very well bred. After they had gone, the Colonel

himself appeared, I told him that I had been entertaining his white

friends, and after a while he quietly let out the remark,--

"Yes, one of those white friends of whom you speak is a boy raised on

one of my plantations; he has travelled with me to the North, and passed

for white, and he always keeps away from the negroes."

Certainly no such suspicion had ever crossed my mind.

I have noticed one man in the regiment who would easily pass for

white,--a little sickly drummer, aged fifty at least, with brown eyes

and reddish hair, who is said to be the son of one of our commodores.

I have seen perhaps a dozen persons as fair, or fairer, among fugitive

slaves, but they were usually young children. It touched me far more

to see this man, who had spent more than half a lifetime in this

low estate, and for whom it now seemed too late to be anything but a

"nigger." This offensive word, by the way, is almost as common with them

as at the North, and far more common than with well-bred slaveholders.

They have meekly accepted it. "Want to go out to de nigger houses, Sah,"

is the universal impulse of sociability, when they wish to cross the

lines. "He hab twenty house-servants, an' two hundred head o' nigger,"

is a still more degrading form of phrase, in which the epithet is

limited to the field-hands, and they estimated like so many cattle.

This want of self-respect of course interferes with the authority of the

non-commissioned officers, which is always difficult to sustain, even in

white regiments. "He needn't try to play de white man ober me," was the

protest of a soldier against his corporal the other day. To counteract

this I have often to remind them that they do not obey their officers

because they are white, but because they are their officers; and guard

duty is an admirable school for this, because they readily understand

that the sergeant or corporal of the guard has for the time more

authority than any commissioned officer who is not on duty. It is

necessary also for their superiors to treat the non-commissioned

officers with careful courtesy, and I often caution the line officers

never to call them "Sam" or "Will," nor omit the proper handle to their

names. The value of the habitual courtesies of the regular army is

exceedingly apparent with these men: an officer of polished manners can

wind them round his finger, while white soldiers seem rather to prefer

a certain roughness. The demeanor of my men to each other is very

courteous, and yet I see none of that sort of upstart conceit which is

sometimes offensive among free negroes at the North, the dandy-barber

strut. This is an agreeable surprise, for I feared that freedom and

regimentals would produce precisely that.

They seem the world's perpetual children, docile, gay, and lovable,

in the midst of this war for freedom on which they have intelligently

entered. Last night, before "taps," there was the greatest noise in camp

that I had ever heard, and I feared some riot. On going out, I found the

most tumultuous sham-fight proceeding in total darkness, two companies

playing like boys, beating tin cups for drums. When some of

them saw me they seemed a little dismayed, and came and said,

beseechingly,--"Gunnel, Sah, you hab no objection to we playin',

Sah?"--which objection I disclaimed; but soon they all subsided, rather

to my regret, and scattered merrily. Afterward I found that some other

officer had told them that I considered the affair too noisy, so that

I felt a mild self-reproach when one said, "Cunnel, wish you had let

we play a little longer, Sah." Still I was not sorry, on the whole; for

these sham-fights between companies would in some regiments lead to real

ones, and there is a latent jealousy here between the Florida and South

Carolina men, which sometimes makes me anxious.

The officers are more kind and patient with the men than I should

expect, since the former are mostly young, and drilling tries the

temper; but they are aided by hearty satisfaction in the results already

attained. I have never yet heard a doubt expressed among the officers as

to the _superiority_ of these men to white troops in aptitude for drill

and discipline, because of their imitativeness and docility, and the

pride they take in the service. One captain said to me to-day, "I have

this afternoon taught my men to load-in-nine-times, and they do it

better than we did it in my former company in three months." I can

personally testify that one of our best lieutenants, an Englishman,

taught a part of his company the essential movements of the "school for

skirmishers" in a single lesson of two hours, so that they did them

very passably, though I feel bound to discourage such haste. However,

I "formed square" on the third battalion drill. Three fourths of drill

consist of attention, imitation, and a good ear for time; in the

other fourth, which consists of the application of principles, as, for

instance, performing by the left flank some movement before learned

by the right, they are perhaps slower than better educated men. Having

belonged to five different drill-clubs before entering the army, I

certainly ought to know something of the resources of human awkwardness,

and I can honestly say that they astonish me by the facility with which

they do things. I expected much harder work in this respect.

The habit of carrying burdens on the head gives them erectness of

figure, even where physically disabled. I have seen a woman, with a

brimming water-pail balanced on her head, or perhaps a cup, saucer,

and spoon, stop suddenly, turn round, stoop to pick up a missile, rise

again, fling it, light a pipe, and go through many evolutions with

either hand or both, without spilling a drop. The pipe, by the way,

gives an odd look to a well-dressed young girl on Sunday, but one often

sees that spectacle. The passion for tobacco among our men continues

quite absorbing, and I have piteous appeals for some arrangement

by which they can buy it on credit, as we have yet no sutler. Their

imploring, "Cunnel, we can't _lib_ widout it, Sah," goes to my heart;

and as they cannot read, I cannot even have the melancholy satisfaction

of supplying them with the excellent anti-tobacco tracts of Mr. Trask.

December 19.

Last night the water froze in the adjutant's tent, but not in mine.

To-day has been mild and beautiful. The blacks say they do not feel

the cold so much as the white officers do, and perhaps it is so, though

their health evidently suffers more from dampness. On the other hand,

while drilling on very warm days, they have seemed to suffer more from

the heat than their officers. But they dearly love fire, and at night

will always have it, if possible, even on the minutest scale,--a

mere handful of splinters, that seems hardly more efficacious than a

friction-match. Probably this is a natural habit for the short-lived

coolness of an out-door country; and then there is something delightful

in this rich pine, which burns like a tar-barrel. It was, perhaps,

encouraged by the masters, as the only cheap luxury the slaves had at

hand.

As one grows more acquainted with the men, their individualities emerge;

and I find, first their faces, then their characters, to be as distinct

as those of whites. It is very interesting the desire they show to do

their duty, and to improve as soldiers; they evidently think about it,

and see the importance of the thing; they say to me that we white men

cannot stay and be their leaders always and that they must learn to

depend on themselves, or else relapse into their former condition.

