Day 124. July 2, 1862.
124
the luxury of mule-meat and fricasseed kitten….
Wensday 2
Raining some this morning and rained quite hard this forenoon. I went down to Canoe Valley to Mrs Harnishes. There all night. Rev May Rev Shoemaker there also all night
Lincoln Day by Day: A Chronology 1809-1865 Volume III: 1861-1865 C. Percy Powell P. 125
Note: The exasperation is strong in his blood:
July 2, 1862: Informs McClellan that “the idea of sending you fifty thousand, or any other considerable force promptly, is simply absurd…. Save the Army,… and I will strengthen it for the offensive again, as fast as I can.”
Note: As war wears on, however, the South– which owned 1/20th of America’s paper mills at war’s start– will run out of paper & ink:
The Civil War in 50 Objects Harold Holzer and the New York Historical Society P. 200-201
“The publisher J.M. Swords ran out of his paper stock in June, 1863 but on the sixteenth, eighteenth, twentieth, twenty-seventh, and thirtieth, he issued four-column-wide, single-sheet editions 16 7/8 by 9 1/8 inches in size on the back of wallpaper fragments. Some of the newspapers appeared on the reverse of rose-and purple brocade designs, others on pink-and-red floral patterns set against cream-colored or pale-blue backgrounds.
On July 2, the publisher prepared what turned out to be his last issue. It offered belated news of General Lee’s “brilliant and successful” triumph against Joseph Hooker at the Battle of Chancellorsville the previous month. “Today Maryland is ours,” the paper mistakenly reported, vowing, “To-morrow Pennsylvania will be, and the next day—Ohio—now midway like Mohammed’s coffin—will fall.” Little did Swords know that even as his July 2 edition hit the streets, Lee’s forces were furiously engaged in their ill-fated contest at Gettysburg.
In that final July 2 edition, J.M. Swords had mocked “the great Ulysses—the Yankee Generalissimo, surnamed Grant,” for expressing “his intention of dining in Vicksburg… and celebrating the 4th of July with a grand dinner and so forth.” Taunted the Daily Citizen: “Ulysses must get into the city before he dines in it. The way to cook a rabbit is ‘first catch a rabbit.’”
Not long after the issue hit the streets, as it happened, Grant did just that. Swords fled town while his newspaper’s metal type was still in its racks. Union conquerors stormed into the office and reset the story appearing in the paper’s lower right-hand corner. A handful of surviving July 4 editions of the Daily Citizen concluded with the following acerbic update—the Union conquerors’ last laugh after a brutal season of Confederate weeping:
“NOTE”
July 4th, 1863.
Two days bring about great changes. The banner of the Union floats over Vicksburg. Gen. Grant has “caught the rabbit”; he has dined in Vicksburg, and he did bring his dinner with him. The “Citizen” lives to see it. For the last time it appears on “Wall-paper.” No more will it eulogize the luxury of mule-meat and fricasseed kitten—urge Southern warriors to such diet nevermore. This is the last wall-paper edition, and is, excepting this note, from the types as we found them. It will be valuable hereafter as a curiosity.
Indeed, few Civil War papers are more valuable today than surviving copies of the last wallpaper editions of the Daily Citizen—with or without the Union-authored July 4 postscript. It remains not only among the rarest but the most frequently reproduced of all Civil War newspapers. The New York Historical Society owns four unquestionably genuine copies of the precious July 2 edition—three containing the last-minute inserted notice of Union occupation, and one without.”
Note: Gettysburg one year from now:
The Smell of Battle, the Taste of Siege: A Sensory History of the Civil War Mark M. Smith P. 79-81
“A sickening, overpowering, awful stench announced the presence of the unburied dead upon which the July sun was mercilessly shining and at every step the air grew heavier and fouler until it seemed to possess a palpable horrible density that could be seen and felt and cut with a knife.”
“Others attempted to escape the insistent smell, which, once again, had risen to the density of “atmosphere.” “We saw the rifle-pits, the dead horses, the shattered windows and the stone walls, all scattered and many soldiers’ graves. But who shall describe the horrible atmosphere which meets us continually?” Closing eyes offered temporary relief from the appalling sights, but escaping the stench was harder: “Chloride of lime has been freely used in the broad streets of the town and to-day the hospital was much improved by the same means; but it is needful to close the eyes on sights of horror and to shut the ears against sounds of anguish and to extinguish, as far as possible, the sense of smelling.”
