William Tooley of Granville, NY, enlisted in Company K of the 123rd New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment in the summer of 1862, just after turning 21. His older brother Horace joined the regiment as well. The 123rd fought at Chancellorsville, VA in 1863, where William was captured and then paroled. After the Battle of Gettysburg, the 123rd was sent west to join General William T. Sherman’s Atlanta Campaign and March to the Sea. William lost his older brother at the Battle of New Hope Church, GA, on May 25, 1864. By the time William and the 123rd reached North Carolina in early 1865, they began to sense that the end of the war was near. On April 1st, William penned a letter to his brother Eber back home in which he expressed his anticipation of being soon “done with Uncle Sam” and pursuing a girl he liked when he returned home. General Lee surrendered to General Grant on April 9th, but word did not immediately reach Sherman’s troops. On the 10th, the 123rd was engaged in fighting in the swamps near Goldsboro, NC, where the final casualty of the regiment would fall, it was 23-year-old William Tooley. It was a couple of days later that the regiment would learn of the great surrender in Virginia and celebrate the impending end of the war and return to home and loved ones. It is for soldiers like William and his brother Horace, who gave the last full measure of devotion, that we celebrate Memorial Day. [Source: The Last to Fall]
William’s letter provides us with a first account of Burnside’s Mud March in mid-January 1863.
A stencil belonging to Horace H. Tooley who served with his brother William in Co. K, 123rd New York State Volunteers (Horse Soldier)
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Camp near Stafford Court House Sunday, February 1, 1863
Eber Tooley,
Dear brother, your letter came to hand Friday night and I was very glad to hear from you. I am well and should have written before but have been waiting to get my dog type [photograph] taken to send to you. Went over to the Court House yesterday to get it but there were so many there waiting that I came back to camp. This morning, F. Cook and myself were the first ones there and got them taken. It is just as well that you did not send that money for we were paid Thursday. I received eight dollars and twenty cents which pays us up to the first of November.
We left Fairfax on the 19th of January which was Monday. The roads were then in fine condition and [made] splendid marching. We arrived at Dumfries Tuesday night—a small village which looks as if it may have seen better days before the war. But like all the villages in Virginia, it shows too plainly the effects of the war on individual property as well as national. Most of them have but one street left, building blackened with smoke, some burned, some torn down, others without any roof, &c. But I will not attempt to describe it with pen and ink. It is too tedious for me. But I had began to give you a description of the march.
As I said before, the roads continued to be in good condition until Tuesday night. We encamped half a mile south of Dumfries. Soon after we halted for the night, it commenced to rain and rained all night. All we had to shelter us was our little shelter tents which we always carry with us. Even the officers did not fare any too well, but better than they did the next night. Well, in the morning we were marched off in the mud and rain, for one night’s rain makes it very muddy here. It did not rain much in the afternoon. We marched four or five miles when they found the train so far in the rear that we were obliged to halt for the night. But the roads were so bad that the train could not get up with us until the day at noon. Consequently we were obliged to go without supper and breakfast and the officers had to take their chances on the ground with the rest of us, their baggage being with the wagons. And so it kept on raining nights for three days. But, however, we managed to get through the mud somehow and arrived at our present camp which is situated half a mile north of the Court House. In the whole, it was a very hard march for both man and Jackass. Several mules and horses were left dead on the road.
The Army of the Potomac’s doomed winter campaign across the Rappahannock River would become known as the Mud March. Alfred Waud, Library of Congress
Eber, I wish you would send me some stamps. I thought I wrote to you for some in my last letter but I must have forgotten it as you did not send them. I had my picture taken twice for you and once for mother. I do not know which one would suit her the best. I think of sending them by Asa Fish. He is going to start home tomorrow. If he carries them, you will find them at the office. Yours truly, — William
Eber, I cannot write any more until I get some stamps. Mother, I have not written to you in a good while for I have not had much time to write but I think of you very often. I received a letter from Mary last night. She said her folks were over to see you and that you were going over there. You will see by my picture that I am not very thin in flesh yet. If I had money to spare, I would send enough to get a case but I have not. Write soon, mother. — William
The following letters were written by Elijah J. Williams (1822-1864), the son of Thomas Williams (1776-1856) and Talitha Rust (1780-1856) of Williamstown, Orange county, Vermont.
I could not find an image of Elijah in uniform but here is one of another member of the regiment wearing the Vermont Brigade Badge.
He moved to Barton in 1859 following the death of his eleven-year-old daughter in Williamstown, Vermont. He found employment as a painter in a chair factory on Water Street. He and his wife Susan Deborah (Stimson) Williams (1828-1901) lived in a tenement house on High Street with their two children Elthia and Melbourne. In mid-August 1862, forty-year-old Elijah Williams enlisted into the army and became a member of Co. D, 6th Vermont Regiment. His enrollment records inform us that he had stood six feet tall and had dark hair and black eyes. Muster rolls reveal he was always present for duty and for his reliability, he was promoted to corporal in February 1864. Sadly, he was wounded in the thigh on May 5, 1864 as they defended the Orange Plank Road in the first day’s fighting of the Battle of the Wilderness. In his official report, Col. Lewis Grant who led the Vermont Brigade wrote of the day’s fighting: “Darkness came on and the firing ceased. One engaged in that terrible conflict may well pause to reflect upon the horrors of that night. Officers and men lay down to rest amid the groans of the wounded and dying and the dead bodies of their comrades as they were brought to the rear. One thousand brave officers and men of the Vermont Brigade fell on that bloody field.”
Elijah’s wound was so severe that he died four days later in a Fredericksburg hospital. He was buried somewhere in Virginia but a cenotaph memorializes him in his hometown of Williamstown, Vermont. His wife Susan eventually remarried in Barton in the spring of 1870 to Abner W. Lyman (1830-1916). She died in Haverhill, New Hampshire in 1901. [Source: Dan Taylor]
These letters are from the personal collection of Les Kaufman who graciously offered them for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.
Letter 1
Burlington [Vermont] September 21, 1862
My dear wife & children,
I take this opportunity to pen you a few lines to inform you that I am well and in good spirits. You will not send any letters until you hear from me to know where to send it. My trunk will be sent by express paid by government. I was examined yesterday. The Old Doctor said I was sound as a nut. I got my uniform yesterday. Probably be mustered in tomorrow and start Tuesday noon for Washington. We will not get our guns till we get to Washington.
I send two apples, two lemons. Divide them between you. I had to take them to get a bill changed. If Em gets my cap crocheted, send it in a letter to Washington. I wish you was hear. We are in camp on the Marine Hospital grounds. We camp in tents. We are old soldiers. We are about two miles from town. We arrived at camp about ten o’clock the same day I left Greensboro. I stopped at Montpelier one hour and a half. Went to see Charles & wife. She was gone from home. Charles thinks of enlisting in the nine months men as drummer. We have a fine view of the lake. Pleasant here & good times. Plenty to eat, to drink, & wear. You will get the trunk the first of the week. Have Jim go to the Express Office the first of this week. You will have your money then.
Write. You let me hear from you. Then I will write soon. Yours in haste. Goodbye one and all. Goodbye. — E. J. Williams
Letter 2
Washington D. C. October 4, 1862
Dear wife,
I am well. I have not much news to write. I have got back to Washington. We laid in Alexandria until yesterday. Was ordered to march. I expect we are agoin’ to our regiment. I haven’t seen Cone yet. I have forgot the number. When you write, send me his cord. Give my love to all enquiring friends. Elthea, I suppose, helps her mother do the housework. I [suppose] Melbourne brings in the wood & Elle eats the apples.
I do not think there will be much more fighting if any. Camp rumor says there is 15 Rebel Commissioners in Washington treating for peace. Things move slow. There is some 50,000 troops in & about Alexandria yesterday—probably for old regiments.
Direct all your letters until further orders to Co. D, 6th Vermont Vols., Washington D. C.
I am in hopes of hearing from you soon. The letters, in any, directed to Alexandria will be sent to me. Write. Kiss the babies. So goodbye. Love to all. Yours as ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 3
Camp near Hagerstown, Maryland October 11, 1862
Dear wife & children,
I take my pen in hand to write you a few lines. I left Greensboro September 19th for Burlington eat supper 10 p.m. Camped on the ground in the Marine Hospital yard some two miles from Burlington Village in sight of Fort Kent York State, Shelburne Bay, Vermont. 20th Examined & uniformed.
21st Sunday.
22nd Mustered into service of the United States & signed the pay roll. Mustered in by Major Austin.
23rd Received Pat State, pay $9.80, Bounty $25, United States $13, Premium $4, making in all $51.80. On guard first time 4 hours.
September 24th. Started for seat of war. Left Burlington about 10 a.m. Stopped at Vergens, Middlebury. Brandon & Rutland, Vermont. Arrived at Troy, New York, same day at half past 5 p.m. The depot at Troy was burnt last summer. It burnt over 70 acres. We were marched to the Female Seminary grounds to wait for the boat to take us to New York City. The proprietor of the Seminary gave us a treat in peaches, crackers, and cheese. Carried on board the boat Francis Cadd. We went on board about sunset. Set sail about 9 p.m. got on a sand bar. Laid on about two hours. Arrived at New York City on the 25th, 11 o’clock a.m. Marched to the City Park, stopped about two hours, marched through Broadway some two miles. Turned on to another street to the wharf. Went on board the Richard Stockton for Amboy, New Jersey. Went on board the ferry boat. Arrived at Philadelphia 12 o’clock midnight. Marched to the Soldiers’ Home and had a splendid supper got up by the ladies (God bless them). Then marched to the Baltimore Depot at half past 2. Camped on the Depot floor. Started from Philadelphia in the cars at half past 5 a.m.
September 26th, arrived at Baltimore at dusk. Took supper. Slept in the depot.
September 27th, took breakfast & started for Washington. Arrived at Washington 6 o’clock p.m. when we went to supper at Washington at the Soldiers’ Retreat. It was enough to sicken a hog. Fare consisted of one slice of bread [and] one slice of pork alive with maggots. It had been put on until the maggots carried it off. Coffee in pails looks like dish water—hot and no dippers to dip it out. There was some 300 soldiers standing around the tables and not over two dozen dippers for the whole to drink out of.
When we arrived at Camden we went on board the ferry boat cars and engines 16 cars, 8 on a side. Engine in the center with about 500 persons on board crossed from Camden to Havre de Grace. Thence to Baltimore. It is a fine country from Burlington, Vermont, to Pennsylvania through the whole state up to Delaware line. Some fine farms in Delaware but you can tell the difference in the Free States. The farms are well cultivated, buildings looks neat & tidy, painted up in good shape. Front yards. There were some fine farms in New Jersey. The people were very enthusiastic all along from Burlington, Vermont, to Delaware line.
After you get into the State of Delaware, you get into the first slave state. You can see the difference in their farms. Free labor produces neatness, work for the mechanic, and comfort to all, whilst slavery shows shiftlessness, houses white-washed, fences whitewashed, old rubbish about their doors. The poor White are not so comfortable as the Black. I have not much sympathy for the niggers. There is no Union about them. I will fight for my country but not for the nigger. There is waste land enough along the railroad from Delaware to Alexandria run up to brushes for every poor man in Vermont a good farm of 100 acres each, level land worn out, then left and run up to bushes until there is trees some 5 or 6 inches through. Then they cut it down, clear it off, plant & sow as long as they can raise anything. Then let it run up to bushes, weeds, or anything else it chose to. It takes a great deal of labor and manure to raise a crop. I have never seen so poor land as about Alexandria—Sacred Soil—so hard and full of little cobble stones as almost impossible to plow. I saw an old negro taking up fence posts to keep our troops from getting them to burn. He had to take a pick to dig the dirt from around the posts before he could pry them over.
After we got breakfast at that most splendid hog pen, I went up to the Capitol of these United States. It is a large pile of stone. It is not finished yet. I did not go in. Visitors are not allowed in for it is used for a hospital. I looked in and saw couches all around the entrance room. The Capitol grounds are littered all over with stone & rubbish but back of the building is a fountain and handsome shady walks. The City itself is very well built. I did not have time to run about much as we had to fall in & march to the wharf and go on board the ferry boat for Alexandria, Virginia. It is some 12 miles south of Washington down the Potomac, opposite side from Washington. It was Sunday 28th. We arrived at Alexandria about 4 p.m., marched some two miles to Post Hospital near Alexandria, Virginia, camp for new recruits. We passed the Marshall House where Ellsworth was killed. Alexandria is a dirty place. Houses look like some hog pens. The doors look as if they would like Suky with her scrubbing rag and soap. I should think they used them to cut up their hogs on. Windows smashed up. Oh! you do not realize the distribution of war buildings burnt, bridges blown up & burnt.
Fort Ellsworth commands the City. About half a mile back of our camp at Post Hospital is a cemetery with a vault. It was owned by a Rebel officer & all the surrounding land. Two fine houses nearby, one in the cemetery ground—or was, it was enclosed with a picket fence enclosing 30 acres in a beautiful grove of oak, walnut, and chestnut. There is many beautiful monuments on the grounds, one raised by the ladies of Alexandria in respect to the firemen killed in discharge of duty, 7 in number, buried in one vault & such is the fate of war. More than 20 acres of this grove on the cemetery ground. The fence most all torn down and burnt. Tombs opened in search of arms. Horses tied to grave lot fences. Hundreds of acres of lands run to waste. Families forsaking home and their all to tender mercies of a ruthless foe.
The Rebel officer who owns the grounds I spoke about was killed and put in the vault. It is a tomb with a stone front on a side hill bricked up and arched over head. It will hold some 24 coffins set on iron bars. There was eight in the vault when I was there. This officer was put in an iron casket & placed in a wood box. The screws were all removed but one. This cover could be removed to enable you to turn a iron cover from a glass in the casket. I took a match and lit it and saw the corpse. The iron door was blown open in search of arms. They found some 15,000 stands of arms hid by the Rebels and the door has been open ever since. His widow has left and gone to Boston.
We left camp near Alexandria October 3rd, went on board a towboat, went to Washington to that beautiful Soldiers’ Retreat. Stayed all night. Next morning, October 4th, had a fight. One man stabbed another. He died next morning. The other court martialed & sentenced to be shot on the 5th at 3 p.m. After dinner we went on board the cars for our regiment’s 39 car loads. Rode all night. One man named Curtis got sleep in the top of the cars and rolled off and killed.
October 5, arrived at Frederick Junction. Crossed the Monocacy on a trestle bridge built where the Rebels blew up an iron bridge. Cost some 30,000. It is three miles from Frederick City. Here we arrived at the Rebel’s last battle ground—that is, on the 5 Day’s Fight. Towards night we arrived at Harpers Ferry where John Brown was taken. It was burnt by the Rebels about one year ago & held by our forces until given up by Col. Miles—that arch traitor. We went about 2 and a half miles from Harpers Ferry and camped at the foot of Maryland Heights. Stayed the 6th. I went onto the Heights and could see hundreds of miles each way all through the Shenandoah Valley where Banks retreated back and is now held by the Rebels. Col. Miles surrendered to the Rebels when he could have held it—so the inhabitants told me. He was shot by one of his own men as he was lowering the flag, not as the papers say by a piece of shell from the enemy. He sold the army 8 to 12,000 who could [have] held the place against 5 times that number.
McDowell is another traitor, so called. He is not in command now. General Sumner’s Corps occupies the heights in Virginia—some 60,000 men. I went on Maryland Heights with a Lieutenant of the 73rd New York. Saw five graves—South Carolinians. Three bodies were thrown over the rocks and burnt. The Lieutenant dug up from the bones one foot burnt off at the ankle bone. The flesh burnt off but left the cords so as to keep the bones together. He put it on a stick and brought it into camp.
October 7th. Last evening some 300 more men came in. This morning took up. the line of march. Marched some 15 miles. Encamped on a small creek some three miles north of Sharpsburg. We stopped at Sharpsburg some three hours. It showed the effects of shot & shell. One building, the whole front, was completely riddled with canister from a shell bursting in front of the house. The holes are about as big as 1 inch auger hole. Another had shell strike in the back side making a hole as large as 7 inch stove pipe & dropped in the room but did not burst. If it had, it would stove it to flitters. Another struck in the corner of the jet, stove up the jetting & brick on the gable end. Lots of others were more or less shattered. Two were burnt by the shells. Sharpsburg includes the battle ground of Antietam. All of those places mentioned includes the Great Battle of Antietam some six miles in length by two miles wide. We came by a schoolhouse. Well you take a skimmer, then think of one as large as the front of the house you live in. It was completely riddled. I could mention a thousand of similar ones but it would take a week.
We started on the 8th [and] marched about three miles to Franklin’s Headquarters. Stayed all night. Next day until 4 p.m., [then] took up the line of [march] to join our regiments which reached about 10 p.m
October 9th & camped on the ground. Next morning went to our several regiments into tents. Nothing worth mentioning on the 10th. We have had no rain since September 24th until last night, the 11th. We had an alarm. All the Brigade turned out but the 6th Regiment. It was on City Guard. We are encamped one mile from Hagerstown on the south side of the City. I have not been to the city. Am going this afternoon. The alarm I spoke of was a Rebel raid. They crossed at Dam No. 5, went into Pennsylvania in the outside of our lines to Chambersburg, destroyed some of our stores with the Depot, thence onto the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, thence through our lines to Nolan’s Ferry, back over the Potomac with but little loss. The circuit they took was about 112 miles. They took back from 8 to 1,000 horses taken from the farmers in Pennsylvania. The horses were loaded with shoes and clothing taken at Chambersburg 25 miles from Hagerstown. The 2nd and 5th Vermont Regiments are at Chambersburg. The 3rd & 4th [Vermont] have come back.
Give my love to Mr. Simonds & wife. Mr. Bennett & Family, Mr. Pond & wife, & all the rest. I have received one letter dated October 7th. Tell Em I have not had a chance to get my regimentals taken yet. Save your money as much as you can for I may not get paid for two months to come. I hope you will go to Williamstown. Then the allotment I will make to you. I wished I had made it to you, then you could get a [sewing] machine. Kiss the babies for me. I will write to the children next time. So goodbye. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 4
Camp near Williamsport, Maryland October 31, 1862
My ever dear wife & children,
I received your letter & was glad to hear that you was all well. Tell Elle he may get all the apples he can eat if Mama has taken away his tity—naughty Ma Ma. Tell Elthea I am glad to hear of her good resolves. Hope by God’s blessing she will endeavor to help her little brother’s as well. Mother be kind one towards each other.
I am well. We have moved six miles from Hagerstown the 28th. I expect to move tomorrow—some says to Boonsville, some to Dam No. 4. All I know there is a large movement of troops.
You must give up your sewing machine until we are paid. We were mustered out two months today. Perhaps we shall not get our pay for two months to come. We are mustered every two months—pay day is once every two months. They have not paid the old soldiers for four months. They probably will be paid by the 15th November. If they don’t get but two months pay, we new recruits will have to wait until they get their last two months pay. When we are paid, probably you will be able to pay part. You said you could get some money. I presume Lewis might hire $50 of Hunt & pay him in the course of six months. See Lewis and find out his mind. It is my wish for you to have a machine. I will find out by Cone by the time I get answers from this. Put the cap in a large envelope. Send it along. Direct as heretofore. My love to all. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 5
Camp on the march in Virginia November 5, 1862
Ever dear wife & children.
I sneak a few moments to pencil you a few lines. We are on the march. We broke camp at Hagerstown October 30th. Been on the advance ever since to the front. The advance have engaged the Rebels in front. They are falling back. They commenced Saturday. We got near enough to hear the cannon Sunday. Our whole Corps are in motion. We arrived yesterday at the battlefield of Sunday. We crossed the Potomac Monday into Virginia, in the heart of Rebeldom. We came up & passed Couch’s Division. I am in Smith’s Division, Franklin’s Corps. We are up with Hooker’s Corps. In all now on the move in our Section is some 100,000 men—infantry, cavalry, and artillery. It is not those engaging the enemy. What forces are fighting now, I do not know—probably some 70,000 men.
I hope we shall keep on the advance down to South Carolina. I like to hear the cannon. It sounds better to me than the best music. The rebs must leave, I think. We probably will not go into winter quarters but march into the Southern states—that is, if we can.
You wrote that Solsbury was [a] terrible crank. I did not agree to pay him until I got my second pay. You was not obliged to pay him. You take care of yourself & children. One thing I want you to do is this. Have you got 4.50 from the selectmen, 1.63 from Charles Smith? Do you get your house rent paid? If not, do you put yourself to Williamstown and save your $48 a year? That will get you a sewing machine. I will write to Cone as I told you I would. Don’t be down-hearted. All will come out well. I don’t want you to stay at Barton & pay house rent. Go to Williamstown. Lewis will take care of you as long as he has money. You can take care of the money as well as he can. Make up your mind and let me know in your next letter.
I am in a hurry. Tell Elthea I received her letter as I have not time but will write her again & send her and Melle a ring. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 6
Camp in the field near White Plain Station November 8th 1862
Dear wife and children,
I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know that my health is tip top—only tired marching. We marched seven days since I left Hagerstown up to here. We are the rear reserve. The forces in front have succeeded in driving the enemy back. We cannot move any faster than the front. We may stay here a week or move today. I heard firing in front this morning. It snowed yesterday here in Virginia. It was a fine country we came through—a rank secesh inhabits. Most of the buildings are made of stone. There is some fine buildings. Most of the buildings, the chimneys are built on the outside like the French in Canada.
Tis pretty hard fare these army rations—hard bread. Butter is 40 cents per pound, cheese 30 cents. The Boys are a going to send home for butter and cheese. I have bought some soft bread & two pounds of cheese, now and then a pie. We have not known soft bread only one week. The rest of our bread is hard bread about 3 inches square, mixred up and dried by steam. I tell you, it is hard living. Twelve of those are all that is allowed for one day. We have one table spoonful of sugar for one day. Coffee to correspond. Our day’s ration of meat for one day is about as much as Elthea would eat at one meal.
