The following letter was written by Ransom Wharton (1837-1862), the son of Hiram Wharton and Sarah Ann Leland of Bangor, Penobscot, Maine. At the time of the 1860 US Census, 23 year-old Ransom was enumerated in his parent’s household; his occupation recorded as “Mariner.”
On 12 December 1861, Ransom enlisted as a private in Co. I (the “Gratton Guards”), 2nd Maine Infantry—a 2-year regiment. He was promoted to corporal in July 1862 but did not survive the war. He was killed in action on 30 August 1862 at the 2nd Battle of Bull Run where the regiment entered the fight with just 257 effective men and emerged with only 137 soldiers able to carry a rifle.
Ransom wrote his letter from Camp Jameson, pictured above in the winter of 1861-62.
A few years ago I transcribed five letters by Ransom’s younger brother, Albert T. Wharton (1839-1920) who enlisted in December 1861 to serve in Congress. F, 14th Maine Infantry. See—1862-64: Albert T. Wharton to Sarah Ann (Leland) Wharton.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Addressed to Mrs. Sara A. Wharton, Hallowell, Maine
Camp Jameson, Halls Hill, Va. February 23, 1862
Dear Mother,
I have just received your letter dated the 18th and was glad to hear from you to hear that you were all well and I hope this will find you all well and enjoying good health and happiness. I am now enjoying life and happiness.
We still remain at Halls Hill where we shall undoubtedly remain until it comes settled weather. The weather has been very bad lately and it is very muddy but I think we shall not do much fighting in this regiment for we are on the reserve and if things go on as they lately have, they will get through with their fighting before they call upon us to lend a hand. Our folks have gained some great victories lately [in Tennessee]. They gain the day in every battle and have taken thousands of rebel prisoners at every fight and it is a thing impossible for [the] rebellion to last much longer. So don’t worry about me. I shall be back home in a few months time.
We have a good time out here. We don’t have to work and when it storms, we don’t have to drill nor have any duty to do whatever. So of course we have a good time. And as for friends, the boys are all like brothers. Whenever either one of us is sick, the rest all take care of him and we have no trouble with one another whatever.
As for Jim [James K.] Mann, we all are glad he is gone home. The reason he was sent home was on account of fits which he could have when he wanted to. He was out here once before and was sent home on account of sickness and that answered for an excuse. This time he was a regular glut. It was easier for him to tell a lie than the truth. He married a miserable creature for a woman and is no better himself. But we don’t wish him back here again.
One of the boys in a company next to ours shot himself accidentally while handling a pistol. The ball went into his breast right under his heart. It was done at noon and he lived till midnight in the most agonizing pain. It was dreadful to hear him screech and groan. He had a brother here in the same company. His name was William Brown. He belonged in Brewer, Maine. He was buried here.
Our colonel’s name is Charles W[entworth] Roberts of Bangor.
I must now close for this time. My love to you all. Write soon. I was glad of those papers. We shall all read them. From your son, — R. Wharton
Though only signed “Ol,” I believe this letter was written by Corp. Oliver P. Clark (1839-1909) of Battery E, 1st Ohio Light Artillery—a battery that was overrun in the opening moments of the Battle of Stones River on 31 December 1862. One of the best articles that can be found on the web describing that battery’s experience that day was written by fellow historian, Dan Masters—see Captured Entire: The Loss of Battery E, 1st Ohio Light Artillery at Stones River (14 February 2020).
Oliver served in Battery E from 26 September 1861 to 26 September 1864. His presence at Camp Chase is not explained in the letter though he might have been sick or slightly wounded. Camp Chase served not only as a Confederate prison camp but as a Union Hospital during the Civil War. He may have also been a paroled Union prisoner awaiting exchange.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Addressed to Mr. W. Bennett, Rochester Depot, Lorain county, Ohio
Camp Chase [Columbus, Ohio] February 5th 1863
Bill,
It is snowing here like h–l and looks as if though it was going to snow harder before it got through. It has fell some 8 inches since 12 o’clock last night. I am well with the exceptions of a hard cold. There is nothing certain when I shall be sent away from here but Gen. [James] Cooper 1 says he will not send a man away from here until he gets his pay. Well, I don’t know as he will but I have been in the service so long that I don’t believe anything that I hear…If he don’t send me away from here before very long, I probably shall stay here or somewhere else and where the “else” will be, I can’t tell.
I have seen [Lont?] and he is all right and probably at home before this letter will reach you. He says that the battery suffered quite a loss of men killed and wounded. They went into the field with 140 men and came out with 80 that can be accounted for. The rest were either killed or taken prisoner and sent to Vicksburg. He says that he should have been sent there if he hadn’t been left to take care of the wounded and so they paroled him and a fellow by the name of Hurd 2 and they have both gone home. Bill, if you hear anyone say that Dorsey didn’t do his duty at Murfreesboro, you tell them for me that it is a damned lie for he did not charge the same to me. I suppose you have seen it in the papers that he deserted the field but it is not so. 3
Give my respects to all enquiring friends and share the same yourself. — Ol.
1 Brig. Gen. James Cooper (1810-1863) was commandant at Camp Chase, Columbus, Ohio, at the time of this letter. He died on 28 March 1863, some 6 or 7 weeks later.
2Possibly James Smith Hurd of Co. E, 1st Ohio Light Artillery. He enlisted in August 1861 in Elyria, Ohio. At Stones River, he was shot through the shoulder about two inches above the lower point of blade, breaking the shoulder and the ball passing out in the neck. The would was received while fighting on the extreme right in McCook’s Corps. He was taken prisoner and treated by Rebel surgeons but paroled afterwards.
3 Stephen Wallace Dorsey was appointed and mustered as 1st Lieutenant in Battery E of the 1st Ohio Light Artillery. Dorsey took command of the Battery after Edgarton’s capture but since they had no guns (all were captured by the Rebels), he took the command back to Nashville where he was out in charge of the city’s siege guns. In doing so, Dorsey was a accused of cowardice by Lt. Albert Ransom (the other lieutenant in Battery E). Ransom later retracted his charges of cowardiceagainst Dorsey as the overwhelming opinion of the men of Battery E believed him a brave officer and worthy of their confidence.[Source: Portrait of an Age: The Political Career of Stephen W. Dorsey, 1868-1889, by Sharon K. Lowry, 1980]
The monument to the 58th Indiana Vols. erected in Princeton, Gibson Co., Indiana
The following letter was written by Simon D. Ewing (1817-1902) of Francisco, Gibson county, Indiana, who enlisted on 21 October 1861 in Co. B, 58th Indiana Infantry. He was made First Lieutenant of his company and held that rank until his resignation was accepted on 7 September 1862. Simon was married in 1840 to Mary Matilda Dimick (1819-Aft1880). Back in 2019, I transcribed a letter by Mary (Dimick) Ewing to an unidentified friend named “Angeline” who lived near Sutter’s Creek, California. See—1862: Mary Matilda (Dimick) Ewing to Friend Angeline
Simon wrote the letter from Camp Gibson, a Union Army training site in Princeton, Indiana. Located at the Gibson County Fairgrounds, it primarily served as the organizational base for the 58th Indiana Volunteer Infantry but also trained troops for the 65th and 80th regiments.
We learn from Simon’s letter that he had previously resided in California. He may have been a gold seeker. He addressed the letter to Mrs. Phebe Hill who may have been Simon’s sister.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Addressed to Mrs. Phebe Hill, Sutter Creek, Amador county, California
Camp Gibson [near Princeton, Indiana] October 30th 1861
We received your very kind letter of September 29th just two years lacking 18 days since we received anything from you. I can’t say I thought you were dead, but I heard you were married and therefore you could not write. California seems to be a selfish place yet. I thought by this time it would be more like home. I suppose it is in consequence of the diversity of money—each holding on to their supposed superiority. There is but little difference back here. They get along in the same blundering manner. Plenty of very poor people but social enough. We have plenty to eat and drink.
Now I will tell you what kind of a fix we are in & I hardly know how to commence. It is all mustering, recruiting, and bustle. No work, no trade, nothing but get ready for fight. Don’t you think the excitement has got so high that it has carried me along with it? I am now camped here as you see by the heading of this letter. Whether I shall be able to stand it is very doubtful. I have not seen a well day since I have been here.
I would like to be back in California if I could be in a good neighborhood on the account of my health. I take cold so often here—every time there is a change I am worse, which is very often.
We received a letter from Mr. Kimbrough a short time ago. He told us you were living but said nothing about seeing you. He says Jim is going to make a lawyer of himself. I am glad to hear so well of him. I hope William Hill is also making some effort towards honorable destination. I would be much better pleased if you all could sit with us by our comfortable fire and talk of the past. We could tell a great deal that we can’t write.
We can hear their big guns sometimes at our house when they get to fighting on the river but I believe no one has been killed in a Free State by the Secesh as yet. Our regiment will be sent to Kentucky as soon as armed and then will be our turn to see the elephant.
The following 31 letters were written by William Blackmar (b. 1839), the son of Joseph Blackmar (1788-1874) and Mahala Munyan (1797-1862) of Thompson, Windham county, Connecticut. William enlisted in November 1861 as a private in Co. G, 11th Connecticut Infantry. He reenlisted as a veteran on 13 December 1863 and was slightly wounded in the hand on 9 May 1864 at Swift’s Creek, Virginia, and spent the next several months at Knight General Hospital in New Haven, Connecticut, where, after recovering from his wound, he was placed on detached duty as a ward attendant and as a clerk. After the hostilities ended, he was transferred to Co. B of the 11th Veteran Reserve Corps on 17 April 1865 and did not muster out of the service until much later in the year.
Lemuel Knapp Blackmar, born in 1819, is a son of Joseph and grandson of Jacob Blackmar. His mother was Mahala, daughter of Ebenezer Munyan. He went to Providence at the age of sixteen, where he remained eleven years. Since that time he has resided in Thompson. In 1848, he took charge of the grist and saw mill at Grosvenor Dale for sixteen years, beginning November, 1864. He was appointed postmaster at Thompson in August, 1855, and since September of that year has filled that office. He was married in 1846 to Nancy Marguerite, daughter of Edmund Cooper, of Wickford, R. I., and has three children: Martha (b. 1849), Louis (b. 1851) and Mary (b. 1860).
Lemuel Knapp Blackmar and his horse “Fan” in the post-war years.
William’s younger brother Edmund A. Blackmar (1841-1873) also served in the Civil War. He enlisted as a private in Co. E, 13th Connecticut Infantry. He was quickly promoted to corporal. On 21 May 1863 he was taken prisoner at Washington, Louisiana, but was quickly paroled, and mustered out on 6 January 1865 after three years service. Nine of his letters can be found at—1862-64: Edmund A. Blackmar to Lemuel K. Blackmar.
There are frequent references to “Mr. Plumb” in the letters. This was Joseph C. Plumb (1822-1864), the second husband of William’s older sister, Esther (Blackmar) Sumner (1825-1862). Esther’s first husband was William Sumner (1800-1853) and she had two children with him—(1) Willard Sumner (1847-1864) who joined the 1st Connecticut Cavalry in mid-December 1863 and died at Frederick, Maryland on 8 November 1864; and (2) Caroline or “Cally” Sumner (b. 1849. Before Joseph took Esther as his wife, he had previously married, in 1846, the widow Celia Ann (Farrow) Bowen and they had at least three children. Joseph and Celia were enumerated in Thompson in the 1850 US Census where he earned his living as a “dresser tender.” By 1855, either Joseph divorced or abandoned his wife because he took the widow Esther as his second wife that year along with her two young children Willard and Callie. Following Esther’s death in late December 1862, Joseph quickly married yet another widow, Mrs. Martha J. Woodard of North Carolina on 17 September 1863 at Bower’s Hill, Virginia. Alas for Joseph, he was taken prisoner and passed away at Andersonville, Georgia, on 8 August 1864. His Find-A-Grave bio states “he was last seen alive crawling on his hands and knees, too weak to stand for a drink of water.” He is buried in Grave 5002 at Andersonville.
Civil War soldier on the Thompson Common circa 1862. Thispicture was most likely taken during the return celebration of P.O.W. Dr.John McGregor, who was taken prisoner on 21 July 1861 at Bull Run and was honorably discharged on 29 July 1862. (Thompson Historical Society)
Letter 1
Camp Burnside Newbern, N. C. April 9th 1862
Dear Brother,
I now take my pen in hand to inform you of my health which is very good at present, hoping these few lines will find you and your family all well. I have never received any letter from you but have received three papers which I suppose came from you as your name was on them. I was very glad of them as papers are scarce in this part of the country and they serve to pass off many a lonely hour. I have written to you once but have never received any answer. If you have written, the letter has miscarried or delayed somewhere. I should be glad to hear from some of you once in a while for I like to hear how the folks are getting along in that quarter of the globe. Does Mrs. Morse stay with you this year?
