My passion is studying American history leading up to & including the Civil War. I particularly enjoy reading, transcribing & researching primary sources such as letters and diaries.
The following letter was written by Levi (“Lee”) Edmund Chenoweth (1840-1923), the son of Thomas Foster Chenoweth (1808-1886) and Christena Thomas (1810-1886). At the time of the 1860 US Census, 19 year-old Lee was enumerated in his parents household where he was employed farming with his father in Washington township, Darke county, Ohio.
I could not find an image of Lee in his uniform but here is one of Abraham Mosier who served in Co. D of the 69th OVI (Paul Loane Collection)
On the 13th of May, 1861, Lee enlisted as a private in Co. K, 11th Ohio Volunteer Infantry (OVI) for three months’ service, and was honorably discharged 17 August 1861. He re-enlisted on 25 October 1861 in Co. E, 69th OVI and was appointed Commissary Sergeant of the regiment on 1 February 1863, at Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and soon after appointed Quartermaster Sergeant for the entire regiment. He re-enlisted as veteran on 26 February 1864 at Chattanooga, Tennessee and was discharged from service as Quartermaster 1st Lieutenant of Co. H, 69th OVI and, on same day, was appointed Quartermaster of the regiment. He was then appointed Brigade Quartermaster on the staff of Gen. Buell commanding 2d Brigade, 1st Division, 14th Army Corp, Goldsboro, N.C., March 27, 1865. He mustered out as the Captain of Co. I, 69th OVI. He was present at the following battles: Stone River Chickamauga, Lookout Mountain, Mission Ridge – Ringgold, Snake Creek Gap, Buzzard’s Roost, Resaca, New Hope Church, Kennesaw Mountain, Marietta, Chattahoochie River, Peach Tree Creek, siege of Atlanta, Jonesboro and Savannah and Goldsboro N.C.
Since the war, has been engaged in the grocery business, miller, engineer, merchant tailoring boot and shoe store, foundry and machine shop and a traveling salesman, handling school furniture and supplies, in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Pennsylvania, West Virginia and Canada. On the 5th day of December 1875, in the Supreme Court of Ohio, he was duly admitted to practice the law since which time he has been engaged in the business of his profession. He married, on the 3d of July, 1867, Effie A. Arnold, daughter of Noah Arnold, Esq., of Jasville, Darke Co.
Lee wrote the letter to his friend, Joshua Jefferis (1837-1918), the son of Darlington Jefferis (1796-1880) and Mary Potter (1801-1865) of Darke county, Ohio.
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Addressed to Joshua Jefferis, Esqr., German P. O., Darke county, Ohio
Murfreesboro, Tennessee March 3rd 1863
Friend Joshua, dear sir,
Having a few idle moments this afternoon, I will improve them by writing you a brief letter and to begin I will just state that we are all well & able for our rations. The weather is fine & roads are drying up fast. Vegetation begins to make its appearance, meadows are getting green, and the forest is brightening & everything gives evidence of an early spring. The boys have just been paid off & are very light-hearted & cheerful. We are not half so sick of the war as we were one year ago from this date. We have stood up to the toils, privations and sufferings of the war this long & we are bound to stick to the willows till the last horn is blowed—till the last enemy is killed or subjugated—till the Stars & Stripes wave triumphantly over the last state, county, or district in the Southern Confederacy. It can be done & I would wager my interest in the future world that it will be done.
Rosecrans can soon do his portion of the work if Grant & Hooker will do theirs & it is my candid conviction that ere 12 months more shall have rolled round, peace and tranquility will reign in the United States. We can stand it another year & if needs be, the fall term. I would like to come home & see all my friends as much as any man living, but I have not the remotest idea of so doing until the close of the war. You might as well try to get brains out of a cannon ball or farts out of a dead man as to try to get a furlough for 10 or 15 days.
I presume our stay at this place will be but brief as I am told by a reliable man that General Rosecrans is only waiting for the roads to get in condition.
I have not seen or heard from William Jefferis for some time but think he is yet in hospital at Nashville. Abner Haines died here yesterday morning from erysipelas & was buried today.
Our forage train was attacked about eight miles out yesterday. Our boys went into them vigorously & killed and captured nearly the entire rebel force amounting to near 300 men. The Rebels are deserting and coming to our forces daily. There is seldom a day passes without a squad of from 15 to 30 comes over. 28 came in yesterday morning and some in the evening. I have seen none today.
As there is nothing of any particular importance transpiring just now, I will close hoping that you will respect my missive & reply soon. Give my respects to Milton & Louisa. Also to Mr. Jefferis & family. Yours &c., — Levi E. Chenoweth, Com. Sergeant, 69th Ohio
Address 2nd Brigade, 2nd Division, 14th Army Corps, Murfreesboro, Tenn.
I could not find an image of George but here is a CDV of Edward C. Morehouse who also served in the 2nd New York Cavalry (Co. C) (Photo Sleuth)
The following letter was written by George M. Warner (1843-1864) who enlisted at age 18 on 21 August 1861 at Fairhaven, Vermont, to serve three years in Co. F, 2nd New York Cavalry—a.k.a. Harris Light Cavalry. He was captured on 3 November 1863 at Stevensville and eventually taken to Andersonville Prison in Georgia where he died on 27 July 1864.