I want you to have Lewis get me a rubber coat. The government does not furnish rubber blankets. The soldiers have to buy. They cost about $4. A rubber coat only cost $5 and are worth two blankets. The blanket [only] covers the shoulders and when on guard with your gun, your coat sleeves and front of your pants will get wet. I was out on guard one day and night in a drenching rain. The Boys let me have a blanket but on a march they would want their own. We have to use our overcoats to sleep in nights. There are a good many of the Boys that have got rubber blankets are sending home for coats. It is not so pleasant to march all day in a rainstorm and camp on the ground at night in your wet clothes is not so comfortable as a good warm bed.
Edwin Grey & Fred Kimball of Glover are a going to send home for a box as soon as we know we are a going to stop. We are a going to send together. It will cost no more for 100 pounds than 25. Tell Lewis to get me a rubber coat and pair of good buckskin gloves. Yarn gloves are of but little account handling a gun. It soon wears them out. I want him to get them so when the Boys send, they will be in readiness to send. If you could get some 6 lbs. cheese, I should like a taste, but I can get along without it. Lewis can go out and see Fred Kimball’s and have him let him know when he gets an order from the Boys to send their box. Edwin Gray’s wife’s father—Mr. Sanborne—lives in the village in Dwi__ll’s house. I send you, Elthea and Melle each a ring I have made by odd jobs out of bones. Tell Elle to eat all the apples he can get. I shall write to the children next time. Papa love to them and all the rest. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 7
Camp near Falmouth, Virginia December 10th 1862
Dear wife and children,
I take this opportunity to let you know that I am well except a cough which troubles me nights.
I received on the 4th two letters—your last and the one you wrote to Hagerstown. We started on the advance in half an hour after getting it. Did not have time to write you before. We were paid off yesterday so there will be $11 in the Treasury on the allotment the first of January. There will be $22 if we are paid the way they pay us. We are mustered out every two months. Our pay is due every two months.
I sent home two testaments by Elias Commer of Glover and a pipe bowl I made out of Laurel root. I want you to write me if you have to pay rent or the State? If you have to pay it out of your money in the spring you had better go to Williamstown. Write if you have got 4.50 from the selectmen, $5 from the Society, $1.62 from Charles Smith. Write me one letter all the particulars. You give my love to all enquiring friends.
We have orders to move. Expected to advance this morning. May start in one hour. Don’t know. We are some four miles from the Rappahannock. We are a going to cross. If the Rebs try to stop us, we shall give them Jesse. You will hear some stirring times before long. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 8
Camp near White Oak Church, Virginia [Sunday] January 25th 1862
My ever dear wife & children,
I take my pen in hand to write you a few lines. I am well but pretty tired. We went out on a reconnoitering expedition. We were ordered to be in readiness to march last Monday. Did not go until Tuesday morning [January 20th]. We packed up and started about 10 a.m., marched from 12 to 20 miles, camped for the night with orders to make no loud noises or build large fires. Next day in the afternoon, packed up and marched some 3 miles, stacked arms, unslung knapsacks, cartridge boxes & turned mules.
Tuesday the ground was frozen hard enough to move heavy artillery but in the course of the night it commenced raining and the mud was two feet deep in the road made by so many teams, the wheels cutting down to the hubs. We worked until dark helping up pontoon bridges by ropes hitched onto each side of the bridge boat, some 15 men on each side of the road with six mules on the tung, & the way we pulled was a caution through mud some two miles and it rained all the time. Then in the dark went back to camp where we stayed the night before, all wet and tired, I assure you. [We] put up our tents, built fires and it was 2 o’clock before I got dried and the mud rubbed off. Some went to bed in their clothes, wet and muddy. We laid in camp next day. Rained some. Friday we started back to our old camping ground, supported batteries on the road. Arrived in camp about 3 p.m. all tuckered out.
Tell Elthea to send me a paper every two weeks if she can spare a few pennies, only one cent postage.
Lewis Clark is dead. His father was with him & carried his body home. Chester went home with him. I am so tired now I can hardly write. Clark Wilson of Williamstown wounded at the same time & had his leg amputated is dead.
I suppose Melbourne will be out sugaring after school. Then Ellsworth will have to bring in the wood and milk the cow & feed the pig whilst Elthea feeds the hens, washes the dishes, and sweeps the house whilst her Mother rests herself. Give my love to all.
I received the letter you wrote after Lewis was up to your house with the one I wrote him but have not received any since. I have not received any postage stamps yet. I had to borrow one. Send me some soon for I can’t borrow any more. It is hard work to get them. Is Lewis getting the box started? If not, it is not best to send it for I want to sell part of the cheese & don’t want to sell so much as I should have to if we were a going to march. I suppose he was not a going to wait until he writes and gets an answer back. I am expecting one from you both every mail.
I must close so goodbye loved ones. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 9
Camp near White Oak Church, Virginia February 10, 1863
Dear wife & children,
I take this opportunity to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and in camp. I received yours of January 25th. Will say I have not got my box yet but suppose it is at the Landing but the roads are so bad that they have as much as they can do to get provisions for man and beast. But if the roads improve in a few days, we shall get our Express boxes.
You wrote that you wanted to know what my Captain’s name [was]. It was Oscar A. Hale, nephew of Mr. Currior at the village but he is Major of the 6th. 1st Lieutenant Davis of Brownington is in command [now] & I hope will be Captain. Lt. Dwinnell was promoted to Adjutant, then Captain of Co. C. Lt. Davis married Stewart’s daughter of Brownington. Lewis probably knows Stewarts and Davis.
Perhaps before you hear from me again, I shall be gone from my company to Washington or some other good place. It has been snowing and raining for the past week but since Saturday it has been very fine weather, growing warmer until today it is as warm as June in Vermont. There is no news of importance—only Gen. Smith, our Corps commander, is transferred to the 9th Corps and ordered to report to Fortress Monroe. I am glad it was not the 6th Corps ordered there. This is the Corps the Vermont Brigade belongs to.
I must close for I have got to go out on review at half past 1 p.m. and the mail goes out at 2. Keep up good courage, Susan. That is the way to have good health. Tell Lewis to have my boots made on No. 8 instead of 9, pretty high on the instep. Have the irons on the heels made of steel and a strip across the toes. Have them put on after the boots are dried. If he gets them made by the 1st of April, it will be soon enough. Then do them up and if he cannot get a chance to send them by anyone, put them on board the Express and put them through.
My love to all. So goodbye. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 10
Camp near Belle Plain Landing February 15, 1863
Dear wife and children.
It is the last sheet & a half of paper I have. I thought when I wrote Lewis it was the last sheet but found two and a half more so you will not get another letter until I get my box. They have not brought any Express up from the Landing yet. Probably will in a few days as the mud is getting dried up. I went out on picket last Wednesday & came back to camp Friday. The rest of the Boys did not get in till Saturday. There has one Corps left the Army of the Potomac & gone South. It was the 9th Army Corps. I belong to the 6th Army Corps, Army of the Potomac.
We have got up a bakery in our Brigade so we shall have soft bread. We have not got it in operation yet. Will this week. We have drawn soft bread two times brought from the Landing. It is very good bread. I should try & get into the Bakery only I am afraid it will cut me off from a better berth & a permanent one when an opening occurs. It may be some time & it may be in a week. The Bakery will last only as long as the Brigade stops in camp.
Keep up good courage. Look to your health & then when spring opens, take out your little ones and have a good walk up in Lewis’s sugar place. Don’t confine yourself to your house but stir out of doors. Be cheerful and look after the babies. Get Mr. Simons to fit a stem in that pipe bowl so it will look better. And I send you an axe cut out of a splinter from an Oak broken by a cannon shell on Maryland Heights where that traitor Miles surrendered some 14,000 men and let the Rebs out when we got them cornered at Antietam. I picked it up when I was on the Heights on our way to Hagerstown & wanted to save a piece so I made an axe. You can keep them and think how I spend my time when off duty & not reading. I am making a couple of slides for neck ties to draw the ends through instead of tying. Perhaps I may get a chance to send them home. I think they look better than tied in a knot.
I meant to had you put in a gimlet & a file but forgot it in my last order. Now while I think of it, have Lewis get a small fish line and send it in a letter with a good hook or two & can get me some fish to eat. Give my love to Lewis & family, Mr. & Mrs. Sions, Mr. Bennett’s Family..
Have you heard from Williamstown? I must write as soon as get some paper & stamps. You forgot the stamps. If you get the letters & don’t have to pay, I don’t care about them, but if you have to pay the postage, you have Lewis get me some. I am in hopes they will pay us soon. Probably not until after we are mustered in for pay. Then there will be four months pay due. I suppose little Ellsworth is smart. Tell him that the birds are making their nests out here in Virginia. It is raining some today but is clearing off. In about four weeks they will be working on their farms in Virginia.
I suppose Melbourne will take one of Lewis’s sugar places so you will not have to buy any next year. Well Elthea, I suppose, has taken a school for next summer—probably the big school at the village. Well. Susan, you will have to stay home & feed the tukeys and pig when Elle is milking the old cow. I wish you had your cow up there & I could pop in and see you there all together. Well, God does all things well & in His own time. Perhaps it may be so. What? A Papa meeting? But it will not be so happy as when we meet in Heaven. Have your house set in order, dear Susan, and be in readiness to go at the bridegroom’s coming with your lamp trimmed and burning. Be watchful, hoping and trusting in Him who alone can calm the raging billows & bid the wind to still. Put your trust in God. Give him your heart & not borrow so much trouble & you will feel better than you will to fret so much. All that is lacking is confidence in God. He is able & willing to help you if you will come to Him. Happy is he who endureth to the end.
Kiss the babies for me. With much love. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 11
Camp near White Oak Church, Va. April 10th 1863
Ever dear wife and children,
It is the greatest pleasure to pen a few thoughts. This is a great age we live in. How mindful God is of us to put it in the minds of men to invent the art of writing, to put characters on paper conveying our thoughts to distant parts of the world. God is good. In Him may we put our trust. He faileth us not. Let us obey Him and bow [in] submission to His will.
I had a letter from Joseph’s family. Mary wrote it. She said Joseph was writing to Little Joseph. She said Betseney was a going to keeping house next week. That will be this present week.
I don’t have anything of interest to write. We are in our old camp & all quiet in front of our lines. It is cold & backward—sleety, rain, wind most of the time North.
We had a Grand Review yesterday at Gen. Sickles’ Headquarters some six miles from our camp. We formed line on parade ground quarter to eight & went to Sickles’ Headquarters, formed a line for review at 11 a.m. There was three lines, one Division in a line. The three Divisions formed one Corps—the 6th Army Corps.
At 12 M, 21 cannon were fired or 21 shots—the President’s salute. We were then reviewed by his Hon. Abram Lincoln, President of our United States. He is a fine looking old gentleman. He rode in front of his staff, bare headed. Then we formed in columns & passed in review by the President and staff. Then started for home. Arrived at 2 o’clock, hungry and tired almost to death. So much for seeing the Elephant. It was in sight of the Rebs entrenchments. They had to look on and grin and bear it but could not help themselves for we were out of reach of their guns.
There was two more Corps to review after we got through. They were paraded some three quarters of a mile to our left. I wish you could have been there. It was a splendid sight. 1
Today we were mustered in to ascertain the number of men wanted to fill up our regiments to 1,000 men. Our Captain put in for 41 men to fill up our company. So you see that I enlisted [at] the right time. Now I am not a drafted or conscript man. They have to come anyway. Give my love to all for I have no more news. I will close.
The balloon is up most every day.
Kiss the babies for me. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
1 The Lincoln Log reports that President Lincoln reviewed the “I, VII, and IX Corps at noon” at Falmouth, Virginia. Elijah’s letter makes it clear this information in erroneous however. The source of this inaccurate information was the [Washington] Evening Star of 10 April 1863. This was actually the 2ndconsecutive day that Lincoln had reviewed the troops of four infantry Corps—some 60,000 men. Journalist Noah Brooks witnessed the scene and recalled, “[I]t was a splendid sight to witness their grand martial array as they wound over hills and rolling ground, coming from miles around . . . The President expressed himself as delighted with the appearance of the soldiery . . . It was noticeable that the President merely touched his hat in return salute to the officers, but uncovered to the men in the ranks.”
Letter 12
Camp near White Oak Church Sunday, May 31st 1863
My dear wife & children,
I received your letter of date May 24th last evening. I have sent you two or three letters since I came back this side of the river & sent 2 dollars in one of them. The next time you write, put in some pens as I. am almost out. Corporal Stickney & Private Williams were excused from all duty for one week for their cleanliness & fine appearance on inspection this morning (one week’s grace).
There was a cavalry expedition this side of the Rappahannock this week [by] the 8th Illinois [Cavalry]. They broke up a smugglin’ band below our lines, bringing off some 800 Negroes, 300 fine horses, as many mules, several fine oxen, several fine carriages, and 12,000 lbs. bacon destined for the Rebels. But we can save them the trouble by eating it ourselves. The Rebs are up to some trick. Deserters says they are a going to cross over and make us a visit. It will be a sweet welcome if they do attempt it. They say there is one company of the 11th Vermont of Heavy Artillery at Falmouth. If I. can get a pass, I will go down & see them.
I wish you good luck in cultivating your garden & hope your health will improve by the exercise. Give my love to all. enquiring friends. Mr. & Mrs. Bennet & family. Write where is Simonds in St. Johnsbury East, West, Center, or Depot Village. I will write him as soon as I know where to send to. I suppose Hubbard has all the work now. It was lucky I enlisted before I got run ashore by Hubbard. If I live to get out of this war, I never shall settle in Vermont. It is a fine country in some parts of the South. Let it be settled by Yanks. I don’t mean in Virginia. Vermont is preferable—that is, to some parts of it.
Our Brigade was out on picket. I went out two days to carry provision to our Boys out of our company & run across a fine lot of ripe strawberries. They are very large & were nice. Fruit of all kinds are in abundance. It will not be long before cherries will be ripe. Peach trees hang full. Apples in plenty. It is very hot. I hope it will rain soon.
I hope you will get this before you send the boots for I wrote for a pair of suspenders. I forgot to tell you that I lost mu haversack & canteen over the river. I put on my knapsack first and when we rose up to charge, they slipped round forward and I slipped them over my head & dropped them on the ground so the Rebels have got my knife & fork, spoon, sugar, tea, and fill, and a handsome slide almost finished. According to Rebel Official Reports, we—the 6th Veront—killed 280, took prisoners 400, and over this was in our charge Monday p.m. It was Hays’ Brigade composed of 1st North Carolina Regiment, 6th, 7th, and 9th Louisiana Regiments according to their own account, 3,200 men & lost 680 men in killed & prisoners besides their wounded. They say in taking back the Heights it was a dear business to them.
All is quiet along the front. Kiss the babies for me. Now goodbye, dear ones. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 13
Camp on the field near Fredericksburg [Sunday] June 7th 1863
My ever dear wife and children.
By God’s will, I am spared to pen you a few lines to let you know that I am well. We had orders to march Friday. Started about noon & crossed over Friday night and camped in the Rebel’s rifle pits. Saturday morning [6 June] went on to skirmish line. We had pretty smart firing for awhile, but all. quieted down except on the road to our left where our picket crosses a road. The Rebels got behind some bushes & killed four and wounded 13—two of our company. One ball struck my knapsack. I think they got as many hurt. They carried away five in front of our company. One officer, John Nason, shot. He fell from his horse. Whether he was killed, I don’t know. I gave them ten balls and two were carried off from the direction I fired. Others fired as well as myself. It was a long range to fire—some half to three quarters of a mile.
Our batteries on Stafford Heights made two splendid shots. The Rebels formed a line some one and a half miles in front of our skirmish line & some three miles from the battery. The shells burst in their ranks & made them scamper in fine style. We were relieved last night & fell back to the rear. I don’t think there will be a battle—only a feint to draw their attention & hold them from reinforcing other points for there is only our Corps here. 1
Give my love to all. 5th Vermont Regiment charged across & took 132 prisoners. Kiss the babies. Now goodbye. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
1 The fighting at Fredericksburg on 6 June 1863 involved a reconnaissance by Union forces under General John Sedgwick, probing Confederate positions near the Rappahannock River. This action, part of the larger Gettysburg Campaign, was a small skirmish known as the Battle of Franklin’s Crossing or Deep Run. The Union probe was repulsed by Confederate troops under Gen. A. P. Hill’s 3rd Corps who were left to cover Lee’s exodus from the area as he stole a march northward on the Union army.
Letter 14
Camp on Stafford Hills June 10th 1863
Ever dear wife & children,
I take this opportunity to pen a few lines. We were relieved by another Division in the 6th Corps & recrossed the river. We are encamped on Stafford Hills opposite Fredericksburg. We crossed Monday night. The Rebels opened their batteries for the first time last night or evening near sunset. They fired some 20 guns. They killed two men by the bursting shells. By our advance, it has drawn the Rebs back. They were on a move for some place to us not known. We are now throwing up a line of earthworks & two forts now completed for their speakers. I am confident Gen. Lee can’t drive us out if his batteries are on the Heights.
You spoke of getting my money. Is it allotted money or the 2 dollars I sent? There is $22 or more for you on the way. My overcoat you had better take and make Melbourne a winter suit. It will be better than to keep it and let the moths eat it up for when I get back, I shall want one more in style & it will save you $7 & if you wanted to sell it, you could not get $4 & it will make him this fall a good warm suit & not much waste & I think you had better do it.
The morning we left camp, Henry Martin came to my tent and brought me a pair of Feetings from Betseney. He went home on a furlough since the Battle of Fredericksburg. They were all well. I hope you will go to W. in the fall. Give my love to all.
I was glad to receive a letter from Elthea. May she grow in grace & virtue choosing the good part, that ensure her a crown of Glory. Dear children, continue to be good to your Mother so when I come home, I shall hear good reports. Above all, love your Bibles. Read a portion every day & ask God to give you an understanding heart to understand its teaching & pray to Him for that crown of Glory, by the forgiveness of your sins and exceptions of your souls, cleansed by the blood of your Savior, Jesus Christ, who suffered on the cross and died that you might live. It is the prayer of your Father.
Be sure and have Lewis get the $4.50 for my board due me when I was at home. It belongs to me & I will have it. I shall not send home for anything more for it seems that I am taking it out of your scanty stores. I am in hopes that I shall save enough out of my year’s clothing [allowance] to pay you what the coat cost. I should have lost it entirely if I had kept it for it is peeling off. Nothing more so goodbye one and all. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 15
Camp near the Battleground Gettysburg, Pennsylvania July 5, 1863
Dear Wife & Children,
By God’s Providence, I am spared whilst thousands are laying around me—the dead, dying, and wounded. Our Brigade has not been in the hottest of the fight. It lays on the extreme left. we went from Bristol Station 23 on picket about 5 miles from the station. Orders came on the 25th to march at 4 p.m. to join the Brigade back to Centerville. Camped there about two in the morning. After marching some 12 miles in the night before, started in the morning 26th at 4 a.m., passed the 2nd Vermont Brigade for Edwards Ferry on the Potomac River near Poolsville, Maryland. Arrived on the 27th where the 10th Vermont Regiment encamped last winter but moved the day before we got there so I did not see Joseph. The 2nd Vermont Brigade passed us here to join Gen. Reynolds’ Corps.
We started the 28th for Pennsylvania. Arrived on the battle ground July 2nd after a long, tedious march. The last three days we marched night and day, some 90 miles. The 2nd we started two miles from Manchester, Maryland, about half past 12 at night & arrived on the battle ground about 5 p.m., marching some 35 miles. The 1st of July, Gen. Reynolds was killed. There was three days fighting [?]. We took some 6 to 8,000 prisoners. It was a hotly contested battle. We have drove them back. Gen. Longstreet & Hill—Rebels—are reported killed. We are ordered to be in readiness to move. So goodbye. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 16
Camp on the advance near the enemy’s front at Funkstown, MD July 12th 1863
My ever dear wife & children,
It is God’s will that I am spared to pen these few lines to you. We have been following Lee’s army ever since the 5th. Our army is following them close. How it will end, God only knows. His will, not ours, be done. My prayer is that in God’s strength we may annihilate the Rebel army & put an end to this accursed Rebellion.
The 6th [Vermont] Regiment was deployed as skirmishers on the right flank on the 10th as we marched from Middletown marching some 8 miles, our cavalry skirmishing in front, & held the enemy until their ammunition was all gone. Then our Brigade went to the front at noon and relieved them. The Rebels advanced their lines about 4 p.m. in force after a heavy cannonading. We (Co. D) posted in a woods & had a good position behind large oaks. They poured in the shell & grape most splendidly, the shells bursting over our heads & fragments of shells, canister, and limbs of trees falling all around us for some 30 minutes. When it ceased, then came three regiments of infantry with flying colors and charged on our lines of skirmishers. Then we peppered them & the way. they run was a caution to all Copperheads.
I will write all the particulars in the next as we may move any minute. We were relieved yesterday & am now encamped to the rear. We had two killed & wounded on the 10th in Co. D—Sergt. Abbott of North Troy, brother to Lucinda’s husband, [and] George Patridge of Glover killed, both shot through the head. McGuyer of Albany wounded in the arm. Strange to say, no one was hurt in our regiment with shells. Total killed in the 6th [Vermont] Regiment, [killed] 4, wounded 18, lost 22.
Some firing whilst I am writing. No more. Love to all. So goodbye dear one. Yours ever in Christ. With God’s blessings on your heads until eternal life. Now & forever. — E. J. Williams
Letter 17
Camp on Tompkins Square, New York 1 [Tuesday] August 25th 1863
Dear wife and children,
I take this opportunity to write you. We broke camp at Alexandria Monday eve—the 17th, marched to Pier No. 1, [and] went on board the next morning steamship Illinois. [We] had a good run until about 9 p.m. [when we] was run into by a small schooner & smashed up one of the wheel rims & had to anchor for the night to fix the wheels. Started next morning & landed in New York City Friday afternoon. Probably we shall stay some time.