You had ought to have been here after the Battle [on Newbern] and gone a foraging with them. You might have got a nice piano worth anywhere from two to five and 8 hundred dollars. The Lieutenant of our company got one worth five or six hundred dollars and has sent it home. There was three pianos got in our company besides a nice sewing machine worth 150 or two hundred dollars, besides a great many other things too numerous to mention. I did not have a chance to get anything as I was sick aboard of the boat until everything had been taken that was worth anything. That’s the way I got out of being in the battle, but I was sick and no mistake. Erastus was in the battle and fought like a tiger. But he is about as thin as a hatchet. The Boys all run on him a good deal because he is so odd. He goes by the name of Reben Appetite on the account of his eating so much but I don’t blame him for eating all he can get as that is not a great lot at the most.
James McManus is here. His health is very good. He has been our 1st Corporal but I think he will get a Sergeant’s berth soon. Thomas Mullen is as tough as ever and looks the best that I ever saw him. Mr. Plumb is as well as usual but is about as homesick a man as you ever saw. Charles Eddy, I have not seen or heard anything from him since we left Hatteras some time in January. He was then going to Fortress Monroe to the Hospital. The report is that he is dead. Whether it is so or not, I don’t know. Has Doctor [John] McGregor got home yet? And what news did he bring from the rebel country? Which way did the town meeting [go]? I suppose it went the old way.
Enclosed you will find 70 dollars, $25 of which I want you to give to father and twenty dollars I want you should see that Thomas Mullens’ wife has. She lives down in the house between James Cruff’s and Stephen Lewis. If you don’t pay it to her, leave it at the post office and she can call for it there, but it won’t be much trouble for you to go down there and pay it to her yourself and then it will be all right. The rest of the money you will pay to Esther. If you have to pay anything on it, take your pay out of the money equal to what is sent to each one adn have father pay you for your trouble out of my money. I want you should write as soon as you get the money and let me know.
Give my love to your wife and Mattie and Louis and I send the baby a kiss. Write as often as you can and have Mattie and the rest write too. Love to all who takes pains to enquirer. This is all for now so I must close up wishing goodbye. This from your brother, — William Blackmar
Tell father to use the money if he wants but use it sparingly and it will last the longer. I expect more money the first of May which I shall send him and tell him to give me credit for it. I did not draw but 26 dollars.
Letter 2
Street scene in Newbern, North Carolina during the Civil War
Newbern, N. C. [early May 1862]
Dear Brother,
I now take the opportunity of answering your kind letter which I received this morning and was very glad to hear from you and hear that you and your family were all well. I am as well as usual and am gaining in flesh every day. I think that I am about as heavy now as I was when I enlisted. We are here [illegible] and how long we are to stay here, I don’t know. The report is and has been confirmed that Yorktown is taken. The Rebels, I guess, was afraid to face McClellan’s forces and retreated to Richmond. It is reported that General McDowell is at or near that place with a very large force and very likely that McClellan will advance and meet them and if they make a stand, they will get overpowered and the place taken without any fear or doubt, I think, and iti s the general opinion of all the leading men here that if they have a hard battle at Richmond, that it will be about the closing up of this business. At any rate, I hope so for I have got about sick of soldiering.
I have not had any letter from Edmund since I left Annapolis. If I knew where to direct a letter to [him], I would write one to him as I should like to hear from him and hear how he likes soldiering. I hear that he is rather sick of it but it is no use, he is now where he can’t get away and must toe the mark, headache or no headache. That’s the way we have to do. Our folks think by what they write that we suffer for want of something to eat but it is no such thing. We have all we want to eat, drink, and to wear although it is not quite as good as one might wish. But I should very much like a good meal of victuals at home. I think it would relish first rate. But absence forbids at present and I must be content with my lot which I hope by the help of God wil not be long.
I send you this order to draw my bounty for me as I thought you could get it with less trouble than I could. I would present it to the town treasurer and see if he would cash it and take an order on the State Treasurer. If he would not do it. I would try the bank and if they will cash it at a small percent, let them have it. If you cannot get it without, you can send it to the Paymaster General of Connecticut and he is obliged to pay it when it is due which will be, I believe, about the first of June. You will have to back it with your name when it is cashed and when you get it, take pay out of it for your trouble and expense and pay the rest to the folks. You should write to me as soon as you get it and let me know.
I have received [ ] papers in all that, I suppose, you sent me, and was very glad to receive them and would like you to send me more if convenient. Is Ellis in the mills with Joseph this year? I want you should write to me as soon as you get this and write all the news. This is all I can think of for this time. Goodbye until I hear from you again. This from your brothre, — William Blackmar
To Mattie & Louis, I have just been to dinner. We had stewed beans and coffee which was very good. I was glad to hear from you and hear that you were well and had not forgot me. I shall keep that lock of hair until I come home. I should like to see you all very much but don’t expect to very soon. Tell your mother that I like her advice very much. We have a prayer meeting twice a week and I go to all of them. You wanted me to send you something. I had nothing but these cards that I could send which I send you. Write as often as you can. My love to you all. This is from your Uncle William Blackmar
Direct to Burnside’s Division, 2nd Brigade, 11th Regt. C. V., Co. G, Newbern, N. C. Care of F. M. Sprague.
Write as often as you can, all of you.
Letter 3
Newbern, N. C. May 12th 1862
Dear Brother,
As Mr. Plumb was a going to send a box in your name, he wanted I should write a few lines that you might understand how to dispose of the contents. About middle way of the box you will find a part of a rubber blanket. All the things above this blanket you will forward to Mrs. Mullen and all the things below, together with the blanket, you will give to Esther. Not having the money to pay the Express which you will please pay and Mrs. Mullen will pay half and Esther the other half. And also pay you for your trouble. Tell Esther that Mr. Plumb is well and also Mrs. Mullen that Thomas is well. You will please inform us of the reception of the box. Yours truly, — J. C. Plumb, Thomas Mullen, per William Blackmar
Newbern, N. C. May 12th, 1862
Dear Brother, I thought it would be a good time to write a few lines to let you know that I am not very well. Have not been able to do duty in two or three days but I guess that I shall come out all right if nothing new happens to me. Have you received that letter that I wrote to you in answer to the one you wrote me? Has our folks sent my box yet? What day of the month did it start and what did they have to pay on it? After I receive it, I think I shall send it right back filled with clothes and other notions. I shall send it to you and if I have the money to pay the Express on it, I shall pay it. But if not, you will have to pay it and our folks will pay you.
Give respects to all enquiring friends. Give my love to your wife and children and also to all the rest of our folks. This is all for this time. Write as soon and as often as convenient and I would be thankful for a paper once in a while as reading matter is rather scarce in this quarter. Now I will bring my letter to a close by wishing you all goodbye. From your brother in Dixie, — William Blackmar
Letter 4
Newbern, North Carolina May 20th 1862
Dear Brother,
I once more seat myself down to write you a few lines to let you know that I am as well as usual hoping these few lines will find you the same. I am a going to send a box home in your name. I want you to pay the express on it and our folks will pay you. I expect we shall get our pay now soon in the course of a week or two and then I shall send them home some money. I got my box the 16th of this month and was very glad of it. Everything was all in good shape except some white bread which was spoiled. Them shirts they sent are just the thing to wear here—it is so very warm.
These things that I send home I send because I cannot carry them about with me and I hated to throw them away so I thought I would send them home. There is a pipe—one that I made myself. It is the large one. I want them to give it to John Buchanan and tell him to keep it for a family pipe and I would send him something more if I had room.
Tell our folks that the things that belong to James McManus they will keep separate so that when his folks come and call for them, they can let them have them. The following things belong to him. One pair of pants with his name on them, two shirts—one white and one blue. One rubber blanket, one woolen blanket, 1 blue cap, 1 woolen cap, two pair of stockings, one sheath knife, one pipe (the small one), one hair brush, two bibles, one bunch of letters, one bayonet, and all that is tied up in that cap. I have got one pair of pants (my name is on them), two white woolen shirts that never was worn, two pairs of white cotton drawers that have never been worn (one pr. of brown drawers—these I give to father), one blue woolen shirt, one book line upon line, 1 testament, brass key, two shells for mother, one grey secesh cap, three chokers, one necktie. Tell our folks to give the things a good airing and then just put them in my trunk.
About the Express on the box, I want you should send me word what you have to pay and James will pay me his half. Be sure and write as soon as you can get the box. The reason of my sending the box to you, I thought it would not cost so much as it would to send it to father and have it carried to him. You must charge for your trouble.
Have you received that letter with my bounty check in it? I think there will be no trouble in getting the pay on it. I want you should let me know when you get it. I wrote to Edmund yesterday. Whether it will get to him or not, I don’t know but I hope it may. Write as often as you can and I should be glad of a paper once in a while.
Give my love to your wife and children. Also to all of the rest of our folks. Write all the war news and what folks think about our getting home this year. So goodbye. This from your brother, — William Blackmar
After you have read this, let our folks have it. — Wm. Blackmar
Letter 5
Newbern, North Carolina June 9th 1862
Dear Brother,
I now seat myself down to answer your letter which I received this morning and glad to hear that you were all well even as this leaves me at present. I hope that I may remain so until I once more set my feet on the shores of Old Connecticut which i hope will not be very long. Mr. Plumb is quite sick and has been ever since he heard of Esther’s being worse. He is going to have a furlough he expects soon. The Colonel is going to resign and is coming home and he is coming home with the colonel when he comes. I guess if he could not get a chance to come home, he would not live two months.
We are out on picket now—our company and Co. B—about seven or eight miles from camp guarding a sawmill and gristmill to keep the rebels from burning them. The place is called Evans Mills and the man that used to own them is a captain of the rebel cavalry that we are guarding. This is the pleasantest place I have seen since I left Hartford. It is a very large plantation containing 5,000 acres of land with all sorts of fruit in great abundance—apples, pears, peaches, plums, nectarines, figs, mulberries, and blackberries. I never saw the like of them before. The lots are completely covered with them. I think I should like to own such a plantation if it was up that way but I don’t like the climate of this part of the country.
Our Boys are to work building a dam at this place as the freshets and rains have carried the dam away. There is two upright saws in the sawmill and three runs of stone in the gristmill. There is one of the handsomest runner in this mill that ever you saw. It is a stone imported from France and is as white as chalk.
Thomas Mullen has been very sick with a fever but is better now. I think if he is careful, he will get up as well as ever soon. He is at the hospital. George Johnson from Putnam is very sick at the hospital with the typhoid fever. I have not seen him since I left camp about a week ago. They say he cannot live. Thomas Lawton is very sick and they think it will go rather hard with him.
I did not have to pay anything on my box that father sent. I think they paid enough. The reason my sending that box home was that I had more than I could carry around so I thought I would send them home and it was most too bad to throw the things away. What did you think of that secesh cap that I sent home?
I suppose you have heard of the death of Charles M. Eddy. If not, he died last February the 7th day on his way to Fortress Monroe. I guess that’s about as well as you could have done with that check. I am satisfied. It is confirmed that Corinth is evacuated but as to Richmond being taken, I guess it is not taken but will be without doubt. They are expecting them to retreat down through this way. If they do, Gen. Burnside will give them a warm reception.
Give my respects to your wife and children and write as often as you can. This from your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 6
Fredericksburg, Virginia August 30th, 1862
Dear Brother,
Your letter of the 25th inst. came to hand this morning and I was very glad to hear from you and hear that you were all well and also to hear that my money and box had gone through all right. I am as well as usual and so is Mr. Plumb. We are stationed here in the city yet and how long we shall stay here is rather uncertain. I think that we shall stay until we are driven out.
Yesterday was a busy day with the union people and the contrabands in packing and moving goods to the depot to go off. About the middle of the afternoon, we had orders to fall in double quick with everything on as the rebels were advancing on us in force. So we fell in. We were thrown out as skirmishers with orders to fight our way back if we had to retreat but to hold them in check as long as we could. So after staying out until dark and no signs of any enemy, we were ordered back to our quarters where we now are. We are going on picket duty tonight to be gone a week if nothing happens or unless we get drove in by the rebels. There is two or three other lines of pickets outside of us so we shall have time to get out of the way if we are attacked. Burnside says that if we have to leave the city, that he will level it to the ground so it will not do them much good if they do come here.
There has been a continual flocking in of contrabands since we came here and they have all been sent out to Washington where they will be sent to Central America as they are going to colonize them there. This war is turning out to be a black abolition war and if I had have known it, they never would got me to enlist. I wish they would give orders to shoot every negro that showed his head. I should like the fun for I have got so sick of seeing so many of them round that I can’t bear the sight of one.
I heard that Dr. McGregor was going out again. Is that so? If it is, what regiment is he going with? I should think he had got about enough of this war, shouldn’t you? I want you to send me a list of all that have gone from round there in your next letter and if their names are in your paper, I would like to have you send me one as I like to read news from round home.
I expect that Pope & Jackson are into it tough and tight as there has been heavy cannonading heard off in the direction of where they are. We heard this morning that Pope was whipping them up handsomely and that they was retreating back and also that one of Jackson’s whole brigades had been taken prisoners. Whether this is true or not, I don’t know. You will hear of it as quick as I shall. They have pretty much all left here and gone to join Pope and McClellan at or near Alexandria, Va., near Bull Run. But I guess that this won’t be another Bull Run affair. If it is, we might as well give up first as last for if we can’t whip them now with what men we have got, we can’t whip them at all.