The Harris Light Cavalry suffered heavy casualties at Beverly Ford and Aldie, Virginia, in the early phase of the Gettysburg campaign while the Army of the Potomac was en route to Pennsylvania. It was not engaged at Gettysburg, being stationed at Westminster, Maryland, instead, so one has to wonder as to the validity of George’s letter which describes his having been momentarily taken a prisoner in the cavalry fight on 3 July 1863 at Gettysburg when his horse was shot out from under him as Kilpatrick’s 2nd New York Cavalry attacked the rear of Lee’s infantry. It was in this attack, where Kilpatrick continuously charged the heavily fortified Confederate right flank, suffering heavy losses, that he earned the nickname “Kill-cavalry.”
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Headquarters Harris Light Cavalry Camp at Warrington Junction August 3, 1863
Dear Cousin,
I received your letter some time ago and I was very glad to hear from you. I suppose, Eddy, that you expected to hear from me a good while ago but since we came out of Maryland, we could not get any paper nor envelopes and while we was in Maryland, I could not get time to write because we did not stop in one place long enough.
Eddy, I did not tell Mardin in my last letter how I was taken prisoner. I was taken at Gettysburg. We made a charge and I was along Gen. Kilpatrick and we charged onto some rebel infantry and I had my horse shot and they took me prisoner, took my arms away from me, and started to go to their rear when our cavalry came down upon them again and I jumped over a fence and got away from them so I saved myself from going to Richmond, I believe, but that was the hardest fight we ever had. It beats Bulls Run and Fredericksburg all to nothing because we got whipped, I suppose, at both of those places.
Eddy, I have but little news to write to you. Oh, I must tell you one thing. I went yesterday about five miles to get my picture taken and I when I got there, the darned artist had gone and pulled up stakes and left for Washington, I guess, to get more things, and if he did, he will be back and if he does, I will get my face taken. But I want you and Mardin and Frank to get yours taken and send to me.
Tell Frank that I should like to hear from her very much indeed. Give my love to her and to all of your folks. Where is Eugene now? I suppose that he will be drafted, won’t he? Eddy, I suppose you will be out here before a great while, won’t you? I suppose it is pretty dull times in __worth at the present time, is it not?
Well, Ed, I must close now so goodbye. Please write soon. Please accept this from, — George M. Warner, Esq.
Give my love to Father. Ed, send me some stamps please.
This letter was written by Clarissa (“Clara”) Dwight Marsh (1834-1899), the daughter of Henry Marsh, Jr. (1797-1852) and Sarah Whitney (1796-1883). Clara’s father was an 1815 graduate of Williams College and lived in Dalton, Massachusetts from 1821 to 1840 where he was a lawyer, a merchant, a farmer and wool grower, and a wool dealer and manufacturer. In 1840 he moved with his family to Pittsfield, Massachusetts, where he lost his savings with the failure of the Ashuelot Manufacturing Company. In 1843 he went to Racine, Wisconsin, in 1846 to Sandusky City, Ohio, and in 1850 to St. Louis, Missouri, engaging in the mercantile and produce business. He died of cholera in June 1852 but had managed to put three sons through Williams College and afforded his daughters, Clara, and Elizabeth (“Lizzie”) Willard Marsh (1829-1882), some outstanding educational advantages as well.
How Clara might have looked
Lizzie “was educated at Maplewood, Pittsfield, Mt. Holyoke and Bradford Seminaries, and spent her life in teaching. She had a school in St. Louis and at Batavia, Illinois, and afterwards taught in private families in Pittsfield, Mass., Batavia, N. Y., and Hudson, Wisconsin. At the latter place on Lake St. Croix she made her home with her life-long friend, Susan (“Sue”) Ellen Lockwood (1830-1915), the wife Charles Wendell Porter and the daughter of Judge [Samuel Drake] Lockwood of Batavia, Illinois. She died at Hudson, Wisconsin, on 23 April 1882.”
Clara attended the Cooper Female Academy in Dayton, Ohio, in the early 1850s. She married Samuel Watkins Eager, Jr. of St. Louis, Missouri, in May 1857.
Clara does not state her destination in this letter but she was clearly heading east—or up-river—on the Illinois river on her way from St. Louis to LaSalle, Illinois, where we learn she expected to catch the Illinois Central railroad to Chicago and from there to points East. Most likely she was going east to the Cooper Female Academy in Dayton, Ohio. In those days, young ladies did not travel alone so she was probably being escorted by the “Mr. Rice” who is mentioned in the letter.
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Steamer Belle Gould 1 Illinois River July 13th 1853
My dearest Mother,
I thought you might like to hear how I had got along so far though I have not yet come to a stopping place. I am afraid you cannot read this, there is so much motion to the boat, but perhaps [brother] Waldo can decipher it. I have enjoyed much thus far & my eyes are not worse though I have looked out on the water a good deal. I have been up in the pilot house all this afternoon for this morning I nearly smothered in the cabin.