If you have not sent the boots, I want them sent to New york. I want you to send them to the Vermont 1st Brigade, 6th Regiment, in care of Col. T. A. Grant, Commanding Brigade.
Give my love to all. enquiring friends. Tell the babies for me.
I have been down to the dock to bathe this morning. There is several large gunboats on the stalks a building—one to be launched next Saturday [August 29th]. I mean to see it if I can. 2
They are drafting here. We lost one man overboard the first night out in our company. Hollis [S.] Sanborn. Probably killed under the wheel. 3
All is quiet as far as I know. Lt. Martin has got back. He was wounded at Funkstown. Saw Betsenay all well. I have no news to write so goodbye. From yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Direct your letter to N. Y. City if you write immediately.
1 The square, first known as Clinton, was mapped in 1833 and renamed by the State legislature for former governor Daniel D. Tompkins (1774-1825). The City acquired Tompkins Square by condemnation in 1834. Swampland was filled, graded, and landscaped between 1835 and 1850. Gas lights were installed in the park in 1849. In 1851 a large fountain (later removed) was built in the park by the Croton Aqueduct Department, and the park was fenced in 1858. By 1860 the park had taken on a more attractive appearance. Trees had been planted around the edges and flagstone paths provided pleasant walkways that directed circulation around the square. The city planted shrubbery and flowers and built a central fountain. Iron fences were installed to protect the planting from horses, pigs, goats, and small children.Unfortunately, the encampment by Civil War soldiers posted in the park during the 1863 draft riots destroyed much of the landscaping. The area around the square, know as the Dry-Dock neighborhood, was a center for New York’s shipbuilding industry before the Civil War.
2 This may have been the USS Miantonomoh, a double turreted ironclad monitor built for the US Navy in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Newspaper accounts confirm it was launched on Saturday, 15 August 1863, however.
3 Hollis Smith Sanborn (1839-1863) of Canada enlisted in Co. D, 6th Vermont Infantry on 4 October 1861. He died of an accidental drowning on the night of 18 August, 1863. A record in his pension file states that Hollis was “washed overboard” in the collision on Chesapeake Bay described by Elijah. The location of the collision was off Smith Point Lighthouse. The schooner was loaded with marble and the impact so severe that it jarred the Illinois.
Letter 18
Camp Tompkins Square, New York September 4, 1863
Dear wife & children,
We are still i the city. Yesterday we were paid two months, $26. We were paid in full. Why, I do not know. As I have a chance to send this package to Barton by Mr. Stiles of Albany, it is my rations & as I draw cooked rations, I thought it would last you some time. I wish I could send you all that is thrown away.
We are having a hard time doing guard duty. [We are] on duty every other day. I had rather be on the front.
I have not received a letter from you since we crossed the Potomac the middle of July.
You will receive in this $20 & write as soon as received. I have written for my boots to be sent to New York City, 1st Vermont Brigade, 6th Regiment Vermont Vol., Camp on Tompkins Square.
Give my love to all enquiring friends, if any there be. There is no news of importance. It has been fine weather since we left the Army of the Potomac. Be sure and write for I shall be anxious to know if the package & money arrives safe. I suppose you have all the green stuff you want from your garden. I have had two years boiled corn & paid four cents.
As I am in a hurry, I will bid you all goodbye. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 19
Camp near Rappahannock Station November 25th 1863
Dear wife & children,
I take this opportunity to inform you of my health is good. We had orders to move yesterday morning at 6 a.m. [but] it commenced raining in the night and was countermanded 48 hours, so we move (if weather permits) early tomorrow morning. Where to, time will tell. I think towards Richmond. the campaign will be short as it is getting late in the season. It seems the rebels are falling back.
I send you $1.50 cents. I was in hopes they would pay us before now. Kiss the babies for me. Love to all. I will write soon again. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 20
Camp near Brandy Station December 20th 1863
Ever dear wife & children.
I received your letter yesterday. Was glad to hear from you. Probably you will get the one I sent you the other day. We were paid off and I sent you some more money. I wrote to Elthea & sent her $1. I sent her 35 cents before. She said she had 140 cents & sent me two postage stamps, I will supply her with money so you. can keep all I send you. I don’t want the money so don’t fret. Tell Lewis to see the Express agent and if he can’t find them, get the pay and send another pair boxed up and directed to Capt. M. Warner Davis, Co. D, 6th Vermont Vol. & put in a piece of cheese if you have a chance. Don’t start the box before the first of January but if they get the boots, I don’t want a box. They can find them by that time & get them to me. If not by the first of January, get a new pair made and send if not ordered otherwise.
I wrote to Swing today and forgot to tell him that I had been in some hard places, but the hardest place that I have been in was last Friday. Our Division was called out to witness the execution of two men—deserters. One was from the 2nd Vermont, the other 5th Vermont Volunteers. They knelt down on the top of their coffins and shot by 24 soldiers, 12 shots to a man. They fell forward on their faces dead. One of them sprung to his feet exclaiming, “Oh dear me!” and fell on his face dead. The other never stirred. There was 5 shot in the different Divisions. Such is war. Tell Lewis if he comes out and deserts, he may know what his end will be. 1
If you send a box, put in some paper & pens. I have only ten sheets left. Giver my love to all. I want you to go up to Twiny’s the first of sleighing. Tell me how Old Granny Flander gets along and when Sophia Skinner is going to be married, and Marsha. I heard Sophia was a going to be married to that student [but] I can’t think of his name. I think Elthea had better come home by the time winter school is done if not before. Do you hear from Florenda? If I knew where to direct, I would write her. I am a going to write Betseney and Mary this week if possible.
I don’t think we shall stay a great while for wood is getting scarce. I have got a good shanty built up of boards and ends, except a door & fire place built in Old Virginia style on the outside of the house. I can sit by my fire, cook my meat and make my coffee, & when it storms, keep dry and warm. Such men as I the captain says ought to [be] soldiers that will fix up things so nice and comfortable. They had inspections of quarters today by the Major and Doctor. My tent was the only one they went into. It is not decided yet about reenlisting yet. Shall know before the first of January. I don’t think of any more so goodbye & kiss the babies… Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
1 The two Vermont soldiers executed on 18 December 1863 were George E. Blowers of the 2nd Vermont and John Tague of the 5th Vermont. The blog “Tales from the Army of the Potomac” carried a description of the executions:
“Meanwhile, over in the camp of the 2nd Division, 6th Corps, a dual execution occurred, this one for Private John Tague and Private George Blowers. As always, the division assigned to carry out the killings formed up in a three-sided box facing the graves. The soldiers who observed the execution stood at “order arms” for about one hour until two ambulances drove onto the site, bearing the condemned men and their coffins. One of the soldiers in line, Private Wilbur Fisk, wrote, “It seemed as if some horrible tragedy in a theater were about to be enacted, rather than a real preparation for an execution.” The most alarming thing about it was the behavior of John Tague, who, as the orders of execution were being read, threw his hat onto the ground in bold defiance. Two chaplains stepped to the sides of Tague and Blowers, bade them kneel, and delivered a prayer. After that, the sergeant of the guard conducted them to their coffins and made them kneel again. He put two massive rings around their necks which suspended targets on their chests. (By now, authorities had realized that the firing squads needed to be coaxed into taking a kill shot.) Strangely, this execution contained no reserve. That is, no one expected the prisoners to live beyond the first volley. Two platoons of men faced each prisoner, and the prisoners were not blindfolded. Private Fisk recorded the final moments: “Blowers had been sick, his head slightly drooped as if oppressed with a terrible sense of the fate he was about to meet. He had requested that he might see his brother in Co. A, but his brother was not there. He had no heart to see the execution, and had been excused from coming. Tague was firm and erect till the last moment, and when the order was given to fire, he fell like dead weight, his face resting on the ground, and his feet still remaining on the coffin. Blowers fell at the same time. He exclaimed, “O dear me!” struggled for a moment, and was dead. Immediately our attention was called away by the loud orders of our commanding officers, and we marched in columns around the spot where the bodies of the two men were lying just as they fell. God grant that another such punishment may never be needed in the Potomac Army.”
This was Private Fisk’s first execution. Like many who witnessed such tragic scenes, he never forgot what he saw: “I never was obliged to witness a sight like that before, and I sincerely hope a long time may intervene before I am thus called upon again. . . . These men were made examples, and executed in the presence of the Division, to deter others from the same crime. Alas, that it should be necessary! Such terrible scenes can only blunt men’s finer sensibilities and burden them the more; and Heaven knows that the influences of a soldier’s life are hardening enough already. . . . I have seen men shot down by scores and hundreds in the field of battle, and have stood within arm’s reach of comrades that were shot dead; but I believe I never have witnessed that from which any soul shrunk with such horror, as to see those two soldiers shot dead in cold blood at the iron decree of military law.”
Letter 21
Camp near Brandy Station December 27th 1863
Eve dear wife & children,
I take this opportunity to pen you a few lines. I have not heard from my boots yet & if Lewis gets me another pair made, send them in a box & a few pounds of cheese, some paper and pens. I have got envelopes enough. One pair suspenders and one paper of carpet tacks—not very large size. If he can’t get pay for the boots sent. I don’t know as he had better get any more for it is taking things from you which you need & I can get along without them some way. Give my love to all.
Some of the old Boys are reenlisting & Lucien Sanborn has reenlisted & I send two balls from the Button Wood tree. Have them varnished & then they will always keep clean. If they get dirty, you can wash them. If you send another pair of boots, send them as soon as possible directed to Capt. M. Warner Davis, Co. D, 6th Regt. Vermont Vol., Washington D. C. Put them in a strong box.
There is no news of importance. All quiet on the front. Kiss the babies for me. I suppose Melle is a going to school and little man does the thrashing and chops the wood & brings in the water. Well goodbye, Susan and all. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 22
Elijah’s “tent” or shanty at his Brandy Station winter encampment.
Camp near Brandy Station January 9th 1864
Dear wife & children,
I received a letter from you & Lewis. As to reenlisting, I have not been in the service by 10 months to reenlist. All that can reenlist that is in the service must have less than 15 months to serve before their present term of service expires. Next September, perhaps there will be a chance if this war is not closed. I hope by the blessings of God it will be. I for one do not wish to see anymore fighting, but if fighting is to be done, I for one am ready any time called upon.
There is no news. Everything is quiet on our front. Love to all. Kiss the babies & goodbye. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Write where Florenda is. My tent.
Letter 23
Camp near Brandy Station, Va. January 23rd 1864
Dear wife & children.
I take this opportunity to pen you a few lines to inform you that it is muddy. I went over to the 10th [Vermont] to see Joseph yesterday, some four miles from our camp. I saw Elvira’s husband, Perry Hopkins. Elvira has gone home to his Father’s. Mr. Simons lives in Rutland. The people in Williamstown are all well. Betseyney is keeping house for George Ainsworth. George is out in the army. I have not seen him yet. I have received no letters for some time.
We have built us a chapel & dedicated it last night. Text 1st Romans, 1st Chapter, 16th Verse. Music by the choir. One lady present. We have prayer meetings & bible class every Tuesday evening. Last Sunday I saw Judge french. I did see him but a few minutes. I was on Brigade guard & just got into camp as he left. If I had known it the night before, I should been glad to had a chat with him. He said Mace Kimball, Mark Nuter, Jerry Drew, and some others I don’t remember but I did not see them.
The weather has been very cold—not much snow. We have 26 recruits come in to our company since the Old Boys went home. All is quiet on the front.
Love to all. If Lewis has not got any more boots made, [tell him] not to for I have made up my mind not to have any. One pair is enough to lose as much as I can afford to lose. Keep the money & buy something for yourself and children. Kiss them for me. Yours respectfully. Ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 24
Camp near Brandy Station, Virginia February 18th 1864
Dear wife & children,
I received your Christmas present & my boots. They were a perfect fit. I wish you had not sent the handkerchief for I don’t need it. If I have a chance to send it back, I shall, for fear of losing it. Keep it until I get home or give it to Melle. I think I shall have a chance the first of March to send them to Barton. How is the times at Concord & John’s family & how long are you a going to stop at Concord?
The new Boys are having the measles. One out of our company named Jones died today by taking cold. The doctor sent him back to his company before he ought to & of course no one is to blame. The doctor is a young fool. The surgeon, Dr. Phillips, went home. After he left, this fool sent Jones to his company & it has cost him his life. It is very healthy except the measles.
It is very cold, cutting west wind. It is sharp. It pierces one through. It snowed the other day but it is all gone & the ground is dry and frozen some.
I have written to Florenda & Lusia. Have not received any letters from Williamstown yet. I tell you one thing, I am a going to write to William this week if I don’t have to much duty to do. I have not been on guard for 15 days (up to yesterday). Come off duty this morning, same difference, then being on duty every 3rd day. We are clearing land for Uncle Sam. We have to go some two miles for our wood. The Boys have got some rot gut and are pretty noisy.
I hope to hear from you. soon. Kiss the babies for me. Love to John’s family. I expect to see some very nice painting from our daughter. I hope to see some soon.
We have prayer meetings every evening & I hope God has given us His blessing & many are enquiring the way to Heaven & hope they have obtained mercy in giving themself to Jesus who clenseth from all sin.
Write all the news. Capt. Davis is at home on furlough. Officers can go home or resign, & do about as they please but privates have to knuckle [down]. Capt. Dwinnell & Lt. Nye have been at home to Glover. They said they spoke about Sartwell running away & the people had not heard of it & they saw him drawing wood. I sasw Joseph the other day at my tent. They are all at Williamstown. Betseney was at his place. I am getting sleepy so good night. Yours ever, — Corp. E. J. Williams
Letter 25
Camp near Brandy Station, Va. March 4th 1864
Dear wife & children,
I received your letter of [ ] February 22. Would say that I have wrote you two letters since you. went to Concord. I have received my boots & they fit first rate. Sergeant Mason has reenlisted & [will] probably leave for home next week & I send a parcel by him. There is a buckle. I want you to take care of [it]. I expect it is silver. I found it whilst policing the company grounds. It was a buckle to a spur. The steel part was all rusty & the buckle as bright as it is now. Perhaps it was lost by some Rebel General, perhaps General Stuart as it was on the battle ground where Gen. Pleasanton [had his] cavalry fight Stuart’s cavalry last May—“the greatest Cavalry fight of the War.” I send back the handkerchief for you to keep as I would not like to lose it & I don’t need it.
I had a letter from Samantha. they are all well at Williamstown. The 6th Corps went out to support cavalry out on a reconnoissance up through Madison county to Charlottesville some 40 miles above where we went at Madison Court House, which is 30 miles from camp. We started last Saturday from camp & got back Wednesday night without the loss of a man, destroyed bridges, three large mills filled with grain, burned one cavalry camp, blew up six caissons, captured 50 prisoners, & 500 horses and brought in a lot of Negroes without losing a man. Had four wounded.
I wish you would get me a watch chain hook costing some ten cents. Brads or Steel, I don’t care which. Get a good stout serviceable one. Give my best regards to all and kiss the babies for me. I don’t know but Elthea will resent being called a baby. God’s blessing be with you all. So goodbye. Yours ever, — Corp. E. J. Williams
P. S. When I got into camp, I found Messrs, J, K. DRew, Thomas Baker, Matherson & Nelson from Barton. Mr. Baker said you should have that $4.50 board money.
Letter 26
Brandy Station, Virginia April 6th 1864
Dear wife & children,
I received your letter. Was glad to hear that you was back to your home. You must write me all about your visit to the East. The money paid to Mr. Nye was just as it should be. Lt. Nye paid me $10 on that receipt & saved the risk of Lewis sending it to me by mail. I was paid on the 4th & hope you will get it soon.
I hope you got my letter. I sent 50 cents to get me a watch chain hook but I have made two axe halves & let a man have them for one he said he paid a dollar for. So you can keep the money or let either have it for the one sent back. I have not been over to the Commissary Department yet. I had it of them. If they. do not take it back, I shall have to lose it.
There is no news of importance. It has rained for the last two days & for the most part of the last 15 days—either snowed or rained, high wind, and cold. Mr. Barnard of Williamstown preached in our chapel last Sabbath p.m. He is stationed in Reserved Artillery Corps about one mile from our camp. He is a going to stop six weeks. Been some three since he came. The people in Williamstown are about the same as when you left. Uncle John Palmer has had a very bad hand & [at] one time they thought it would have to be cut off. But was better & thought they could save it. Marshall’s wife was not as well when he left.
Martin Burnham has sold his farm and going West. Mrs. Carlton is dead. She died very sudden.
I saw A. A. Earle of Irasburg Monday. He said it was very sick in that vicinity. I am glad Elthea has some taste and talent. Hope she will improve. Kiss the babies for me. In the course of three to five weeks probably we shall be on the move. Give my love to all. So goodbye for this time. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 27
Brandy Station, Virginia April 8th 1864
Dear wife & children,
I don’t feel very well. I thought I would not go to the prayer meeting & to pass away time, I would write you a few lines & send you the watch chain. I had with the watch, it is, pure silver, worth six dollars. I have braided a chain out of a fish line & answers as well. Keep this for Melbourne if I don’t come home.
Joseph was over from the 10th Vermont. They are in the 6th Corps & I hope they will come into our Brigade. The 3rd Corps is broken up & the 3rd Division is attached to the 6th Corps. Joseph Sanders came over from headquarters with him and I went over to the Reserve Battery with them to see Mr. Barnard but he was not at home. They thought he had gone over to the 10th Vermont. He starts for home in about two weeks. He preached at our chapel last Sabbath. Our chaplain is back with us again. The Rev’d A. Webster of Windsor, Vermont.
I want you to write as soon as you get this chain. Love to babies. All is quiet. Now and then a Johnny grayback comes in. Quite a lot came in yesterday. No more. So goodbye to you all. Yours ever, — E. J. Williams
Letter 28
Brandy Station, Virginia April 29th 1864
Friend Lewis, dear sir,
As we are preparing for an active and, I hope, successful termination of this war, and as life is uncertain, would say if [my] life is not spared to return to my family, I wish both homesteads & bounty land warrants may be located & taxes paid so as to give my children the benefit of its rise, and if they should live to settle on the same. You may not be surprised if our communications, cut off from Washington for three months, we are preparing to live without Washington & not starve up in the mountains of Virginia.
Everything indicates a speedy move before many days and when we do move, I think we shall not be able to get or send letters. Don’t let Susan know of my writing o you for the present. See how things develops.
I hope you will keep up Susan’s spirits for it will do no good to fret. I don’t. Since I have been promoted, I find duty a great deal less as I do not have to go on duty only about 1 day in 12, Before I had to be on duty as often as once in four days. All is quiet on the front. I remain yours respectfully, — Corp. E. J. Williams, Co. D, 6th Vermont Vol.
The following letter was written by Adelbert M. Spencer (1840-1902), the son of Jeremiah and Anna (Blackstone) Spencer of Woodstock, Windham county, Connecticut. Adelbert enlisted on 25 October 1861 to serve in Co. H, 11th Connecticut Infantry. He was a private in the ranks until December 1863 when he was reassigned as a wagoner. He mustered out on 21 December 1865 at Hartford, Connecticut.
The 11th Connecticut has been with Burnside on his expedition to the Carolinas early in the war and returned to Virginia and the Army of the Potomac to participate in the Battle of Fredericksburg and the Mud March, although we learn that Adelbert avoided much of the latter by being on guard duty. Adelbert’s letter speaks of the demoralization of the army after its setbacks on the Rappahanock and of the thinning of the ranks.
Transcription
Camp near Fredericksburg, Virginia January 25, 1863
Dear Uncle,
I received a letter in Sarah’s from you and was glad to get one from you and I hope these few lines will find you well and all the rest of the folks. I am in good health but I have got tired of this humbug war and there is a good many more than I. There was two or three Corps went down to the river about six miles from the city and the pontoons, got one boat in the river and soon then got stuck in the mud so they could not get along and the Rebels happened to get their artillery planted for us and our men lost horses and broke their wagons down. They had to hitch 30 horses on one gun to get along and they found out that they could get along and the officers told their men to break ranks and they started for their camps.
The 11th [Connecticut] Regiment was on picket and we had a wet time and hain’t got our blankets dry yet. We expected to march when we got to the camp. I guess we shall have to stay here a spell. I guess that we won’t get to Richmond this winter. The Rebels blackguard our men about Burnside stuck in the mud and they told our boys that if they wanted any help, that they would come over and lay the bridge so that we could get along. It is hard work to face those breastworks. If they could come out in an open field, we could give them all they wanted.
Our army is getting small very fast. There is a good many of our men [who] desert every day and there is a good many of their times run out in the spring and then this war has got to come to a close. I wish it could be today.
I am on guard today and when I get off guard tomorrow, I will go over to the 12th [Connecticut] Regiment and see the boys. I have been thinking of going over. Is William Burdick in Greenwich. If he is, give him my best respects.
Uncle, I am very much obliged for that 80 cents. It wasn’t a great while ago that we were paid off and we expect to get pay again in a day or two. I should rather it was postage stamps. That’s what we can’t get in the army, or something else. A box would come right through now. It would make Aunt Hannah too much work to get one ready to send. If you should send one, I would like a bottle of Borgilard. Mother sent me one and it is all gone.
Tell Sarah I will answer her letter when I get that paper she is a going to send to me. We don’t get much news out here. I want you to answer this letter and if you don’t, I shall write letters enough to make up that 80 cents. I hain’t a very good writer and a very poor speller and so you must excuse this letter. So goodbye. Give my love to all and take a share for yourself. From Adelbert M. Spencer
Headstone of James W. Kenney, “sargeant of artillery” and a “brave soldier, a good citizen, an honest man”
The following memoirs were recorded in 1893 by James Woodell Kenney (1835-1900), the son of Michael Kenney and Jane Woodell (d. 1844) of Arlington, Middlesex county, Massachusetts. Kenney’s memoirs and his military records inform us that he mustered into the 1st Independent Battery, Massachusetts Light Artillery in August 1861, commanded by Josiah Porter. He was wounded in May 1864 during the Wilderness Campaign and mustered out of the battery on 29 August 1864 after three years service. He was married to Lizzie S. Shattuck on 24 December 1868. In 1870, James and Lizzie were enumerated in Charleston, Mass., where he was employed as a clerk in a printing office. Vital records of Massachusetts inform us that he died of a cerebral hemorrhage on 6 April 1900 in Boston.