Gettysburg resident Susan Broadhead’s diary entry for Saturday, July 11, 1863, a week after battle’s end, reads: “The atmosphere is loaded with the horrid smell of decaying horses and the remains of slaughtered animals, and, it is said, from the bodies of men imperfectly buried. I fear we shall be visited with pestilence, for every breath we draw is made ugly by the stench.” Burning the horses en masse seemed only to exacerbate the problem, the stench, “like a hateful charnel house,” being carried for miles and miles.”
See: The Horse at Gettysburg: Prepared for the Day of Battle, by Chris Bagley (2021)
The Union Soldier in Battle: Enduring the Ordeal of Combat Earl J. Hess P. 37 (1863)
Robert Carter of the 22nd Massachusetts:
“In every direction among the bodies was the debris of battle– haversacks, canteens, hats, caps, sombreros, blankets of every shade and hue, bayonets, cartridge boxes– every conceivable part of the equipment of a soldier…. Corpses strewed the ground at every step. Arms, legs, heads, and parts of dismembered bodies were scattered all about, and sticking among the rocks, and against the trunks of trees, hair, brains, entrails and shreds of human flesh still hung, a disgusting, sickening, heart-rending spectacle to our young minds.”
Gdg.org
For the Star and Sentinel.
METEROLOGY OF THE BATTLE
NOTES BY REV. DR. JACOBS.
“MR. EDITOR:
While reading, yesterday, the Comte de Paris’ thorough account of the battle of Gettysburg, the reference which he makes to the increased heat on the third day, suggested the examination of my father’s meteorological records. The results are such that they seem worthy of preservation, as affording data that should be considered in connection with the ever increasing attention given to the topography and incidents of those days. The entire period of the invasion is remarkable for being one of clouds, and, for that season of the year, of low temperature. From June 15th until July 22nd, 1863, there was not an entirely clear day. On the evening before the entrance into our town of Gen. Gordon’s division, viz: June 25th, at 8 p.m., a rain began, which some may remember in connection with the arrival of the advance guard of the 25th Pa. militia, under Lieut. Hinkle, of the college company. This rain continued at intervals until Saturday, June 27th, at 7 a.m., the precipitation being in inches 1, –280. At all the observations made on Saturday and Sunday, and until the nine o’clock observation of Monday night, the entire sky was covered with clouds. On the day before the battle, both at 7 a.m., and 2 p.m., the obscuration was again complete, with cumulo-stratus clouds moving from S.S.E. At 9 p.m., only four-tenths of the heavens were covered. During these days of sombre suspense, the records of the wind are those of almost an entire calm. The thermometer registers as follows during this period:
FIRST DAY.— All through the first day, the entire day was covered with clouds, viz: cumulo-stratus at 7 a.m. and 2 p.m.; and cirro-stratus at 9 p.m. A very gentle southern breeze, (2 miles per hour). Thermometer: 7 A.M.2P.M.0P.M.727674
SECOND DAY.— At 8 a.m., sky still covered, (cumulo-stratus). At 2 p.m., three-tenths are clear. At 9 p.m., there are cirrus clouds; wind as on preceding day. Thermometer:
7A.M.2P.M.9P.M.748176
THIRD DAY.— At 8 a.m., sky again completely covered with cumulo-stratus clouds; at 2 p.m., only four-tenths of the heavens are covered, but with cumulus or the massive thunder-cloud of summer; at 9 p.m., seven-tenths cumulus. Wind S.S.W., very gentle. Thunder storm in neighborhood at 6 p.m. The thunder seemed tame, after the artillery firing of the afternoon. Thermometer:
7A.M.2P.M.9P.M.738776
SATURDAY, THE FOURTH.— Rain in showers at 6 a.m., from 2:15 to 4 p.m., and at 4 a.m. of the 5th, aggregating 1.390. Thermometer:
7A.M.2P.M.9P.M.697270
There were slight showers on the 5th and 7th; and on the 8th, a rain from 3 a.m. to 11:30a.m., which measured 1.300.
The maximum temperature for the month of July 1863, was 87 at the time of Pickett’s charge. Eleven days of the month, the maximum was in the seventies, and on one day (17th) it was but sixty-two.
The low temperature was undoubtedly a great blessing to the wounded, as well as to all in both armies, in protecting them, in their forced marches, from dangers as fatal as bullets. The frequent rains cleansed the fields of much that would have caused disease. It is, however, for military men to determine what effect the atmospheric conditions had upon the conflict, and to conjecture what result might have followed had we had that year an average July, not to say one of such extreme heat as that through which we have just passed.