Last night we ran onto a snag & tore the guards on the bow of the boat—rather a narrow escape they say. I did not feel alarmed though I knew what was going on. You will see it in the papers before you get this. We shall hardly get into LaSalle for the morning train as the snag detained us last night, though we may if there is no delay at Spring Creek bar.
I hope you do not get very very lonely. I will write every week and I want to hear from you. The boat is stiller now, as you will see by the writing though this is by no means elegant. Now for the motion again.
Mr. Rice is very polite &c., and please tell Mr. Eager that I like Mr. Packard 2 very much. He let me steer a little ways this afternoon. He offered to take this letter back. Goodbye. Love to all—Waldo, Charlie, Henry, & remembrance to Mr. Eager and Mr. Webb. Tell Mary and Ann not to get sick. Goodbye Mother darling. God bless you. With lover as ever, your affectionate Clara
1 The Belle Gould was a side-wheel steamboat built in New Albany, Indiana, in 1852 for the St. Louis-Keokuk trade. She ran the Illinois River in 1853 and was the first steamboat to arrive in Peoria. She was snagged and sank at Island 25 below Cairo, Illinois on 3 March 1854.
2 I believe “Mr. Packard” may have been Capt. Bryant Rogers Packard (1821-1869) who was a steamboat captain residing at 1409 Papin Street in St. Louis, Missouri.He named his daughter “Belle Gertrude Packard (1858-1864).”
The following letter was written by Elijah Nye Harvey (1842-1903), the son of Enoch Dole Harvey (1811-1888) and Mary Hubbard Nye (1812-1859) of Lake Mills, Jefferson county, Wisconsin.
Elijah was a blacksmith by trade when he enlisted as a private in the 3rd Independent Battery, Wisconsin Volunteer Light Artillery on 22 August 1862 for three years service. At the time that Elijah wrote this letter in late March 1864, the battery was on garrison duty in the defenses of Chattanooga. They later moved to Murfreesboro and had garrison duty there until mustering out in July 1865.
Elijah wrote the letter to his younger brother, William Riley Harvey (1845-1917).
[Note: This letter is from the private collection of Greg Herr and was transcribed and published on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
Transcription
Addressed to Mr. W. R. Harvey, Lake Mills, Jefferson county, Wisconsin
Chattanooga, Tennessee March 25, 1864
Dear Brother,
I have been looking for a letter for a long time but it does not make its appearance as yet. Your 4 papers reached their destination on the 20th so I made up my mind that you were still on earth. I was very glad you sent them and like the paper very much.
We have been having a hard snowstorm. On the night of the 22nd, the snow fell so fast that on the 23rd, it measured 10 inches on the level. It also snowed last night but today, it has melted, and rains occasionally. I am in my tent today and have the blues in the highest degree. I have got tired of living, such a life. and being a slave for shoulder straps.
While I work hard all day at thirteen dollars a month, citizens are hired to do the same labor and receive $60 a month and don’t work any harder than I do and are no better workmen. Sometimes I think I will never raise a hammer again while I am in the army, but on the other hand, if I intend to work at my trade after this (which I do), it will be better for me to keep in practice. I get along with my work first rate but have lots of it to do. I don’t have time to much extra work at present but have 2 or 3 old colored friend that I always take time to work for and they always pay. Nothing pleases a Nigger more than to have a white man to trade with, and I have come to the conclusion that they are good customers.
Old Cap leaves the Battery in a few days, if reports are true, for Gen. Johnson’s staff. Livingston has resigned and we have the prettiest set of officers (over the left) you ever saw. Lieut. Colburn is a fine officer but he has charge of this train and nothing to do with the Battery.
I hope you will write often as you can and remember I am always anxious to hear from you. With love to all, I remain as ever yours truly, — Elijah
The following letter was written by Frederick P. Rowe (1842-1907), the son of John N. Rowe (1807-1880) and Sarah Electa Wilson (1813-1889) of Hurley, Ulster county, New York. At the time of his enlistment, he was described as a 5 foot, 10 inch tall farmer, with dark eyes, dark hair, and a dark complexion.
Frederick mustered into Co. A, 120th New York Infantry on 22 August 1862 as a private. He was mustered out of the regiment on 3 June 1865 as a corporal. According to muster roll records he was taken prisoner at Gettysburg on 2 July 1863 and was sent to Camp Parole at Annapolis to await exchange where he wrote the following letter in May 1864.
At Gettysburg, the 120th New York fought in Humphrey’s division. It became involved in the disaster of the second day’s battle on the Union left, but like the rest of the 3d corps, it fell back in good order to the second line, fighting as it went. Its casualties in this battle aggregated 30 killed, 154 wounded and 19 missing; total, 203. Eight officers were killed and 9 wounded in that battle.