Beside the superb branch of uneatable bitter oranges which decks my

tent-pole, I have to-day hung up a long bough of finger-sponge, which

floated to the river-bank. As winter advances, butterflies gradually

disappear: one species (a _Vanessa_) lingers; three others have vanished

since I came. Mocking-birds are abundant, but rarely sing; once or twice

they have reminded me of the red thrush, but are inferior, as I have

always thought. The colored people all say that it will be much cooler;

but my officers do not think so, perhaps because last winter was so

unusually mild,--with only one frost, they say.

December 20.

Philoprogenitiveness is an important organ for an officer of colored

troops; and I happen to be well provided with it. It seems to be the

theory of all military usages, in fact, that soldiers are to be treated

like children; and these singular persons, who never know their own age

till they are past middle life, and then choose a birthday with such

precision,--"Fifty year old, Sah, de fus' last April,"--prolong the

privilege of childhood.

I am perplexed nightly for countersigns,--their range of proper names is

so distressingly limited, and they make such amazing work of every new

one. At first, to be sure, they did not quite recognize the need of any

variation: one night some officer asked a sentinel whether he had the

countersign yet, and was indignantly answered, "Should tink I hab 'em,

hab 'em for a fortnight"; which seems a long epoch for that magic word

to hold out. To-night I thought I would have "Fredericksburg," in honor

of Burnside's reported victory, using the rumor quickly, for fear of a

contradiction. Later, in comes a captain, gets the countersign for

his own use, but presently returns, the sentinel having pronounced it

incorrect. On inquiry, it appears that the sergeant of the guard, being

weak in geography, thought best to substitute the more familiar word,

"Crockery-ware"; which was, with perfect gravity, confided to all the

sentinels, and accepted without question. O life! what is the fun of

fiction beside thee?

I should think they would suffer and complain these cold nights; but

they say nothing, though there is a good deal of coughing. I should

fancy that the scarlet trousers must do something to keep them warm, and

wonder that they dislike them so much, when they are so much like their

beloved fires. They certainly multiply firelight in any case. I often

notice that an infinitesimal flame, with one soldier standing by it,

looks like quite a respectable conflagration, and it seems as if a group

of them must dispel dampness.

December 21.

To a regimental commander no book can be so fascinating as the

consolidated Morning Report, which is ready about nine, and tells how

many in each company are sick, absent, on duty, and so on. It is one's

newspaper and daily mail; I never grow tired of it. If a single recruit

has come in, I am always eager to see how he looks on paper.

To-night the officers are rather depressed by rumors of Burnside's being

defeated, after all. I am fortunately equable and undepressible; and it

is very convenient that the men know too little of the events of the

war to feel excitement or fear. They know General Saxton and me,--"de

General" and "de Gunnel,"--and seem to ask no further questions. We

are the war. It saves a great deal of trouble, while it lasts, this

childlike confidence; nevertheless, it is our business to educate them

to manhood, and I see as yet no obstacle.

As for the rumor, the world will no doubt roll round, whether Burnside

is defeated or succeeds.

Christmas Day.

"We'll fight for liberty

Till de Lord shall call us home;

We'll soon be free

Till de Lord shall call us home."

This is the hymn which the slaves at Georgetown, South Carolina, were

whipped for singing when President Lincoln was elected. So said a little

drummer-boy, as he sat at my tent's edge last night and told me his

story; and he showed all his white teeth as he added, "Dey tink _'de

Lord'_ meant for say de Yankees."

Last night, at dress-parade, the adjutant read General Saxton's

Proclamation for the New Year's Celebration. I think they understood it,

for there was cheering in all the company-streets afterwards. Christmas

is the great festival of the year for this people; but, with New Year's

coming after, we could have no adequate programme for to-day, and so

celebrated Christmas Eve with pattern simplicity. We omitted, namely,

the mystic curfew which we call "taps," and let them sit up and burn

their fires, and have their little prayer-meetings as late as they

desired; and all night, as I waked at intervals, I could hear them

praying and "shouting" and clattering with hands and heels. It seemed to

make them very happy, and appeared to be at least an innocent Christmas

dissipation, as compared with some of the convivialities of the

"superior race" hereabouts.

December 26.

The day passed with no greater excitement for the men than

target-shooting, which they enjoyed. I had the private delight of the

arrival of our much-desired surgeon and his nephew, the captain, with

letters and news from home. They also bring the good tidings that

General Saxton is not to be removed, as had been reported.

Two different stands of colors have arrived for us, and will be

presented at New Year's,--one from friends in New York, and the other

from a lady in Connecticut. I see that "Frank Leslie's Illustrated

Weekly" of December 20th has a highly imaginative picture of the

muster-in of our first company, and also of a skirmish on the late

expedition.

I must not forget the prayer overheard last night by one of the

captains: "O Lord! when I tink ob dis Kismas and las' year de Kismas.

Las' Kismas he in de Secesh, and notin' to eat but grits, and no salt

in 'em. Dis year in de camp, and too much victual!" This "too much" is

a favorite phrase out of their grateful hearts, and did not in this case

denote an excess of dinner,--as might be supposed,--but of thanksgiving.

December 29.

Our new surgeon has begun his work most efficiently: he and the chaplain

have converted an old gin-house into a comfortable hospital, with ten

nice beds and straw pallets. He is now, with a hearty professional

faith, looking round for somebody to put into it. I am afraid the

regiment will accommodate him; for, although he declares that these men

do not sham sickness, as he expected, their catarrh is an unpleasant

reality. They feel the dampness very much, and make such a coughing

at dress-parade, that I have urged him to administer a dose of

cough-mixture, all round, just before that pageant. Are the colored

race _tough?_ is my present anxiety; and it is odd that physical

insufficiency, the only discouragement not thrown in our way by the

newspapers, is the only discouragement which finds any place in our

minds. They are used to sleeping indoors in winter, herded before fires,

and so they feel the change. Still, the regiment is as healthy as the

average, and experience will teach us something.*

* A second winter's experience removed all this solicitude, for they

learned to take care of themselves. During the first February the

sick-list averaged about ninety, during the second about thirty, this

being the worst month in the year for blacks.