There has been a report that Gen. [Franz] Sigel had shot Gen. [Irwin] McDowell but I don’t think there is any truth in the report as I have not seen it in any of the papers yet. Have you heard anything about it? 1 There is so many reports that you can’t believe a thing you read and hardly what you see. About the cape that I sent in my other box, it belonged to me. It was one that I cut off of my overcoat and I thought it would make a pretty vest. It wasn’t of much account but there is no need to have lied about it for it was not worth over 25 cents. I shall ask Jim if he wrote such words to his father, If he did, he is to blame. But it is not worth making a fuss about.
Have you got your barn finished yet? How is Jo making it in the mills this year? How does things look? Is there a going to be much of a crop this year? Things don’t look very well here as it has been so dry and hot that everything is all dried up. The fruit looks pretty well. Is there a going to be much fruit up in that section?
I am in hopes that they will close up this business so that we can come home sometime this fall or winter but I am a little afraid that it will take into another year. But if I can have my health and don’t have much fighting to do, I shall get along I guess. I should like to have you write a little oftener if you could just as well as not, for a letter from home puts new courage into me. Give my love to all of your folks and all of our folks & to all enquiring friends and write as soon as you get this. I don’t know as you can read this but read what you can and guess the rest. Goodbye all. Yours respectfully, — William Blackmar
1 McDowell and Sigel had a strong dislike for each other gained during the battle of Second Manassas fought in August of 1862.
Letter 7
Fredericksburg, Virginia August 11th 1862
Dear Brother,
I have remitted by express a package of checks and money which after you draw the money on them & take the pay for your trouble, I wish you to deliver as follows—viz, twenty dollars to father, and the rest to Esther for Mr. Plumb. Also I have directed a box to you which you will deliver to father if you ever get it. I heard about that overcoat cape that was in that other box. That belongs to me. The things that are in this box are mine and Mr. Plumbs. The object of send them home is that we had got to throw them away and I thought that it would pay to send them home. You tell Joseph that that dress coat is just as good as new and if he can make Orrin anything out of it, to take it. I thought it would make him a good suit of clothes. What do you think about it? If it will, tell him he may have it by paying the express on the box. Also the cap that the fore piece is rounded off. Them new pants are mine and those letters I want Lucy to take and put in my trunk and put with the others and lock it up. The rest of the things such as shirts and drawers can be kept together as they belong to us both.
Those checks are some that we bought for $8 a piece and I thought that they was as good as money and we could make two dollars apiece on them as they are the same as money.
I received a letter from Jane last Saturday announcing the death of our dear mother and I can assure you that it came like a shock upon me as I did not think of her dying any more than I think of coming home tomorrow. I deeply feel her loss made doubly worse by my being far from home among strangers where I could not have the privilege of seeing her before she died and bidding her a last farewell. I hope that you will do all you can to comfort and console your aged father in this hour of his deepest trial.
I don’t think of anything more—only we are under marching orders to march at a moment’s warning. Write as soon as you get this, without fail. Give my love to all and oblige. Your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 8
Camp 11th Regt. C. V. opposite Fredericksburg, Va. January 6th 1863
Dear Brother,
Having a few leisure moments I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and I hope this will find you the same together with your family. I have not heard from you in sometime and I did not know but if I wrote you, that you would take pains enough to answer it. I got a letter from Jane yesterday announcing the death of our dear sister. I can sympathize with you all in your afflictions for I think that we have been sorely afflicted for the past year. But it is God that has bereft us. He can all our sorrows heal.
I had been expecting to hear of her death for some time back so I had got my mind made up to it, yet I feel as though I had lost a near and very dear friend. But she has got through with what we have all got to go through with sooner or later and has gone to meet our dear mother in heaven. I hope that when we are called upon to go the way of all the earth that we may be as well prepared as I think they were.
Mr. Plumb received your letter yesterday and was very glad that you wrote to him and in return wishes me to say to you for what you have done for he esteems it a great favor. In regard to the money that he sent to Cally, he says take it and use it as you see fit. And if you will see to the things in the house he wishes you would and if there is a thing that you can see to any better by taking it home with you, take it and use it. The Parlor stove, he says, if Lucy wants it, let her have it and take care of it and use it until he calls for it. He wants you to keep an account of what you do for him and of any expenses that you have been for him and he will make you satisfied for your trouble. He wishes you to do it as you know better what to do than anyone else.
In regard to what you wrote about some gravestones for Esther, he says if it would be the minds of you all, that he would rather get a good monument for mother and Esther and would be willing to pay is share, let it cost what it will if it would meet the minds of you all. For my part, I am willing to do my part towards it, let it be more or less. I wish you would talk with father and Joseph and Lucy about it and when you write, which I hope will be soon, let me know what you have concluded upon. Tell Lucy that if she will take care of the children until he can arrange matters that he will make her a present of five dollars towards her share if you conclude to do so. He says he is willing to pay her two dollars a week for taking care of the children and more if she says so. Let Lucy have money to get the children clothes when needed. Tell Cally he was glad that she wrote him such a good letter and feels deeply with her for the loss of her mother. Tell her to be a good sister to the children and she shall not lose anything if he lives to come back so that he can repay her. Tell Willard & Cally that he will write to them as soon as possible. He sends his love to Willard and Cally and the little children and to all. [no signature]
Letter 9
Headquarters Provost Guards Suffolk, Virginia June 11th 1863
Dear Brother,
Having a few leisure moments I thought I would send you a few lines to let you know how we are getting along down in Old Virginia. I am as well as usual. I do not hear from you very often. I wish you would write once in a while and let a fellow know whether you were dead or alive. What are you up to these days? I suppose you are hoeing the corn and potatoes to kill. How does the crops look this year? Do you think that it looks favorable for good crops? I heard that father had planted all of the south lot and got through planting before half the folks did. I think if that is the case, that he is growing smart in his old age. But I am afraid that he is laying out more work that he will be able to carry out. I hope, however, that he will be able to go through with what he has begun and that he may have good crops adn live to enjoy the benefit of them.
I heard from Edmund one day this week. He was well but was pretty well tired out from long marches and bivouacking on the ground. He said that they had had two battles and he was fortunate enough to keep out of both of them, he being on guard at the time. He has not seen as hard times yet as we did when we marched through Maryland and God grant that he may never see such times as we then saw. It makes our blood run cold to look back and see what we then suffered marching through the dust without (some days) anything to eat, and the rest of the time without half enough. But enough of this for now.
What is your opinion about the war? Do you think that there is any signs of its ending very soon? I think that we shall have to stay our time out and if we live to get home—all right, and if not, we shall have to face the grim monster with as good courage as we can. As long as there is life, there is hope and if we keep up good courage, that is half of the battle.
We have got a very good place here now at present. How long we shall stay, I don’t know but I think as long as ew stay about here that we will stay where we are. I have just received a letter that Jane sent me last August the 25th. The news was pretty fresh, I tell you. I don’t see where it has been all this time. Mr. Plumb is well. I saw him day before yesterday. He is with the rest of the company and I hope he will stay here. Has father got any gravestones for mother yet? What kind of ones if he going to have? Have him get some good ones and all put in and pay for them, I am willing to pay my share.
Everything is quiet here at present with the exception of the pickets have a little shooting to do once in a while but that don’t trouble us any. If I don’t come home on a furlough this summer, I want you to come out and see me after haying if I am where I am now. Won’t you? Give my love to all of your folks and all the rest. And write as soon as you get this and as often as you can. I wish you would send me the Transcript every week and I will make it right with you. Hoping to hear from you soon, I subscribe myself your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 10
Gloucester Point, Virginia October 14, 1863
Dear Brother,
I take this opportunity of writing to you to let you know how we are getting along down in this quarter of the world. Am well as usual and hope this will find you all the same. You will perceive that we have left the vicinity of Portsmouth. We now are in camp on Gloucester Point opposite Yorktown, Va. How long we shall stay here, I don’t know but I hope not a great while as I don’t like the place.
Have you stopped sending them papers? I have not got any in a long time. Have you seen Plumb’s wife? If you have, how do you like her?
Enclosed you will find six bounty checks payable to your order. You will please take them to the cashier of Thompson Bank and get them cashed if you can adn pay the discount and let me know how much you have to pay. Also as soon as you can get them cashed, you will please express the remainder of the money to my address:
Co. G, 11th Regt. C. V., Portsmouth, Va.
and send the receipt by mail as soon as you send the money. Give my love to all and let me know as soon as you receive them and you will oblige your brother, — William Blackmar
Please pay the express.
Letter 11
Gloucester Point, Virginia November 9th 1863
Dear Brother,
I received your letter containing $8.20 dollars this afternoon and was very much pleased to get it as I was afraid that you had not got it. You got it cashed and expressed for less than I expected but the cheaper the better for me. I expect that we shall get paid now in the course of a week or two and I shall either buy up a lot of bounty checks or send about fifty dollars in money to father. If I send my checks, you need not be any afraid to get them cashed as I shall send none but what are correct so you need not be afraid to present them for payment. Three of them that I sent you belonged to Sergeant A. Burley of our company. He paid all the express on them and half of the discount in cashing so it cost me but fifty-five cents for my money.
How is times in that part of the country and what are you up to these times? We are now, I believe, on our last year and I wish it was the last month but if they will only let us stay where we are, it will soon slip away. We are now inside of Point Gloucester opposite Yorktown, Va. and we have got pretty comfortable quarters for cold weather to what we had last winter. Whether we will be left to stay here this winter or not, I don’t know but I hope we may. We have quite a lot of guard & picket duty to do but prefer to do it rather than marching about all the time. I am hoping to get a furlough but if I cannot, i wish you would come out and see me, it would not cost you very dear and it would do you a great deal of good besides seeing some of he country and then you could see how the soldiers live.
I don’t think that Mr. Plumb made much buying bounty checks with that money you sent him. I guess he let his have about all that he had left after getting married and I hope he is satisfied, If he is, we ought to be, I shall have considerable to tell you about what he has said about you and your folks, but I don’t want you to say or write anything to him as we are on good terms and I want to be so as long as we are here together.
About them papers, I have not got yours since I have been here and hope you will continue to send them. I am well as usual and hope this will find you all the same. Tell Mattie and Louis that I should like to hear from them. Also Cally and Willard—where are they now? Give my love to all of them and tell them to write and give my love to Morgia & the boys. Direct to Co. G, 11th Regt. Conn. Vols., Yorktown, Va. No more for this time. So goodbye to all. From your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 12
Gloucester Point, Virginia November 13, 1863
Dear Brother,
Yours of the 9th inst. came to hand yesterday and I now take this opportunity of answering it. I am as well as usual but have not much news to write you. You said that the letter which you sent me contained $57.20 but it contained $58.20. You said that you paid one dollar to get them cashed and 75 cents to express it and 6 cents to George Crosby for carrying it to the cars which would leave $58.19 to come to me which I have got and one cent besides. When I send my money home, you tell father to pay you whatever interest you have to pay on the money and and what other charges you forgot to pat and let me know how much you have to pay as soon as convenient after you pay it. Also I wish that you would take a note of father without interest for the money that I have sent him so that if anything happens to either of us we shall know how we stand. I have sent home just $200 and have had six dollars sent back to me which would be $194 and probably I shall send this payday fifty dollars more which will make $244 for which you will take note in my name bearing no interest and I shall charge none.
Please let me know in your next if you think it a good idea. If he ain’t willing to give a note, you take an account of this, will you not?
I don’t think of much to write so I will draw this to a close. Have you received a letter in answer to the package which you sent me? Give my love to your folks and all enquiring friends, if there be any. and believe me as ever your brother, — William Blackmar
P. S. I am very glad that times are so good there and only wish that I were there to help father make cider and do whatever I could to help him. We are now on our last year and it will soon fly away. The quicker the better to suit me. Hoping to hear from you often. I remain, — William Blackmar
Letter 13
Wallingford. Connecticut February 22, 1864
Dear Brother,
Enclosed you will find a ten dollar bounty check which i have made payable to your order. It is not due until the 27th of March. You had better put it into a letter and send it to the Postmaster General and forbid the payment of it to any other’s order but yours. Do it as soon as you can and he will send it back to you and tell you when it is due. I want you to send me eight dollars by return mail and you may have the check and the full amount. Now be sure and send me the money by return of mail. Two dollars will pay you pretty good interest (won’t it?).
I am going to try and get a furlough if I can. If I can’t get one, I think I shall take a French leave. What do you think of that? They could let is all [go] home if they had a mind to but they are so damned mean they won’t if they can help it. Excuse me for using such an expression but I can’t help it. I am well in body but not in mind. I had rather if we can’t come home again that they would send us out South. Then we should know what to depend on. If I don’t get a chance to come home, I want you and father & Joseph if he can to come down here and see me. But you and father come anyway. I will let you know when to come.