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Addressed to Mr. Chauncey Rowe, West Hurley, Ulster county, New York
Camp Parole Annapolis, Maryland May 7th 1864
Dear cousin,
I now sit down to answer your welcome letter which I received the other day. I have neglected writing on the account of cleaning house. I have had my house painted and it makes lots of work for me. I have a barracks all alone by myself and I have got to keep that clean. The reason that I took it was because it was getting rather warm weather and there was so many in the old barracks that it wasn’t healthy.
There is a great many soldiers that dies here. There was 15 buried yesterday. They was those that just came from Richmond. There is more or less buried every day. I wish that those boys that is in Georgia was here. It think that they will see pretty hard times down there this summer for the weather is so warm there in the summer and they will be half starved. It will be doubtful if they ever get back. I hain’t heard from none of them since they left Richmond. That is the last that I heard from them. We expect to be exchanged every day and sent to the regiment. Then we will see a little harder times than we do here.
We have had very nice weather here for the last 4 or 5 weeks past. The apple trees has been in blossom a good while. They are out a planting their corn down here. They have to pay for oats one dollar and forty cents a bushel and for corn they pay 10 bits an ear. I think if you had to pay that, you would think that the world was coming to an end. Everything is in proportion. If this war keeps on a great while longer, I think that the poor [soldier] will have to go to the poor house. I do hope and pray that the war may be soon settled. I suppose that you all have to work very hard this summer. I think that wages is very high.
They are drafting every colored man in this place. Thy look wild down here because they are a drafting. I hope that they won’t need no more after this summer. There has been two or three negro regiments got up in the State of Maryland. I think that they will make very good soldiers. I hope so.
I have written you all the news so I shall have to close. Give my love to Chancy and Mary and all the rest. Please write just as soon as you get this. This is from your affectionate cousin, — Fred P. Rowe
The following letter was written by William J. Rowe (1840-1904), the son of Jacob and Jane (Campbell) Rowe of Kingston, Ulster county, New York. William enlisted at the age of 22 on 9 August 1862 to serve as a private in Co. B, 120th New York Infantry. At the time of his enlistment, William was described as a 5 foot 11 inch tall farmer with gray eyes, brown hair, and a dark complexion.
I could not find an image of William but here is one of Gordon B. Swift who also served in the 120th New York Infantry (Photo Sleuth)
He was taken prisoner at the Battle of James City, Virginia, on 10 October 1863 and eventually taken to Andersonville Prison in Georgia where he died of disease on 13 June 1864. He was buried in Grave No. 1940.
During the time that William was with the regiment, they fought in several important battles, including Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Mine Run, Spottsylvania, North Anna, Totopotomy, and Cold Harbor. During its service the 120th New York Infantry lost by death, killed in action, 10 officers, 87 enlisted men; of wounds received in action, 1 officer, 54 enlisted men; of disease and other causes, 3 officers, 181 enlisted men; total, 14 officers, 322 enlisted men; aggregate, 336; of whom 69 enlisted men died in the hands of the enemy—including William.
William wrote the letter to his cousin, William Rowe (b. 1840), the son of William and Margaret Rowe of Hurley, Ulster county, New York.
Transcription
February 28, 1863
Dear Cousin,
I now take my pen in hand in order to answer your kind letter which I just received. We are both enjoying good health at present and I hope that when this reaches you, it will find you the same. I enjoy a soldier’s life very well but I think I like home the best. You wanted to know how I or what I had to sleep on. You don’t think Uncle Sam would have his brave soldiers sleep on feathers, do you? No siree horsefly. We sleep on mahogany sofas and have pie and cake and sweet meats. But the best thing we get is pork and hard tack. We get coffee and sugar too.
You talk about girls. There is none out here where we are now but I saw lots of them at the Battle of Fredericksburg. I saw a fine black wench there that weighed about 300. I think I shall go in for her if I can get her. That is all the nice girls that I have seen since I have been out here.
The weather is rather unsettled out here. It storms most every day. The most of the boys are well now but they have been quite sickly. I don’t think we will stay here long. We have been building corduroy roads for the army to move. I think I am able to stand the blunt and get home yet.
So no more at present. From your affectionate cousin, — W. J. R.
Write as soon as you get this. Yours truly, — William J. Rowe
The following letter was written by Samuel Ware (1835-1864), a 27 year-old farmer from Conway, Massachusetts, when he enlisted and was mustered into service on July 10, 1862 as a private in Co. H, 1st Massachusetts Cavalry. Samuel was the son of Willard Ware (1799-1845) and Anna Edson (1811-1891). He was married to Jane Elizabeth Payne (1836-1909) in 1855. At the time of the 1860 US Census, Samuel and his wife were enumerated in Buckland, Franklin county, Massachusetts. The couple had two children—Lucy War, born 19 September 1857, and Mary Ware, born 8 February 1860.
Samuel was taken prisoner at Parker’s Store on the Orange plank Road in western Spotsylvania county, Virginia, on 29 November 1863, Samuel was held a prisoner at Belle Island in Richmond, VA prior to being transferred to Andersonville where he died of diarrhea and scurvy on August 10, 1864 after nine months of captivity.