II.E.J.
GETTYSBURG, July 30, 1885.”
Note: I gave up on trying to find the humidity at Gettysburg on these 3 days, but did read that an 87 temperature could equal a felt temperature of 95.
Under Five Commanders or A Boy’s Experience with the Army of the Potomac Jacob H. Cole of the First New York Fire Zouaves and the Fifty-Seventh New York Volunteers 1906 P. 202-203
“When about 4 o’clock P.M. the order came to move, the Fifty-seventh fell in, filed left, went into the woods and was soon under fire. As we pushed forward a bullet struck my right arm and passed through it. As we charged into the wheatfield a shell exploded and shattered my right leg and killed two of my comrades. When i was shot in the arm, the feeling was the same as though i had been struck on the elbow– a feeling of numbness came into the arm– and I turned to the comrade by my side and asked him why he had hit me. He said: “I did not hit you, but you have been shot and you had better go to the rear.” I laughed at him and said I was not hurt bad enought to do so. Shortly after I was injured, as I have mentioned, by the shell. After my leg was shattered I fell down, laying for a few minutes unconscious, and when I came to my senses I found I was surrounded by the enemy and a rebel officer was standing over mewith one foot on my wounded leg. He said in answer to my pleadings, drawing his sword, “You d— Yankee, I will cut your heart out,” and as he raised his sword a ball came from the direction of Little Round Top and cut him through the throat, and he fell beside me dead. As darkness crept in to cover the scene of blood and death, the musketry fire ceases, the artillery fire languishes, and the pall of smoke drifts away on the rising night breeze.”
The Peninsula & Seven Days: A Battlefield Guide Brian K. Burton P. 121
“Lee chose not to follow McClellan with his entire army on July 2, although Stuart’s cavalry harassed the Federals’ retreat and scouted the roads past Harrison’s Landing. They found the Yankees at Harrison’s Landing, and they found that Evelington Heights (named for Evelynton plantation owned by fiery secessionist Edmund Ruffin) commanded the Northern camps. Lee, meanwhile, had started Jackson, Longstreet, and A.P. Hill in pursuit of McClellan early on July 3, and later that day he put them on the road to the heights to try to trap the Union army.”
Note: His contributions to the war effort did not end with raising troops:
Library of Congress Civil War Desk Reference P. 192-195
“In September 1862, Governor Andrew Curtin organized and hosted a governors’ conference in Altoona to reaffirm the states’ commitment to the war (which had not been going well for the Union) and to support Lincoln’s call for additional troops.
Both the United States and the Confederacy had to rely on their respective governors’ help to raise the huge armies that took the field. The call for men first went out to the state militias, then to the volunteer regiments raised by each state. In addition to meeting the demand for well-equipped troops, all state governors were burdened with managing wartime economies, meeting unprecedented manufacturing and food production needs, and providing for wounded soldiers’ widows. For many governors, defending the home front was the most pressing concern, requiring allocation of scant resources.
But when conscription was enacted, some Union governors resisted Federal attempts to draft soldiers or argued over quota figures. Governors also expressed objections to other policies and criticized the suspension of habeas corpus, military arrests, and military tribunals as threats to civil liberties. The birder slave states, with their politically and culturally divided populations, were more susceptible to military interference in civilian affairs than others in the Union, and the governors of those states were more likely a raise heated objections to the Lincoln administration’s policies. Also vocal was Governor Horatio Seymour of New York, who believed, as many others did, that the Emancipation Proclamation and the suspension of habeas corpus were unconstitutional and represented a disturbing trend toward greater Federal power.
In 1863, when the Illinois House of Representatives, under Democratic control, called for a national convention to negotiate with the Confederacy, Governor Richard Yates suspended the legislature and governed the state on his own for a year, until Republicans took back the House.
Even in the western states, which were not directly involved in the conflict, governors supported the war effort. California and Nevada supplied gold, food, and raw materials to help sustain the Union armies. Other governors reached deep into their own resources. When Thomas Carney, a wealthy businessman, became governor of Kansas in 1863, he found the state treasury empty and the state’s eastern border besieged with Missouri guerrillas. He guided the legislature in issuing successful bonds backed up by his own funds., and he personally financed military border patrols until Federal troops arrived. Governor Erastus Fairbanks of Vermont, owner of a substantial manufacturing business, declined his salary and offered his firm’s credit to pay for war supplies.