Give my love to all the folks and don’t forget to send the money by return of mail. Now you be sure and forbid the payment of it to anybody but your order. Theodore Smith, Co. K, 11th Regt. Conn. Vols. is the name.
I don’t think of much more to write so I will draw to a close by hoping to hear from you by return of mail. Ever your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 14
Wallingford, Connecticut February 25, 1864
Dear Brother,
Having a few leisure moments, I thought that I would write you a few lines to let you know how we are getting along. I am well as usual and hope this will find you all the same. We are under marching orders so they say. whether it is so or not, I don’t know. The Eighth are cooking three days rations but we have got no such orders as yet, but we may before morning. There is a few of the boys that behave so bad that it spoils the fun for the whole. There is a good many that take a french furlough and go home, but I don’t like to do it, would you?
Have you received a letter with a bounty check in it? If you have, have you answered it? I have not received it as yet. I am going to send you my check which you will give me credit for as soon as you get it cashed. I don’t know as they will cash it until the 27th of next month but you might send to the paymasters office in New Haven and he will tell you when it is due and when he will pay it. After you get your pay for the trouble of getting it cashed, give me the credit for the balance and endorse it on that note if you like. If I had plenty of money, I could buy plenty of bounty checks for from six to nine dollars apiece, but I don’t think that it will pay to send money here now as we are liable to go at any moment. But if you have not sent me that eight dollars, I wish you might send it as soon as you can.
Give my love to all the rest of the folks and write as soon as you get this and direct to Wallingford, Connecticut, or elsewhere. Hoping to hear from you soon, I subscribe myself your brother, — William Blackmar
Where is Joseph going to move? Has he got him any place yet? I got a letter from Lucy today stating that Andrew was not very well. Do you hear from Willard very often? How does he like soldiering. Tell Cally to write to me and remember me to all of the folks. So goodbye.
Tell Mattie to write to me as often as she can make it convenient and I will answer them. Has she got the music to “The Vacant Chair?” and “Who will care for Mother now?” If not, you get it for her. — William Blackmar
Letter 15
Wellingford, Connecticut February 26, 1864
Dear Brother,
We have just got orders to cook three days rations so I expect we shall be off soon. Where we are to go, I don’t know. But if we can’t come home, I don’t care how quick we go for then we shall know what to depend upon. It snows very hard today.
Mrs. Pumb arrived here last night.
Give my love to all and direct to Co. G, 11th Conn. Vols., Washington D. C. Hoping to hear from you soon and often, I will close by bidding you all goodbye. From your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 16
Wallingford, Connecticut February 26th 1864
Dear Brother & Sister,
I have just received your letter containing eight dollars which I was very glad to receive. I sent a letter to you today with a bounty check in it belonging to me. I forgot to put his name to it but he can do it himself. I mean your name of course.
We expect to go tomorrow. Our rations are all ready and so are we if we can’t come home. I did think that I would take a French leave tonight but I will take your advice. Your letter was short & sweet but hope you will write a longer one next time. I am agoing to send this buck by Mr. Plumb’s wife so I will write a word or two tomorrow after I found out we are going. So I will bid you good night.
Saturday morning, February 27, 1864
Good morning. How do you all do this morning? I am well and hope this will find you the same. I expect we shall go today but I can’t tell anything about it. We [are] liable to go at any moment, I suppose. If you have not sent that check to see when it is due and forbid the payment of it to anybody’s order but yours, you had better do so at once as someone might get one in ahead of you. But if there is any trouble about it, I will make [it good].
We have got orders to pack up as we are right off so I must close by wishing you goodbye. Write soon and often.
Direct to Co. G, 11th Conn. Vols., Washington D. C.
From your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 17
Camp Eleventh Regiment Connecticut Vols. Williamsburg, Virginia April 13th 1864
Dear Brother,
Not having heard from you in sometime time and wishing to know whether you got your money on those checks or not, I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know that I am as well as common but am not as fleshy as I was when I was at home. I have heard that Willard was dead. Is there any truth in the story or not? I wish you would let me know as soon as you can and if he is not dead, give me his address so I can write to him.
Did Mrs. Plumb give you a letter from me when she came from Wellingford? I did not know as you have never answered any letters since I left there. I want you to let me know how much of a dividend they declared at the bank and whether you got mine and how much you got. I want you to keep that towards what I owe you and tell me how much I owe you besides on that 25 dollars also, I wish if you don’t take the Transcript that you would subscribe for it and send it to me and take your pay out of what I send you. We have not got paid off yet and don’t know when we shall but as soon as we are I shall send you some and fifty dollars of it I want you to put in in some good savings bank where it will be on good interest and compound the rest if there is more than enough to pay you what I owe you. Put it in the bank with my name.
I suppose that you have seen Mr. Plumb as he has been home. How did you and he make out in your settlement? I suppose you were all glad to see him—especially Morgia. I know she must have been very glad to see and hear that he was anywhere about. Tell Morgia & Mattie that a letter wouyld be very acceptable at any time and Louis too. His is Mamy get along? Is she as full of talk and fun as ever? Where is Cally? I haven’t heard a word from her since I left home. Give my love to her and tell her to write.
I don’t think you Democrats done very well for Governor. If you can’t do better than that, I am afraid that Old Abe will get to be President another four years. The 18th [Connecticut] boys all come to vote. I heard that Isaiah came. Give my love to all of the folks and write as soon as you get this. Send me by Mr. Plumb one dollar’s worth of postage stamps. No more for this time. Goodbye. From your brother, — Willam Blackmar
Letter 18
Camp Eleventh Conn. Vols. Williamsburg, Va. April 28th 1864
Dear Brother,
Yours of the 18th instead. came to hand day before yesterday and I was much pleased to hear from [you] and hear that you were all well even as this leave me at the present. I had to send six cents to the postmaster at Fort Monroe before I could get the letter which you sent.
We are under marching orders and have been for a week or two. How soon we may go, I don’t know but expect we may go the first of next week. The officers got orders to send in all their baggage but what they could carry in a valise within five days which looks as though there was agoing to be something done. They are landing troops and have been for a week or two at Yorktown and Gloucester Point, Va.; also at Newport News. There must be an awful lot of troops at both places. Gen. Wm. F. Smith is in command at Yorktown & vicinity. Our regiment is brigaded now. We compose the 2nd Brigade, 2nd Division, 18th Army Corps. Gen. Wistar is our Division commander and Col. Stedman our Brigade commander.
There is to be two men shot today or tomorrow at this place. They are from the 2nd New Hampshire Regiment. They deserted and were caught and are to be shot in the presence of their regiment. Col. Stedman is to have the charge of shooting them. It may be so we can see them shot but it will be no pleasant sight.
I was very glad of those stamps as I was entirely out. The same day I got this letter, I expressed to you twenty-five dollars of money. It was about all I can well spare at this present time as I owed considerable. We had been so long without any money but I shall never owe so much again as I am no better off than I should be without it. Perhaps you may think that I have gambled it away but it is no such thing as I have hardly played a game of cards since I came back nor I don’t mean to.
Mr. Plumb came back day before yesterday but I did not ask him many questions as I knew he would not tell me anything if I did. All he came home for was just to see that woman of his. He got almost love cracked and made up a story that if he did not come home & settle his affairs that it would be great to him and his children. Anybody would suppose to hear him talk that he was worth his thousands but I don’t believe he will get a furlough again very quick.
I want you to write as soon as you get this and tell me whether you get that money or not, and take your pay out of it and keep run of the rest for I shant. You need not bother about putting any into the savings bank until I sent enough to make it pay. I want you to send me Willards address when you write again and all the news you can get. Give my love to father and tell him that I think that this summer’s campaign is a going to wind up this war business so that if nothing happens to me, probably it will be so I can come home for good by next spring certain. Give my love to all the folks and tell them to write and you do the same as often as you can. So I will close by wishing you all goodbye until you hear from me again.
From your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 19
Macon House in Portsmouth, Va.; used as an Army Hospital in 1864.
Macon House Hospital Portsmouth, Va. May 23, 1864
Dear Brother,
I write you these few lines to let you know how I am getting along. I am well with the exception of my hand which is quite sore yet and I hope it may so until this campaign is over. I was wounded on the 9th of this month between three and four o’clock p.m. It is nothing but a flesh wound and will not affect my hand at all after it once gets well. It was a pretty lucky hit for me as I was wounded the first man in the regiment and I might have got it worse if I had gone farther on as it was a pretty hot place. I was wounded while forming in line of battle. I think it was the 16th that the rebs made an attack on our men in a very heavy fog and took our men all by surprise. But they got repulsed with great slaughter and our men suffered terribly. Our regiment had quite a number wounded but I have not heard as there was any killed. It seems to be the general opinion that Butler has got whipped as he is back within five miles of Bermuda Hundred, the place where we landed first, but is strongly entrenched.
I was in hopes that they would get Richmond before my hand got better as I don’t care about going back up there again for I might not get off so well another time. We don’t fare very well here but it is not because Uncle Sam don’t furnish us enough. It is because the doctors are contractors and they are making a good speck [speculation] out of it. They get 40 cents a day for each man.
You answer this letter and let Mattie write the other and send them separate, and tell me if you got that money I sent you and direct to Ward 5. [no signature]
Letter 20
The Knight US Army General Hospital in New Haven, Connecticut
Knight General Hospital New Haven, Connecticut June 13, 1864
Dear Brother,
You will be surprised to see a letter from me headed at this place but I came here last night on the steamer George Clary [?]. I am as well as ever and hope these few lines will find you the same. the State Agent came to the corporal at Portsmouth and wanted all men that would not be able for duty in thirty days to get ready and [ ] as soon as the boat came. So I went to the doctor expecting he would send me to the regiment. He asked what was the matter with me and I told him. He examined me and said that I did not [ ] and recommended me for a twenty days furlough, and the same day sent me on here with a lot of sick and wounded soldiers….
I want you to come down here to see me whether I come home with you or not and bring me about ten dollars in money. I will go home with you if I can. If youy don’t come, please send me the money as soon as you get this. But come if possible. I wil tell you all when I see you. Have Mattie come with you. Give my love to all and father. Hoping to see you…I will draw to a close. Your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 21
Knight General Hospital New Haven, Connecticut September 22, 1864
Dear Brother,
I wrote you these few lines to let you know that I am well and enjoying yself first rate. I am acting as Assistant Ward Master in Ward 4 and like it first rate. There is a great meeting here today on the green to ratify the nomination of Gen. McClellan. I am going down soon to see how it comes off. I want you as soon as you get this to either go or send ten dollars to Mr. John Buchanan without fail. We have not got paid off yet but expect to as soon as next week and then I will either come & bring you some money or send it to you so you can make it all right when it comes for your trouble and the money too. Now be sure and pay it to him as soon as you can after you receive this.
Do you hear anything from Edmund or Willard? They have had a big battle there this week and I should like to hear from them. Please let me know of this and whether you paid him or not and write as soon after this as you can. Excuse this short letter as I have considerable writing to do & I will do better next time. Give my love to all the folks and believe me as ever your brother, — William Blackmar
Knight General Hospital, New Haven, Ct. Ward 4
Letter 22
Knight General Hospital New Haven, Connecticut October 9th 1864
Dear Brother,
I write you these few lines to let you know how I am getting along, and more especially to send you some money. I am as well as usual adn am enjoying myself first rate. You had ought to have been here night before last to the torchlight procession. It was the greatest sight that I ever saw. There was somewhere from 30 to 40,000 people present and it was splendid. I think that the Democrats stand a good chance if they turn out and do what they can do, but enough of this politics. Election will tell the story so hurrah for Little Mac, our next President.
A torchlight parade for George McClellan, Democratic Nominee for President in 1864
I am agoing to send you four twenty dollar bills legal tender notes. you will see by looking at them that they are drawing interest at six percent with compound interest so I thought that about as good as to put them out and a little better. So you may pull them down and keep them. Just send me a receipt that you have got eighy dollars of my money—that is, if I don’t come home again and if I do, we will make it all straight.
I don’t know whether they will send me to the front right away or not but I have not been examined yet so I don’t believe they will send me without an examination. I want you to send me word as soon as you receive the money.
Have you heard from Edmund yet? If you have, I wish you would send me his letter. You tell father that I did not get but ninety dollars as my bounty was not put on the rolls and the paymaster would not pay only what was on the rolls. Tell him if he really wants the thirty dollars which is the amount of the note that I gave him, that I will see that he has it as soon as you let me know, and if he had just as leave let the note run that I had as I want to keep this bills that I send you. you will see on the back of the bill that at the end of three years the one who holds them can either take $3.88 interest on one of them or $23.88 for the bill, the interest to be paid in gold. You can ask Mr. Sharp and see if it is not just as I say about them, and if he says not and thinks I could do better than to keep them, let me know, and I will tell you what to do with them. But I am satisfied that they are better to keep than to put at interest.