James’ brother, Andrew J. Kenney (1834-1862) is mentioned several times in the memoirs. He mustered into Co, B. 40th New York Infantry and was killed in action during the Battle of Williamsburg on 5 May 1862. According to Mass. vital records, he was married on 25 November 1860 to Mary Jane Hodge (maiden name Woodell) in Ashburnham, Massachusetts.
The memoirs were addressed to James’ nephew and namesake, James W. Kenney. Family tree records are scanty but my hunch is that this nephew was James W. Kenney (b. 1858), the son of Michael Kenney (b. 1831) and Mary McKenna Sheehan (1828-1882). Michael was a rope maker and later a shoe factory worker in Roxbury, Massachusetts and during the Civil War he served as a private in Co. K, 1st Massachusetts Infantry.
[Note: These memoirs were provided to me for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by Tom Clemens. I could not find them transcribed elsewhere on the internet or in book form though the original might be housed at the U. S. Army Heritage & Education Center at Carlisle Barracks, Pa., as they claim to have a folder marked, “Memoirs of James W. Kenney’s Service.”]
Transcription
Dear Nephew and Namesake,
I greet you in love and kindness. Thinking you might like a short sketch of your Uncle Jim for whom you were named, and as I may have passed beyond “the River” before you grow old enough to remember me, or read these lines. the most of the sketch will be about my military service in the War 1861-5 which I thought might interest you. I kept a journal while in the service of every day—the drills, marches, reviews, battles, &c. After keeping it over two years, and being afraid I might lose it, I sent it home by a comrade going home on a furlough and he lost it, so the journal was gone up. What I write you in this will be taken from letters I wrote home and other memorandums. By reading this you will see what battles I was in any by referring to the History of the War, you can obtain an account of those battles. I was in the Army of the Potomac and served under every General that commanded it from General McClellan to General Grant.
I will commence with my birth, town, name (that is, the J. W. part) and follow with the army life. So many years have passed since that took place I cannot remember many things I would like. — Uncle Jim. January 1893
I was born in the town of West Cambridge, Mass., now called Arlington (name being changed about 1867) on September 26, 1835. I was named James Woodell for my grandfather (Woodell being my mother’s name before marriage). I also had an uncle J. W. who served in a Mass. Regoment and was killed in the Southwestern Army and also other relations who served in the Army or Navy in the war.
The town is between Lexington and Cambridge…The British troops crossed the river and landed in Cambridge, passing through West Cambridge on their way to Lexington and Concord. On the night of April 18th 1775 about midnight. the next morning the Battle of Lexington and Concord was fought and as the “Yankees” were coming in from the other towns making it rather warm for the British, they commenced to fall back to Boston. They were under fire almost all the way and lost many men on their return. There were more British and Americans killed in West Cambridge than at Lexington, and to West Cambridge belongs the honor at making the first capture of stores, provisions, and prisoners in the American Revolution on that day in the center of the town.
Cambridge is the place where General Washington took command of the American Army, its headquarters being there at the time. The old Elm tree under which he stood is still standing. Also the house in which he had his headquarters, bing for years the home of Longfellow—the poet. Here is also Harvard College, founded before that time….I was born on historical ground and grew up with a strong love for my country. My father had also held a commission as ensign in the 1st Regiment Mass. Militia under Gov. Lincoln in 1832.
I will not enter into details of my early life but will say my Mother died when I was quite [page missing]
…as the lawyer had to go out of town to court, he could not attend to the details. I offered my services in any way and it was left in my hands to call a meeting that evening at his office or the Town Hall. I went out and found the others, then got three uniforms—two that had belonged to father, and one that belonged to me as I had been in the militia before father died but gave it up then. Then got a fife and drum to make a noise and went all over town telling every one of the meeting in the Town Hall that evening. The Hall was not large enough to hold the crowd that came—the largest gathering ever held in town. We soon raised a company, the lawyer was chosen Captain and I was chosen First Lieutenant. As the Captain had so much to attend to in court fixing up his cases and turning them over to other lawyers. I had all the charge of the company in drill and I often duties in the daytime. We drilled in forenoon and afternoon on the street in marching and company movements and in the Hall in the manual of arms in the evening. My older brother Andrew came home and enlisted in my company. So we all three were in the service.
We continued drilling until the last of May when we were told of a regiment being raised in Brooklyn, New York, by Henry Ward Beecher that they had seven companies and wanted three more to fill the regiment and start at once for the Seat of War. My company and two others from Mass. took special train for New York on the evening of May 30th, arriving the next morning, and after breakfast, went over to Brooklyn and took quarters in a five story armory large enough for two companies on a floor. In the afternoon I went over to New York and took boat for Governor’s Island to see your father. I found him in “Castle William,” the round fort on the point of the island. He was surprised to see me. On Sunday we all went to hear Beecher preach in the morning and in the afternoon a few of us went to the Catholic Cathedral to hear the singing. It was fine.
We found out that there were not 7 companies—that all there were was about 150 men—the toughest looking you could find and they were not drilled or uniformed. The food they gave us was so bad we could not eat it and we could get no satisfaction from those raising the regiment so we called a meeting of the officers of our three companies and voted to return to Massachusetts. (You will understand we were Mass. troops and not mustered into U. S. service.)
On the evening of June 4th, took boat from New York to Boston, arriving the next morning. After breakfast, the officers went to the State House to see the Quartermaster General of the State and have him put us in camp until he could send us away but at that time the State did not have camps for troops as they did later on. But we were granted leave to go to Fort Warren (Boston Harbor) until we could make arrangements for something else. the companies went down in charge of their 1st Lieutenants and the Captains remained in town to see what they could do. They came down to the fort on June 8th and we went up to the City and were dismissed until the 11th when we all reported and started again for New York, arriving the next morning and taking boat up the river for Yonkers. On the morning of the 13th two of the companies were mustered into the U. S. Service. As each company was a few short, we lent them a few men to be exchanged back into our company later on. My brother Andrew went into one of those companies [Co. B, 40th New York Infantry] and remained in it until he was killed at Williamsburg, Virginia.
As we were going to New York Regiments, we would have to get N. Y. State commissions. The two companies mustered in were mustered as they were, officers and men, but my captain wanted a new election which was held and the same officers reelected although te captain tried to make a change and throw me and another out, and put in two friends used to drink and bum around with him. I heard what was going on and we had a row. He got some plain remarks from me and it ended in my taking all the men but about 12 and marching them out and took cars for New York City. I had two offers while there to take my men, fill up my company, and go as captain in some New York Regiment but I had enough of New York and was going home. I got quarters for my men that night in the Park Barracks near City Hall and started for home the next evening and arrived all right. The citizens were provoked at the action of the captain in breaking up such a fine company. I was offered all the backing with money wanted to raise another company but I was anxious to get away and did not want to wait so long as to raise and drill another company. A captain belonging to the 16th Mass. Regiment Infantry wanted me to take my men and join his company but as I could not get any satisfaction as regarding my being an officer in his company (and the men wanted me as an officer over them), I would not go. So you see I had bad luck all around in getting away. One reason was Mass. was so patriotic. We had about three times as many companies enlisted in the State as was called for.
I remained around home working or attending to some military duties until August 27th when being in Boston I found out the Boston Light Artillery had returned from its three-months service and was reorganizing for three years. I dropped my commission and enlisted in the Battery and was mustered into the U. S. Service for three years on the 28th of August. We went into camp in Cambridge about half a mile from the Arlington line.
Arriving in camp we were formed into Gun Detachments and the Warrant Officers appointed. I was made Gunner with the rank of corporal and took charge of a Gun Detachment. I soon picked up the drill (as artillery was new to me) and soon had the best drilled squad on Sabre and Gun Drill. I was promoted to Sergeant afterward and remained as such during the rest of my service.
Perhaps now would be a good time to give you an account of the organization of a Battery and the duties of the men. This will be on a war footing as all troops are about one-third less in time of peace. Artillery is generally formed for field service, one third short range (smooth bore) 12 lb. Howitzers or Light 12’s called Napoleons, and two-thirds long range, or rifle, generally 10 lb. [ ], although our army had about the same number of each at the last of the war owing to the nature of the ground fought over being woody. Most of the fighting was at short range. There are 14 carriages in a Battery, 6 gun carriages with a gun mounted on the hind wheels, and an ammunition chest on the front wheels. The trail of the gun hooks on the axle of the front wheels when on the move, but rests on the ground when in action. Six caissons which carry ammunition, two chests on the hind wheels, and one on the front wheels, the front and rear parts of the caisson couple together the same as the gun carriage and are alike and can be exchanged when wanted, Thus in action the caissons are left in a sheltered place when convenient and if the ammunition of the gun limber is running low, the limber of the caissons come up and take its place and the gun limber returns to the caisson and refills from the rear chests, ready to exchange again. There is an extra wheel on the rear of the caisson, an extra pole under the carriage, shovel, axe, pick, water buckets, &c. One carriage called Battery Wagon with half round top to carry extra feed bags, parts of harness, halters, saddlers tools, wheelwrights tools, and various stores. One carriage called Forge or traveling Blacksmith Shop for shoeing horses and doing iron work of all kinds.
We have about 140 horses, three pair to each carriage, one for each sergeant, bugler, and artificer, and the rest are extra or spare horses to replace those broken down or lost in action. There are 150 men in a full battery, 5 commissioned officers (1 captain and four lieutenants), 8 sergeants, 12 corporals, 2 buglers, and three artificers. The Battery is divided into sections, two guns and two caissons make a section. Also into Gun Detachments, one to each gun and caisson.
Now I will give you a list of their duties. The captain is in command of all, one lieutenant in command of each section (taking 3) and the rest of the junior 2d in command of the caissons when they are away or separate from the guns. One first sergeant who is over he company next to the lieutenants and receives orders (in camp) to pass down to the other sergeants for details &c. draws rations, clothing &c. One quartermaster sergeant who draws forage or grain for the horses and looks after the baggage wagons. Six other sergeants, one for each gun and caisson, they having charge of the two carriages, horses and men. Twelve corporals, one for each gun and caisson and called 1st and 2nd Corporal (A Gunner and No. 8 man). They are under the sergeants. Buglers who blow camp and drill calls. Three artificers (one blacksmith, one wheelwright, 1 harness maker) to attend to all the work in their line. There is a driver to each pair of horses and he rides the nigh one when on duty. They take care of their horses—cleaning, feeding, and driving. Also take turns standing guard over the horses at night. Others are detailed to clean the extra ones and one man takes care of each sergeant’s horse as he has to look after the others while cleaning and feeding.
I will now give you the duties of the gun squad with the gun unlimbered and in position, the limber in rear of the gun, horses facing the rear of the gun, the drivers dismounted and “standing to horse” holding them by the bridle. The pole driver holds the sergeant’s horse when firing, he being dismounted and in charge of the gun. Standing in the rear, 8 men and the Gunner is a gun squad. the Gunner goves the order to load, cut the fuse, fire &c., he receiving the order from the sergeant, also sights the gun. The men are numbered from 1 to 8. No. 1 is on the right of the muzzle and sponges and rams the gun. No. 2 opposite him and he inserts the cartridge and shot or shell, having one in each hand. No. 3 on the right, he thumbs the vent, then steps to hand spike in end of te trail and moves the gun to right or left for the Gunner, then pricks the cartridge and steps to place. No. 4 is on the left and he fixes a friction primer to the lanyard, inserts it in the vent, stepping back to place, ready to pull at the order to “Fire.” No. 5 is on the left and half way between No. 2 and the limber. He takes the ammunition from his position to No. 2. No. 7 stands on the left of limber and takes it to No. 5. No. 6 stands at the rear of ammunition chest, cuts the fuze and delivers it as ordered to No. 7. No. 8 is the 2nd Corporal of the Gun Squad and in charge of the caisson and remains with it and attends to any order received. If to pack any ammunition from rear chests to limber, he would dismount his drivers and set them to work. The men are drilled at all the duties on guns and horses. Also drilled to work short-handed, one man doing the duty of two, three or more. On drill the sergeant would say, No. so and so knocked out, and sometimes would knock out almost all the squad and then en would go right along with the drill so when it came to active work, the men knew just what to do.
We remained in camp at Cambridge drilling on the guns and in field movements from August 28th until October 3rd. I went home quite often while there as the horse crew passed the camp and our officers let me go out of camp when not required for duty in camp or drill, and then men did not abuse the privilege. On October 3rd we started by railroad for Washington, passing through New York, Philadelphia, & Baltimore, arriving all right and going in camp on Capitol Hill in rear of the capitol.It was quite a different place then from what it is now. The capitol was not finished and on the Hill were log houses with negroes, pigs, and geese around loose (we caught some). The streets were awful from the gun carriages, wagon trains, &c. The mud at times was up to the hubs of the wheels and horses up to the belly.
When we left home we had two six-pound smooth bore guns, two six-pound rifled guns, [and] two twelve-pound Howitzers. While here we received orders to turn in the four six-pound pieces and take four 10-pound Parrott Guns, rifled—a fine gun and extreme range—about 5 miles.
There was a review of 75 horse companies and 22 batteries by General Scott, the President, Members of Congress, and others. We were picked out and received orders to join Gen. Franklin’s Division across the river. On the 14th October, we crossed Long Bridge and went in camp near Fairfax Seminary about three miles from Alexandria. Our camp was named Camp Revere in honor of a friend of the captain—Major Revere of the 20th Massachusetts Infantry. Our division has twelve regiments of infantry, 1 regiment of cavalry, and 4 batteries.
“We had been assigned to Gen. Franklin’s division, which was then lying about four miles northwest of Alexandria, on the borders of Fairfax County, the division headquarters being at Fairfax Seminary, the New Jersey brigade then commanded by Gen. Kearney, and the First New York Cavalry, lying upon the slope of Seminary Hill, south of the Leesburg pike, a brigade commanded by Gen. Newton located along the pike north of the seminary, and a brigade commanded by Gen. Slocum lying northeast of Newton’s brigade, and north of the pike, the camp of its nearest regiment, the Sixteenth New York Volunteers, being perhaps thirty rods from the road. These troops, with four batteries of light artillery, constituted this division in October, 1861.When we arrived, there was a battery of New Jersey volunteers commanded by Capt. Hexamer in the vicinity of division headquarters, a battery in the immediate vicinity of Newton’s brigade, a battery of regulars, D, Second U. S. Artillery, lying near the pike, and opposite, Slocum’s brigade. This battery was located upon a plain, which the road from Alexandria reaches shortly after it crosses the run which makes its way from Arlington Heights southeasterly to Alexandria. The First Massachusetts Battery encamped in a piece of woods on the east side of this run and at the left of Slocum’s brigade. In this camp, which was named Revere, we remained until winter. Our drill-ground was on the plain beyond Newton’s brigade, on the north side of the pike,—of this field we shall have occasion to speak later. The inspection of the artillery by the chief of artillery of the army, and the review of the division, were made upon the high plateau west of the seminary.” — Pvt. A. J. Bennett, First Mass. Light Battery
The execution of William Henry Johnson, 5th New York Cavalry
We remained here all winter with plenty of Division reviews, inspections, and camp duties. While here our Division had the 1st Military Execution for deserting. A man named [William Henry] Johnson, 1st New York Cavalry, was on the outer picket line and he left his post and rode towards the rebel lines. When a long distance out, he met a squad in Rebel uniforms and was halted. He said he had deserted. He had his horse, saddle, and bridle, sabre, carbine, and revolver—government property. The officer in charge asked him all kinds of questions as regarding our line, position of picket posts, &c.. He also asked to see his carbine, looked it over, cocked it, and told the man he was a prisoner. The squad was some of our scouts. He was brought in, courtmartialed and sentenced to be shot on the 13th December. The Division was ordered out to see the execution. We were formed on three sides of a square in double lines with the other side open and the grave dug in about the centre of that line…He was brought on the field in a wagon seated on his coffin and a horse with reversed arms (as at a funeral). They entered on the right of the line and passed through all the line. As they passed along, the band of each regiment played a funeral dirge (going to his own funeral). Passing on the left of the line, they drove to the grave. He and his coffin were taken from the wagon, the Judge Advocate read to him the charges, findings, and sentence of the court martial.He was then blindfolded and seated on his coffin. The firing party then stepped up and shot him. The line was then faced to the right and all were marched by close to where he lay. He was buried there. No one was sorry.
In November we had a Grand Review at Bailey’s Cross Roads. Over 75,000 troops before the President, foreign ministers, Members of Congress, and others. It was fine. Four batteries were picked out to fire the salute and we were one of the four. Instead of firing so many guns for the salute, we fired so many batteries, all the guns in a battery being fired at once, and counting as one gun. Then the next and so on.
On January 20th, we had one of our men thrown from his wagon and killed. While out after wood, his team, ran away and striking a stump, threw him off. This was the first death in our company. We remained in this camp all winter attending to drill and camp duties.
I will give you an account of what some of our camp duties were. 1st call in the morning at 5.30 when we get up, put on our boots, and are dressed. 5.45 fall in for roll call and served with a dipper of coffee. 6.00 fall in again and clean around the horses, also clean and feed them until 7.00 then breakfast. 8.30 guard mounting when the old guard are dismissed and the new guard go on for 24 hours. They are divided into three reliefs and go on for two hours and off in 4 hours. 9.00 water call when the drivers take the horses to water. 9.30 sick call when all the sick go to the doctor’s tent. 12.30 dinner. 3.30 stable call when the stalls are cleaned. Also horses ed and cleaned. 5.30 evening roll call, 8.00 tattoo roll call. 8.30 taps when all lights are put out. No noise or talk after that. Also about five hours drill beside if the weather is good. Every day field drill, gun drill, or sabre.
After remaining in Camp Revere from October 14th until March 10th, the army started on the march for Centreville and Manassas where the Confederate army were in winter quarters. We had large bell tents called Sibley tents that would hold 12 men each while in winter camp but when we received marching orders, we also received orders to turn them in and draw small ones called shelter tents, one half tent to each man. They would button together. The men would cut three small poles, one for each end and one for a ridge pole, put the tent over and pin it down. Two men could crawl under and sleep.
We had orders also to turn in wheelbarrows, shovels, hoes, pitchforks, small camp stoves and a large quantity of other things we could not carry. I was left in charge of all this property with a guard of six men, one sick man, and a prisoner and two teams. I had to take an account of all the property, turn it in at a government store house in Alexandria, and get a receipt for the same. Then take my men and follow on after the company and report. I overtook them at Annandale on the 14th March on their return from Centreville and Manassas where they had been and Lee’s army had fallen back towards Richmond. When this was found out, the plan of operations was changed ad we (the army) were ordered back to our camp. As we had cold rains on the return march and the men slept on the ground, they suffered very much.
At this time the army was formed into corps, three divisions in a corps. I told you before how many were in a division so you will understand the size of a corps. Our division was the 1st Division, 6th Corps—one of the best in the army and called the “Fighting Sixth.” We lay in camp on our old campground about three weeks, having drill, reviews, and inspections. On the 25th March, General McDowell reviewed and inspected about 50,000 troops. On the 27th, Lord Lyons and other foreign ministers with Members of Congress reviewed about 33,000. Also a review by General McClellan and others.
April 4th last night we received orders to be ready to start in the morning. Were up, tents struck and all packed before sunrise but did not start until about 10 o’clock. I was again left in charge of some stores with two men and orders to turn them in to the quartermaster’s department. The next afternoon at 2 o’clock I took the cars (baggage train) and went about three miles and stoped until six, then thirteen miles and lay on a side track until 10 the next morning in an open baggage car. Then we started again and I found my company at Manassas. Owing to rain and snow the roads were so bad we could not move. There were also various steams of water that had becone so deep we could not cross. We lay in a plowed foeld in a sheet of mud until the 11th when the steam Broad Run, having fallen, the cavalry found a place up the stream where we could cross. The water was up to the axle of the carriages. After passing the run, the fields were so soft we would get all ready and put on whip and spur to the horses and start across, sometimes clear up to the axle, and they would become stuck. Then all the men would get hold and help them out. Each carriage would take a different track in crossing. After getting about two miles beyond the river, we received orders (our Corps) to return to Alexandria, turned back and by a forced march reached Manassas on April 12th, marched again to Fairfax, and camped.
On the 13th reached Alexandria and camped outside the town near Fort Ellsworth. On the 14th we shipped our guns, caissons, and horses on stream transports, and men and baggage on schooners. On the 15th, 16thm and 17th the rest of the corps were being shipped to join General McClellan before Yorktown, he having taken the rest of the army some time before down the river. Sailed early on the 18th, the schooners and some transports in tow of the steam vessels, arriving at Ship Point about three o’clock on the afternoon of the 19th. On the 20th and 21st, unloaded the cavalry and artillery on account of the horses and left the infantry on the transports to await orders, it being understood we were to sail up the York River and attack Gloucester Point opposite Yorktown when McClellan attacks Yorktown. My brothers were in camp about three miles from our camp but I could not go to see them. While laying here the Boys killed quite a number of snakes—Blue Racers. Some of them were four or five feet long. They would crawl in along side the men in the night to keep warm and they would find then in their blankets in the morning.