In the following letter, written from Belle Island where he was being held a prisoner, Samuel lets his brother-in-law, Alonzo Payne (1839-1886) know that he was well and but hungry and requests a box of victuals be sent to him. Confinement on Belle Isle would have been particularly brutal in the wintertime. As was customary with prisoner of war letters, it was limited to one page in length.
Belle Isle Prison on island in James River opposite Richmond, Virginia
[Note: The photocopy of the letter was sent to me for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by Lin Robinson who is Samuel’s g-g-granddaughter.]
Transcription
Addressed to Mr. Alonzo Payne, Conway, Massachusetts
Belle Island, Richmond, Virginia January 14, 1864
Dear Brother,
I write to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you the same. I am a prisoner. I am used well except I don’t get enough to eat and I want you to send me a small box. Don’t put anything in it that won’t keep one month. Some meal, pork, sugar, tea, salt, dried apple, drief beef, cheese, butter, crackers, &c.
Send to my wife that I am well. Please send the box as soon as you get this. Direct as follows: Samuel Ware, 1st Massachusetts Cavalry, Belle Island, Richmond, Virginia.
In the following 1839 lawsuit, the plaintiff Reuben Holton, brought suit against the defendant, Charles Patterson, for having made his unwed daughter Abigail pregnant, thus depriving him of the services of his daughter—and servant. Yes, under New York law, and apparently the English courts before, a parent was entitled to their child’s services, and compensatory damages were often awarded for the loss of services of the person seduced. Evidence that the defendant offered to marry the child seduced was not to be taken into consideration in mitigation of the damages. A defendant’s only recourse in fighting the suit would be to show that that the child was not seduced but was unchaste and promiscuous in her intercourse with men. [New York Law of Damages]
Transcription
Superior Court of July Term of the 6th Day of August 1839 Schenectady county
Reuben Holton, Plaintiff, in the suit by John C. Wright, his Attorney, complains of Charles Patterson, defendant, by declaration & not by [ ] according to the statute of a plea of trespass on the case. For that whereas the said defendant contriving & wrongfully & [un___] intending to injure the said plaintiff & to deprive him of the service & assistance of Abigail Holton, the daughter & servant of him, the said plaintiff heretofore to wit, on the seventh day of November 1838 at Duanesburg in the County of Schenectady & on divers other days & times between that day and this…debauched and carnally knew the said Abigail Holton there and then and from thence for a long space of time to wit, hitherto being the daughter and servant of the said Reuben Holton, where the said Abigail Holton became pregnant & sick with child & so remained & continued for a long space of time, to wit, for the space of nine months.,,from the day & year mentioned hitherto became & was unable to do or perform the necessary affairs & business of the said Reuben Holton, so being her father & master as aforesaid, & thereby hem the said Reuben Holton during all that time lost and was deprived of the services of his said daughter & servant [and was] forced and obliged to and did unnecessarily pay, lay out, and spend divers sums of money…one hundred dollars in and about the nursing & taking care of the said Abigail Holton…To the damage of the said plaintiff of two thousand dollars…
An unidentified sailor from the Liljenquist Collection in the Library of Congress
The following letter was written by Andrew Donald (“Don”) Campbell (1836-1890), the son of Allan McDougall Campbell and Martha Matternley (1802-18xx) of Nova Scotia. At the time of the 1850 US Census, Don was living under his mother’s roof in Westchester county, New York, his mother an apparent widow. At the time of the 1860 US Census, Don was living in a New York City boarding house with his older brother Allan working as a sign painter. His brother Allan was working as a postal carrier.
It appears that Don enlisted as a landsman in the US Navy in September 1864, giving his occupation as jeweler at the time. He was later promoted to a sergeant’s steward. As far as I can learn, Don only served aboard he USS Shawmut—a 593-ton steamer acquired by the U.S. Navy and put to use by the Union during the American Civil War. Shawmut served the Union Navy primarily as a gunboat with howitzers for bombardment, and various other rifles and cannon for use at sea in apprehending blockade runners attempting to “run” the Union blockade of the Confederate States of America. he was sent to Nova Scotia in 1864 in search of the iron-sided Confederate steamer Tallahassee which had preyed on merchant ships in the North Atlantic and often seeking refuge in the neutral British port of Halifax. She was cornered in Halifax Harbor at one point but escaped under cover of darkness out the eastern passage at high tide.
After cruising in Nova Scotian waters without seeing or hearing of her quarry, Shawmut returned to the Portsmouth Navy Yard on the 20th. On 9 January 1865, the gunboat was ordered to proceed to Wilmington, North Carolina, to join the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron. She participated in the attack on and capture of Fort Anderson, North Carolina, from 18 to 20 February. On the latter day, a boat from Shawmut was destroyed by a torpedo as it swept waters in the area.