December 30.

On the first of January we are to have a slight collation, ten oxen or

so, barbecued,--or not properly barbecued, but roasted whole. Touching

the length of time required to "do" an ox, no two housekeepers appear

to agree. Accounts vary from two hours to twenty-four. We shall happily

have enough to try all gradations of roasting, and suit all tastes, from

Miss A.'s to mine. But fancy me proffering a spare-rib, well done, to

some fair lady! What ever are we to do for spoons and forks and plates?

Each soldier has his own, and is sternly held responsible for it by

"Army Regulations." But how provide for the multitude? Is it customary,

I ask you, to help to tenderloin with one's fingers? Fortunately, the

Major is to see to that department. Great are the advantages of military

discipline: for anything perplexing, detail a subordinate.

New Year's Eve.

My housekeeping at home is not, perhaps, on any very extravagant scale.

Buying beefsteak, I usually go to the extent of two or three pounds. Yet

when, this morning at daybreak, the quartermaster called to inquire how

many cattle I would have killed for roasting, I turned over in bed, and

answered composedly, "Ten,--and keep three to be fatted."

Fatted, quotha! Not one of the beasts at present appears to possess

an ounce of superfluous flesh. Never were seen such lean kine. As they

swing on vast spits, composed of young trees, the firelight glimmers

through their ribs, as if they were great lanterns. But no matter, they

are cooking,--nay, they are cooked.

One at least is taken off to cool, and will be replaced tomorrow to warm

up. It was roasted three hours, and well done, for I tasted it. It is

so long since I tasted fresh beef that forgetfulness is possible; but

I fancied this to be successful. I tried to imagine that I liked

the Homeric repast, and certainly the whole thing has been far more

agreeable than was to be expected. The doubt now is, whether I have made

a sufficient provision for my household. I should have roughly guessed

that ten beeves would feed as many million people, it has such a

stupendous sound; but General Saxton predicts a small social party of

five thousand, and we fear that meat will run short, unless they prefer

bone. One of the cattle is so small, we are hoping it may turn out veal.

For drink we aim at the simple luxury of molasses-and-water, a barrel

per company, ten in all. Liberal housekeepers may like to know that for

a barrel of water we allow three gallons of molasses, half a pound of

ginger, and a quart of vinegar,--this last being a new ingredient for my

untutored palate, though all the rest are amazed at my ignorance.

Hard bread, with more molasses, and a dessert of tobacco, complete the

festive repast, destined to cheer, but not inebriate.

On this last point, of inebriation, this is certainly a wonderful camp.

For us it is absolutely omitted from the list of vices. I have never

heard of a glass of liquor in the camp, nor of any effort either to

bring it in or to keep it out. A total absence of the circulating medium

might explain the abstinence,--not that it seems to have that effect

with white soldiers,--but it would not explain the silence. The craving

for tobacco is constant, and not to be allayed, like that of a mother

for her children; but I have never heard whiskey even wished for, save

on Christmas-Day, and then only by one man, and he spoke with a hopeless

ideal sighing, as one alludes to the Golden Age. I am amazed at this

total omission of the most inconvenient of all camp appetites. It

certainly is not the result of exhortation, for there has been no

occasion for any, and even the pledge would scarcely seem efficacious

where hardly anybody can write.

I do not think there is a great visible eagerness for tomorrow's

festival: it is not their way to be very jubilant over anything this

side of the New Jerusalem. They know also that those in this Department

are nominally free already, and that the practical freedom has to be

maintained, in any event, by military success. But they will enjoy it

greatly, and we shall have a multitude of people.

January 1, 1863 (evening).

A happy New Year to civilized people,--mere white folks. Our festival

has come and gone, with perfect success, and our good General has been

altogether satisfied. Last night the great fires were kept smouldering

in the pit, and the beeves were cooked more or less, chiefly

more,--during which time they had to be carefully watched, and the

great spits turned by main force. Happy were the merry fellows who were

permitted to sit up all night, and watch the glimmering flames that

threw a thousand fantastic shadows among the great gnarled oaks. And

such a chattering as I was sure to hear whenever I awoke that night!

My first greeting to-day was from one of the most stylish sergeants, who

approached me with the following little speech, evidently the result of

some elaboration:--

"I tink myself happy, dis New Year's Day, for salute my own Cunnel.

Dis day las' year I was servant to a Gunnel ob Secesh; but now I hab de

privilege for salute my own Cunnel."

That officer, with the utmost sincerity, reciprocated the sentiment.

About ten o'clock the people began to collect by land, and also by

water,--in steamers sent by General Saxton for the purpose; and from

that time all the avenues of approach were thronged. The multitude were

chiefly colored women, with gay handkerchiefs on their heads, and a

sprinkling of men, with that peculiarly respectable look which these

people always have on Sundays and holidays. There were many white

visitors also,--ladies on horseback and in carriages, superintendents

and teachers, officers, and cavalry-men. Our companies were marched to

the neighborhood of the platform, and allowed to sit or stand, as at the

Sunday services; the platform was occupied by ladies and dignitaries,

and by the band of the Eighth Maine, which kindly volunteered for the

occasion; the colored people filled up all the vacant openings in the

beautiful grove around, and there was a cordon of mounted visitors

beyond. Above, the great live-oak branches and their trailing moss;

beyond the people, a glimpse of the blue river.

The services began at half past eleven o'clock, with prayer by our

chaplain, Mr. Fowler, who is always, on such occasions, simple,

reverential, and impressive. Then the President's Proclamation was

read by Dr. W. H. Brisbane, a thing infinitely appropriate, a South

Carolinian addressing South Carolinians; for he was reared among these

very islands, and here long since emancipated his own slaves. Then

the colors were presented to us by the Rev. Mr. French, a chaplain who

brought them from the donors in New York. All this was according to the

programme. Then followed an incident so simple, so touching, so utterly

unexpected and startling, that I can scarcely believe it on recalling,

though it gave the keynote to the whole day. The very moment the speaker

had ceased, and just as I took and waved the flag, which now for the

first time meant anything to these poor people, there suddenly arose,

close beside the platform, a strong male voice (but rather cracked and

elderly), into which two women's voices instantly blended, singing, as

if by an impulse that could no more be repressed than the morning note

of the song-sparrow.--

"My Country, 'tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing!"

