By Susan Martin, Senior Processing Archivist

This is the third installment in a series. Click here to read Part I and Part II.

Since my last I have seen experiences which are new and and [sic] startling. Only by the blessing of God have I got through unharmed. I think that all have seen marching and fighting enough to last them a lifetime. Our best boys begin to wish they were at home. Some of the best and most patriotic are discouraged and willing to end the war on any terms.

These are the words Pvt. Howard J. Ford wrote in his Civil War journal after seeing combat for the first time. What follows are several pages describing his experiences during what came to be known as the Goldsboro (or Goldsborough) Expedition, including the battles of Kinston, Whitehall, and Goldsboro Bridge, N.C.

In two previous Beehive posts, I wrote about Howard’s life prior to his service with the 43rd Massachusetts Infantry Regiment, as well as his enlistment and training. But it was his descriptions of battle that really drew me to this collection in the first place. I’ve rarely seen personal accounts from this time that paint such a vivid picture of what war actually feels like.

Just three weeks after his arrival in the South (specifically New Bern, N.C.), Howard was already hearing rumors that his regiment would be deployed. He prayed most of all for “perfect calmness” in battle, writing on 7 December 1862, “I want to be ready with nothing to do but to attend to my business.” Sure enough, his readiness would soon be tested by three battles in quick succession.

On 11 December at 5:30am, the 43rd Mass. Infantry and other regiments set out from New Bern as part of Brig. Gen. John G. Foster’s big push to Goldsboro, N.C. Goldsboro played a vital role in the Confederate supply chain. It was a major junction on the Wilmington and Weldon Railroad, which brought troops and supplies up from the port of Wilmington. Foster was on a mission to disrupt that supply chain by destroying the Goldsboro Bridge. Along the way was the town of Kinston.

The march from New Bern was grueling. Surrounded by “dismal & gloomy” pine woods, the troops had to ford streams, trudge through mud, and climb over large tree trunks that the Confederates had placed across the road to slow them down. Rations were low, and packs were heavy.

Early in the march, Howard saw signs of recent fighting, including dead and wounded Confederate soldiers and shell damage to trees. On the third day, he heard nearby shelling for the first time, and the danger suddenly felt very real. He wrote, “Of course we pricked up our ears somewhat. Some began to turn pale and fret. I tried to think it was nothing of consequence.” His regiment set up camp in an open field surrounded by trees, out of which, Harold feared, the enemy might fire at any minute. An army doctor demonstrated how to make a tourniquet with a handkerchief.

The Battle of Kinston was fought the next day, 14 December 1862. Although the 43rd Mass. Infantry was present, it was held in reserve, and Howard never engaged directly with the enemy. He wrote, “I suppose an old soldier would laugh at the dangers to which our regiment was exposed but for green troops it was something.” His descriptions of the battle are very detailed, cover more than six pages, and include maps and illustrations.

But when it comes to the chaos of war, words and pictures fall short, even Howard’s. He noted, “It is very difficult to give a distinct idea of this or any battle. The few things I have referred to were occurring with great rappidity [sic] and several at the same time in some cases. We forgot our danger in the excitement of the occasion.”

Just two days later, Howard would face more fighting, and this time he’d be in the thick of it. Stay tuned for the next installment.

By Rakashi Chand, Reading Room Supervisor

The MHS celebrated AAPI Heritage Month with a special event featuring material from our collections related to the Asian American Pacific Islander Histories including manuscripts, art, maps, and artifacts. As a segue to the arts and culture brought to the Commonwealth by AAPI communities, we were honored to have Bharatanatyam dancer Janani Ganesh of Newton, Mass. perform a classical dance from India to begin the program. The welcome dance was followed by guest speaker Yasmin Padamsee Forbes, Executive Director of the Massachusetts Asian American Pacific Islander Commission, who spoke about the importance of AAPI Voices in both historic and current contributions to the fabric of Massachusetts culture and identity, as well as the need for advocacy of our AAPI communities. 

Below are a few examples of the items exhibited and discussed during the event by MHS Chief Historian Peter Drummey and Reading Room Supervisor and AAPI community leader Rakashi Chand.

Harbor at Hong Kong, attributed to Lam Qua, [1850s] 

This oil painting of the harbor at Hong Kong is attributed to Lam Qua, a 19th-century artist from the Canton province in China. Also known for his portraits of Western and Chinese merchants, as well as medical subjects, Lam Qua was one of the first Chinese painters exhibited in the West. For further reading about this painting and a companion view of the Harbor of Macao, visit www.masshist.org/database/2277. 