Governing was even more difficult in the Union’s border states, which, at times, were ungovernable. Martial law, guerrilla warfare, and internal civil wars fought amid the larger war made governing a herculean task, especially in Missouri. There, Governor Claiborne Jackson fled Jefferson City, taking the state treasury with him, and, siding with the Confederacy, proclaimed a government in exile in Arkansas. (A twelfth star, representing Missouri, was added to the Confederate flag.) The new governor, Hamilton Gamble, mastered a balancing act to keep his state in the Union (more than 40,000 Missouri men served with the Confederacy and more than 100,000 with the Union; some served both sides).
Because most of the war’s battles were fought in the South, Confederate governors grappled with huge challenges not matched to the same degree in the North: widespread destruction of property and infrastructure; collapsing economies; food and soldier shortages; homeland defense; and Union occupation. Especially strapped was Virginia’s governor, John Letcher, who unsuccessfully pleaded with his western counties not to secede (their secession created the Union state of West Virginia in 1863). He gave the Confederate government full cooperation, even on issues such as conscription and impressment, which he believed violated states’ rights. As the war progressed – with many battles fought on Virginia’s ravaged soil – Letcher’s submission to the Confederate government damaged his popularity….”
Note: Worldcat lists 18k books on Gettysburg, which adds up to a new one every three days since April, 1865. The passage of time (or at least this early 21st century era) has recognized General Meade as the hero of Gettysburg, particularly today, after he personally leads 20k men from four corps into position. See at start of book under “Monuments” for more on the 110th at Gettysburg. Here are two monuments at Gettysburg: https://gettysburg.stonesentinels.com/union-monuments/pennsylvania/pennsylvania-infantry/110th-pennsylvania/
https://ranger95.com/civil_war_us/penna/infantry/110pav/110th_rgt_inf.html
Note: Lincoln signs the Morrill Land Act today.
“In 1890, the Census Bureau announced the end of the frontier, meaning there was no longer a discernible frontier line in the west, nor any large tracts of land yet unbroken by settlement This news had a terrific psychological impact on many Americans. This was a year after the Oklahoma land rush closed. The 1890 census had shown that a frontier line, a point beyond which the population density was less than two persons per square mile, no longer existed.” (Library of Congress Civil War Desk Reference)
Note: Today President Lyndon Johnson signs the Civil Rights Act of 1964. “We have lost the South for a generation” he is said to have said. A little longer than that, it’s still turning out. Watch him in black & white on YouTube speak & sign surrounded by men.
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rained quite hard this forenoon….
Day 2, Gettysburg, a Confederate band is playing polkas. There they are, playing waltzes, swinging around souls while dying en masse. This is what we know: Pickett’s Charge, 54% of those who partook were either killed or wounded, & one-third of Lee’s generals at Gettysburg became casualties. At Cemetery Ridge Pickett’s Charge turns rabid on the day, & “Give Them Fredericksburg” is what Union troops yell, chant over & over tomorrow morning: “The wounded, the dead and dying, all happened together; horses that had fallen beneath their riders with limbs shattered and torn– dead, wounded and bleeding… all lying in the streets, so far as we could see. Such was the awful scene spread out before us as we ventured to the front of our houses in the morning of the fourth of July, 1863.” Fannie Buehler.
They wait a bit for the ink to dry at Appomattox then get back at it, rise again in the 1870s to define the meaning of the Late Rebellion not just for the North but for the whole world. They come out with the propaganda reels. The masses get their word, not the Real War. They shinnied into the lie. The Lost-Causers’ cover for the lost war was the numbers. The numbers defeated their valor. Their words telling on them. The claim was all the South did was step up for State’s Rights, as if they were reincarnations of 1776 soldiers, Bible pages and blades between their teeth for the Northern barbarians. As if the South were a decoration light made up out of what was in the pages no one could understand. As if the whole truth were still a tactically inconclusive battle. That only by some occult process of time travel can the thing be pressed.
Thousands of dead or wounded, & next to dead, horses on the farm lawn the next morning, July 4, & they smell different than people. And the local wild animals & house dogs dug up the soldiers pretty fast. The men buried anonymously so their families never knew what happened to you. All that waiting. Only think of being those men, knowing you were already gone, your family would never even find where you dropped. You were already walking dust, that there won’t be enough for a skeleton to even stay cohered before it goes in the ground. Relatives of the dead came to the town to find & dig up the dead relatives. 6 million pounds human & animal flesh carcasses left under the hot sun.
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