Give my love to all the folks and be sure and write as soon as you get the money as I shall feel uneasy until I hear from them. So goodbye. From your brother, — William Blackmar
Knight General Hospital, New Haven, Connecticut
October 11th 1864
I have come to the conclusion to not send you but sixty dollars instead of eighty as I at first thought I would as it will leave me rather short so you will lay that away and keep it as I directed. They sent a squad away to the front yesterday but they did not send me. I think I am good for them until after election and then I don’t care. So goodbye.From your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 23
Knight General Hospital New Haven, Connecticut December 6, 1864
Dear Brother,
I write you these few lines to let you know that I am well as usual. How do you all do? I meant to have come home to thanksgiving but I could not get away. I was head nurse in Ward Two and the ward master said he could not let me come. But I am agoing to try and come home to New Years if I can. I am now a clerk in the Major’s office and I like it first rate. I think if I can suit them that I will have a job all winter.
Have you heard from Edmund or Willard lately? I have got to go to work so I will draw to a close. I want you to lend me $20 by return of mail as we are not agoing to get pay until January and I shall want some. Please send it without delay. Give my love to all the folks and believe me as ever your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 24
Knight General Hospital New Haven, Connecticut January 1, 1864 [should be 1865]
Dear Brother,
I write these few lines to let you know that Willard is dead. He died in the hospital at Frederick City, Maryland, sometime in November of acute diarrhea. I am very sorry to hear of this but it must be so as it come from the surgeon in charge of the hospital. I will send you the letter that 1 wrote to the doctor and you can read what he wrote in return. You write to the surgeon in charge of the hospital and find out whether he was buried so that his body could be found and also find out about his effects, whose hands they are in, and have them sent to you. Also have his papers sent so you can draw his back pay and bounty. I suppose this will almost kill [his sister] Cally, but tell her to not worry herself too much for he is better off than as though he had got his time to stay in the service and suffer and perhaps be killed. It is one consolation to know that he died a natural death and not by the hand of a rebel foe.
Hoping you will answer soon, I am as ever your brother, — William Blackmar
Letter 25
Knight General Hospital New Haven, Connecticut January 10, 1865
Dear Brother,
I write you these few lines to let you know that I received your letter and in reply I will say that I think the best way for you to do is to go out and get his body as soon as possible. It would not be of any use for me to write to the surgeon in charge as regards his effects as he would not give me any information in regard to them as there is strict orders against it. The way for you to do is to take your papers which I suppose you have showing that you are his lawful guardian and when you get there you will find out what things he had and about all his affairs and by your giving a receipt for his things, you can take them. I would enquirer of someone that would be liable to know whether it would be cheaper to get a metallic case here and take with you or buy one in Washington or when you get there.
You would have to get his body embalmed and therefore I think a metallic case would be required. I would either go and send someone and you can go cheaper than you could hire and I would go right away as soon as possible as the longer you wait, the worse it will be. You will have to go to New York to get a pass to go to Frederick and you want to enquirer for the Office of Col. D. J. Van Buren, Assistant Adjutant General to Maj. Gen. Dix, New York City. I would go let it cost what it would
Come think it all over, I would wait until I got out there before I got the case as you can get one there as cheap as you could here and pay the express on it. If you go, please let me know as soon as convenient.
I am as well as when at home. Give my love to all and believe me as ever your brother, — Wm. Blackmar
Letter 26
Knight General Hospital New Haven, Connecticut February 24th 1865
Dear Brother,
I write you these few lines to let you know that I am well as usual and to inform you that the state agent to whom you want to apply for the settlement of Willard’s back pay and bounty is W. A. Benedict, Conn. State Agent, 252 F. Street, Washington D. C.
I would write or have someone do so right away. It will cost you nothing but postage. Your brother, — Wm. Blackmar
Letter 27
Knight Gen. Hospital New Haven, Conn. April 4th 1865
Dear Brother,
Yours of the 3rd inst. came to hand and was much pleased to get it as my funds were getting rather low. I don’t know whether I shall come home this week or not. It will depend whether there is any danger of the paymaster coming the last of the week. If there is, I shall not come but if he don’t come, I think that I shall try and come home next Friday.
I suppose you have heard of the glorious news of the fall of Petersburg and Richmond which took place at a quarter past eight o’clock yesterday morning and is now held by our forces under Gen. Weitzel, commanding the 25th Army Corps composed wholly of colored troops. It is officially confirmed by dispatches from the Secretary of War, President Lincoln, andGeneral Grant. Sheridan is following the flying rebels as fast as he can and will probably drive them to the wall. Is not this glorious news? It does look now as though this war would be settled soon and leading men here predict a peace by the first of May. But i think the Fourth of July will be one of the greatest jubilees that was ever known in this country or any other.
What does Edmund get a month? I don’t think of much more so I will draw to a close. I will send you a Herald by this afternoon’s mail so you can read for yourself. Give my love to all the folks and believe me as ever your brother, — Wm. Blackman
Letter 28
Knight Gen. Hospital New Haven, Conn. April 20th 1865
Dear Brother,
I write you these few lines to let you know that I am as well as usual and hope his may find you and the rest of your family the same. I don’t know hardly when I shall come home but I have got a furlough in the Major’s office for thirty days and as soon as he finds out what they are agoing to do with us, they he says he will give it to me. If it don’t come before many days, I shall come home on a pass.
Is not the dividend money due? If so, you will draw it if not already drawn and send me ten dollars by return of mail as my boots have given out and I must get a pair of shoes or boots soon or go barefooted.
As the mail is about closing, I will close so goodbye from your brother, — Wm. Blackmar
Letter 29
Camp Gillmore Concord, New Hampshire May 29th 1865
Dear Brother,
I write you these few lines to let you know that I am well as usual and to let you know that we have moved to this place. We arrived here today about half past ten o’clock this forenoon and are quartered in barracks about three quarters of a mile from the city. We passed through Thompson Sunday morning about 3 o’clock on the boat train and I should have jumped off the train and come home and stayed over Sunday but when we got to the depot the train was agoing so fast that it was impossible to jump without breaking a fellow’s neck so I thought I would wait until I got here and then I would get a pass for four or five days and that would do a great deal better.
I don’t know how long we shall stay here but probably two or three months and perhaps longer. Pretty good soldiering up in the country, don’t you think so? I think I shall wait until about the 4th of July and then come home if I can.
We left Point Lookout last Thursday about 11 o’clock at night and been on the way ever since. There is not much news to write so I will draw to a close. I want you to send me twenty dollars as we have not been paid off yet and there is no knowing when we shall be. Don’t send that note but keep it and send any other kind and if you send your money, I will pay back as soon as I get paid off & pay you for the use of it.
Please write as soon as you get this and direct to Co. B, 11th Veteran Reserve Corps, Concord, New Hampshire.
Give my love to all and believe me your unworthy brother, — Wm. Blackmar
Letter 30
Camp Gilmore Concord, New Hampshire June 3rd 1865
Dear Brother,
I received your kind letter this morning and it was a very welcome letter as it contained just what I wanted. you may send the other as soon as convenient any time within a week. You wanted to know what we are doing here. We are simply guarding ourselves at present but we are expecting troops from Washington home here to be mustered out and then I expect we will have to patrol the city. It is what I call pretty easy soldiering. I don’t have any guard duty nor any fatigue duty to do, but I get pretty tired. You know I was always pretty good to work and I think when I get out of the service that I shall be still better. All I do is to do the company writing and come out on dress parades and Sunday inspections. So you see I have a pretty hard time of it. I don’t know when I shall come home but I am agoing to try and come home about the 4th of July and I may take a notion to come out Thursday but I can’t tell for certain.
What are the folks all up to? There is not much news to write so I will close. Give my love to all the folks and send the rest of that money as soon as convenient.
Your affectionate brothr, — W, Blackmar
Direct to William Blackmar, Co. B, 11th V. R. C., Concord New Hampshire
To L. K. Blackmar, Thompson, Conn., June 3rd, 1865
Letter 31
Camp Gilmore Concord, New Hampshire November 20, 1865
Having a few leisure moments, I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know how I am getting along. Also to send you that ten dollars that I had of you and I will settle with you for the trouble when I come home. I am aboutr the same in health now that I was when I left home. I told you that I thought I should be at home in two weeks and so I should if I had have given the government my bounty which amounts to $40 which I thought I could not afford to just for the sake of getting my discharge a month or two earlier for if I wait until my old regiment comes home, I shall get the whole of it and they may come any day even if I have to stay until spring. I don’t think I could do better that to stop for it for you see I am drawing my $16 a month besides board and clothes which you see will be as well as I could do if I was out of it this minute, for I should not calculate to do much this winter and I must live somewhere/ So take it all in all, I think I done right in staying. What do you think about it?
We discharged twenty men from our company the 14th of this month and have ten left so I am not alone. There is five of us staid by our bounty and two would have been discharged with the rest but were under arrest awaiting sentence of court martial for desertion. they will probably go somewhere this week and then there will be eight of us left. We are having rather of a hard time of it now doing guard duty over the prisoners, being on guard every other day. I have been on guard three times within five days but it will not last long. As soon as the prisoners are gone, three will not be much guard duty to do. It will bring us about three times in two weeks.
Have you heard anything from Joe’s folks lately? How are they getting along? Does Jane get any more reconciled yet? and does she eat anything yet? I received a letter from her a few days ago and she did not say much—only about how she felt and that she could not get her mind onto anthing else. And that if she did not get help soon, she should die. I wrote and told her to ask Joe if he wanted some money that I would let him have sixty dollars and have not got any answer yet. It is not quite time. If he wants it, I shall let him have it for he must be pretty hard pushed just now. If he don’t want it, I shall bring it home with me when I come. If I don’t get my discharge before, I shall try and come home to Thanksgiving. When you write, let me know if you can find out whether Joe Buchanan got his gun all right that I sent him. write just as soon as you get this. So goodbye. From your brother, — Wm. Blackmar
Give my love to all the folks. Also to James [ ] and family and don’t put ogg writing as you generally do but write as soon as you get this. Tell father if you see him that he need not send that ten dollars but keep it until I call for it. If you can’t read this, let me know and I will do better next time. Yours in haste, — Wm. Blackmar
P. S. I was thinking after I wrote that I would not send you that ten dollars in this letter as it would not be but about two weeks until I come home and then I would bring it to you. If you want it very bad, you write and let me know and I will send it to you. Perhaps Father has got that so he can let you have it. If not let me know. Your brother, — Wm. Blackmar
This letter was signed “Will Forster” and I believe him to be the same William Leonard Forster (b. 1841) who was the oldest son of James Forster (1811-1876) and Eliza Rankin (1816-1892) of Williamsburgh, Kings county, New York. Will was a 19 year-old clerk enumerated in his father’s household at the time of the 1860 US Census. His British-born father, who emigrated to the United States in 1839, earned a living as an upholsterer in New York City.
When the war began, Will joined the 13th New York State Militia and was mustered into Co. C as a private on 23 April 1861. The regiment was sent to Annapolis to secure that important naval yard and port and to guard the all important railroad line from that port to Washington D. C. In June they were sent to Baltimore and then mustered out after three months service in August 1861. Then, in late May 1862, William reenlisted and was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant of Co. B, 47th New York Infantry. He mustered out the 47th on 23 July 1863.
The political cartoon heading on Will’s letter entitled, “A Bird’s Eye View of the Great Southern Loan” with Jeff Davis exclaiming, “All we ask is to be let alone.”
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Carroll Hill, Baltimore, Maryland June 17th 1861
You are perhaps surprised to find this letter headed Carroll Hill but such is the case. I received your letter last Wednesday afternoon at five o’clock but have not had time to answer until now and in fact I have not now time but have to sneak away from the camp to write this.
The reasons I have not answered before are first Thursday being election in Baltimore and all through Maryland so we were ordered to go up to Baltimore and we staid there until the next day when we returned home and reached there late in the afternoon too late to commence a letter to you.
Saturday I was put on guard so I could not write then. After coming off on Sunday morning, we were ordered to pack our knapsacks and be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. We got into the cars at noon but did not start until four and reached Carroll Hill at eight p.m. and this morning I thought I would write and let you know why I could not write before and I wish I had time to answer your letter but as I have not, and besides have no facilities for doing so, I will wait until we get settled down and our tents pitched.
Just think of my laying down on my overcoat and my tin pan for a writing desk. Now if you can imagine anything more pleasant, why let me know.
I hope in my next letter I can tell you how to direct your letter but I could not say whether we will stay here or not. I hope we are. They intend to give us a taste of real camp life and not as we have had it. We had to lay down last night without anything over us and about half past eleven it commenced to pour and all scatt[er]ing I never see anything to beat it. You can imagine a thousand men scattering for the cars. It was a gay sight. I was pretty wey when I reached the cars and made my sleep very uncomfortable the balance of the night.
It is rumored about the camp that we will be sent home in about two weeks but how true it is, I could not say.
Lottie, I will have to stop as I got to get to work and as soon as we are settled, I will write again. So goodbye for the present. From your old friend, — Will Forster
Pip: There is a specific kind of intimacy that only survives because someone kept the envelope — a letter written on the march, or from a plantation on the Mississippi, or from a city coming apart at the seams.