People looked at each other, and then at us on the platform, to see

whence came this interruption, not set down in the bills. Firmly and

irrepressibly the quavering voices sang on, verse after verse; others of

the colored people joined in; some whites on the platform began, but I

motioned them to silence. I never saw anything so electric; it made

all other words cheap; it seemed the choked voice of a race at last

unloosed. Nothing could be more wonderfully unconscious; art could

not have dreamed of a tribute to the day of jubilee that should be so

affecting; history will not believe it; and when I came to speak of it,

after it was ended, tears were everywhere. If you could have heard how

quaint and innocent it was! Old Tiff and his children might have sung

it; and close before me was a little slave-boy, almost white, who seemed

to belong to the party, and even he must join in. Just think of it!--the

first day they had ever had a country, the first flag they had ever seen

which promised anything to their people, and here, while mere spectators

stood in silence, waiting for my stupid words, these simple souls burst

out in their lay, as if they were by their own hearths at home! When

they stopped, there was nothing to do for it but to speak, and I went

on; but the life of the whole day was in those unknown people's song.

Receiving the flags, I gave them into the hands of two fine-looking

men, jet black, as color-guard, and they also spoke, and very

effectively,--Sergeant Prince Rivers and Corporal Robert Sutton. The

regiment sang "Marching Along," and then General Saxton spoke, in his

own simple, manly way, and Mrs. Francis D. Gage spoke very sensibly to

the women, and Judge Stickney, from Florida, added something; then some

gentleman sang an ode, and the regiment the John Brown song, and then

they went to their beef and molasses. Everything was very orderly, and

they seemed to have a very gay time. Most of the visitors had far to go,

and so dispersed before dress-parade, though the band stayed to enliven

it. In the evening we had letters from home, and General Saxton had a

reception at his house, from which I excused myself; and so ended one

of the most enthusiastic and happy gatherings I ever knew. The day was

perfect, and there was nothing but success.

I forgot to say, that, in the midst of the services, it was announced

that General Fremont was appointed Commander-in-Chief,--an announcement

which was received with immense cheering, as would have been almost

anything else, I verily believe, at that moment of high tide. It was

shouted across by the pickets above,--a way in which we often receive

news, but not always trustworthy.

January 3, 1863.

Once, and once only, thus far, the water has frozen in my tent; and

the next morning showed a dense white frost outside. We have still

mocking-birds and crickets and rosebuds, and occasional noonday baths in

the river, though the butterflies have vanished, as I remember to have

observed in Fayal, after December. I have been here nearly six weeks

without a rainy day; one or two slight showers there have been, once

interrupting a drill, but never dress-parade. For climate, by day,

we might be among the isles of Greece,--though it may be my constant

familiarity with the names of her sages which suggests that impression.

For instance, a voice just now called, near my tent,--"Cato, whar's

Plato?" The men have somehow got the impression that it is essential to

the validity of a marriage that they should come to me for permission,

just as they used to go to the master; and I rather encourage these

little confidences, because it is so entertaining to hear them. "Now,

Cunnel," said a faltering swam the other day, "I want for get me one

good lady," which I approved, especially the limitation as to number.

Afterwards I asked one of the bridegroom's friends whether he thought

it a good match. "O yes, Cunnel," said he, in all the cordiality of

friendship, "John's gwine for marry Venus." I trust the goddess will

prove herself a better lady than she appeared during her previous career

upon this planet. But this naturally suggests the isles of Greece again.

January 7.

On first arriving, I found a good deal of anxiety among the officers as

to the increase of desertions, that being the rock on which the "Hunter

Regiment" split. Now this evil is very nearly stopped, and we are every

day recovering the older absentees. One of the very best things that

have happened to us was the half-accidental shooting of a man who

had escaped from the guard-house, and was wounded by a squad sent in

pursuit. He has since died; and this very eve-rung another man, who

escaped with him, came and opened the door of my tent, after being five

days in the woods, almost without food. His clothes were in rags, and he

was nearly starved, poor foolish fellow, so that we can almost dispense

with further punishment. Severe penalties would be wasted on these

people, accustomed as they have been to the most violent passions on the

part of white men; but a mild inexorableness tells on them, just as it

does on any other children. It is something utterly new to me, and it

is thus far perfectly efficacious. They have a great deal of pride as

soldiers, and a very little of severity goes a great way, if it be firm

and consistent. This is very encouraging.

The single question which I asked of some of the plantation

superintendents, on the voyage, was, "Do these people appreciate

_justice_?" If they did it was evident that all the rest would be easy.

When a race is degraded beyond that point it must be very hard to deal

with them; they must mistake all kindness for indulgence, all strictness

for cruelty. With these freed slaves there is no such trouble, not a

particle: let an officer be only just and firm, with a cordial, kindly

nature, and he has no sort of difficulty. The plantation superintendents

and teachers have the same experience, they say; but we have an immense

advantage in the military organization, which helps in two ways: it

increases their self-respect, and it gives us an admirable machinery for

discipline, thus improving both the fulcrum and the lever.

The wounded man died in the hospital, and the general verdict seemed to

be, "Him brought it on heself." Another soldier died of pneumonia on

the same day, and we had the funerals in the evening. It was very

impressive. A dense mist came up, with a moon behind it, and we had only

the light of pine-splinters, as the procession wound along beneath the

mighty, moss-hung branches of the ancient grove. The groups around the

grave, the dark faces, the red garments, the scattered lights, the

misty boughs, were weird and strange. The men sang one of their own wild

chants. Two crickets sang also, one on either side, and did not cease

their little monotone, even when the three volleys were fired above the

graves. Just before the coffins were lowered, an old man whispered to me

that I must have their position altered,--the heads must be towards the

west; so it was done,--though they are in a place so veiled in woods

that either rising or setting sun will find it hard to spy them.