From the 22nd until May 4th we attended to our regular duties with nothing of interest that I can think of. We could hear the firing every day at Yorktown. On the morning of May 4th, we were having our Sunday morning inspection when the officer commanding the artillery of our division informed us that Yorktown was evacuated and gave us orders to reship. We were all board by midnight. Started up the York River the next morning and reported at Yorktown, remained all night and in the morning, May 6th, we started up river again for West Point, reaching there early in the afternoon. Our horses, arriving first, were landed during the night and our carriages the next morning, May 7th. Some of our infantry that were landed the day before were skirmishing all night. We took position with our guns and were in our first battle. We also had General Sedgwick’s Division with us. The Rebs opened on our troops, steamers and transports. We replied to them and advanced a strong line of infantry and won the day. Our gunboats in the river aided us by rapid firing with large guns. There was a French gunboat came up the river with us to look on. Some of the shots struck quite near her and she run up the French flag and beat to quarters. We remained in harness all night and I was sergeant of the guard and had a gun loaded to fire as a signal if needed.
On the 8th [May], General McClellan and staff arrived, the rest of the army having marched from Yorktown up between the James and York rivers, his right joining our two divisions, remained here the 9th and 10th, the gunboats going further up the river and shelling the woods. On the 11th, moved a few miles and camped, remaining the 12th and moving again on the 13th, camping at Cumberland, remaining the 14th. On the 15th, up at four and ready for the march. Went to the White House—a fine estate belong to Lee. It was a beautiful place, a large number of slaves, and they had nice quarters and workshops. The fields of grain and everything looked fine. The 16th, 17th, and 18th were quiet but we moved again on the 19th. On the 20th and 21st we moved along and on the 22nd remained in camp. Also the 23rd and 24th. On the 25th, we marched again and camped on a plantation belonging to Dr. Gaines who raised grain and tobacco. The Rebs threw a number of shells into our camp today.
For the next few days we lay in camp here and could hear firing at different points along the line. I stood on the brow of a hill and looked down on the Battle of Fair Oaks. Could see the lines move up, hear the cannon and musketry, the yell of both armies as they charged. Also the Battle of Seven Pines. While in this camp I received a letter from your father informing me that in the Battle of Williamsburg (May 5th) that our brother Andrew J. was killed and that your father was wounded in the same battle and was then at Annapolis, Maryland in hospital.
On June 11th we started from camp (leaving the camp standing under guard) at 4 o’clock to relieve another Battery on picket at Mechanicsville where there were a few houses and a ford across the creek. Our troops held one bank and the Rebs the other. We could see them working on earthworks on a hill, but they remained quiet until about 6 p.m. when they opened on us. Each section of the Battery lay quite a distance from the other. The short-distance section was in the road leading to the ford. One long-range section to the right and the other to the left of it. So the lieutenant from right and left would go to the centre and eat with the captain and other lieutenants. As the officers were at supper when the firing commenced and only the sergeants in charge when an aide rode up and ordered us to reply to them. To the fort on the hill was about one mile. I from the left and sergeant Lawrence from the right, each dropped a shell in the breastwork. We heard afterwards from some prisoners that came in that we killed quite a number and dismounted a gun. They soon stopped when they found out what was in front of them. The lieutenant came up running and asked who gave the orders. I told him. Soon the aide returned and told us to stop. The lieutenant told me and I replied, I have a shot in the gun.” He said fire it but don’t load again. I asked could I fire where I wished, He said yes. I dropped the breach of the gun all I could (for elevation), pointed it toward Richmond, which was 4.5 miles and let it go. As the gun would carry about 5 miles, I have often wondered where it went.
We remained here a week laying around the guns, day and night, but we were not troubled again while there. On the [ ] we were relieved, returned to and struck camp, leaving Dr. Gaines’ place and crossing the creek at Woodbury bridge and camped in a field near Fair Oaks. On the 19th, moved a short distance and camped. While here I went among regiments of our line and found [ ] regiments and two batteries from Massachusetts. i found some friends in some of them. The sights I see in passing over the fields of Fair Oaks and Seven Pines were hard. Men thrown into [burial] trenches, some having as many as 100 to 150 in a trench. Many had been only covered as they lay on the ground by throwing dirt up from each side and as the rains had washed parts of them out—arms, legs, face, &c. and those parts were one living mass of maggots. The stench was horrible. And the troops were camped among the graves and had to drink the water. The reason they were buried so was after the battle, there was an awful rain storm and the creek was overflowed and the bodies were under the water. When it went down, they were so bad they could not be handled. The dead belonged to both armies.
Captioned “Woodbury’s Bridge—Chickahominy River.” Library of Congress
For the next week things remained about the same, firing along the lines every day and the regular camp duties. On June 26th the Rebs crossed at Mechanicsville and above, turning our right, where there was a terrible fight—the first one of the Seven Days. General Porter commanding the corps on the right was forced to fall back to Gaines Mills. On the 27th was the Battle of Gaines Mills. We crossed over at Woodbury Bridge and were in the battle in the afternoon. It was very fierce and the loss was large on both sides. At night we crossed back over the creek and took position on the front line remaining all night.
On the 28th, moved back to creek and took position to command another bridge. Troops passing all day and fighting at different points on the line. We held the position all day and on picket at night. Moved back before morning passing through lines of battle. I will explain something here something of the way we were falling back. While say one half of the army were fighting today, the other half formed the second line in rear of the first, ready to support them or take part holding the line all day, and at night the first line passed through the second and formed in their rear, being the supporting line that day. And at night change again from first to second.
On the 29th June was the Battle of Savage Station. When I passed here there were piles of rations—beef, pork, rice, hard bread, &c. Tons of musket and artillery ammunition, shot, shell, &c. All the stores of all kinds the teams could not carry were piled up and set on fire. Also hay and grain. The soldiers were taking the fuses out of the shells, pouring out the powder and in fact, destroying thousands of dollars worth of property. This was a railroad station and that is the reason there was so much property there. We had railroad trains moving what they could and kept them at it so long we could not get back. so the bridge over the creek was burned, the train loaded with stores, the engine started and all run into the creek.
You will form some idea of our wagon train when I tell you if it was put in a single ine, it would reach over 50 miles. We also drove a large head of cattle.
On June 30th, Charles City Cross Roads and White Oak Swamp Battles were fought. We were in the Charles City Cross Roads fight and had it hot. We fired so long and rapid our guns’ breach [became] so hot they would go off when the vent was uncovered. Although we wet the sponge in water, the water passed into the vent honeycombed them so bad that they had to be taken out and new ones put in as soon as we had an opportunity, a man coming from the gun foundry. We fired that day from our long-range guns about one ton from each.
I told you I had a good drilled squad ad we use to see who would gwt the first shot when we received orders to commence firing. I got the first shot and I suppose they fired at my smoke for while loading for the second shot, my No. 3 man at the vent, and my head by his side sighting the gun, a shell passed through him and over my shoulder, spattering the flesh and blood in my face and clothing. After dark we lay around the guns with a skirmish line in front. At midnight the lieutenant told me to wake my men and mount the driver and tell them and the other men not to speak a word or strike a horse and if they became stuck on stumps or in a hole, to leave then and save my horses if I could. If not, leave them. We drove off on the grass without a sound being made. One of our officers (said to be Gen. Kearny) rode up to the picket line and asked for the officer in charge, gave him orders to move the line back and uncover a cross road through a wood as he wished to pass some artillery. the officer, thinking it all right, moved the line and we passed through with everything all right. When we came out on a pike road inside our line, an officer sat on his horse and told us to let them go and we went down the road flying, arriving at Malvern Hill at 4 o’clock in the morning of July 1st, took position in line, and was in the battle part of the time. As our corps was out of ammunition, we received orders to go to the rear. Towards evening we took position for the night.
July 2nd left our position at 2 a.m. and marched to Harrison’s Landing, the troops coming in all day. When we arrived here we entered as fine a field of grain as ever you see, but before night, with the rain and the tramp of troops, it was all gone and was our sea of mud. Thus ended the Seven Days Battles before Richmond—one of the grandest movements of the war. When you think of the country we had to fight over, the large force General Lee brought against us, and we saved our trains and cattle, also artillery and troops.
On the 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th, we were in different positions in reforming the lines. On the 8th, President Lincoln with a large staff and guard rode around the lines and received the troops, the gunboats and batteries firing salutes. The infantry built long earthworks and the artillery was placed in them all along the line, the guns being about 17 yards apart and the infantry camped in the rear. A strong picket line was out about 3 or 4 miles. We had drills and other camp duties every day. Otherwise it was quiet until the night of July [ ], when at midnight, the Rebs having brought down some batteries on the other side of the [James] River, opened fire on our gunboats, transports and camps. The gunboats and some batteries near the landing replied. The camps all turned out. It looked fine to see the shells going through the air when they didn’t come too near. In about an hour it stopped and all was quiet again and we turned in. The next day several regiments were sent across the river to destroy some buildings used by then=m for observation and a strong guard left to prevent the move again. A large number of men were dying in the camps every day from the hardships they had passed through but only one died in our camp from fever. Sometimes twenty or thirty dead bodies would pass our camp a day and I suppose the same in other parts of the army. It was very hot while here—from 100 to 115 degrees every day.
We received orders to turn in our guns and draw others of a different kind. We received six light 12-pounders or Napoleon guns, short-range (less than a mile) but the most destructible gun in the service for close fighting. Expecting the guns were ready, we took the horses and only 12 men and went to the landing and then found out we had to put the carriages together, mount the guns, and draw the ashore. Also all the ammunition, It took all day and was a hard job. The glass stood 80 degrees in the shade.
On August 6th, some 30 lb. Parrotts took position on our right. On the 7th Battery, B. Md. Artillery took our position and we moved into camp half a mile in the rear. On the 11th, received orders to be ready, packed up and hitched every day but did not start until the afternoon of the 16th when we crossed the Lower Chickahominy on a pontoon bridge which the gunboats were guarding. On July 18th, passed through Williamsburg (the place my brother Andrew was killed). On the 19th, passed through Yorktown and reached Lee’s Mills on the 20th and were ordered to Hampton. On the 23rd, we shipped our carriages on an old ferry boat that used to run from Boston to Chelsea which reminded us of home.
On the 24th shipped our horses and men on schooners. On the 26th went to Aquia Creek and received orders on the 27th to proceed to Alexandria. Arrived there on the 28th and disembarked, went into camp outside the city near Fort Lyons, and quite near the old camp where my brother was last winter.
On the 29th the Battery was ordered out towards Centreville and as our teams had not arrived, I was left in charge of baggage and stores with a guard until they came. The Battery returned to camp on September 2nd in the night and the next day moved to the old campground of last winter. In camp the 4th and 5th. In the 6th we received orders at 5 p.m. and were on the road at 6 passing over Long Bridge, through Washington and Georgetown on the trot and camping beyond on the Poolesville road (as the Rebs had crossed into Maryland). Remained in camp the next day. Troops passing all day. On the 8th passed through Rockville and at 7 went in position for the night. Marched the next day and camped at night at foot of the Sugar Loaf Mountain. Remained in camp the next day and marched on the following one camping near Buckstown. On the move next day and at noon, halted near Jefferson. Started again and halted near South Mountain, then opened the battery on Crampton Pass, South Mountain, where the Rebs were in a strong position on the side of the mountain with both artillery and infantry. Our battery was engaged part of the time, but being short-range, could only reach part of their line, but other batteries could. Part of our infantry moved on the front and another force moved into the woods and up the side of the mountain and flanked the position, driving them up and over the mountain, taking artillery, baggage wagons, and prisoners. We moved up the hill and camped on the field with the dead and wounded.
We were on the move again on the 17th and could hear rapid firing in the direction of Sharpsburg. We arrived at Antietam Creek at noon where we found a fierce battle going on. We was ordered into line on the right of center where the battle had been fierce, the dead of both armies and wounded lay thick as the field had been charged over two or three ties by both armies. In passing through a cornfield to take position, many a poor soldier (wounded), Union & Reb, would raise himself on his elbow and ask us, “For God’s sake” not to run over him. I can say I never run over a wounded man while in service. I rode by the lead driver and looked out for that. We took position within 500 yards and opened fire, remained on the field that day and the next, engaged or under fire.
On the night of the 18th, could hear the Rebs moving artillery or trains the most of the night, not knowing if they were massing troops for a final charge on our right, or a flank movement in the morning. As soon as daylight on the 19th, our skirmish line was advanced with a strong supporting line and forced the Reb skirmish line back. They soon found they had no support as their army had gone and left them. They threw down their guns and came in as prisoners.
We started after them at once, passing over the field of battle and I must say, I see worse sights here than on any other field I was ever on. Thousands of dead and wounded of both armies, killed in all kinds of ways and positions, and those that were killed at the first of the battle were swollen to twice their size and turned black. The stench was awful (when men are killed in health and full blooded, they turn soon) and the sun was very hot. In all the buildings from the field to the river, we found them filled with their wounded whom they had left behind. Lee’s army had crossed at Williamsport.
On the 21st, camped at St. James College. On the 22nd, moved into camp at St. James College. On the 22nd, moved into camp at Bakersville and remained the rest of the month and until October 9th when we went to Hagerstown and washed up the Battery for repairs and painting, and harnesses for oiling. After getting about half done, we were ordered on picket at Williamsport, put our carriages and harness together and went on the 16th finishing while there. We went out three or four times at midnight (with other troops) to command a bridge expecting a cavalry dash. The nights were very frosty and cold standing on watch. On October 31st we were relieved by the Baltimore Light Artillery and marched to the south side of the Blue Ridge, crossing at Crampton Pass and camping for the night. Then crossed the Potomac at Berlin on a pontoon bridge and entered Virginia once more.
During NOvember there was nothing of interest—only marches taking position in various places. Lots of rain and some snow. General Burnside had taken the place of General McClellan at the latter part of the month. Gen. Hooker’s Division was passing our camp and I run out and watched for the battery your father was in, he having returned to duty. I see him for about half an hour—the first time for eleven months.
December 4th, marched to Belle Plain and went in camp, remaining in camp until the 11th. Some rain and snow. On the 11th we started for Fredericksburg and camped near the river. On the 12th, crossed the Rappahannock on a pontoon bridge below the city (called Franklin’s Crossing) and went in position near the Barnard House. The day was foggy but about 3 o’clock it lifted and the Rebs opened on us and there was some brisk fighting. At night it stopped.
Early the next morning, the 13th, the firing was rapid and lively on both sides. At noon we moved and took position on the right of the left wing of our army, when the whole of the infantry line (in that wing) advanced towards the railroad and a fierce infantry fight took place. The Rebs moved a battery to rake the line, when our battery opened on their and blew up a number of heir limbers and the loss of life must have been large. We soon silenced that battery.
Our troops were repulsed with a large loss in killed and wounded and they fell back to their old place in line. Towards evening the opened a cross fire on us from a battery near the town. Their 1st shot smashed a wheel on a gun limber, took off a sergeant’s leg, and a private’s arm. Some horses killed and wounded. On the 14th and 15th lay in position with few shots from either side, both watching for a move from the other.
On the night of the 15th all the army fell back across the river on the pontoon bridges. These were covered with hay to deaden the sound. We were all across and the bridges up before daylight which surprosed the Rebs who expected to see us before them in the morning. Our battery was the last to cross, being with the rear guard. We had a large loss and no gain in this battle. We then returned to the same camp occupied before the movement. Remained here until the 19th when we moved and camped near White Oak Church on the Belle Plain Road. Nothing of interest during the rest of December—only the same as when we are in camp long. On the 28th I got a pass, mounted, and went out to find your father’s company. After riding about all over the army, I found him.
From January 1st to 20th, we were in the same camp building brush stables for the horses and attending to other camp duties. On the 20th, left camp at noon and marched across country striking the Warrenton Pike near Falmouth where we camped for the night. A cold rain all night and for the next three days. In the morning we were soaking and puddles of watrer where we lay. We had hard work to move our carriages, the mud was so deep. We had to take the horses from one carriage and put them on another, then return for the others. Sometimes we had from 8 to 28 horses on one carriage. Pontoon trains, baggage wagons, siege guns, and ambulances were struck fast in the mud. Mules and horses were mired and became so weak as to fall over in the mud and drown. I had to take a mounted detail of 16 men, go back and find the forage train, get a bag of oats, and put it in front…[the remainder is missing]
Having only recently purchased and read Mark Dunkelman’s wonderful book entitled, War’s Relentless Hand, imagine my surprise when the Civil War letters of Barzilla Merrill of the 154th New York Infantry were sent to me for transcription. In his book, Mark features stories of twelve infantrymen who served in the 154th (a. k. a. the “Hard Tack Regiment”), one of which was Barzilla. As such, thinking maybe these letters had already been transcribed and were available on the internet (in which case I would not duplicate the effort), I searched in vain and only found the extracts of Barzilla’s letters that were incorporated into Mark’s book. From his website, I found Mark’s comment that Barzilla’s “voluminous wartime letters were among the first I located, copied, and transcribed, and they brought him vividly to life. Using his letters, I tried to convey his personality as best I could in the chapter on him in my book War’s Relentless Hand. In page after page of reporting and philosophizing, he conveyed his war with plainspoken brilliance.” Mark also wrote that it was Doris Williams, Barzillas’s great granddaughter, who shared the letters with him. [Note: Since writing the above and after having completely transcribed Barzilla’s entire collection of letters, a friend sent me a link to Barzilla’s letters that Mark Dunkelman transcribed years ago. See Letters.]
I don’t know how many years ago the letters were sold to my client but have reason to believe it was at least a decade ago and as far as I could learn, they had never been made completely available to the public on the internet until now.
Barzilla Merrill and his teenage son, Alva, both served in Co. K, both enlisting in August 1862, Alva couple weeks before his father. According to Dunkelman’s book, there were eight pairs of fathers and sons in the regiment. They came from Dayton, Cattaraugus county, New York. When they enlisted, they left behind at home Barzilla’s wife, Ruba (Cole) Merrill, and the couple’s other children, Nancy (b. 1843), and Irvin (b. 1850).
Mark Dunkelman’s masterful portrayal of Barzilla Merrill is described in 22 pages of Chapter 12 of his book. It’s beautifully written and I won’t begin to repeat here—only to use the excerpt which describes Barzilla’s demise which most readers will be interested in learning after digesting his letters.
“Late in the afternoon of May 2, 1863, Barzilla and Alva Merrill and the rest of the 154th New York relaxed near an old tavern in a clearing carved from dense woods. Several days of marching through the Wilderness had brought them to the verge of battle. Suspense and apprehension had been high among the men as the movement unfolded and distant fighting erupted. But this day had been one of inactivity, and the evening promised more quiet. The Eleventh Corps appeared to be positioned well to the army’s rear. Although rumors had circulated about a Confederate movement past their front, as the afternoon shadows lengthened, the threat seemed to diminish. With sundown approaching, the men chatted as they cooked their suppers, smoked, played cards, and prepared for a peaceful night’s sleep.
Suddenly, shockingly, the peace was shattered. Under the red sunset, the western woods exploded with a roar of gunfire and the shrill keen of the of the rebel yell. Terrified deer and rabbits darted from the trees and zigzagged wildly across the fields. As the regiment hurriedly took up arms and fell into line, Barzilla and Alva watched with astonishment as their fellow Eleventh Corps troops bolted and ran, smashed to flinders by the powerful Confederate onslaught, swarming past the brigade at Dowdall’s Tavern in a roiled, panicked mess of men, horse-drawn artillery, and mule-driven wagons. Few of the fugitives could be persuaded to join the brigade as it formed near the tavern, perpendicular to the road in a shallow rifle pit. Some troops rallied on the brigade’s right, stretching towards the woods. Anchoring the brigade”s left flank was the 154th New York.
As the last Yankee fugitives scampered past the brigade’s line and into the woods behind, out of the smoke emerged deep lines of Confederates, filling the clearing from side to side, filing through the forest beyond, their red battle flags and burnished rifles glowing in the twilight. The 154th New York and its brigade, with a small clump of rallied comrades on the right, were all that stood between [Stonewall] Jackson’s force and the reast of the Union army, a mile or more back through the forest. Barzilla and Alva watched the enemy surge over the rolling countryside toward the rifle pit like an immense gray wave, sweeping all resistance from its path. When orders were shouted to open fire, father and son shot and reloaded and shot and reloaded as fast as they could. The Confederates did the same. The rifle pit offered slight protection; men began to bleed and writhe and scream and moan. Among those hit was Barzilla Merrill, who was slightly wounded in the shoulder.
The Confederates were staggered by the Yankee line’s fire, but they could not be stopped. Far to the right, they outflanked and shattered the rallied Union troops. Then they sent the regiments of the 154th’s brigade reeling in turn. The 29th New York and 27th Pennsylvania fled to the rear. The right half, seeing the 154th standing fast, stood by the New Yorkers. The Confederates now closed in on that tiny force, the last Eleventh Corps troops on the field.
Col. Patrick Henry Jones of the 154th, down with a wound in the hip, gave the order for the regiment to retreat. The men now had to leave the rifle pit and cross an open field to the woods in their rear, all the while exposed to the concentrated Confederate fire. It was no retreat in precise alignment—they ran, every man for himself. During the chaotic withdrawal across that bullet-swept field, the regiment took its heaviest losses. the survivors plunged into the woods and stumbled toward the Union lines,, Confederates howling in pursuit, darkness deepening by the second. Left behind in the hands of the enemy were the regiment’s killed and badly wounded. Among them was Barzilla Merrill, dead of a gunshot to the head.
Did Alva Merrill see his father fall? Was he by Barzilla’s side for a last embrace and hasty parting word? Did he think his father was still alive. running through the woods somewhere to save his skin? Or maybe just wounded back there by the tavern, or nabbed by some younger, faster Reb, and now a prisoner of war? What Alva knew, we will never know.
We do know that he remained ready to fight. During the rout, blundering through the dark woods, some members of the 154th fell into enemy hands. Alva managed to escape, but in the confusion he and some comrades were separated from the regiment. They spent the night lost on the battlefield, listening to the raging fight. The next morning the little squad fell into line with other Union troops. Alva divided some coffee with his company mate, Private Marcellus W. Darling, and the hungry young men anticipated a restorative breakfast. But just as the coffee began to boil, the Confederates unleashed an attack on the position. In the ensuing battle, Alva was killed by Darling’s side.