Mara: That intimacy is what runs through this week's posts on Spared and Shared 23 — all of them brought to us by Griff. We're moving through Civil War soldiers writing home, family letters spanning decades, and one remarkable dispatch from the Confederacy's final collapse.
Pip: Let's start with the soldiers and the people waiting for them.
—
Soldiers' Letters, Home Front Voices
Mara: These posts place us inside the experience of men serving in the Union Army — what they ate, what they feared, who they missed — and beside the people on the home front trying to hold things together while they waited.
Pip: The anchor here is William Henry Mix, writing from opposite Fredericksburg in December 1862, and he opens with something that reads less like a war letter than a flirtatious dispatch from a man who has not forgotten how to be charming.
Mara: He sets the scene immediately. Describing a letter that arrived already opened, Mix writes: "Surely John must have called the morning and sent it off, and taking so many kisses from your dewey lips, there was not enough moisture left to dampen the mucilage."
Pip: And then, a few paragraphs later, the same letter turns. He describes Thanksgiving on the march — no turkey, no pudding — and writes that he saw "not the happy faces and manly forms of many brave fellows that were with us full of health and life one year ago. They have fought their last fight."
Mara: That pivot from wit to grief in a single letter is what makes it so striking. Mix survived Gettysburg and went on to serve in the United States Colored Troops — the full arc of his service is documented across three letters on the site.
Pip: Wakeman Young Andrews does not have Mix's gift for the light touch. His November 1862 letter to Colonel Palmer is a document of institutional chaos — sick men left behind, tents burned, orders nobody passed along — and ends with Andrews telling his commanding officer that a hernia and a hemorrhaging throat mean he cannot continue. He asks plainly for permission to go home.
Mara: The letter from Abel Hartley Comstock, writing from Fortress Monroe in April 1862, has a different register entirely — he cheerfully tells his cousin Mary he ran the picket line to visit a friend and "stood a good chance of getting shot in the operation, but nothing ventured, nothing had."
Pip: George Chauncey Peck writes from Seabrook Island, South Carolina, watching Confederate pickets on horseback from the treeline, and Augustus Norton writes from Lexington, Kentucky with something heavier — a creeping sense that the future has gone blank, that he may never return to Athens to live.
Mara: The Edmund Blackmar collection spans nine letters from Louisiana to the Shenandoah Valley. By July 1864, writing to his sister, he says he is "desirous of next January to bid adieu to the army and go to some place where I can live in peace and retirement and away from the sound of the bugle and drum."
Pip: Three years in, and the uniform had become something he viewed "only with abhorrence." That is a long way from the man who enlisted in January 1862.
Mara: Joseph Henry Capen's letter from April 1863 gives an almost hour-by-hour account of listening to the cannonading at the Siege of Washington, North Carolina, from a picket post miles away — anxious for news of the eight companies of his regiment inside the besieged town.
Pip: And Joseph Emmons Blanding, writing from winter quarters outside Washington in January 1862, describes log-and-mud huts with tent roofs, rabbit hunting in the woods, and a colonel who arrived as a religious man and ended up arrested for riding drunk across the parade ground. Blanding was wounded at Malvern Hill six months later and did not survive the year.
Mara: The range across these letters — from flirtation to grief, from bureaucratic fury to quiet despair — is the whole human weather of that war, one envelope at a time.
Pip: Which makes the letters that have nothing to do with the war feel, somehow, even more charged.
—
Letters Across Decades, Families Across Distance
Mara: The family correspondence segment opens much earlier and further south — with George Marble writing from Natchez, Mississippi, in 1836, describing cotton plantations, a flooding river, and a city he finds more alive than anything back in New Hampshire.
Pip: He writes to his cousin Judge Putnam with the breezy confidence of a man whose ambitions have outrun his means, and he signs off: "Martin Van Buren and Liberty!" — which is either a political toast or the most cheerful non-sequitur in the collection.
Mara: The McGill brothers' correspondence with Levin West spans from 1856 to 1865 — Charles writing from declining health, Robert from his desk at the Treasury Department, both watching the country fracture. By January 1861, Robert writes that he is "too old to fight, too old to run away, too old or too lazy to work," and wonders what is to be done.
Pip: And then there is Louisa Fairman, writing to her in-laws from Michigan in 1850, waiting for her husband Harry to come home from wherever he has gone — she does not know exactly when, but she says simply: "let me but get with him again, and I'll go where he goes after that."
Mara: That kind of patient, unguarded loyalty turns up in letters across every decade here. The distance between sender and recipient seems to clarify what matters.
Pip: Which is also what Charles Holst is writing through, though under very different circumstances.
—
One Letter From the Edge of Everything
Mara: Charles Holst was a Danish-born carriage maker in Chester, South Carolina, writing in March 1865 to the woman he intended to marry — and the world around him was in freefall.
Pip: Wheeler's cavalry had just passed through, and Holst catalogs what they took from his neighbors: mules by the dozen, silver buried in a graveyard, gold watches found later in soldiers' boots. These were Confederate troops robbing Confederate civilians.
Mara: He describes the scene in the letter directly: "We are in the most intense excitement. Wheeler's Cavalry of infamous fame — over 5,000 men and horses — have left us. In a letter I cannot describe the outrages and depredations they as Friends and Defenders done us and our people."
Pip: The phrase "Friends and Defenders" doing that much work is — something.
Mara: He goes on to describe Columbia in ruins, Charleston garrisoned by Black Union troops, the railroad torn up, and famine approaching. And through all of it, he is writing a love letter — telling Isabella Woodruff that he would go mad without the hope of seeing her again.
Pip: The war ends. The letter survives. That is the whole premise of this site, and this one earns it.
—
Mara: What holds all of this together is the specificity — a hernia, a flooded plantation, a colonel drunk on a parade horse, a graveyard with the silver gone.
Pip: The archive keeps the small things. Next time, more of them.
How Judge John Lyscom Putnam might have looked in 1836 based on a sketch of him drawn several decades later.
The following letter was written by 23 year-old George H. Marble (1813-1843, the son of Antipas Marble (1766-1841) and Sally Putnam (1772-1826) of Cornish, Sullivan county, New Hampshire. George wrote the letter to his much older cousin, the Hon. John Lyscom Putnam (1792-1875) who served as an associate judge on the Sullivan county bench and was described as a “man of sound judgment and stern integrity.” Putnam was the son of Samuel Putnam (1768-1843) and Lois Lyscom (1766-1855) of Cornish. One of Judge Putnam’s son’s, born just after this letter was penned, was Haldiman Sumner Putnam (1836-1863) became a West Point graduate and served with honor in the Civil War as the Colonel of the 7th New Hampshire and was acting Brig. General in the storming of Fort Wagner on 18 July 1863 where he was instantly killed.
The letter reveals that George Marble owned a plantation near Natchez in the mid-1830s, yet his aspirations seem to have far exceeded what his achievements could support. As the youngest child in a large family, he did not inherit substantial wealth, and his resources were constrained. Absent George’s correspondence, it would have been difficult to conceive that he had left New Hampshire and traveled to the banks of the Mississippi River. No census, land records, or family histories document any endeavors on his part other than his untimely death from “consumption” (tuberculosis) in his hometown of Cornish in 1843, at the age of 30.
A store in Nashville (1836) by Auguste Hervieu (French, 1794-1858)
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Natchez, Adams county, Mississippi June 12, 1836
Dear Coz,
I received your kind and highly interesting letter some few weeks since and am greatly oblige[d] to you for the same. I was sorry to hear that dear Aunt was so unwell and trust she has quite recovered ere this. I have no special news to write you but will merely say I am so well pleased with this delightful country that I think of remaining here until Dame fortune sees fit to shine upon me. You will undoubtedly think I shall be under the necessity of spending my days here, &c. My health is extremely good and I am of the opinion it will so continue through the summer. I have not been to Texas yet and since the war has so nearly terminated, have given up the idea. I wonder my Uncle Sol did not raise a company and start for Texas. If he had, I would have joined him and we would have immortalized ourselves together (behind the same stump). Remember me to Uncle [&] Aunt Sol & Polly Wellman. 1
The Mississippi River continues very high and the people talk much of being visited by the Yellow Fever so soon as it falls. The low land is completely covered and the lakes and swamps are full. It has not been so high since 1828 and when it falls, it leaves the swamps full of animal and vegetable comption [decomposition] which, being exposed to the sun, causes the deadly diseases to walk forth among we poor mortals and mow us down like grass before the scythe. But this country at present is as healthy as any on the Globe and I shall not budge until I see more sickness than I have yet.
Our little City of Natchez is improving more this season than it has for the last ten years. The spirit of improvement is going on worthy of its old and new inhabitants. We have recently settled an Episcopal Minister—the Rev. [David C.] Page, a very smart and talented man. I was obliged to hire a pew in order to obtain a seat. I pay thirty dollars a year (almost enough to pay the minister in Cornish). We have one Orthodox and one Methodist Church besides the Catholic Church (which we have not got) was burnt down in 1832 and has not been yet rebuilt. We have three banks, three Insurance Companies, [&] a number of quite large public buildings. Natchez is about as large as two like Windsor and more business done in one day than ever was done in Windsor since its first stone was laid.
I do admire to ride out and visit some of the cotton plantations, some fields containing one hundred acres and upwards, perfectly level, with 50 to an hundred negroes who work with as much discipline as a military company. People are not considered worth anything unless they have two and three hundred negroes—every negro worth 1200 dollars. But I shall be content when I possess fifty. Some of our planters’ crops amount to one hundred thousands a year and from that as low as five. My plantation was under water last year and I made no cotton of any consequence and am fearful I shall be served the same this [year], but I hope for the best and am prepared for the worst.
I am ten thousand times oblige[d] to Dear Uncle Sam [Putnam] for his short epistle and can afford to thank Ann about once for what she wrote. I trust I shall have the pleasure of receiving a long letter from yourself, Ann, Maria, and Uncle—all. How does my niece Miss Polly Adams Peories, Putter, Penelope, Penecete Underwood Marble—or whatever her name may be for I do not yet know. Ask her to write it down and forward it. Excuse the miserable scrawl and believe me your obedient servant, — Geo. H. Marble
[to] John L. Putnam
My respects to your Lady.
Tell my brother I wrote to him a few days since.
Martin Van Buren & Liberty!
1 George is referring to the Texas Revolution in 1835-36, and to his Uncle Solomon (“Sol”) Wellman (1758-1841), a veteran of the American Revolution, who was in his 70s at the time. Sol was married to Polly Putnam (1769-1848)—a sister of George’s mother. The Wellman’s lived in Cornish.
An AI generated image of Edmund based on a tiny post-war image of him on Ancestry.com
The following nine letters were written by Edmund A. Blackmar (1841-1873), the son of Joseph Blackmar (1788-1874) and Mahala Munyan (1797-1862) of Thompson, Windham county, Connecticut. Edmund enlisted in January 1862 to serve as a private in Co. E, 13th Connecticut Infantry. He was quickly promoted to corporal. On 21 May 1863 he was taken prisoner at Washington, Louisiana, but was quickly paroled, and mustered out on 6 January 1865 after three years service. After the war, he settled in Thompson where he became a merchant but died in 1873 at the age of 32. Military records generally spell his given name as “Edmond” but his signature and cemetery records spell it Edmund. He was married to Olive Salyes (1844-1916) after the war.
Edmund’s correspondence provides limited insight into the conflict in Louisiana; however, it reveals that despite his assertion that his “spirits remained high,” his enthusiasm for the war had significantly waned after three years of service. In his letter dated 12 July 1864, he expressed his eagerness to leave the army, stating he yearned for a place where he could live in peace and retirement, free from the cacophony of the bugle and drum, viewing the uniformed soldiers with a sense of disdain and abhorrence. He candidly remarked that he held little regard for the war itself. Additionally, it is noteworthy that he admired Gen. George B. McClellan, a surprising sentiment considering he had never served under his command. During his tenure with the regiment, they were deployed in Louisiana within the Department of the Gulf, and by 1864, they had become part of Gen. Sheridan’s Army of the Shenandoah.
Most of these letters were directed to Edmund’s older brother, Lemuel K. Blackmar (1819-1900) who was a miller in Thompson, Connecticut. Throughout his letters, Edmund enquires about his older brother William Blackmar who served in the 11th Connecticut Infantry, Co. G. William entered the service in November 1861 and was mustered out on 4 December 1864. He was wounded on 9 May 1864 at Swift’s Creek, Virginia. Like Edmund, he entered the service as a private and mustered out as a corporal.
Letter 1
New Orleans August 21, 1862
Dear Sister,
I received your letter the 20th inst. and was glad to hear that you were all well after that cup of sorrow that was presented to your lips by the death of a loved and loving mother. Is it possible that I never shall behold her face again, never hear that voice which was never raised but for my good. To think that the grave must forever be her bed is more I fear than my nature can endure. She leaves behind her a son that mourns the loss of a kind and affectionate mother and one that will cherish the advice that she has ever given me. While she leaves behind her husband to mourn her loss, he must remember that she has ever fulfilled the duties of a wife and as a mother. But I fear it will be the means of bringing him to the grave; but tell him to be of good cheer. The day is not far distant when they will meet never to part again.