We have now a good regimental hospital, admirably arranged in a deserted

gin-house,--a fine well of our own digging, within the camp lines,--a

full allowance of tents, all floored,--a wooden cook-house to every

company, with sometimes a palmetto mess-house beside,--a substantial

wooden guard-house, with a fireplace five feet "in de clar," where

the men off duty can dry themselves and sleep comfortably in bunks

afterwards. We have also a great circular school-tent, made of condemned

canvas, thirty feet in diameter, and looking like some of the Indian

lodges I saw in Kansas. We now meditate a regimental bakery. Our

aggregate has increased from four hundred and ninety to seven hundred

and forty, besides a hundred recruits now waiting at St. Augustine, and

we have practised through all the main movements in battalion drill.

Affairs being thus prosperous, and yesterday having been six weeks since

my last and only visit to Beaufort, I rode in, glanced at several camps,

and dined with the General. It seemed absolutely like re-entering the

world; and I did not fully estimate my past seclusion till it occurred

to me, as a strange and novel phenomenon, that the soldiers at the other

camps were white.

January 8.

This morning I went to Beaufort again, on necessary business, and by

good luck happened upon a review and drill of the white regiments. The

thing that struck me most was that same absence of uniformity, in minor

points, that I noticed at first in my own officers. The best regiments

in the Department are represented among my captains and lieutenants, and

very well represented too; yet it has cost much labor to bring them

to any uniformity in their drill. There is no need of this; for the

prescribed "Tactics" approach perfection; it is never left discretionary

in what place an officer shall stand, or in what words he shall give his

order. All variation would seem to imply negligence. Yet even West Point

occasionally varies from the "Tactics,"--as, for instance, in requiring

the line officers to face down the line, when each is giving the order

to his company. In our strictest Massachusetts regiments this is not

done.

It needs an artist's eye to make a perfect drill-master. Yet the small

points are not merely a matter of punctilio; for, the more perfectly

a battalion is drilled on the parade-ground the more quietly it can be

handled in action. Moreover, the great need of uniformity is this: that,

in the field, soldiers of different companies, and even of different

regiments, are liable to be intermingled, and a diversity of orders may

throw everything into confusion. Confusion means Bull Run.

I wished my men at the review to-day; for, amidst all the rattling and

noise of artillery and the galloping of cavalry, there was only one

infantry movement that we have not practised, and that was done by only

one regiment, and apparently considered quite a novelty, though it is

easily taught,

--forming square by Casey's method: forward on centre. It is really just

as easy to drill a regiment as a company,

--perhaps easier, because one has more time to think; but it is just as

essential to be sharp and decisive, perfectly clearheaded, and to put

life into the men. A regiment seems small when one has learned how to

handle it, a mere handful of men; and I have no doubt that a brigade

or a division would soon appear equally small. But to handle either

_judiciously_, ah, that is another affair!

So of governing; it is as easy to govern a regiment as a school or a

factory, and needs like qualities, system, promptness, patience, tact;

moreover, in a regiment one has the aid of the admirable machinery of

the army, so that I see very ordinary men who succeed very tolerably.

Reports of a six months' armistice are rife here, and the thought is

deplored by all. I cannot believe it; yet sometimes one feels very

anxious about the ultimate fate of these poor people. After the

experience of Hungary, one sees that revolutions may go backward; and

the habit of injustice seems so deeply impressed upon the whites, that

it is hard to believe in the possibility of anything better. I dare not

yet hope that the promise of the President's Proclamation will be kept.

For myself I can be indifferent, for the experience here has been its

own daily and hourly reward; and the adaptedness of the freed slaves for

drill and discipline is now thoroughly demonstrated, and must soon be

universally acknowledged. But it would be terrible to see this regiment

disbanded or defrauded.

January 12.

Many things glide by without time to narrate them. On Saturday we had a

mail with the President's Second Message of Emancipation, and the next

day it was read to the men. The words themselves did not stir them very

much, because they have been often told that they were free, especially

on New Year's Day, and, being unversed in politics, they do not

understand, as well as we do, the importance of each additional

guaranty. But the chaplain spoke to them afterwards very effectively,

as usual; and then I proposed to them to hold up their hands and pledge

themselves to be faithful to those still in bondage. They entered

heartily into this, and the scene was quite impressive, beneath the

great oak-branches. I heard afterwards that only one man refused to

raise his hand, saying bluntly that his wife was out of slavery with

him, and he did not care to fight. The other soldiers of his company

were very indignant, and shoved him about among them while marching back

to their quarters, calling him "Coward." I was glad of their exhibition

of feeling, though it is very possible that the one who had thus the

moral courage to stand alone among his comrades might be more reliable,

on a pinch, than some who yielded a more ready assent. But the whole

response, on their part, was very hearty, and will be a good thing

to which to hold them hereafter, at any time of discouragement or

demoralization,--which was my chief reason for proposing it. With

their simple natures it is a great thing to tie them to some definite

committal; they never forget a marked occurrence, and never seem

disposed to evade a pledge.

It is this capacity of honor and fidelity which gives me such entire

faith in them as soldiers. Without it all their religious demonstration

would be mere sentimentality. For instance, every one who visits the

camp is struck with their bearing as sentinels. They exhibit, in this

capacity, not an upstart conceit, but a steady, conscientious devotion

to duty. They would stop their idolized General Saxton, if he attempted

to cross their beat contrary to orders: I have seen them. No feeble or

incompetent race could do this. The officers tell many amusing instances

of this fidelity, but I think mine the best.