When the Union army retreated from Chancellorsville the Confederates buried the dead. All across the battlefield, squads set to the grim work. Near the Dowdall’s Tavern, Barzilla’s corpse was dragged together with those of the 154th New York’s other killed and tossed into a common burial pit. More than a mile away, Alva’s remains received similar treatment.”
Frock Coat belonging to Barzilla Merrill, Co. K, 154th New York (Cattaraugus County Museum in Machias)
As a curiosity, the Cattaraugus County Museum in Machias has Barzilla Merrill’s frock coat. How was it that Barzilla’s coat came to be in the museum? Mark Dunkelman informs us that the answer is indicated in a letter Barzilla sent to his wife, Ruba, on 2 April 1863, in which he told her he had sent his overcoat and dress coat (i.e., the frock coat) in a trunk to a neighbor, where she could get them by paying a share of the freight charge. Exactly a month after he wrote this, Barzilla and Alva were killed at Chancellorsville. Mark’s supposition is a Merrill descendant donated the coat to the museum around the time it was dedicated in 1914.
Rearers may also be interested in 1863: H. Alvin Hitchcock to Otis Hitchcock. Alvin also served in the 154th New York, Co. A, and was wounded at Chancellorsville. In his book, Dunkelman also features Alvin Hitchcock in Chapter 8.
Alvin Hitchcock of Co. A, 154th New York giving an eyewitness account of the Battle of Chancellorsville, from the time that his company helped the 15th New York Engineers lay the canvas pontoon bridge over the Rappahannock river at Kelly’s Ford, until his capture on the day after Stonewall Jackson’s flank attack that rolled up the 11th Corps. From his letter we learn that he was wounded while standing with others of the 154th New York on the “Buschbeck line” near Dowdall’s Tavern (pictured below) which held back Jackson’s men for over an hour while the high command attempted to stem the chaos of the fleeing soldiers.
Barzilla and Ruba (Cole) Merrill
Letter 1
Addressed to Mrs. Ruba C. Merrill, Cottage P. O., Cattaraugus county, New York
Jamestown [New York] September 3rd 1862
Wife, I don’t think that I can come home before the last of the week. I have been put through the mill and am all right and I wish that you would see someone and have that wheat down to Judd’s bound up and got up ten in a bunch, raked up clean, and done nice, except the Canada thistles. Skip them. Tell who does it that I will pay them the money for doing it when I come home. I want it done as soon as it can be. Please attend to it and try to have it done. Alva is well.
— B. Merritt
Letter 2
I shall want you to answer this before I write again and then I will write. I think that it will take you about 5 days to get this and 5 days to get an answer so you see that it will be 10 days before I can hear from home. I don’t hardly know how to write. If you think best, you may let some of th neighbors see this letter.
Please direct to Barzilla Merrill, Washington D. C., Company K, 154 [New York] Regt., Care of Capt. Huggabone
Please write as soon as you get this and I would like to have Nancy and Irvin write. Write all the news. Give my love to all and save a large share for yourselves.
Letter 3
Camp Guard October 11th 1862
To my wife Ruba,
I thought that I would write a few lines to you this morning. I have written twice before. I don’t look for anything from you yet. I shall look next week for a letter from you. We have had orders this morning to cook two days rations and I expect that we shall leave today or tomorrow. I believe the orders is to Fairfax. Alva and I are well but there is some sick in the regiment. I believe that dysentery is the main complaint.
We are now on Lee’s farm, or what was once a farm. The fences are gone and the country around here is all stomped over and trod down and any amount of tents. There seems o be plenty of men here and have had a very trying time here but we had a fine rain last night and that has laid the dust and the weather is a little cooler today.
I want to hear from you and the children as soon as I can. I think that they had a battle south of us last night by the looks of things. It looked light and seemed to flash occasionally. What awaits me in the future, I don’t know, but I leave all in the hands of God and I expect to go forth and try and do my duty at all times, and in all places please remember me in your secret devotions.
I have not had a bed to sleep in since I slept with you to Jamestown. I would like to call to our house awhile and have one drink of water out of our well. They don’t have such water down here by no means. The land don’t look as I expected. It is rough here and the Virginia folks are some time behind so far as the customs are concerned. They appear some like the Dutch to Dayton. There is only a few families of the settlers left about here. We bring water about half a mile where a family have not left. The well is 115 feet deep. On the whole, the Cattaraugus folks don’t appreciate the privileges that they enjoy. If you should want me to write paryiculars about anything, mention in your letter.
I hant seen any plantations yet nor where anything grew the past summer. I have not heard from Wilbur yet. I don’t know where the 44th is. I have seen our chaplain but have not heard him preach. He appears like a fine man.
We have enough to eat when we can get it but there is so many to serve that we don’t get it very regular. There is a great deal wasted every day. Tell Miss Howlett that Horace is very steady and seems to enjoy himself well. Lieut. [Philander W.] Hubbard says if you see Jane, tell her that he has been well until last night. He was some unwell but he is able to be around. He says that he will write as soon as he can get time.
Direct to B. Merrill, Washington D. C., 154th Regt. Co. K, N. Y. S. V., Care of Captain Hugabone
Letter 4
October 14, 1862
Since the other was written we have moved to Fairfax, a 10 or 15 mile [march]. We are now about 20 miles south of Washington. There is a rumor in camp now that we leave this day for Centreville but we have not yet had orders to do so. There is but very few families left between here and Camp Seward. Desolation and ruin is spread over the place. I have not yet seen any rebels—only a few prisoners that were going to Washington when we came here.
My health still remains good and so is Alva’s. I don’t get much time to write. I thought that I would write considerable Sunday but Sunday morning we started for this place and arrived here Monday noon and so you see it goes. I don’t get much spare time. I have some house work to do such as cooking, washing dishes and the like. Some days I feel a little lonesome and think of home and the folks to Dayton, but I pass it off as soon as possible and enjoy myself as best I can. My lodging is not first rate. You know that I like a good bed and a good bed fellow of the right stripe but I can’t have either of those.
I heard one of our folks—Howlett, I believe—-say that he would give 25 cents to see one good-looking woman. Such are scarce here, I tell you. I think of things that I can’t write. Well, Ruba, I think that you will want to read this in the dark. I think of these things but I can govern myself yet. As it happens, I think of your smooth face. I mean I want you to be very careful of your health and I calculate to and I intend to come home as clean as I left, if it is in my power to. You said you was afraid that I would get the rheumatism. What are the symptoms? I have spells of feeling stiff. Is this a symptom of rheumatism? I am afraid that you have some difficulty to get along after a while. Do you have any symptoms of this kind? I think of you but this, all the good it does. Will you write me a nice letter and tell me about these things? Do it nice and write on the back a private letter to B. Merrill.
Ruba, I thought that I would write a little more. You said you would fix up that little letter some time. I want you to do it right away. You know when I want a thing, I don’t know how to wait. I tell you the plain truth, I would like to sleep with you and that aint all that I would like neither. This has quite an affect on my while I think about it. I suppose you are about as Old Madish as ever. Do you think that you could be persuaded to me me have a kiss—I mean if I was there about now. Or would you go and sit down by the window and cry. I think of old times and that is some satisfaction. I expect that you are getting smooth and nice by this time. I judge you by myself and that is a very way to get at a thing. They say if I get home in the spring, you will let me have a little butter, won’t you? I am all right—are you? – B. M.
Letter 5
Fairfax October 18, 1862
Ruba,
I received your letter this morning and was very glad to hear from home, I assure you, and I conclude that you have got to be a man of business by what you say what you have done. I guess you have the blues a little. I feel some like laughing at you a little and I feel some like writing a kind of request letter but I don’t know as it would do but there is a few telegraph marks towards the bottom of your letter that I hardly understand. I guess that you had better mark it a little plainer in your next or explain a little so as I am concerned, or rather so far as my health is concerned, I feel keen as a brier and Alva’s health is good. You spoke of your nice potatoes. I am glad that you have them and I guess that you had better bake one and put on some butter and eat it for me. I have not tasted of a potatoe since I left Jamestown nor had any butter. I live on meat and bread with coffee or tea and sugar with a little rice occasionally. We have fresh bread occasionally. My appetite is good.
I sleep in a small cloth tent with the ground for our bedstead and our tent is well ventilated with air. Fresh air you know is healthy and that makes me tough. I an’t as fleshy as when you seen me last. The water is poor here and there is quite a number in camp that it troubled with a back door trot and it runs some of them quite hard.
We still lay in camp at Fairfax. When or where we go, I can’t tell. The land here is poor and it don’t look like fighting a great deal about. The soil looks of a reddish cast and looks worn out. The inhabitants are mostly gone and the most of the buildings tore to pieces. Some of the stores up to town and brick buildings laid waste. I went up to town the other day. It is about half a mile from our camp. It is nearly ruined. When I read your letter, I thought if you had my writing table it might be that you would have written a little better. I will tell you what it is. I sit flat on my bottom on the ground in the shade of a tree. Sometimes I write in the evening in my tent in the same way and my gun bayonet stuck in the ground which serves for a candle stick and so the things goes.
I had a letter from Wilbur since I came from our last camp here. He says he is well and on all fours. I answered his letter and asked him to come and see me. He is down the river (the Potomac) at the Antietam Iron Works probably forty or fifty miles from ne. There is now about ten or 15 regiments in camp not far from ours which makes quite a number of men. Drums are beating a most all of the time and we are in a complete bustle. Things look quite war like around here and when the men comes out on dress parade, their shiny bayonets look savage. I would think from what I have seen that there is men a plenty in the field to go where they please with the right management but I can’t tell how this will be. I will send you two or three stamps that ain’t worth anything here. Maybe you can use them there. You will direct as usual until otherwise instructed. We have a post office right in camp and get mail here.
I washed a shirt and drawers the other day and that was a little new to me. You did not write whether you had got anything done with all the corn over to Mr. Edgerton’s nor whether the thrashing is done nor what you did with that little likeness of mine that we got to Jamestown. I have got yours in my pocket yet. I look at it occasionally. I think the thrashing had better be done as soon as it can be. The apples, are they gathered? and how many have you? Good apples will bring two to three cents apiece here in camp so you see I am without apples and butter is worth from 30 to 40 cents and cheese from 15 to 20 cents and small pies from 15 to 20 cents apiece and milk from 15 to 20 cents a quart and so on. And there is another thing troubles me—tobacco is worth $1 per pound and I have other troubles to get along with that I won’t mention.
I would like to have you let me know whether things look smooth or rough about home and whether it is wet or dry. The weather is dry. We get dry weather here and cool nights for one that sleeps as I do. We had a little frost last night for the first time this fall. I think on the whole that I would like to call home and eat supper with you and I would not be in a hurry to leave before morning to come back to camp.
I hardly know how to get along without tobacco but I don’t see any other way and so I shall have to stand up to the rack, hay or no hay. I would like to have you write me a small letter and do it up snug in the other and I will take it out and no one will see it but myself.
I want you to write how your health is and how you feel and how you like riding horseback alone. I expect that I shall be home between now and next spring and I expect to content myself as best I can for the present and I don’t [want] you to be lonely by any means. Keep cheery. Kiss the children for me. I want you to write often and let the children write some. Be careful of your health and get fat. Write all the news. — B. Merrill
Sunday, 19th. I think that I will write a little more to you today. I have been thinking more about them lonely feelings that you speak of and I want you to say Cheer up, cheer up. I am away on what I thought was my duty and I expect to stay and do the errand or rather help do it if it is ordered. I expect to stand up like a man and be a man in every sense of the word, or in other words, try and do my duty & would be very glad to have things so shape that I would [not] be discharged until that is done. I expect to stay if my health permits, My errand was to help maintain our government and I expect to do it. I don’t feel at all uneasy in my mind.
I received a letter from you this morning. I was glad to hear from you and I saw some more about this lovely feelings. I say try and cheer up. I think that I have reason to feel lonely if anyone has, but this don’t answer my turn. Walk erect and hold up my head and look and hope for better times. I have found things no worse than I expected as yet. I want you to write about Father’s folks in your next. I have written to them and have not had an answer yet.
A post war picture of Rev. Henry D. Lowing
Our chaplain preached to us this morning. I don’t remember his name. Text: Proverbs 22 and first verse and Psalms 119. Nine joined together and he preached good. He had his sermon wrote down. They say he is a Congregational preacher. I have just thought of his name, It’s [Henry D.] Lowing and I must tell about the meeting house. We formed a square in two ranks or in other words, two men thick with one side left out in a spot of clean grass on a side hill and he stood in the open space and preached to us. That is the way that we do business—all in the open—[just as we] cook, eat, and—I like to have said sleep and worship in the open air. I hardly seen the inside of a house since I left Jamestown nor have I sat down in a chair nor laid down in a bed, nor have I see but very few women. I have not seen a cow in the fields nor a sheep, nor hardly a horse or mule but what had U. S. stamped with a hot iron on them.
My equipage that I use is stamped U. S. I have not seen an ox team since I crossed the Potomac. I have rifle pits and embankments and so forth and I have seen trees that have been well marked up with balls and so on. In fact, we are encamped on the same ground that the rebels occupied a few weeks ago. Our pickets are now beyond Centreville 7 or 8 miles south of here. Our regiment has done no picket duty yet nor our guns have not been loaded yet. According to report, the rebels are falling back. We drill a little about every day and go through with the motions of sham fights, &c. I always liked realities better than motions but in this case, I presume that the motions would be the most pleasant to the eye. I understand that there is no rebels very near us. If there was, I think they would fare slim. Our team about here is pretty strong.
I don’t see anything why you should feel so lonely. You had the promise of having anything done for you that you wanted and why should you feel so bad. I had no such promises from anybody so I don’t see as you need to suffer for anything. I am where the water is poor and I go dry some of the time and a little hungry occasionally, but I feel well and I am saving all against a time of need. I would like to write you a long letter today but somehow I can’t think of much to write. You may give my love to some of my best friends…
Alva says that he will write in a few days. I am glad that Nancy and Irvin wrote and they must write a full letter. Try and write plain.
Ruba, I want you should send me some 3 cent stamps. You had better get a dollar’s worth and keep a part and send me about 20 in a letter. Alva says that if that box ain’t gone, he wants you to send his flannel shirts. I will try and get my thinking powers brightened up and write again when you answer this from — B. Merrill
Turn to read telegraph marks as you see I use them occasionally. I expect we will have a good time when I get home.
Letter 6
Fairfax October 25, 1862
Ruba,
I received a letter and a paper from you yesterday and was glad to hear from home, My health remains good and so is Alva’s. Strickland is getting better and I believe the rest from our place are in usual health. I have not much news to write today. We are not doing much this afternoon and I thought that I would pass away a little time in writing to you. I have received three letters and one paper from home. I have written once since I heard from you. I don’t know but you think that I wrote oftener than you can afford for you will have to foot the bill. I wrote to have you send me some stamps. I am getting a most out of stamps and I can’t get them here. I think that you had better try and cheer up and I guess that you will if you have seen my last letter. If that don’t have the desired effect, I will try again.
I am here to try and do my duty as a soldier for my country and the old flag. When I am through, I shall be glad to come home and not till then and I want you to cheer up and enjoy yourself as best you can until I can come home. I expect to come some time if Providence permits.
I would be glad to draw you a landscape of the scene around here but I can’t. I will try and describe to you a little how it looks around here. The country is not level nor gulfy but hilly and there is considerable woods in sight and the place all around here is dotted with white tents and our camp lats between two roads and there seems to be a great deal of teaming going on mostly with baggage wagons—heavy wagons, two span on a wagon, sometimes three, and sometimes four span on one wagon—and the wagons covered with whole canvas. Our teams come every night but their teams are in the broad stable of all outdoors and they stand until morning.
Our camp is about half a mile from Fairfax Court House that we have read so much about and about 6 or 7 miles from Centreville. I don’t know the exact distance [to] Alexandria though not many miles and we are about fourteen miles from the celebrated Bull Run and about forty or fifty miles from Richmond and Harpers Ferry is about the [same] distance down the Potomac River. We are now on the same ground, nearly, that was occupied by the rebels a few weeks ago. I have not had my gun loaded yet and I don’t know of any amount of rebels very near and I don’t know anything how long we shall stay.
We drill some though not very much. We are camped on a clean, nice piece of ground and the water is a little better than it was in our other camp. Irvin wanted to know what I thought [ ] frame was worth. I don’t think that it is worth much—just the frame. If you can get a little something for it and have it taken away clean, perhaps you had better let it go. I would not let any boards go. I was glad to have Irvin write and Nancy must write some time too. Tell them to write plainer than I do for I have no where to lay my paper so I can’t write very well. I am glad you have sent some stuff and I hope we will get it safe. I would be very glad to have some butter from home. I got four letters yesterday and one paper; one from you, one from Leonard’s folks, and one from Milo and one from Mr. Edgerton’s folks.
When we came from camp guard here, we passed the stone bridge that we had read about. There has been a battle there and one this side of there in a piece of woods that we passed. There the trees was well marked up and another at Bailey’s Crossroads, Those three places we have passed. We are in Sigel’s Brigade, I understand. We have plenty to eat now and not a great deal to do and I guess that the sick are getting better. There is 8 or ten regiments camped near us now.
I don’t think if anything more that would be best for me to write this time unless I should do it with telegraph marks and I think I will wait and see if you can read them that I did make. Finally, the whole of this is a kind of telegraph mark. I will do it up and not try to read it myself. I can make more marks or dots most any time. Please write often. I think that I can read dots and marks when placed in the right place. Yours, — B. M.
Letter 7
Fairfax Tuesday, [October] 28th [1862]
Wife,
Hiram Vincent, one of Barzilla’s tent mates
I am so comfortable tonight that I wanted to tell you about it. We have just got a nice little place fixed to keep fire in our tent and we are as comfortable as a biscuit. I am alone this evening and you see I think of [my] wife. Two of our family are out on picket. [Hiram] Vincent and [Bornt D.] Shelmadine and Calvin has gone out into camp on a visit. Alva has been in awhile but he has gone home now. I have been cleaning and greasing my boots and shoes and I now sit before a pleasant fire. In fact, I don’t lack but one thing of having quite a pleasant house and that is a woman to wash dishes, &c.
I am tough and hearty as a pig and so is Alva. This picket business ain’t dangerous yet for there is three sets [of pickets] between us and the enemy. We have had new neighbors come on today—a regiment from Ohio today. They have pitched a few rods from us and they have brought along a brass band and there is plenty of music here tonight. There is a good many soldiers camped about here now. I rather think that there will be an advance of the enemy soon but still I don’t know how that will be. I don’t know.
I would like to hear from you often. I have had but three letters yet.
We sent down to Wahington today to see about that box but we shan’t know until tomorrow. I wrote a few days ago to have you send me some stamps. I am about out. There ain’t no chance to get any here. Please send some if you hain’t [already]. I rather expected to hear from you today but I did not. I think that we will draw some pay soon. — B. Merrill
Letter 8
Fairfax Friday, 31 October, 1862
Mrs. Merrill,
Alva received a letter from you this morning. Enclosed, I found one for me and eight stamps for which I was thankful. I think that you had better get a quantity of them and send me some about once in a week or two. I can’t take care of many at a time. I have some leisure time and I want to write considerable many letters and it is quite a bother to get them here. We drill some and are idle a part of the time.
Since I wrote last we have moved our camp nearly one mile from where we was, near some woods and it is a nice place, and we have not fairly got rigged up yet. The weather here is fine as summer. I was surprised to hear that you had so much snow to Dayton. About that time we had a hard rain here but the most of the time since we crossed the [Potomac] river, the weather has been fine—the days clear and the latter part of the nights chilly, and a little frost in the mornings.
Well, I have got above living in old snowy Cattaraugus now. My home is in the sunny South. But it looks some here as though we had pitched our tents towards Sodom. We hain’t had worship. In our tents, after I get laid down nights, I have a chance for reflection and I try in [my] weakness to call on the name of the Lord, and Mr. [ ] and I walk out together.
My health is good but I am thin in flesh, You said you was afraid that I would have the rheumatism. I don’t know how that may be. I feel nothing of it yet. My appetite is good and I want to eat more than is for my [own] good. I have fresh beef, salt pork, beans, rice, bread, hard tack, or “sheet iron crackers” and coffee and sugar and sometimes molasses. This is about my living. If we could have butter, cheese and potatoes added, our living would be first rate with occasionally a piece of pie and a few green apples. I have not had a potato nor a bit of butter nor a piece of pie since I saw you last.. I hain’t had a bit of milk but once. I bought a canteen of milk to Camp Seward.
We hain’t got that box yet. I think that somebody will go and see about the fore part of the week. We have got to have the receipt that was given when it was shipped. [Philander W.] Hubbard says he wrote for it and he expects it every day. Strickland is getting better so that he is about. Hubbard has been unwell. He is about now. [Horace H.] Howlett is tough and I guess that the health of the regiment is better than it was and the water is a little better here than it was to Camp Seward.
We had a General Review here about [Franz] Sigel’s Headquarters this forenoon and there was about 16 regiments present besides a good many artillry and cavalry. Quite a number of the men that we read about was present and among the rest was Secretary Chase and among the big men that rode on horses was a lassie that rode on a horse. She looked nice and managed her horse well. She wore a black hat something like Nancy’s only it was fixed very nice and she had on a long black riding dress. I don’t know who she was. She looked a little out of her place. 1
I have not seen Uncle Abe [Lincoln] but I have seen his house. His house and mine that I live in don’t look a bit alike. I have an occasional thought come over me about my little home to Dayton and the folks there but I dry up and I expect to reside a spell longer in Old Virginia. I have not seen a green field since I crossed the river. About everything lays to waste and where the fields once were, it is all stomped over and a great deal of the ground used for tenting and drilling ground.
I have see Fairfax Court House. It is a brick building, windows stove in, &c. The woods about here is white oak and chestnut. There has been chestnuts here. They are gone now. I don’t hear much about the war though I understand that McClellan and Burnside do. When our division will move is more than I can tell.