But I must bring my letter to a close hoping you will write as often as possible. Excuse the poor penmanship for I wrote it in a hurry.
Dear Niece, I am glad that you had not quite forgotten me and took pains to write. You say there is considerable excitement there on account of the supposition there that they are agoing to draft. But you must keep up good courage. It may be your father will not be drafted. I think that if the President gets his 600,000 men into the field, I shall be home by next April (if I ever do). I am well and hope this letter will find you the same. So goodbye for the present. Write soon and often.
Give my love to Lemuel & tell him to write us often as he can for I want to hear from him. This is from your brother, — E. A. Blackmar
Letter 2
Camp at Baton Rouge, La. February 15th 1863
Dear Sister,
It is with considerable difficulty that I address your letter for I am sick in the hospital and my nerves are very unsteady. But I am in hopes ere many days I shall feel better.
I have no mother to care for me now—no one to speak words of comfort when you feel sad and lonely. No one knows the value of a mother until they are deprived of them. Little did I think when I left home ere one short year had passed away that I should lose a mother and sister. But it shows how very uncertain is life and how certain death comes when you least think of it.
But I must shorten my letter for my hand trembles so I guess you can’t read it. I hope next time I write that I shall feel better and can writes to that you can read it. Give my love to all the folks and tell Lemuel to write if he has time. So goodbye for the present. Believe me ever your brother, — Edmund A. Blackmar
Dear Mattie,
I will try and write a short answer to your letter which I received by the last mail, but am sorry that i can’t write a longer one to [you] but I hope that I may get better soon and then I will write you & Cally a long letter. I am glad you enjoyed yourself so well at your cousins but don’t think that a theatre is a good place for girls to go to. I should like o be there & hear you play on your new piano but don’t know how long it will be ere I should have a chance. But I must close hoping you will answer this as soon as convenient. From Ed. B.
Dear Cally, I am glad you took pains to write to me for I thought you had forgotten that you had such an uncle. I suppose you feel the loss of your mother greatly and well you may for there is no earthly friend that is so dear as a mother. Cally, be a good girl and remember the advice she has given you—you never will regret it. Give my respects to Wiliard and tell him I hope to see him soon. Often do I think of him. But I must close hoping you will answer this as soon as possible. From your uncle, — Edmund A. Blackmar
Letter 3
New Orleans [Louisiana] June 27th 1863
Dear Brother,
As I have not heard from you in some time, I thought I would write & see whether you were all dead or alive. I have received several letters from home and they said they did not see you very often, but it may be you don’t get time as it is [a] rather busy time of the year up that way. Are you going to help Mr. Chandler cut his hay this year? And if you do, what pay do you get per day?
I only wish I was at home to help my poor father cut his hay for I am afraid that he will work himself sick & then there would be no one to care for him. How does he get along with his work? I should think he must be all behind unless he has hired considerable.
Do you ever hear anything from William? Alas, poor boy. Little thought he when he passed out from under his father’s roof to help put down this rebellion that it would be so long a time ere he should see the loved ones at home and then only to witness a home bereft of all its charms; to see a vacant seat by the fireside where once the pride of one’s home is and the guide to our future happiness.
Let us not dwell upon this subject. You know as well as me the loss of such a mother. May her life be an example to her whole household, or family.
I hear that the rebels have again invaded the soil of Pennsylvania and are doing considerable damage and yet the President dares not send the hero of this war [McClellan] to drive the invaders from our soil. Loudly do the returned soldiers call for their gallant leader to take command of them—but no, he is a Democrat and Old Abe sees pretty plainly that he is fast paving his way toward the seat he now occupies. And the three-year’s men will be at home to cast their vote for their beloved leader if they will only let them.
If they find Abe Lincoln in that office again, you can behold, if your life is spared, the broken fragments of a once glorious and prosperous Union (mark my word).
But I must close with an apology for the poor penmanship and hope I shall have something more than my lap to write on next time. Tell Mattie and Cally to write and your wife also. But she will write in your place for I don’t expect to get one from you. Give my regards to all and believe me ever your brother, — E. A. Blackmar
Letter 4
Thibodaux, Louisiana October 8th, 1863
Dear Brother,
It has been some time since I have received a letter from you and thinking perhaps you are waiting for me to write, I will improve what few leisure moments I have at the present time in telling you how I am getting along a soldiering.
My health is very good at the present time and my greatest desire is that it may be spared to once more meet the ones I love at home. Yet life is so uncertain—especially in the army. At times I have seen those that appeared well in the morning and ere the sun set in the West, he was a lifeless corpse. Elijah N. Whitman was or had been sick for a few days when he was taken to the hospital and he was getting along so well that the steward of the hospital told him to report for duty in his company. This was at night he told him, before eating his supper, and in less than two hours he was dead. The exposures the soldier has to endure will break down the strongest man. And if I live to get home and they bring me another rebellion, they will have to put it down for all my helping them do it.
I had a letter from William the other day and he seemed to think that he should live to see home once more. Yet for all that, he may be mistaken. Mr. Plumber, he says, has married a Southern lady and is going to send her home to take care of the children. I think if she is able to take care of herself, she will do well and much better than the majority of the Southern ladies are in the habit of doing.
How does father get along with his farming and his housekeeper? You were not drafted. I believe Joe’s folks told me. But still you may yet. I am afraid that it could fall upon Joe for it would be just his luck. But I must bring my letter to a close, hoping I shall receive an answer in due time. Give my love to all of the folks and tell them to write often. Tell Mattie and Cally to write. I will not ask Margie for I think she will have to answer this.
Excuse bad writing for it was written in a hurry. Write often and believe me ever your brother, — Edmond A. Blackmar
Letter 5
Thibodaux, Louisiana December 15, 1863
Dear Brother,
Yours of the 14th ult. came to hand a few days ago and the reason I have not written before is because I was waiting for the mail to be sent from the Express Office so to let you know that everything was all right and I have sent Joseph his bounty checks for him to get cashed and you can get your pay of him this time or wait about two or three weeks and then I shall send home more and I want you should take such interest as will pay you and if you can send 100 dollars more I can do well on it and I will give you greater interest than your money is now getting. And there is not much risk to run if you get it insured. I had to pay $6 on that package and I would like to have that money as soon as it could possibly be got here. For by the time it arrived, they would be rather short of [ ] and they would perhaps take less.
Direct your letters to Co. E, 13th Regt. Conn. Vols, New Orleans, La. That is sufficient.
I want you should tell Mattie and Luie to send their pictures that I may see how they have grown. I received a picture from Jane today of my anglel Mother and I could hardly make myself believe the sad truth that her form no more graced the old home as it was wont a few short months ago.
Brother, home has lost its charms for me. The only being that could make me happy at home has left us to give place (to what) another (God forbid). Rather let the old home moulder and decay and not leave a vestige of it remaining than to see my father married to another woman. But I will drop this subject for it makes me feel very unpleasant to dwell upon it.
I hope you will not be as tardy as you usually are about writing. Please send me the Providence Post or some paper to read. Give my respects to all and don’t forget in the meantime our aged father. Yours with respect and esteem, — Edmond A. Blackmar
to L. K. B
Letter 6
Headquarters of United States Forces Thibodaux, Louisiana January 23, [1864]
Dear Brother,
Your kind letter was received the 20th ult. and I found enclosed a receipt for a package of money you had sent. And to make myself doubly sure, I procured a pass and went over to New Orleans and I found a package for me said to contain 100 dollars. I paid $1.50 Express freight and took the money which is a much better way than to trust it to mail carriers.
My health is very good but I am sorely afflicted either sore eyes which is a thing I don’t admire much. I am sorry to hear that Willard B. Sumner has enlisted for he is naturally of so wild nature and if I am not much mistaken, he will plunge himself into all sorts of description which will virtually end in destroying all good morals (that is, if he ever had any) and make him unfit for any pursuit of life—even to the most humble one.
I can say for one that no ardent spirits of any kind has ever passed my lips since I have been in this army unless it was ordered by doctor. But how does things get along up in old Connecticut? Is everything prospering as usual? I presume there is quite a contrast between one of the New England States and one of the Southern for here the laborer has left all pursuits of life and have gone to war to try and see if they could not overthrow one of the best governments that the light of heaven ever shed its genial light upon. But their labors have not been crowned with success. After compelling all white male citizens between the ages of fourteen and sixty and they look now like savages than like the noble face they were represented to be in history. The circle is fast contracting and soon they will not have territory enough left them to form a line of battle.
But I must bring my letter to a close for I thin kI have written more than you will care to read unless it would be more interesting than what I think this will be to you. Give my respects to all my friends who feel themselves disposed to enquirer. I wish you would tell Mattie and Luie to send their pictures. I have got Emdinah & Ellen. If any of those checks are not good, tell J__ to send them back & I will procure another. Yours with respect, — Edmond A. Blackmar
Letter 7
Morganza June 16, 1864
Dear Brother,
As it is some time since I have heard from you, I thought I would briefly write a few lines that you may know that I am well as usual. I wrote to you some two weeks ago; have you received it or not? I sent you either nine or ten bounty checks and not hearing from you, I supposed the Rebels had captured the boat that they were on as they captured some two or three boats with mails on.
When you receive this, I want you should answer it as soon as practicable. And if you have received them, I want you should lend me two hundred dollars if you can spare it—that is, if you have received those last checks I sent and if not, don’t send me but $100 unless you can spare more. For what little time I have got to I want to make it pay. I have only about seven months and fifteen days to stop.
The weather is exceedingly warm and the small pox is breaking out close by us. One of our company has got it and I don’t know whether he was left in Alexandrea in the hands of the Rebels or whether he was sent to Orleans.
Have you heard whether Wiliard was wounded or not? And if not, please give me his address. Someone told me they saw an account in the paper where the 11th Connecticut was badly cut up & they saw a list of the names of the killed and wounded and they said that one name they particularly noticed William Blackmar was wounded. Is that possible? And if correctly stated, not bad but slight. May it be the latter instead of the former, for I would hate to hear that he was wounded bad for a man that is sick or wounded cannot expect any care & will drag out a miserable existence until the stern messenger Death relieves him of his suffering.
I must bring my letter to a close hoping you will answer this in due season. Give my love to all the folks & tell them to write often. What are the folks doing up home? Tell father that I am well and in good spirits. Believing ever your brother, — Edmund A. Blackmar
To Lemuel K. Blackmar
Letter 8
Camp of the 13th Regt. Conn. Volunteers Alyers [Algiers—opposite New Orleans, La.] July 12, 1864
Dear Brother,
As I have a few leisure moments, I thought I would briefly answer your kind letter which was received the 8th inst. It found me enjoying good health although in a varied and unhealthy climate. I [was] much surprised to hear that William was at home on a furlough & even more so to hear that he was so fortunate as to receive such a slight wound. In all probability, the campain in Pennsylvania will be nearly ended. Mr. Plumb, I suppose, has received his just deserves. Wiliard—have you heard anything from him since those great battles in Virginia? I guess that Grant don’t find it so easy a task to take Richmond as he imagined (what do you think?). But I must bring my letter to a close for I have not much time. I must endeavor to answer Maggie and Mollie’s letter. I should think that the poor class of people would find it a difficult matter to earn enough to obtain a living & a scanty subsistence at that. But I must close hoping you will continue your correspondence. Believing me ever your brother, — Ed. Blackmar
Dear Sister, I have not much to write in answer to your brief but kind letter which I received the 8th ultimo. I am glad to answer to you that I am in good health and am desirous of next January to bid adieu to the army and go to some place where I can live in peace and retirement and away from the sound of the bugle and drum or anything that has any connection with the army for I despise the looks and view them only with abhorrence that wear a uniform. So you can perceive that I don’t think much of this war. But I must close my letter but endeavor to do better next time. I hope you will write as often as circumstances will admit. Yours with much respect, — E. A. Blackmar
Dear Niece, in reply to your kind letter I am sorry to say that I have not heard from you in some four months & I cannot well account for it. It may be because I have not written to you before. But that should be no excuse for circumstances would not admit of my writing before because I have been upon the march & had not an opportunity to wrote—only the answers to letters I received. I endeavor to do this promptly and with[out] any hesitation on my part. But let us hope that our correspondence will be kept up & if at any time I am not as prompt in my replies, believe that I am in a place where my position will not admit it. Give my love to all the folks and tell Cally to write. From your Uncle. — Edmund A. Blackmar
Letter 9
Addressed to Mr. Lemuel K. Blackmar, Thompson, Connecticut
Camp in the Shenandoah Valley September 5, 1864
Dear Brother,
Thinking you would like to hear how I am getting along, I will take this opportunity while on picket to let you know that I find it not very easy soldiering in Virginia. We had not been here more than two hours before we were ordered to the front. The same night there was a pretty hard fight but our Corps were not engaged but were exposed to a fire from the enemy’s artillery But night put an end to battle. Our loss was great for the very reason we were the attacking party and had to assault their works. As soon as the firing ceased, we fell back and constructed some earthworks and are now acting on the defensive. 1
About midnight I was called up to go on picket & such picket duty you don’t often read about. We were stationed behind a wall &, after daylight, you could not show your head above the wall without being shot at. And not only one shot, but 6 volleys were fired at us.