It was very dark the other night, an unusual thing here, and the rain

fell in torrents; so I put on my India-rubber suit, and went the rounds

of the sentinels, incognito, to test them. I can only say that I shall

never try such an experiment again and have cautioned my officers

against it. Tis a wonder I escaped with life and limb,--such a charging

of bayonets and clicking of gun-locks. Sometimes I tempted them by

refusing to give any countersign, but offering them a piece of tobacco,

which they could not accept without allowing me nearer than the

prescribed bayonet's distance. Tobacco is more than gold to them, and it

was touching to watch the struggle in their minds; but they always did

their duty at last, and I never could persuade them. One man, as if

wishing to crush all his inward vacillation at one fell stroke, told

me stoutly that he never used tobacco, though I found next day that he

loved it as much as any one of them. It seemed wrong thus to tamper with

their fidelity; yet it was a vital matter to me to know how far it could

be trusted, out of my sight. It was so intensely dark that not more than

one or two knew me, even after I had talked with the very next sentinel,

especially as they had never seen me in India-rubber clothing, and I can

always disguise my voice. It was easy to distinguish those who did make

the discovery; they were always conscious and simpering when their turn

came; while the others were stout and irreverent till I revealed myself,

and then rather cowed and anxious, fearing to have offended.

It rained harder and harder, and when I had nearly made the rounds I had

had enough of it, and, simply giving the countersign to the challenging

sentinel, undertook to pass within the lines.

"Halt!" exclaimed this dusky man and brother, bringing down his bayonet,

"de countersign not correck."

Now the magic word, in this case, was "Vicksburg," in honor of a rumored

victory. But as I knew that these hard names became quite transformed

upon their lips, "Carthage" being familiarized into Cartridge, and

"Concord" into Corn-cob, how could I possibly tell what shade of

pronunciation my friend might prefer for this particular proper name?

"Vicksburg," I repeated, blandly, but authoritatively, endeavoring, as

zealously as one of Christy's Minstrels, to assimilate my speech to any

supposed predilection of the Ethiop vocal organs.

"Halt dar! Countersign not correck," was the only answer.

The bayonet still maintained a position which, in a military point of

view, was impressive.

I tried persuasion, orthography, threats, tobacco, all in vain. I

could not pass in. Of course my pride was up; for was I to defer to

an untutored African on a point of pronunciation? Classic shades of

Harvard, forbid! Affecting scornful indifference, I tried to edge away,

proposing to myself to enter the camp at some other point, where my

elocution would be better appreciated. Not a step could I stir.

"Halt!" shouted my gentleman again, still holding me at his bayonet's

point, and I wincing and halting.

I explained to him the extreme absurdity of this proceeding, called his

attention to the state of the weather, which, indeed, spoke for itself

so loudly that we could hardly hear each other speak, and requested

permission to withdraw. The bayonet, with mute eloquence, refused the

application.

There flashed into my mind, with more enjoyment in the retrospect than

I had experienced at the time, an adventure on a lecturing tour in other

years, when I had spent an hour in trying to scramble into a country

tavern, after bed-time, on the coldest night of winter. On that occasion

I ultimately found myself stuck midway in the window, with my head in a

temperature of 80 degrees, and my heels in a temperature of -10 degrees,

with a heavy windowsash pinioning the small of my back. However, I had

got safe out of that dilemma, and it was time to put an end to this one,

"Call the corporal of the guard," said I at last, with dignity,

unwilling to make a night of it or to yield my incognito.

"Corporal ob de guard!" he shouted, lustily,--"Post Number Two!" while

I could hear another sentinel chuckling with laughter. This last was a

special guard, placed over a tent, with a prisoner in charge. Presently

he broke silence.

"Who am dat?" he asked, in a stage whisper. "Am he a buckra [white

man]?"

"Dunno whether he been a buckra or not," responded, doggedly, my

Cerberus in uniform; "but I's bound to keep him here till de corporal ob

de guard come."

Yet, when that dignitary arrived, and I revealed myself, poor Number Two

appeared utterly transfixed with terror, and seemed to look for nothing

less than immediate execution. Of course I praised his fidelity, and

the next day complimented him before the guard, and mentioned him to his

captain; and the whole affair was very good for them all. Hereafter, if

Satan himself should approach them in darkness and storm, they will take

_him_ for "de Cunnel," and treat him with special severity.

January 13.

In many ways the childish nature of this people shows itself. I have

just had to make a change of officers in a company which has constantly

complained, and with good reason, of neglect and improper treatment.

Two excellent officers have been assigned to them; and yet they sent a

deputation to me in the evening, in a state of utter wretchedness. "We's

bery grieved dis evening, Cunnel; 'pears like we couldn't bear it, to

lose de Cap'n and de Lieutenant, all two togeder." Argument was useless;

and I could only fall back on the general theory, that I knew what was

best for them, which had much more effect; and I also could cite the

instance of another company, which had been much improved by a new

captain, as they readily admitted. So with the promise that the new

officers should not be "savage to we," which was the one thing they

deprecated, I assuaged their woes. Twenty-four hours have passed, and I

hear them singing most merrily all down that company street.

I often notice how their griefs may be dispelled, like those of

children, merely by permission to utter them: if they can tell their

sorrows, they go away happy, even without asking to have anything done

about them. I observe also a peculiar dislike of all _intermediate_

control: they always wish to pass by the company officer, and deal with

me personally for everything. General Saxton notices the same thing

with the people on the plantations as regards himself. I suppose this

proceeds partly from the old habit of appealing to the master against

the overseer. Kind words would cost the master nothing, and he could

easily put off any non-fulfilment upon the overseer. Moreover, the

negroes have acquired such constitutional distrust of white people, that

it is perhaps as much as they can do to trust more than one person at

a tune. Meanwhile this constant personal intercourse is out of the

question in a well-ordered regiment; and the remedy for it is to

introduce by degrees more and more of system, so that their immediate

officers will become all-sufficient for the daily routine.

It is perfectly true (as I find everybody takes for granted) that

the first essential for an officer of colored troops is to gain

their confidence. But it is equally true, though many persons do not

appreciate it, that the admirable methods and proprieties of the regular

army are equally available for all troops, and that the sublimest

philanthropist, if he does not appreciate this, is unfit to command

them.