The sun is getting low and I must hasten. You don’t write as often as I would like to have you. I believe that I have received three or four letters from you. I think that I have written two or three more than I have received but I suppose that you don’t have as many leisure moments as I do. I received a letter from Leonard and Elisa and one from Mr. Edgerton’s folks and I will answer both as soon as I can get time. I will try and write often. I would be glad to have Father’s folks write and Roslyn. I calculate to write to all of you as often as I can. I shall look for two letters, one done up in the other in a few days and I want you to write particular how you get along. You know I would like to see you and the children and all the rest of the folks but there seems to be something to be done here yet—if we ever get about it. But the thing moves slow. My love to all, — B. Merrill.
Please write.
Friday evening. I have got down by candle light to write a little more. Tell Nancy and Irvin that I would like to see them. Tell Irvin to take good care of the colts. He had better sell is calves and you had better kill that heifer. YOu can find someone that will want part of the meat I think by looking around. You want to get your chores as light as possible this winter and you must look out in time about wood for winter and fix as comfortable as you can. Be sure and fix the house so that the cellar won’t freeze. Get someone to help.
This evening our neighbors across the street gave me an invitation to come over and take supper with them and so I went. They had sweet potatoes and I had a good supper. The neighbors was Butler and Horace Robinson—John Newcomb’s wife’s brother. The other you don’t know. Potatoes are four cents a pound here. They had good cheese too so you see that I have some friends here. I have not had a hard word with anyone here. I have been well used so far as I know. Please excuse me this time. — B. M.
Kate Chase
1 It’s possible the “lassie” was Katherine Chase, the vivacious daughter of U.S. Treasury Secretary Salmon P. Chase. She had been escorted to Fairfax Court House by an ambitious, 32-year old, Union Brigadier General named James Garfield (the future president), who, several days later, wrote of the experience in a letter to his brother: “On Friday last, Miss Kate Chase and I took their carriage and a pompous liveried driver and allowing him to change his tall plug for a comfortable slouch, we set out for General Sigel’s headquarters at Fairfax Court House. Miss Chase had prepared two large baskets of provisions, partly for a present to the General and partly for our use if we should go on to the battlefield…We went on across Bull Run to the limit of the late battle for about five miles beyond Centreville…We saw hundreds of graves, or rather, heaps of earth piled upon bodies where they lay. Scores of heads, hands, and feet protruding, and so rapidly had been the decomposition of 34 days that naked, eyeless skulls grinned at us as if the corpses had lifted their heads from their deathbeds to leer at us as we passed by. Shells and round shot lay scattered all over the field and broken muskets and dismantled gun carriages were very plenty. Hats, caps, coats, equipment, letters, and all that lately belonged to life were scattered around.”
Letter 9
Virginia November 7th 1862
Ruba,
I thought that I would write you a few lines this morning and I have come to the conclusion that I have got about through unless you are a little more prompt about writing to me. I han’t had a line from you since that that come in with Alva’s. Alva has received one since. He says that he had three dollars and a half besides. Alva, Horace, and all the rest are well and seems to enjoy themselves very well. I am tough and hearty. I don’t sleep as well the latter part of the nights as I could wish by some means.
Since I last wrote, we have moved about seven miles. Today we are laying in camp. We are now just past Thoroughfare Gap that has been held by the rebels but we hain’t seen any of them yet. We hear all the time that they are just ahead but they keep out of our way as yet. We are now moving strong headed. We are now probably about fifty miles southwest from Washington. For the last fifteen or twenty miles that we have passed has been mostly held by the rebels and there seems to [be] more stuff left such as fence, sheep, cattle, hogs, and the like, and more of the settlers. The land is better and the water [too]. There has been more [crops] raised here the past summer.
And now I will tell you how our army manages. They take just what they want. If they want fire, they take [fence] rails. If they want mutton, they kill sheep. If they want fresh pork, they kill hogs, and so it goes now-a-days. I went out yesterday in the afternoon. I took a canteen and haversack and took some potatoes, milked a cow, and gathered some apples, and this morning we had stewed apples, roasted potatoes, and milk in coffee, and we had a good breakfast. You did not think that I would go to taking things in this way, did you? But I have and this is the cut here now.
Union soldiers foraging: “You did not think that I would go to taking things in this way, did you? But I have and this is the cut here now.” — Barzilla Merrill, 154th New York Infantry
We are now not very far from Warrenton. That is a secesh hole. I suppose that we shall pass that place before long. Some think that we will have a brush there but I don’t think that we will. Some thought we would have a brush to the Gap, but we did not. Had no trouble as yet no where.
Now, about the weather here. We had a little snow here yesterday so that the ground was white. It is all off today but the air is chilly today but the sun shines. Yesterday was the first snow here as yet and the ground is quite dry—very dry now, so that the fires run over the ground a good deal before the snow. The land here lays rather rough but it is very good land [with] oak and hickory timber.
I begin to [see] some slaves. They live in rather poor houses not far from masser’s house. They are rather good, some of brick and some of wood, some are empty and some are inhabited. Some are torn to pieces and some are not injured and so it goes.
I don’t know how soon we shall move again but probably soon. I have tried to inform you about matters here as much as I could since I left and I shall continue to do so as much as I can provided you write to me often and particular.
A good many of the houses here are built rather nice. The chimneys are built outside. The customs and the people resemble Pennsylvania the cattle are mostly without horns or, if you please, mully. [There are] a great many mules. And you can’t imagine much about the expense of the war until you see what I have seen.
I am afraid that we shan’t get that box [as] we are getting so far off. Still we may. I am sorry that there was anything sent until we are more settled. I told [Philander W.] Hubbard so in the beginning but he thought that there would be no trouble about it. I would like to have you let me know about how many letters you have had from me. i think that the wheat done very well. I believe that if I am not mistaken, I have had four or five letters from you. About everyday when the mail comes into camp, names are called off—a most all but Merrill. My name is only occasionally called. I want to hear from you at least once a week and I would be glad to hear from home twice in a week. What do you say? Will you write often?
One of our company has just come into camp with a mule and two bags of apples. He said he got the mule for our Lieutenant. He rode up to him and says, “What do you think of your property, Bill”—meaning the human, not the mule. [It got] quite a laugh.
I don’t know as I could think of much more that would interest you this time. I believe that I have been able to answer to my name every time yet. I would like to have you just call into camp at meal time and see the men cook some with a crotched stick sharpened and broiling meat and some making coffee and so on and then see them wash the dishes. Some wipe them with leaves without washing. On the whole, they appear rather awkward. I have had two washings to do and I do not like to do that very well. Cooking and washing will make the men think of the women if nothing else will, I tell you. The men here speak of their wives at home. They say that they would like to see them and I suppose they would some of them say that they would like to call home and take supper with wife.
I had a letter from Wilbur a few days ago. He says he is well. The letter was mailed at Harpers Ferry. It’s rather cold to write today and I think that I won’t write much more this time although it it rather against my will to send clean paper. When we make another move, it will probably bring about something that will be interesting to you. Then I will try and write again. I want to hear from you and the children oftener than I have yet and I want to hear from some of the neighbors. Give my respects to Ebenezer and wife, and Mr. Edgerton’s folks and Miss Howlett. Tell her that Horace is rough as a pig and real steady. I would like to hear particulars from Father’s folks. Give all enquiring friends my respects. Tell them that I am here to help defend the rights that they enjoy. Try and take care of your health and sleep warm. From your husband, — Barzilla Merrill
Letter 10
Thoroughfare Gap November 15, 1862
Ruba,
Alva received your kind letter last night. We were glad to hear from home and we [are] always glad to hear from you. Alva haves to go on picket duty at eleven o’clock and I don’t know whether he will write first or not. I am not busy and I thought that I would let you know that we are not taken prisoners yet. As it happens, I guess that the rebs would not like to undertake to get half of the Cattaraugus Regiment. By the by, there is a good many men goes in our gang. I don’t know what news you have seen in the papers about our being nearly surrounded. I don’t know how they would go to work to surround us unless they take in Washington with us. There is a great many men between here and Washington and the last twenty or thirty miles that we have passed was left by the rebels a short time before we came along and there is none very near now. They have a disposition to give the ground. I think if they do make a stand, it will be down near Richmond and that is one or two hundred miles from here, and there is another division of the army that is nearer there than we are. There is now probably twenty regiments in camp near this Gap and they are all the way along. You can’t hardly go away of them,
There is a report in camp that Yorktown is ours again. How this is, I don’t know yet I guess that it is so.
I don’t know whether you get all that I have written. If you do, you don’t answer very definite. I think that I have written twice or three times. You wrote to Alva. We have got that money and stamps twice. If you have a mind, you may send a little tea in your letters. I had a letter from mother a day or two ago and she sent me a little tea and I was glad of it. You must send stamps occasionally and a few at a time. We can’t get them here and I am afraid that we shall be bothered about paper and envelopes. I don’t know of a store or a post office in running over this side of Washington & could not mail a letter if it was outside of the army. We have a man detailed for that purpose.
We are now about fifty miles southwest from Washington camped in a nice grove of timber near good water. The climate here is nice and the weather is fine. The roads are first rate and the fires run over the ground considerable every day. We hain’t had but one storm to amount to anything since I came this side of the [Potomac] river. That was when you had that deep snow. Then we had a cold rain with considerable wind. It made our tents flap pretty smart. We had a very little snow a few days ago but that was soon over and no rain. It has froze a very little a few nights. The days are pleasant as summer.
The country here is rough and near the mountains, the land is middling good, but stony. There has not been much raised here this season. The fences are mostly gone. There is some corn and some hay and some wheat but our folks take it for their use and make fires of the fences and they occasionally take sheep and cattle and hives of bees. I have some honey a few times but it had considerable comb in it. I like trained honey the best. I have had fresh mutton and a little secesh new milk. I know for I milked [the cow] myself. The government furnishes plenty of fresh beef now and that is good. You know I am tough and my appetite is first rate. I will send you one hard tack if you would like to see one and eat it. It can be sent in a letter [bit] it will take two stamps to carry one. They are about three by four inches in size and about one-fourth of an inch thick. They are about one grade poorer than common crackers but they go very well with coffee and we have good bread part of the time but the further this way we get, the less bread. We have our mess cooked for us and we make our own coffee and draw our own sugar. Sometimes we have rice. That is cooked. There is men detailed to cook in every company.
I can’t tell how long we shall be here but I don’t think we shall winter very far from [here]. There has been some talk that we [will] winter right here. I don’t know how that will be, yet there is one Dutch regiment in camp that are fixing up their tents nice and Sigel is a Dutchman and it may be that they know about it. We don’t get news any ahead. When we have moved, we only knew it an hour or so ahead. That is the way it goes.
I buy once and awhile a daily paper. With that exception, I don’t get much news about the war. You wrote to know whether you should send me that paper. I wrote that maybe you had better not until we was more settled. I would like once in a while a Tribune and have it as soon as may be after it was printed. I like fresh news now-a-days. I want you should write often and write all the news. I would like to hear from home at least two or three times a week.
We have got a floor in our tent now made of confiscated boards. We have got some straw, or rather wheat, in the bundle, and some boughs laid down and a blanket under and two over us and it makes a very good bed. I use mine for an upper sheet and it goes well. I have been very careful of it. I think a great deal of it. It is warm and light to carry. I am gaining in flesh now. I don’t have hardly enough to do to keep from getting lazy and would like to come and help you do some chores necessary to have done for winter but it is a most too far to have it pay. — B. M.
Letter 11
Fairfax Friday, 21 November 1862
Beloved Wife,
I spend a few minutes to write a few lines to you this morning since I wrote two last. Our division of the army has been moved back within two or three miles of Fairfax. What this move was made for is more than i can tell but I suppose time will determine. Our forces were strong and the talk was one while in camp that we were going from Thoroughfare Gap to Fredericksburg. But by some means we took our back track and we are now about thirty nearer home than we was camped in a piece of woods. How long we stay here or where we go, I can’t tell but I don’t think that we go far at present. I can’t get much news here, I would like to have you send me some Tribunes and maybe I can find out from them what our retreat was made for. And I would like to know a little about the movement of the army.
I don’t know as I have much to write today more than to let you know where we are now, We are getting a very rainy time here now, It is not very cold but wet and muddy. You might send a little tea when it is convenient and I want you to write often.
I think that you had better get us as much as fice cords more of wood off Mr. Bond and get it home as soon as you can. You had better have a supply on hand early in the winter. About your stove trade, I don’t know anything about [it] but guess that it is a good idea. If Irvin don’t sell his calves, I guess that he had better have steers made of them. When you get this, if you have one or two dollars that you can spare, you might send through. It is something that can be done without I have a little yet.
I think the prospect is now that we shall get that box and I shall have to pay my share for drawing the box from Washington and that will take some money. Every such thing is high here—I mean every such job of teaming. We are now about 25 miles from Washington. I guess that I will let this answer for now for it is a damp, bad day to write.
From your husband, — B. M.
I could not count your letters for I have had to destroy them. I am sorry but I could not carry them. I should think that I have got all you have wrote. My love to the children.
Camp near Fairfax November 23, 1862
Irvin, my son.
I received your good letter this evening and was glad to hear from you. I really think that you wrote a good letter. About that off colt, I guess you had better give her two ears of corn twice a day. It won’t cost a great deal and maybe that her campers are down too much. You bad better take her downtown nears ask him to burn her campers if they need it and ask him to take out her wolf teeth and you must salt them often. It will make you too much work to cut feed for them. I am glad you have got steers made of your calves. I guess you had better get the Indian to shoe the colts.
Well, Bub, I would be very glad to see you and maybe I shall by spring. I think the war is getting along some.
I am sorry that you have got a lame arm. I guess that you and Ma had better study at home this winter and Nancy too. It will be too much for you to go to school and do the chores. You must write again. Tell me in your next whether Nancy haves any bows. Tell Nancy to write to me. I like to hear from home often.
I han’t seen any secesh yet—only occasionally a few prisoners. It is a little chilly to our house this evening so you see that I can’t write very well, I write with my rubber blanket folded and laid on my knee and paper on it and I am flat on my sit down so please excuse poor writing. My health is quite good, only I have had a little back door trot for a day or two.
I am thirty miles nearer home now that I was a week ago and I guess that I shall move some nearer in a few days. Tell Ma that I think that we shall get that box in a day or two. We have heard that it is in Washington.
I guess I won’t write much more now. From B. Merrill
To his son Irvin
Letter 12
Camp near Fairfax November 24, 1862
Miss Barzilla Merrill,
I received your letter last night dated 17th. I was glad to hear from you and I believe that I have written two since you wrote. You wrote that you wanted me to count my letters from you. I have had to destroy them because I could not carry them. I can’t tell just how many I have had. I think I have got about the number that you say you have wrote. I received one with four stamps. You had better put in three or four a eek. Do not send more than that at a time. We have moved about thirty miles towards home. We are now near Fairfax in camp. I think you have got a letter about this last move before this time.
I don’t get much news about the war—probably not as much as you do. I think that things are moving middling well. We are held as a reserve and I think by appearances, we have got to shift places of camp pretty often and I guess that this will be about all. I can’t tell where we shall be called next. I think though we don’t go far at present. i guess that we go some nearer to Washington. Do you hear anything about a settlement of the war? I would like to have you send some Tribunes occasionally.
I would like to have matters in shape so that I could come home between now and Spring and I rather look for such a move, don’t you? The thing ain’t right as it is now, with the men here and the women there. And you know that don’t work very well either way. The nights are quite cold here. It froze quite hard last night. It is pleasant today. Our bedroom is not very war, and our kitchen is all out doors but they say that we are going to have better tents for winter.
Our work ain’t very hard—only when we march, and then we have so much to carry it makes it hard. But we don’t go far in a day. Alva has been washing our clothes this forenoon. I expect that [box] tonight or tomorrow. We have sent for it and we have heard before that it was there. It will cost considerable to get it brought. I guess you had better send me a dollar or two if you can. We have been having our pay all the time for some time pushed out. We don’t get it yet and I can’t tell when we shall. We have that three dollars you sent and that is all. The men that I tent with choose to have a little butter and a few potatoes and I share with them and you see that I have to use some money. Yesterday we bought about two-thirds of a barrel of biscuit and they cost three dollars but they are good. We get tired of hard tack and the government hain’t furnished much other bread lately.
I try to get along as cheap as I can but I have to be one among the rest and Alva uses some money though he is not very bad, or in other words, very extravagant. He is a good boy and keeps quite steady. But I think that if he was now to home, he would not be so anxious to enlist again though he don’t complain. His health is good. Our tents are close together and we live quite neighborly together. Horace and Alva tent alone now. They thought that Aaron and Theodore got rather too nasty and they dissolved. Our company [mess] gets along first rate. Calvin wants to fuss round and cook or make coffee and tea and we are willing he should and it goes first rate. I think a good deal of Mr. [Hiram] Vincent. He is a nice man and free [ ]. He would like to see his wife. I think she writes often.
After dinner. We had for dinner fresh beef and beef soup and we crammed in some of our biscuit and we had a good dinner. I think that you had better get five cords more of wood and get it home now. I think that it won’t b long before I can send you some money. I guess that you had better give the off colt two ears of corn twice a day and see if she won’t gain a little or take a little bran and put on hot water ad let her have that. The bran would be the best. You had not try to cut feed. That will be too much work. They will want salt often, If she has got wolf teeth, they must be taken out and maybe her campers are down. If they are, they will be burnt. Have Mr. Near look at her. Tell him to look at her campers. I guess that the Indian had better shell for you. Maybe you can pay him something his family will want. I don’t know as I will want to advise you much. I think that you are getting along first rate.
I had a letter from Mother the other day and I have answered it. She sent me some tea and a little woolen yarn. You said something about my being to the expense both ways. I thought that I had played out on that score but I have not. I want you to write us often as twice a week and I want all the news and I feel anxious to know about Robert’s mumps. We have the mumps some here in the army and some have the dumps. I try and enjoy myself as well as I can and keep as contented as possible, Some days I get the blues a little and get to thinking about home and about wife. But there is one thing in my favor—my health is good. It is a bad place to be sick here. I feel a little lazy and I don’t feel as strong as I did when I came here and the reason is some of the time my exercise ain’t enough for my health.
I sent you a letter a while ago giving you a sketch of what had happened as near as I could remember since we got to Washington. You hain’t said anything about that, Maybe you hain’t got it. It was rather an interesting letter, allowing me to be judge. And I wrote one since that you don’t mention. Probably you will get on the whole. I think that I have wrote considerable and I thought that it was to your expense, but if it is to my expense, I don’t know but I had better hold on. But probably you will hear from me occasionally.
My beard is getting long but I keep it combed out pretty slick. I wash up thoroughly every day, comb my hair and beard, and shall have to have my hair cut before long. I would like to have you comb my head and cut my hair and fix me up a little.
I guess that Nancy nor Irvin had better go to school this winter. You had better have school to home, I guess. I would like to have you catch up about writing and keep up and then I can tell how to write better. — B. M.
Letter 13
Fairfax or Camp near Fairfax November 30th 1862
I find from what you wrote a few days ago that it places me in rather a critical position to write to you and I hardly know how to commence, however, I think that I will take off my hat first and then commence by saying, Misses Barzilla Merrill, if you please dear madam, I have received one about four days since with two stamps and this morning I received one with a spare envelope and some tea. We have been thirty or forty miles farther into the state of Virginia than we now are. Then it was difficult for us to get little notions such as ink and envelopes, and now, situated not more than twenty miles from Washington we have no trouble to get such things only our money is getting a little short, I wrote the other day that you had better send a dollar or two, We don’t get any pay yet and I don’t know when we will. I hain’t received any yet. If you hain’t sent any, I would like to have you send two dollars as I have a little yet but I am getting short. I have written two or three that I think you have not had time to answer that I expect will be answered in due time. I have kept no account of the letters that I have wrote or received. I think if a letter gets lost, it don’t help the matter to keep count. However, it is well enough to count. I have convenient way to keep your letters. I have kept them a long while and toted them overm and then destroyed them. I hated to do so.
We have been shifting considerable since we have been this side of the river and I have been obliged to have as little to look after as possible and I suppose that we will have to keep shifting. We occupy the place of a reserve. Where we go next, I can’t tell. I rather expected that we would have to go somewhere today. We generally have to move Sundays. I have heard no such orders as yet. Maybe we shall stay in camp today.
We don’t have a great deal to do—drill a little, some picket duty, and our own work about our tents the most of the time. My health has been good. I have had a hard cold the past week and so has Alva. We are both better now. The most of the time for a week past has been raw, chilly weather and not much storm and today which I sit writing, my feet are cold. There is no snow nor much mud—rather dry for the time of year.
I am rather sorry that you have been so uneasy about our being taken prisoners. You say that you think we are in danger. Now I will tell you what I think. I think that there is hardly rebs enough this side of the Blue Ridge to make a corporal’s guard. I think that Burnside and Jackson may have a battle down about Richmond before long, but this is only my opinion. I don’t know one thing. I do knnow I would like to see an end of the war. I hope that the good Lord will take this work in hand and bring about an honorable and speedy close. This seems to be the desire of the men as far as I hear. A speedy close may be that Congress will do something in this direction when they come together.
I think that probably you will need to be a little clear-headed to understand all my writing because I can’t get my ideas together very straight. I think that maybe it will be a spell after this before I am home on a furlough. I keep the same tobacco box that I brought from home. It is good. But I am sorry that I had not taken my other for my tobacco takes up too much in the one that I have. My clothes are good yet and i have drawed another pair of pants and a pair of mittens. My sox have wore through a little on the heels but Alva darned one pair of them. The greater difficulty that I have to get along is a poor place to sleep. We have some springy poles laid under and pine boughs on top and a blanket top of them and that does better than no way. We fare as well as our neighbors so we don’t complain.