September 7th. Our Brigade has gone out to feel the enemy but I guess they won’t have far to go before they will find them. The reason I did not go out with them, I was over to the 18th Regt. I saw John Buchanan, Tyler Bates, Silas Gifford and quite a number of other men that used to live out at or around Quaddick [CT].
What do the folks think of the nomination [by the Democrats] of Little Mac for President? He will not run well in the army since our recent victory in Atlanta. They say give them a few more men & they will make peace that will last. There is no dependence to be put in the soldiers. you tell James M___, but eventually something may present itself in the shape of a defeat that will make McClellan’s stock go up again.
I must bring my letter to a close hoping I shall hear from you in due season. Tell Mattie to write off that long [ ] f Mother [ ]. Tell all the folks I am well and am delighted to think they can’t hold me only about four months more. Tell M___ to write. Tell Mary I want to know whether she has seen her colt lately or not. Has Luis caught as large a string of fish as he did when I was there? Give my love to all the folks and believe me as ever your brother. — Edmund A. Blackmar
Excuse this poor display of penmanship for the facilities for writing are not of the best. Yours with much respect , — E. A. B.
Address Co. E, 13th Regt. Conn. Vols., 19th Army Corps, Washington D. C.
1 This engagement was fought on the road between Berryville and Winchester, Va.
This image of Charles loosely based on a poor deathbed photograph of him in 1871.
This lengthy letter was written by Charles Ferdinand Holst (1813-1871), a native of Copenhagen, Denmark, who first married Ida Eliza “Jennette” Chabert (1810-1863) in the German Lutheran Church in Philadelphia. Pa. in July 1833. By 1840, Charles had relocated to Chester, South Carolina, where he was employed as a Master Carriage Maker. His original home in Chester stood at 116 Pinckney Street. After his wife died in June 1863, he began a courtship with Mrs. Isabella Ann (Roberts) Woodruff, the widow of Theophilus Woodruff, who lived in Abbeville, South Carolina. I don’t know the date of their marriage but it no doubt occurred sometime between the date of this letter in 1865 and January 1866.
Charles had at least five children by his first wife—Alvenia Otelia (b. 1834), Ida Eugenia (b. 1848), Charles Emile (b. 1850), Oscar Ferdinand (b. 1852), and Augustus O. (b. 1857). With Isabella, Charles had two more children, Wilhelmina Morton (b. 1866), and Theodore Russell (b. 1869).
Charles’ letters speaks of the devastation in South Carolina caused not only by Sherman’s 1865 campaign through the Carolinas but by Confederate cavalry and infantry who were forced to live off the land and who, frankly, robbed and stole objects of value from their own citizens.
[My thanks to Nancy Fink for preparing a first draft of this transcription. The letter is from the collection of Gregg Herr and was made available for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
T R A N S C R I P T I ON
Addressed to Mrs. Isabella A. Woodruff, Abbeville Court House, South Carolina
Chester [South Carolina] 5 March 1865 (Sunday)
My dear, previous loved one,
Again I must explain with the sufferer upon the cross, “O God, why has thou forsaken me?” At last and unexpected—for I had given up all idea of hearing from you for months to come—Mr. Burt placed in my hands your long dear letters of 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12th February. Came Monday 27th February, by what route or how, I cannot tell. From the beginning of our engagement I said physical pain can be endured [ ] & was found fault with. How is it now with you? My own state I can tell in a few words—Hunger, Thirst, Fatigue… I have suffered for nearly two months & O God, it is not only me suffering but I feel for you, my soul’s treasure is passing through the same ordeal & for causes beyond our control. A letter or language cannot tell what I feel or how I suffer. Difficulties fall to every man’s lot, but those that I and we now pass through are nearly beyond endurance—and for what? If God permits us ever to meet again, we then can unburthen our hearts and tell each other our love & sufferings. But my heart and head is now so full—thought crowds upon thought that I cannot tell you half what I want. This must be permitted by an all-wise Providence for some purpose, but in God’s Holy name, let the end come soon.
My dearest, if it were not for the hope that some day I may fold you in my arms as loving wife and as such, you by kindness will wipe out all this sorrow, I would go mad. As it is, I cannot think or act as I used to.
McDowell’s conduct is mysterious & absolutely mean. What can possess the woman? Has your coming to our house which she herself advised produced this change? or is it because she fools herself surrounded with difficulties that she must act mean towards you? May God have mercy upon her and her children.
You fear I “may be next.” My dearest Isabella, through God’s guidance…we learned to love each other, and each have pledged before God to be true to each other, and I now declare before High Heaven if there is honor, truth, and love in man, you and only you have all I can give the women I sincerely love. You say, “My heart is perhaps foolishly sensitive but God made it so.” Let it be sensitive. Do not fret and harass yourself about the love of a man who by his words & conduct has proved that he loves you above all things on earth. You wish to place your hand in mine and press your head upon my shoulder. I wish it more. I desire at this moment to hold you in my arms and impress a thousand kisses upon those pure lips that have never been polluted by other kisses.
You of course hear ten thousand rumors—some are true, but the most false. We have neither railroad communication, papers or mails. We are in perfect darkness. You no doubt have heard that Chester is burned to ashes which, thank God, is as yet not so. This has made much talk between myself and children as of course you would feel anxious for us. We know that Abbeville, both town and depot are safe. I shall do now as I done two Sundays ago, send in two envelopes to have a chance that at least one may reach you.
Joseph Wheeler, Confederate Cavalry
We are in the most intense excitement. [Joseph] Wheeler’s Cavalry of infamous fame—over 5,000 men & horses—have left us. In a letter I cannot describe the outrages & depredations they as Friends & Defenders done us & our people. [They] stole horses and mules everywhere. [In] my neighborhood, T. T. McLure lost 13 mules, E. C. McLure took all but one old mule, M. Douglas 18 mules, took corn and fodder by wagon loads and wasted it on the roads, Bacon & ch. News of course went [out and] people who had valuables buried had them dug up & lost. M. McDonald all his silver, two gold watches, and $4,000. Preacher White buried his silver in the graveyard—all gone. Now we can understand how those men got to have so many gold watches & spoons & silver forks in their boots—robbed the people!
Friday & Saturday came in 7,000 infantry, 20 pieces artillery, and some cavalry—all muddy and hungry. Our commissaries were destroyed—no rations for the men or horses. To our great annoyance, the men went from house to house asking for something to eat but unfortunately Wheeler’s men left us but very little to share with them. This morning I saw what I never have seen, thousands of dirty, worn out men as soldiers marching past our house to go to Charlotte, North Carolina by railroad to fight Sherman, but he is too smart for us. Gen. Johnston is now again in command so something may be done. If he had not been removed, Savannah, Charleston and Columbia would never have fallen into Yankee hands. But it is done. Charleston has been burned from North Carolina Railroad Depot & many lives lost by fire & explosion at Depot. Charleston is garrisoned by Negro troops. Oh God! What a humiliation.
Columbia is burned from Old Statehouse all through Main street to Cotton Town—54 blocks all in ashes. Our friend Mrs. Sarah Crawford who lived in the very last house is also burnt out. 15 houses in Winnsboro [are burned] so I fear Mrs. McN is also a sufferer. Our railroad from four miles above Winnsboro to Columbia is completely torn up. No travel on it for months to come. Your railroad from Belton may soon be finished but what shall we do? Dr. T. W. Campbell, where E. J. was, is burned out and he taken prisoner, so no use to think of him. In fact, all is confusion everywhere and there is one momentous evil which we all see—famine & starvation is staring us in the face. Wheeler’s Cavalry and now infantry by thousands have devastated the country. The Yankees have ruined Fairfield and part of Chester Dept. No mules or horses to cultivate the soil with. What are we to do?
Yankees were six miles from Chester & York, and to their disgrace, all the men run from Chester & York leaving their wives and children to chance. [They] can neither buy ornaments, flour, or meat. Abbeville has not been visited as we have, so with all your troubles, you are better off than we are at this moment. Of your personal safety, I have no fears. God will take care of you—of that I am certain. But where are you now? McDowell’s conduct is outrageous….[more personal correspondence]
May God throw his protecting arms around you are the prayers of your loving and affectionate husband before God, — C. Holst
It is Sunday, but utter confusion. Smiths are at work burning my coal and iron. Troops camping all around. Mr. Thorp appears to be a very cleaver man. He lives about a mile from Greenwood. The railroad agent knows him well. If possible, you see him. He can tell you all about our establishment. I put your name down on his memorandum book. When in Abbeville, he will call upon you if you are there & if you are not, would send $200 by him, but now it us useless to do so. He says soldiers are coming our way from his section as railroad to Columbia and above is ruined. they come on foot here to go to Virginia.
Do try all you can to send letters. I have done it & shall do again. The only possible way for you to come here is from Newberry by private conveyance. We do want you, but what will you get here? O! such a life to live. You say if I cannot support a wife, I cannot support a guest. This may be or not be. Dearest love, as much as I want you, it would be folly—yea wrong. to marry you now. You and I would be fools to do so now. We are now beginning to feel the real pressure of the war and then to drag the woman I love into such—no never!!! If you were my wife, well we would have to meet and bear it together & the burthen would be lightened for both. What would your Mother and friends say? That man must be crazy not to wait until prospects brighten.
In the other letter I stated that it is my wish that my daughters Alvena Dunlevy, Louisa & Eugenia should in the event of my death give to Mrs. Isabella A. Woodruff, my betrothed wife, my gold watch, Danish Cornelian Breast Pin made out of a $5 gold piece to make a gold ring inlaid with my hair & I add now my silver Pen___ & Gold Pen with which I have written hundreds of letters to her, signed by her betrothed husband, C. Hobst. Oh God, what anguish I have & do suffer. No tongue or pen can tell. I cannot write to your mother now. The Yankees are running trains from Charleston to Branchville and are repairing the track to Columbia. Whether they mean to hold Columbia and the people as real starvation is on them & soon will be there….
…when spring opens and roads in order, in God’s name come to me, shall leave no room for remarks about you, if there are any prospects & we will marry. I prefer death in any shape to live without you. Oh God, send us peace. — C. H.
The following letter was written by Abel Hartley Comstock (1840-1926), the son of Isaac Dailey Comstock (1809-1900 and Eliza Rozell (1812-1879). He wrote the letter to his cousin, Mary D. Rozell.
Abel enlisted in Co. K of the 11th Pennsylvania Cavalry (108th Volunteers)—sometimes called “Harlan’s Light Cavalry.” He served from 31 August 1861 to 1 September 1864.
The 11th Pennsylvania Cavalry was ordered to Fortress Monroe, Virginia, in mid-November 1861 and they remained there on duty at nearby Camp Hamilton until May 1862. Comstock’s letter speaks of the arrival of infantry at Camp Hamilton as McClellan began his build up for launching the Peninsula Campaign.
Abel was a poor speller and I have corrected most of it so it could be read more easily but left a sentence or two spelled as he wrote it.
It is with pleasure that I am seated to inform you that I am well at present and hope these few intended lines may reach you and find you enjoying the same blessing.
Well, Mary, I have not much to write today. I have not written to yo before so if I make any mistakes, don’t think hard of it for you know that I am a careless boy anyhow and always were. But I will try to do the best that I can.
Well, I guess that I will give you a little history of soldiering. I think that it is a hard life. Well here is some of it. You can guess at it for yourself. We took down our tents Sunday to march and it has rained ever since and we have laid on the ground so if you call that comfortable, then I have nothing more to say. But when the weather is fair again and the ground gets dry again and the wind is fair, we will march on with the army which is 150,000 strong. They are going to Richmond to make the rebels retreat or take a flogging if we don’t get defeated in it. And I hope that we will have good luck and take the remainder of Old Jeff’s army and ketch him so that he will make no more disturbensing whair for if I could git him I wold use his head for a wash dish until it began to leak and then fead it to the dogs.
Well, Mary, I will stop writing about war for I expect that you are tired of hearing it mentioned. So I will tell you of something else, I saw Lew Rozell Sunday and Emry. They were well and fat as fools and black as a nigger. They say that they like it first best with the exceptions of lying on the ground. Sam Lilly is with them. You can tell Lib that he is well and looks like the same old chap yet.
Pardon Covey and James Rozell are well and kicking yet. I believe Vink Covey is in the 52nd too but I did not see him. But he is well, so the Boys say. I had to run away to get to see Loran and had to run the picket guard to get there and stood a good chance of getting shot in the operation but nothing ventured, nothing had, so I tried it and got through.
So I will close for it is late so goodbye for the present. So write soon. From your affectionate [cousin] — A. H. Comstock
To Mary P. Rozell
M. D. Write soon. Give my best respects to all if they wish it but not without goodbye but not forever, for I think that I will see you again.
Spared & Shared 23 