Another childlike attribute in these men, which is less agreeable, is a

sort of blunt insensibility to giving physical pain. If they are cruel

to animals, for instance, it always reminds me of children pulling off

flies' legs, in a sort of pitiless, untaught, experimental way. Yet I

should not fear any wanton outrage from them. After all their wrongs,

they are not really revengeful; and I would far rather enter a

captured city with them than with white troops, for they would be more

subordinate. But for mere physical suffering they would have no fine

sympathies. The cruel things they have seen and undergone have helped to

blunt them; and if I ordered them to put to death a dozen prisoners, I

think they would do it without remonstrance.

Yet their religious spirit grows more beautiful to me in living longer

with them; it is certainly far more so than at first, when it seemed

rather a matter of phrase and habit. It influences them both on the

negative and the positive side. That is, it cultivates the feminine

virtues first,--makes them patient, meek, resigned. This is very evident

in the hospital; there is nothing of the restless, defiant habit of

white invalids. Perhaps, if they had more of this, they would resist

disease better. Imbued from childhood with the habit of submission,

drinking in through every pore that other-world trust which is the one

spirit of their songs, they can endure everything. This I expected;

but I am relieved to find that their religion strengthens them on the

positive side also,--gives zeal, energy, daring. They could easily be

made fanatics, if I chose; but I do not choose. Their whole mood is

essentially Mohammedan, perhaps, in its strength and its weakness; and

I feel the same degree of sympathy that I should if I had a Turkish

command,--that is, a sort of sympathetic admiration, not tending towards

agreement, but towards co-operation. Their philosophizing is often the

highest form of mysticism; and our dear surgeon declares that they are

all natural transcendentalists. The white camps seem rough and secular,

after this; and I hear our men talk about "a religious army," "a Gospel

army," in their prayer-meetings. They are certainly evangelizing the

chaplain, who was rather a heretic at the beginning; at least, this is

his own admission. We have recruits on their way from St. Augustine,

where the negroes are chiefly Roman Catholics; and it will be

interesting to see how their type of character combines with that elder

creed. It is time for rest; and I have just looked out into the night,

where the eternal stars shut down, in concave protection, over the yet

glimmering camp, and Orion hangs above my tent-door, giving to me the

sense of strength and assurance which these simple children obtain from

their Moses and the Prophets. Yet external Nature does its share in

their training; witness that most poetic of all their songs, which

always reminds me of the "Lyke-Wake Dirge" in the "Scottish Border

Minstrelsy,"--

"I know moon-rise, I know star-rise;

Lay dis body down.

I walk in de moonlight, I walk in de starlight,

To lay dis body down.

I'll walk in de graveyard, I'll walk through de graveyard,

To lay dis body down.

I'll lie in de grave and stretch out my arms;

Lay dis body down.

I go to de Judgment in de evening ob de day

When I lay dis body down;

And my soul and your soul will meet in de day

When I lay dis body down."

January 14.

In speaking of the military qualities of the blacks, I should add, that

the only point where I am disappointed is one I have never seen raised

by the most incredulous newspaper critics,--namely, their

physical condition. To be sure they often look magnificently to

my gymnasium-trained eye; and I always like to observe them when

bathing,--such splendid muscular development, set off by that smooth

coating of adipose tissue which makes them, like the South-Sea Islanders

appear even more muscular than they are. Their skins are also of finer

grain than those of whites, the surgeons say, and certainly are smoother

and far more free from hair. But their weakness is pulmonary; pneumonia

and pleurisy are their besetting ailments; they are easily made

ill,--and easily cured, if promptly treated: childish organizations

again. Guard-duty injures them more than whites, apparently; and

double-quick movements, in choking dust, set them coughing badly. But

then it is to be remembered that this is their sickly season, from

January to March, and that their healthy season will come in summer,

when the whites break down. Still my conviction of the physical

superiority of more highly civilized races is strengthened on the whole,

not weakened, by observing them. As to availability for military drill

and duty in other respects, the only question I ever hear debated among

the officers is, whether they are equal or superior to whites. I have

never heard it suggested that they were inferior, although I expected

frequently to hear such complaints from hasty or unsuccessful officers.

Of one thing I am sure, that their best qualities will be wasted by

merely keeping them for garrison duty. They seem peculiarly fitted for

offensive operations, and especially for partisan warfare; they have so

much dash and such abundant resources, combined with such an Indian-like

knowledge of the country and its ways. These traits have been often

illustrated in expeditions sent after deserters. For instance, I

despatched one of my best lieutenants and my best sergeant with a squad

of men to search a certain plantation, where there were two separate

negro villages. They went by night, and the force was divided. The

lieutenant took one set of huts, the sergeant the other. Before the

lieutenant had reached his first house, every man in the village was

in the woods, innocent and guilty alike. But the sergeant's mode of

operation was thus described by a corporal from a white regiment who

happened to be in one of the negro houses. He said that not a sound was

heard until suddenly a red leg appeared in the open doorway, and a voice

outside said, "Rally." Going to the door, he observed a similar pair of

red legs before every hut, and not a person was allowed to go out,

until the quarters had been thoroughly searched, and the three deserters

found. This was managed by Sergeant Prince Rivers, our color-sergeant,

who is provost-sergeant also, and has entire charge of the prisoners

and of the daily policing of the camp. He is a man of distinguished

appearance, and in old times was the crack coachman of Beaufort,

in which capacity he once drove Beauregard from this plantation to

Charleston, I believe. They tell me that he was once allowed to present

a petition to the Governor of South Carolina in behalf of slaves, for

the redress of certain grievances; and that a placard, offering two

thousand dollars for his recapture, is still to be seen by the wayside

between here and Charleston. He was a sergeant in the old "Hunter

Regiment," and was taken by General Hunter to New York last spring,

where the _chevrons_ on his arm brought a mob upon him in Broadway, whom

he kept off till the police interfered. There is not a white officer

in this regiment who has more administrative ability, or more absolute

authority over the men; they do not love him, but his mere presence has

controlling power over them. He writes well enough to prepare for me

a daily report of his duties in the camp; if his education reached a

higher point, I see no reason why he should not command the Army of the

Potomac. He is jet-black, or rather, I should say, _wine-black_; his

complexion, like that of others of my darkest men, having a sort of

rich, clear depth, without a trace of sootiness, and to my eye very

handsome. His features are tolerably regular, and full of command, and

his figure superior to that of any of our white officers,--being six

feet high, perfectly proportioned, and of apparently inexhaustible

strength and activity. His gait is like a panther's; I never saw such a

tread. No anti-slavery novel has described a man of such marked ability.