Don Campbell served aboard the USS Shawmut during the Civil War
Transcription
Addressed to Allan M. Campbell, Corner 7th and Clinton Streets, Morrisania, Westchester county, New York
On board Receiving Ship Roebuck December 14th, 1864
Brother Allan,
Your letter of the 7th I received yesterday afternoon for which accept my thanks. I began to think you had forgotten me. I wrote two letters to mother, one dated at Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, but which I had no chance to post until we got to this place, and the other I wrote the first week we were here, You asked me if Halifax looked like what I had imagined. There is a picture of it in the house. Well you just take that a put a few blockade runners in the stream and you have Halifax to a “T.” I knew the place as we were steaming into the harbor from that picture. I recognized the Citadel and Government House at once. There is a little steam ferry boat that runs between Halifax and Dartmouth which you would laugh at if you saw [it]—about as much like the Fulton Ferry boats as a dung boat is like a 60-gun frigate.
I should have liked to have gone ashore but I had no chance. The harbor is a beautiful one—long and narrow, but deep. They say there has been great improvements within the last ten years but every house looked to me as if it had stood a thousand years—they are so black and gloomy. But still I should think it’s a very handsome town in summer time. We could not buy any grub as no bum boats would come alongside; our greenbacks being worth only 30 cents and they will only take them at the exchange offices. When the gig’s crew run away, the Captain had to hire some of the blue noses to pull him on board and he was obliged to pay them in gold.
They are bitter secessionists—so much so that at St. Johns, they offered to stow our men away if they would come ashore. I think our ship looked more trim and neat on the outside than the British men-of-war I saw laying at Halifax. St. Johns, New Brunswick, looks something like Halifax—gloomy and black—but the tide has a tremendous rise and fall (about 30 feet) as it lies in the Bay of Fundy. When it is flood tide, you will see the vessels almost on top of the docks, and at ebb [tide] they will be high and dry on the beach, showing their keels and the water 60 fathom away. They have here also one of those “gay but not gaudy” (as Sandy says) Ferry boats running across the harbor. Yarmouth, St. Mary’s, and Grand Menau look about the same.
You will see by the heading of this letter that we are not on board of our own ship now. Last week there was a survey made of the Shawmut and they found her in such a condition that they would not allow her to leave here until she has been thoroughly overhauled and repaired, so they sent us on board of this receiving ship.
There are two guardo’s 1 here—the old Sloop-of-War Vandalia, and the bark Roebuck. They are both lashed together but the substitutes are kept on board the Vandalia and the volunteers on the Roebuck. The first night after we left the Shawmut, we bunked on the Vandalia. Hell is a paradise to her. There was nothing but drunken rows and knifing and robbing on her the whole night while the officers and guards were afraid to stop it. I never passed such a night and hope never to pass such another.
On this ship, it is quiet but it is very cold. We have had a foot of snow here already and it looks like more coming. I don’t know how long we shall be here—some say two or three weeks and others two or three months. But I would rather be on board of my own ship. You want to know if there is any chance to get on the Shawmut. Take my advice and stay ashore. I think you have had enough of Uncle Sam and if the draft takes place and you are caught, why “skedad.” Tell Jack he need not be afraid of the draft for his leg will exempt him. Ain’t you entitled, Al, to $100 bounty. I think you are, and you will get it if you put in your claim.
Tell Mother I got that mustering jacket from Mrs. Brabham for which I am much obliged. Give my love to mother, Mary , and all the rest of the folks, and my respects to Whit, Jack Royal, and the other boys. I should like to see Whit and Jack. Write soon and direct as before as it will reach me quicker. I am well at present and hope you are all the same.
Hoping to hear from you soon, I remain your brother, — A. D. Campbell
1 A guardo was a receiving ship or vessel on which enlisted men were temporarily quartered until drafted to sea-going vessels. Don’s letter informs us there were two of these ships lashed together off shore, one for quartering volunteers who were quiet and manageable; the other for substitutes (accepting a bounty to serve for someone who was drafted) who were unruly and unmanageable. The latter had to be guarded closely lest they desert (“bounty jumpers”).
An unidentified Union Navy Sailor (Ron Field Collection)
These three letters were written by Allan McDougall Campbell (1835-1874), the son of Allan McDougall Campbell and Martha Matternley (1802-18xx) of Nova Scotia. At the time of the 1850 US Census, Allan was living under his mother’s roof in Westchester county, New York, his mother an apparent widow. At the time of the 1860 US Census, Allan was living in a New York City boarding house with his younger brother Donald working as a postal carrier. His brother Donald was working as a sign painter. It appears that Allan received his naturalization papers in August 1857.
It was in August 1863 that 29 year-old Allan enlisted in the US Navy. At that time he was described as standing just shy of 5 and a half feet tall, with grey eyes and auburn hair. He may have been the same Allan Campbell who served earlier in the Navy aboard the USS North Carolina, enlisting in August 1861. Both of the following letters were written while Allan served aboard the USS Montauk, a single-turreted Passaic-class monitor launched in 1862 and part of the South Atlantic Blockading Squadron. She may be best remembered as the vessel on which the autopsy of John Wilkes Booth was performed in late April 1865.