Grand Chop of the ship Astrea 

Grand chop, or permit, issued to the ship Astrea in Guangzhou (Canton), China, January 1790. The Grand Chop permitted the ship and its cargo to leave the anchorage at Huangpu Qu (Guangzhou Shi, China). To learn more, visit www.masshist.org/database/2519.

Banquet to the Ambassadors of Japan, by Members of the Boston Board of Trade: Bill of Fare, broadside on silk, 2 August 1872 

After Commodore Matthew Perry’s Mission of Peace and Goodwill opened commerce with Japan, an Embassy or mission lead by Iwakura Tomomi visited Europe and America to improve the unequal terms given to Japan by Western countries and to learn about the West. In 1872 Boston, the Boston Board of Trade hosted a lavish banquet at the Revere House with speakers including Ralph Waldo Emerson and Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. The latter composed a poem for the occasion that begins with the line, “We welcome you, Lords of the Land of the Sun!” Learn more at www.masshist.org/database/2707.

Rabindranath Tagore to Ellery Sedgwick, 12 October 1930 

In this letter dated 12 October 1930, Rabindranath Tagore writes to Ellery Sedgwick as a friend seeking guidance on how to handle the American media. In this letter, Tagore reveals his thoughts not only about his experience of coming to America, but what he feels as an Indian in America at that moment in time trying the grasp and understand American culture. Read more in this blog post.

Massachusetts Oct. 12, 1930  

My Dear Mr. Ellery Sedgwick,  

Some time ago while travelling in Europe I got your letter and in a fury of movement I completely forgot that I had not answered it. Can you forgive me?  

I hope I shall be able to elbow my way to a meeting with you while I am here and shall have the opportunity of a talk. In the meanwhile I ask your friendly advice in my present state of helpless bewilderment. Let me state my case in brief.  

Directly my steamer came to the dock in New York, my cabin was invaded by a host of strangers before I could guess their intention and adequately prepare myself for the attack. In my own country I am used to  such unannounced and unforeseen catastrophe. We are a democratic people with our doors open to all kinds and conditions of men. My position in the world offers no barricade against intrusion into my privacy, interruption of my work or disturbance of my peace of mind. So with a spirit of resignation which has become habitual to me, I silently suffered these unexpected guests of mine to fill up all of the available space in my cabin. At first, in my pathetic vanity, I though it was deputation from some committee which tried in its own manner to express its obligation to offer me welcome at the moment of my reaching your shore. But their object was made clear to me when they brandished their pencils and notebooks and began to question me about matters that were personal to myself or that concerned my own country. I meekly accepted the inevitable decree of my fate and did my best to satisfy their curiosity in as clear a language as was in my ability to use. Let me assure you that I did not court this publicity nor did I appreciate it as a favour. However, the next day to my painful surprise I found in the first newspaper that came to my hands my words twisted to give a contrary suggestion to what I tried to convey to them. Then I came to know from my friends that several other newspapers have followed the same track of misinterpretation on questions vitally important for my people and for the cause of truth. I am sorely puzzled. I cannot ascribe this to a sudden epidemic of unintelligence among the American reporters and my vanity forbids me to think that I failed to make my meaning clear specially on points which would lead to mischief if vaguely expressed. I fully know that all earlier misinformations have the advantage over the contradictions that follow later as the wound creates a deeper impression than the bandage. And yet I did send my own original version to one of the most important of these papers and waited for its appearance on the next morning. But I find that they are not as prompt in publishing the correction as they have been in giving currency to the wrong statement. I am a simple man from the East and I hate to carry in my mind distrust against any section of your community specially the one whose duty it is to supply information to the public. I tell you truly it has made me feel afraid, for I do not know the technique of your public life and it tires me to be always on my guard. I am beginning to feel like a pedestrian from my country trying to walk in his own absent-minded manner in some busy street in New York and suddenly finding some necessary portions of his limbs disappearing in the dust. I only wish I could laugh at my misadventure, but that has become impossible even for an oriental philosopher owing to its extremely mischievous nature. I have come to the conclusion that the only place which is safe for the eastern simpleton is his own remote corner of obscurity. Waiting for some advice and consolation from you  

I remain  

Very sincerely yours  

Rabindranath Tagore  

Sent from:   
Buxton Hill  
Williamstown  
Massachusetts