He makes Toussaint perfectly intelligible; and if there should ever be a

black monarchy in South Carolina, he will be its king.

January 15.

This morning is like May. Yesterday I saw bluebirds and a butterfly;

so this whiter of a fortnight is over. I fancy there is a trifle less

coughing in the camp. We hear of other stations in the Department where

the mortality, chiefly from yellow fever, has been frightful. Dr.

---- is rubbing his hands professionally over the fearful tales of the

surgeon of a New York regiment, just from Key West, who has had two

hundred cases of the fever. "I suppose he is a skilful, highly educated

man," said I. "Yes," he responded with enthusiasm. "Why, he had seventy

deaths!"--as if that proved his superiority past question.

January 19.

"And first, sitting proud as a lung on his throne, At the head of them

all rode Sir Richard Tyrone."

But I fancy that Sir Richard felt not much better satisfied with his

following than I to-day. J. R. L. said once that nothing was quite

so good as turtle-soup, except mock-turtle; and I have heard officers

declare that nothing was so stirring as real war, except some exciting

parade. To-day, for the first time, I marched the whole regiment through

Beaufort and back,--the first appearance of such a novelty on any

stage. They did march splendidly; this all admit. M----'s prediction

was fulfilled: "Will not ---- be in bliss? A thousand men, every one

as black as a coal!" I confess it. To look back on twenty broad

double-ranks of men (for they marched by platoons),--every polished

musket having a black face beside it, and every face set steadily to the

front,--a regiment of freed slaves marching on into the future,--it was

something to remember; and when they returned through the same streets,

marching by the flank, with guns at a "support," and each man covering

his file-leader handsomely, the effect on the eye was almost as fine.

The band of the Eighth Maine joined us at the entrance of the town,

and escorted us in. Sergeant Rivers said ecstatically afterwards, in

describing the affair, "And when dat band wheel in before us, and march

on,--my God! I quit dis world altogeder." I wonder if he pictured to

himself the many dusky regiments, now unformed, which I seemed to see

marching up behind us, gathering shape out of the dim air.

I had cautioned the men, before leaving camp, not to be staring about

them as they marched, but to look straight to the front, every man;

and they did it with their accustomed fidelity, aided by the sort of

spontaneous eye-for-effect which is in all their melodramatic natures.

One of them was heard to say exultingly afterwards, "We didn't look to

de right nor to de leff. I didn't see notin' in Beaufort. Eb'ry step was

worth a half a dollar." And they all marched as if it were so. They knew

well that they were marching through throngs of officers and soldiers

who had drilled as many months as we had drilled weeks, and whose eyes

would readily spy out every defect. And I must say, that, on the whole,

with a few trivial exceptions, those spectators behaved in a manly

and courteous manner, and I do not care to write down all the handsome

things that were said. Whether said or not, they were deserved; and

there is no danger that our men will not take sufficient satisfaction in

their good appearance. I was especially amused at one of our recruits,

who did not march in the ranks, and who said, after watching the

astonishment of some white soldiers, "De buckra sojers look like a man

who been-a-steal a sheep,"--that is, I suppose, sheepish.

After passing and repassing through the town, we marched to the

parade-ground, and went through an hour's drill, forming squares and

reducing them, and doing other things which look hard on paper, and are

perfectly easy in fact; and we were to have been reviewed by General

Saxton, but he had been unexpectedly called to Ladies Island, and did

not see us at all, which was the only thing to mar the men's enjoyment.

Then we marched back to camp (three miles), the men singing the "John

Brown Song," and all manner of things,--as happy creatures as one can

well conceive.

It is worth mentioning, before I close, that we have just received an

article about "Negro Troops," from the _London Spectator_, which is so

admirably true to our experience that it seems as if written by one of

us. I am confident that there never has been, in any American newspaper,

a treatment of the subject so discriminating and so wise.

January 21.

To-day brought a visit from Major-General Hunter and his staff, by

General Saxton's invitation,--the former having just arrived in the

Department. I expected them at dress-parade, but they came during

battalion drill, rather to my dismay, and we were caught in our old

clothes. It was our first review, and I dare say we did tolerably;

but of course it seemed to me that the men never appeared so ill

before,--just as one always thinks a party at one's own house a failure,

even if the guests seem to enjoy it, because one is so keenly sensitive

to every little thing that goes wrong. After review and drill, General

Hunter made the men a little speech, at my request, and told them that

he wished there were fifty thousand of them. General Saxton spoke to

them afterwards, and said that fifty thousand muskets were on their way

for colored troops. The men cheered both the generals lustily; and they

were complimentary afterwards, though I knew that the regiment could not

have appeared nearly so well as on its visit to Beaufort. I suppose I

felt like some anxious mamma whose children have accidentally appeared

at dancing-school in their old clothes.

General Hunter promises us all we want,--pay when the funds arrive,

Springfield rifled muskets, and blue trousers. Moreover, he has

graciously consented that we should go on an expedition along the coast,

to pick up cotton, lumber, and, above all, recruits. I declined an offer

like this just after my arrival, because the regiment was not drilled or

disciplined, not even the officers; but it is all we wish for now.

"What care I how black I be?

Forty pounds will marry me,"

quoth Mother Goose. _Forty rounds_ will marry us to the American Army,

past divorcing, if we can only use them well. Our success or failure may

make or mar the prospects of colored troops. But it is well to remember

in advance that military success is really less satisfactory than any

other, because it may depend on a moment's turn of events, and that

may be determined by some trivial thing, neither to be anticipated nor

controlled. Napoleon ought to have won at Waterloo by all reasonable

calculations; but who cares? All that one can expect is, to do one's

best, and to take with equanimity the fortune of war.