After he was discharged from the Navy, Allan returned to New York State, settling in Morrisania, Westchester county, where he found employment as a brick mason and married Annie Walker Fisher (1845-1938).
Letter 1
Iron Clad Montauk Off Charleston, S. C. December 3rd 1863
Dear Mother,
I received Don’s letter on Sunday I think it was, but could not get a chance to write till today for I have been made cook of our mess which takes most of my time. I took [the position] because it adds seven dollars and a half to my month’s wages and that you know is something [in] these times although I scarcely [have] any time to myself. The work is not hard nor warm.
I was very glad to hear from you. I wish you folks would write oftener for you don’t know how nice it is to get a letter here. Every mail that comes I stand coveting every letter that is called off. Do write—any of you. Don’t wait for an answer. Tell Johnny to write and tell me what the fire department are doing, &c.
Two sailors play the banjo and the bones.
Mother, tell George to write something about his wife & Willie. Tell him they have found out that I play a little on the banjo and I was taken on board of the Massachusetts with the officers to buy a banjo from the young fellow that sent you my letter from Philadelphia. I seen him and bought the banjo from him. The chief paid ten dollars for it so we have music every night by order of the Lieut. There is a young fellow by the name of Charley Wicks—a regular comical genius. He plays the bones like sixty. The way they found me out was I heard a guitar in the officer’s room one night. The next night I asked one of the men to borrow it. The Chief, whose it was, brought it out. I sung the Duck Song which I had to repeat for the Captain & then for the Lieutenant and there was nothing but bothering all the time. We are going to get up a kind of a concert for New Years night so you see we are not without some fun.
December 4th. I had to leave off yesterday to get supper ready.
On the 18th of last month, we saw [Forts] Moultrie and Johnson firing on the [USS] Lehigh the first thing in the morning. She, being up on picket, had got aground during the night. The rebels discovering her fix opened fire on her. We were ordered up to tow her off. We went up and engaged Moultrie, and sent a boat under cover of our smoke with a line to the Lehigh. While going, a shell burst over it but fortunately hurt no one. The struck our deck once on the deck with a round shot right alongside the fire room hatch, doing no other damage, [but] making a dent in the deck and knocking a sand bag into splithereens.
The USS Lehigh aground near Fort Sumter, Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, December 12, 1863, p. 177.
On the Lehigh, five men and one officer was wounded while on deck by a shell which struck the turret but none of them has died. We blasted away with our eleven inch till it broke down. We struck two of their large guns on Moultrie, knocking one of them clean over.
We hauled the Lehigh off and then dropped out of range. 1 The [USS] Ironsides run up but did not go into action. I thought we was going to have a general engagement but was rather disappointed. There has been nothing much done since except making a feint on [Fort] Sumter one night while [Gen. Quincy] Gillmore made an attack on and captured one or two [rebel forts] on James Island. They still keep up an ever-lasting fire day and night on Sumter to prevent them from building anything inside. There is a duel going on now between [Forts] Gregg and Wagner on our side and [Fort] Moultie and Battery No. 3 on Sullivans Island on their side.
We had a grand salute fired on the first by the Ironsides and Wabash in honor of Grant’s victory but I have not heard the full particulars of it yet. We have not had late enough papers. I must stop. Give my love to all and don’t forget Ollie and Susey for I am your singular son, — Allan
1 Allen’s letter claims it was the USS Montauk that rescued the USS Lehigh—not even mentioning the presence of the USS Nahant—but history has recorded that both the Montauk and Nahant came to Lehigh’s rescue and that it was a launch from the Lehigh that succeeded in attaching a tow line to the Nahant who in turn pulled them off the sandbar. The full story can be found here: The Sailors Who Saved USS Lehigh.
The USS Lehigh in the James River. The Lehigh and the USS Montauk were sister ships.
Letter 2
Montauk March 8th 1864
Dear Mother,
You were talking about the different ones in those pictures looking like me. I recollect the time that [William T.] Crane 1 took the drawing. We made the fire room look very nice, cleaned up the engine as bright as a new pin, but he did not take any drawing of it after all. The drawing of the turret is very good. it looks quite natural with the guns. I sleep right aft of the 11 inch gun now for I have to stand four hours watch in the turret every night to be ready to revolve if wanted. There are three of us that take turns at it. The turret chamber [drawing] is very well [done] too.
William T. Crane’s sketch of the “Interior of the Turret of the USS Ironclad Montauk”published in Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper on 13 February 1864.
The man sitting reading is one of the firemen who was there at the time. It looks something like him but the rest is not so good. The chief sent a drawing of our concert on Christmas night to Harper’s or Frank Leslie’s but they haven’t put it in yet, I believe.
Under the turret in the USS Montauk; a fireman sits reading newspaper at right.
I have but very little time to write now for I am cook again & hardly get a chance to wash and mend my clothes and you must excuse my bad writing for it is so dark that I can’t see the lines.
What is the country coming to? Gold worth sixty cents on the dollar? I suppose if we had some encouragement, it would come down. I believe there are some talks of raising our wages. Well i hope they do. I don’t suppose it worth my while my coming home for I may be just in time to be drafted. But I hain’t home yet, am I? Write and tell me all the news.
Give my respects to all the folks. Tell George Sherwood to look out for the Monitors and torpedoes. We have got used to them now but they won’t try them on these things. We have nets all around us about 15 feet out from the sides rigged out on the ends of spars. They go down as deep as the bottom of the ship so they can’t hurt us. Besides the guns in the turret, we have a 12-inch Howitzer on each end of the deck. Our captain is very strict. He won’t allow a boat to come near at night till he gets ready to let them. The first thing is to train that gun on that boat till I get ready. If he don’t stop when you tell him, blow him out of the water.
I believe we are to make an attack on Sullivan’s Island pretty soon so it looks like doing something.
William T. Crane’s Sketch of a rebel encampment on Sullivan Island in 1863
I hope this finds you all in good health for I am in excellent health and spirits. Weather is fine and everything is lovely and the goose is high. Give my love to all—the little, big, & Drumaday Campbells. And to you Mother. I am as ever your singular affectionate son, — Allan
1 William T. Crane worked as a “special artist” for Frank Leslie’s Illustrated newspaper which published 244 of his drawings. In addition, under orders from General Quincy A. Gilmore, Crane drew a series of sequential views of Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor in the summer of 1863 depicting the stages of the fort’s demolition during a prolonged Union bombardment.
Letter 3
Off Charleston, South Carolina April 10th 1864
Dear Mother,
I received your letter today—Sunday. It is a very fine day, the wind blowing off shore, our favorite way. We have had quite some heavy storms but we ride them like a feather. You need have no fears of this ship [Montauk] for she has not been injured like the Weehauken which had been ashore several times and on one occasion received a heavy fire while aground. Ours is a bully ship.
I have been very anxious to hear from you for something worried me and I feared there was bad news for me. I hope you are well now, Mother, for I know how everything looks to you when you are sick. You must not be anxious about me for I am in excellent health and am heavier than ever I was. I feel myself just as safe as if I was home and in fact, safer from them bad drafts which sweep across the North. But mother, I feel as though such things will not always be, I will not always be away—and when I get home, I think you will find me somewhat changed.
They must have had quite a nice time there. I should like to have been there. Mary missed that, didn’t she? We have a regular hoe down most every night. “Oh Sallie, come down the middle.” We have had a new set of officers since I came on board this ship—among them a new “Luff” [Lieutenant]. He is though not so foolishly fond of music [and] allows us more freedom, He is a “man.”
April 15th—I am sorry to have it to say that the Lieutenant got his leg hurt, being struck with one of the out rigging spars, He may be sent out of the ship. I hope not. The other day one of our ensigns who had been on board the Massachusetts getting some provender—said he had seen an ensign on board the above-named ship—who asked him if he knew me—which of course he did. He told him to tell me that my folks were well, having seen all but my mother before he left. He also said he wanted to see me which I should have done had it not been too late. She was just weighing anchor. His name was Charles Flood and was going down to the gulf Squadron. It suppose it was Mat Flood’s brother.
The weather is getting beautiful—a little cool at times for this climate—but I believe this is a notorious cool place always having a good breeze off the sea. I know that when we were down at Port Royal two months ago, it was warmer then than it is here now by a good deal and that is only fifty miles farther south.
If they let us go when our time is up and thirty days which our agreement says, I shall be home in time to vote for President—that is, if they get men enough by bounty to take our place. They have kept some men three months over their time. How is McClellan’s stock about there? Will the Democratic[crat]s unite? If not, he is “done gone.” I am still of the opinion that he never will be President. I hope I am mistaken.
Your writing is very plain to me, Mother, but I would like a little more of it. They will miss Charlotte very much for she was like one of the family. She’s very good to them. How sudden, Mother. Only think of death making his rounds, picking who, when and where he chooses, consulting neither our likes or dislikes. She was one of those who we hardly knew to be among us till they are gone. How nice is it for us all to be on good terms with each other; so that when we are called away, we are not sorry that we have caused them pain—for it is all unnecessary if we could only make ourselves believe it.
April 20th—I have been on board the Massachusetts this morning to see a young fellow & get some writing paper. There was a mail in today but I as usual went without. Thinks I, “Al, you must wait till you write again before you get a letter twenty days after that again. So says I, you must write on watch in the turret tonight. It helps to keep me awake.
The day set aside for the grand attack has come and gone & there was none. I think there will be no more offensive operations made by the navy now for sometime. They seem to have altered their mind about this Charleston business. I hear they are to take Gilmore into the Potomac Army with his white troops and put Frémont and black ones in his place on Morris Island. These Monitors will be here to protect the wooden blockaders who put to sea most every night afraid of torpedoes & rams.
I have no news to tell for there is nothing but go on picketm then come off & coal ship, an occasional shot or shell from either side break the air night and day.
It is quite cool today but the men were fishing. Give my respects to the folks. Tell Jock I’d like him to write. Kiss the young ones for me, Your singular son, — Allan