Alva has drawed a pair of shirts. He says if Norman could bring his shirts, he would like them and he would like to have Benton make him a good pair of kid boots, number nines, or the same size his others were, and have Norman bring them. That he would be glad you would find out by Norman whether he could bring them. If he can, you had better get them ready so that he can fetch them. It may be that he can’t bring them. Boots are very dear here. If he could bring them, it would be a favor to Alva and I would try and fix it so that he would be made good and you had better see him right away.
So far as I am concerned, I don’t know as I need anything that Norman can bring. I need a few things from home but I don’t think that he could bring them. I think that he would do well to bring a few barrels of apples and a few barrels of potatoes. Apples sell three for five cents and potatoes sell for four cents a pound, butter is worth forty cents, and cheese twenty cents. If he could bother with such things, I think that he might make money seeing he is coming down. You can speak to him about these things. Then he can do as he pleases.
The way that we spent Thanksgiving in camp, we had one sermon and no drilling. Text, “O Lord, I thank thee for teaching our hands to war and our fingers to fight or to this import. 144 Psalm, first verse. You can turn to it at your leisure.
It bothers me some to write to you because you are two or three letters behind what I have written. I want you to remember that it [takes] 4 to 6 days to get a letter after it is written but I am a little used to your being behind, or in other words, a little slow so I get along. I expect that box will be in camp soon. A team left here with the intention of loading with boxes for this regiment. It will cost three dollars per hundred [weight] to get it brought.
I guess that I will send you a little sassafras in this letter. There is plenty of it close by. I guess I will tell you what I had for Thanksgiving supper and it was good. I had hasty pudding, butter, and sugar, and it was a nice treat. Milk is about out of date. I would like to come across our new milk heifer some night before milking. I think that I would have some milk once more. There ain’t much left here anywhere we have been but the face of the earth. I would be glad to step into our cellar and see the apples and potatoes and all the good fixings. I suppose you have got them all saved nice and I hope that the house is banked so that your sauce won’t freeze. Save a plenty of butter and you had better get five cords more of wood of Bond. There is a great deal wasted about our camp such as friend meat grease, meat, hard tack, and the like. We have plenty to eat but we don’t get change enough.
I have learned since I came this side of the river that I had left you pregnant. If there is anything of [this] kind, I would like to know it. You said in your little letter that you had not been unwell since July. I got news about Aunt Peas [?] and Aunt Town from you. What about that note that Aunt Peas had. — B. M.
Letter 14
Camp near Fairfax December 4th 1862
Ruba,
We got that box last night. Things mostly in good order. The mice had got in some. The butter was nice and the cheese the mice had hurt, the berries some. Alva’s and mine was alright. Now I want you to let me know how much fruit money you paid. And I would like to have you let me know how much butter each one put in, and particularly how much Jane Hubbard put in. I would like have you let me know who paid for the fruit and how much each paid. You wrote that you had paid freight enough so that I could have some cheese without paying for it.
George Newcomb and I claim one, Chris and Hubbard the other. Hubbard let me have a piece this morning about a pound is all that I have got. I wish you would explain this matter. The letter that you put in the box was injured so that we could not make out all of it. When you write, please explain each matter particular to me.
The sugar that you spoke about I believe there was one or two little scollup cakes in the dried berries is all the sugar we got. Is htis all that you sent of sugar? I don’t know as I have any other news to write about this.
I sent home my dress coat, shoes, small rubber blanket that I bought, and that large bundle that you put up. I sent them yesterday in a box with others directed to Charles Blair. I want you to speak to him about it as soon as you see him and you will have to pay your share of the freight. We are moving so much that I thought best to spare what I can get along without. I am sorry that I did not send both pair of my drawers. I drawed a large rubber blanket is the reason that I sent home the one that I bought. That will make a good one for you to put over your shoulders when you go out to do chores. You will want to wash it in water about cold and without soap. I drawed another pair of pants and I might have worn them over the ones that I drawed first and sent home my drawers and you might have worn them but that is too late now. You may make Irwin a coat out of the dress coat or let it be just as you think best.
I have written you a number of letters that you have not answered. Probably you have not received all of them yet. I spoke about your sending me a dollar or two. I hain’t heard from that yet. My health is good. So is Alva’s. Did you send any dried cherries? We did not get any. Alva says he wanted some cherries.
The news came yesterday that Fredericksburg was burnt by our folks. I think that Burnside is about to make a ty on Richmond soon. The talk now is Washington about peace, I don’t know how this is. I do think that the war is moving favorable for us. We had orders Tuesday night about twelve o’clock to pack our knapsacks and be ready to march at a moment’s call, but we hain’t gone yet. I don’t know when or where we shall go. I know where I would like to go. I would like to go home if all was right here. I hope the thing may be hastened. Don’t think that I am homesick. I feel to wait patiently hoping that the Lord will interfere in our behalf.
We get plenty to eat now. Some of the time we have been short, though not long at a time. The trouble is we don’t get very comfortable lodging but we make this do. Our labor is not very hard. I think that when I come home, I will have a comfortable place to sleep and a comfortable bed fellow, don’t you? Pvt. B. M.
They call P. Hubbard old.
Letter 15
Camp near Fairfax December 7, 1862
Mrs. Merrill,
Alva and I each received a letter from home this morning—two stamps and two dollars. We were glad to hear from home. We are still in camp here. I don’t think that [I] will be able to write much this time. The wind is heavy here today and the smoke settles down and our camp is filled with smoke and it affects my eyes very much and I have some cold besides. Both together affect me considerable.
We got that box. I an Newcomb claim one cheese and Hubbard the other, and Hubbard thinks that his folks must have sent fifteen or twenty pounds of butter so you see that the rest don’t stand much of a chance. Hubbard has now probably 20 or 30 pounds of butter in his possession. I have understood that all Mrs. Edgerton put in some butter. If she wants Hubbard to have it, alright. If she don’t, I wish she would tell you who she wants to have it and how much she sent.
I wrote to you in another letter about it, consequently I shan’t write as particular now. I want you to let me know how much fruit you pair [for] and who paid the rest. I have had about a pound of the cheese. It did not look as though all was as it should be. Your letter was injured so that we could not read it all. There was a small letter wrote with a pencil that Hubbard got hold and first that I knew, it was out of sight and I did not get a chance to read it. Do you know anything about that> If you do, please let me know. What I want [is] to get all the information about it that I can, and as soon as possible. The butter and cheese will soon all be gone. You might speak to Maria about the butter. Ask her if she wanted me to have any of that butter she sentr. If she says yes, ask her how much.
Last night after the rest of family had gone to bed, I changed my clothes and washed the ones that I took off and then I washed myself all over. I wish you were here to wash my shoulders and back but I got along. We have got a place fixed to keep fire in our tent now. So has Alva and Horca and we are quite comfortable so far as cold is concerned. I sent my rubber blanket, dress coat, and shoes and that budget that you sent. I could not carry them very well. They are sent to Charles Blair. You will have to see him and there will be some freight for you to pay. I guess you will have to send stamps a little faster. I am about out. Alva uses some. I guess that he writes occasionally to R. Settlement. I see he gets some letters occasionally that is mailed Versailles. He and Horace seem to enjoy each other’s company very well. There is some sick in our regiment, I don’t know as any have died. I don’t know as any are sick that you know but [Seymour] Sikes, [Truman] Manhurt, and [Isaac] Emery. They are away to some hospital is all that I know about them.
There is talk that we go into winter quarters about here somewhere and have good tents and stoves. — B. M
Well, Irvin, how do you do this evening? I am going to take time to answer your letter now. If I don’t make out much, you must not blame me for I ain’t in tune today and that ain’t all. I have to get flat on my sit down and lay my knapsack on my lap and it makes my back ache to sit in this position. Suppose you try this position next time you write to me. Sit down flat on the floor and lay Alva’s knapsack filled on your lap and write and see how you like it.
About your steers, they ain’t old enough to handle much and I am afraid that you and the school boys will hurt them. If Mr. Bonce wants them, I guess you had better sell them to him. It won’t take much to lame them or hurt them. Then you will feel bad and I guess you had better sell them. There won’t be pasture for them next summer and another thing, you may be short for hay this winter. I want you to take good care of the cows and colts this winter. They will eat a good deal of hay by next May. Don’t let the colts run away. I guess that Nob won’t need much grain. The other might have a very little. Towards spring they will want a little more. Ma did not say how much the hay made. I would like to know. You must write again. And I want Nancy to write too. I would like to see you and Nancy and Ma very well. I hope you will be good children and mind your Ma.
Ruba, I put in a little sassafras and I found that it would not work very well so I took it out so you must take the will for the deed. You must continue to send me stamps. Paper and envelopes I can get now probably better than you can send. When we were down to the Gap, I could not get such things. I spoke once about your sending envelopes. You need not send anymore envelopes nor tea as long as we are so near Washington. When I want any such thing, I will write. Give me full clean letters with a few stamps often. If you should put a two-dollar bill in one, that might do. If you hain’t, or if it ain’t convenient, I can get along a while. I am about out. I guess that you had better try and send a little. I rather hate to ask this. I rather expected pay before now and I may not get pay in a month, you see. I can’t tell.
George Real came back and stuck his head into our tent this evening as I sat writing. He says tell them I am well. George is fleshy and tough. He and I walk out together. We are trying to live in the enjoyment of religion but I tell you that it is an awful wicked place here. Alva and Horace are getting along very well. They seem to take comfort together and they are well. Horace Chester, [Harvey] Inman, Calvin, [Hiram] Vincent, [Bornt D.] Shelmadine, and Hubbard are all well. Some have had colds. Giles is well. [Isaac] Emery is sick. He is away in a hospital. I don’t know where he is or how he does.
Our tent stands open to one end and Alva and Horace’s tent is a little from ours and the end facing ours is open and we have a fire between Indian fashion. The talk is that we will have larger tents and a small stove but it may be talk only. There is one thing that I believe—our regiment, as far as I know, are agreed in [and] that is to see the war close so that they can go home. But we have got on the harness and we are going to keep it on until we see the thing through and no whining.
Alva got a letter today and I asked him who it was from. He said that it was from Mr. Tailor’s folks. I han’t read it yet and I don’t much expect that I shall. Give my love to Uncle Chester and John’s folks and tell them that Horace gets along well and I think that his health is better than when he left home. And I see that his beard is getting out considerable. Horace and Alva takes out coffee when they go out on picket and trade it for meal and they have some puddings.
I want you to write about Ebenezer and Mariah. Give them my respects. Ask them how they spent Thanksgiving. I thought of the folks up home that day…I think of old friends to home and the comforts of home life more than I ever did before and if I should live to get home again, I think that I shall be thankful. Give my love to Uncle Anson and wife. Maybe I have forgot some but it is now bed time and the mail goes at 8 in the morning so I will stop and bunk down. Some of the boys sing. I will go to my tent and lie down in despair. On the whole, I feel at little keen. — B. M.
Letter 16
Camp near Fredericksburg December 19, 1862
My dear wife,
I have a few things to write to this time. When we came back to Fairfax the second time, we lay in camp about two weeks. Then we had orders to march—Sigel’s whole corps. Consequently we started one week ago yesterday morning, taking a southerly course marching every day, and last night we got into camp here, averaging about eight miles per day. Some of the way the roads were very bad—mud was ankle deep; some of the way the roads were good. Part of the time there was short rations. The teams are in this morning and we have plenty to eat again. We had to march about half of one night. The same day or the day after we started, the battle commenced to Fredericksburg. It was the design of Sigel’s Corps to flank the enemy as near as I can learn but we did not get through in time or I think that we would have had to have walked in.
As near as I can learn about the battle, it was a whole slaughter on our side and not a very heavy loss on the side of the enemy. Our men succeeded in taking the place and the enemy fell back to their pits and batteries and they just mowed us and we could not make our big guns work very much and the next day night we evacuated the city. While our folks were there, they destroyed large stores of their provision that was stored there.
We are now about four miles from the city and in sight of the enemy’s campfires. Their pickets and ours—some of them—are not more than a hundred rods apart. There is no firing of pickets now on either side. How this thing will come out, I can’t tell. I think they won’t fight anymore just yet.
The news is in camp that Banks took Richmond while the battle was in progress but I don’t know how this is. And the news is that Fort Darling is ours. Providing this is the case, I think the heft of our trouble is got along with. You probably will hear about these things correct as soon as I will. Alva and I are well and hearty and are blessed with a good appetite—can eat raw pork or most anything.
With regard to our march down here, nothing very special. The most of the way [was] through woods. The places are marked with destruction. We came through a place called Dumfries. That was a secesh place. About two or three hours before we passed there, there was a lot of seceshs left. We are now in close contact with the enemy. Probably things will shape different some way soon. How it will turn out, I can’t tell. I know of no other way only to wait and trust Providence.
I have seen Gus [Darbee]. He is well. He saw Wilbur a day or two before I saw him. He says that Wilbur is well and fleshy. They were both in the last battle.
We get pleasant days here. The nights are quite cold. We have had a little snow two different times. There is no snow on the ground now. I have had no letters from you since the two that you sent and the two dollars. It is on the account of our move, no doubt. Your mail will probably come soon. You must send stamps for I am about out. I don’t know as there is much to write until things come around more. War news—you will get that soon than I can get it to you and I don’t get much.
December 20th 1862
Ruba, I received a letter from you yesterday and was very glad to hear from you. It is the first mail that we have had in ten days. I am sorry that you are sick. I would be glad to be with you. I have wrote two or three letters that you had not got when you wrote yours. I got your fifty cents and one stamp. i have the two dollars that you sent yet. i am about out of stamps. I want you to send some stamps if you han’t [already]. I think that I will hear from you when you write another mail. The reason that we han’t had mail is because we have been on the move. We are now in camp. How long we shall be here, I can’t tell. We are near the 64th and 44th. I expect Wilbur here today. Hart is in our camp now and so is Gus Darbee. Gus’s health is good.
I guess that I won’t have the potash kettle sold now. Tell Mr. Rich if I ain’t like to get home by next spring, it may be i shall think best to have the kettle sold and he shall have the first chance. If you can get three dollars for the old harness, it would be better to sell it than to keep it. You had better let the calves go if you can. I can’t write much. It is cold but no snow. The weather is pleasant but rather cold, There is a great many men camped about in this section.
Give my love to the children. Tell Mrs. Hall that Jason is well. He says that he has wrote and will write again. — B. M.
I got both of them Tribunes you sent. Was glad of them. Alva appears about the same as when you saw him. We have to go out on a General Inspection soon and I can’t write much more. I hope you will be careful of your health in future. We have a good deal of camp smoke and it affects my eyes considerable. My health is good, I was weighed yesterday and my weight was 136. I am fleshier than I was a month or two ago. I have got roughened to camp life considerable. I ain’t as much in favor of it as might be. I think of Dayton occasionally and the folks there. I saw you in a dream the other night. You looked pleasant. — B. M.
Letter 17
Camp near Fredericksburg December 23, 1862
I thought that I would spend a few moments in writing to my wife this morning. Ruba, I received two letters from you yesterday and was very glad to hear from home. I hain’t got mail very regular nor have had a chance to send very regular for the last two weeks. We have laid in camp here a few days past and the mail goes and comes more regular now.
We are now in camp near Fredericksburg, probably one mile from the Rappahannock, and the rebel army about the same distance on the other side and Fredericksburg between. There was a hard battle here a few days ago. Our folks succeeded in taking the city and the rebels fell back on the hills beyond where their batteries and pits were. There they held the ground. Our men were marched up right in front of their batteries and were mowed down tremendously. Finally our men were ordered to fall back with a heavy loss and so ended the fight. Our men destroyed large stores of provision that was stored in Fredericksburg by the rebs and what will be the next move, I can’t tell. I don’t think that things will lay as they now do very long. Some think the rebs are falling back now. Some say that Sigel is moving to try and cut off their retreat. I don’t know anything about it. One thing we are not far from the enemy and there is a large number of men camped within a few miles of here. The 64th and 44th [New York regiments] are not far off. Alva has been over to the 44th and has seen Wilbur. He is well. He said that he would be over to our regiment soon. I have been to the 64th that lays nearer. The country about here is rough—hilly on both sides of the [Rappahannock] river—and things bear the marks of war. Things destroyed the same as further back from Fairfax. Down here the most of the way was through woods and the roads were muddy. Distance about sixty miles.
Since we crossed the [Potomac] river and came into Virginia, we probably have done about two hundred miles marching.
I have some peculiar feelings about this war sometimes. My faith has been strong that the Lord would take this work in hand and stop this manslaughter business. Then again I think that we as a Nation are so wicked that we will go by the board. Still I hope and my prayer is that the Lord will be merciful and bring about a speedy close.
I find things are managed altogether different from what I expected to find them before I came here. Had I understood the perfect workings of the war, I should have stayed at home. But I came in good faith and I shall trust the consequences. I hope to have patience and grace sufficient for my dear, you must not make any dependence on money from me at any particular time. I don’t know when I shall get anything. When I get it, I will send it. That is all I can do. I don’t know how you will get along about [paying the] taxes. Do the best you can.
About the weather here, it is about as warm today as summer and the robins are singing. We have had a little cold weather and a little snow two or three times. The sky looks warm today and the ground is quite dry. the climate is nice here. Were things as far as advanced here as in York State. it would be a nice place to live. [But] as it is, give me Old Cattaraugus. I would be glad to step on Slab City Flats once more. I have hardly slept the inside of a house since I saw you and I have not sat down in a chase since, or any such thing. We are turned into the lots or woods as the case may be like some brutes. We prefer woods for then we can get wood to use and strike our tents with.
There is no chance for Alva and I to send our likeness for there is no chance to have it taken here. We look about as we did when you saw us—only some smoked up with camp fires. Our healths are good. I am some fleshier than I was. While the camp smoke affects me some—that is, my eyes and head—and I find that I begin to get a little clumsy. My knee joints are a little stiff and I feel that I am growing old some but I guess that I stand it about as well as the generality of the men. I have not failed answering to my name yet nor have I been excused from duty once yet. I have been troubled some with cold. I have some cold now [but] not very bad.
Our folks have been sending up balloons yesterday and today some. There was one just up a few minutes ago. It has gone down now.
Yesterday Alfred Dye was here of the 64th [New York]. He is well. He gave me two plugs of nice tobacco that was taken at Fredericksburg. Our living now is principally hard tacks and coffee. The farther south we get, the harder it is to get something to eat. Our rations are rather short though not bad. I have a great many anxieties both here and at home. I was sorry to hear that you was sick. I am glad you are getting better and I think you had not better get anybody to read your letters after this. Maybe you will find something you won’t want others to see. Wait till you get able to read after this.
I begin to think that I have been away from home a long time. I begin to think the prospect slim for getting home in the spring. I think our head men like money too well for that, but I can’t tell how this will be. I dreamed of seeing you the other night. I thought your cheeks were very red and you looked fresh. I would be very glad to see you and see home once more. I think of the privileges that I have enjoyed in the home circle. I hope the time will soon come when I can enjoy the same again, don’t you?
I have had two letters from Mother. The last letter was a very good one. The first one I could hardly read.
I find by noticing that the troops here are getting very uneasy. Some say that they won’t stay longer than spring anyway. If this kind of feeling gets to going extensively, I don’t know what effect it will have. One thing sure, the men are getting sick and tired of the kind of management. Still I try and keep as quiet as possible. Some days I get the blues a little to see the thing run as it does.
You spoke about my missing or rather calling you miss. I will tell you about that. You will remember giving me directions about directing your letters by using your whole name and [to] put it nearer the bottom? So I thought that I would try and suit you as I generally do. That is all there was to it. I was glad to have that nice little letter that was done up so nice in another this time. What have you done with that small likeness that I got to Jamestown? You know what I would like to have done with it.
You wrote the hog weighed 161 pounds. Was this a mistake or was she as light as that? I thought that she had ought to have weighed about three hundred or two hundred and fifty. My space is full. Maybe you can’ t read this but try. From your husband, — B. M
December 24th—Wife, I guess that I must answer your small letter. I rather had the blues yesterday but I have slept it off and I feel rather keen this morning. I believe that tonight is the night to hang up stockings. I am sure of one thing—if I was at home and you should hang up your stocking, I should be very likely to put in something. After your sickness—or confinement—I wish you would let me know what you have got and what doctor you called. You was confined rather sooner than I expected.
I feel rather uncomfortable occasionally but it works off and I am alright again. I would be glad to sleep in my old nest and have my old bed fellow again. I think that I would lat close.
How do the colts get along? Do they cough any now? How does the hay last? Some of the time when it is cold, you must get some of that over the stable and let the cows pick out the best and then use it for bedding. You had not better sell any wheat or potatoes now. They will be higher by and by and may be Alva and I will be home. Then the potatoes will suffer. You may eat an apple for me. I just now undertake to read this over. Tell Irvin and Nancy that I would be glad to see them. Give my love to the friends and some in particular. — B. M.
Letter 18
Camp near Fredericksburg December 31st 1862
Wife,
I received your letter of the 25th last night. I was glad to hear from home and to hear that your health is improving, I hope you will be careful and try and get your health again. I feel sorry that you have been so afflicted with poor health.
We still lay in camp where we first camped when we came here this side of the Rappahannock and a little up the river from 47th [?] and the Rebs over the river on the rise. Their tents—some of them, in sight, so you see that we are neighbors. Our regiment came in yesterday from a 48 hour picket duty. I saw quite a number of Reb pickets. Some of the two set of pickets have talked together some. They say that they are sick of the war and they don’t want to hurt us but they would like to get at our officers. Both pickets seem friendly. They have traded tobacco some for coffee with our pickets. I have been watching the movements some. I guess that there won’t be much more fighting here at present. Still I don’t know. This forenoon we were mustered in for our second payment. We may get four months pay. When we get any, I don’t know how soon. It may be in a week or two, maybe not.
My health is good except a bad cold. I have had a bad cold about a week. My cold is better today. Alva is well. So is Horace. That man that stayed to Garfield’s with his wife the night that you and I stayed there is dead. He [had] the lung fever. I believe a great many are having hard colds here now. The weather today is chilly. No snow. We have had the nicest weather since we crossed the [Potomac] river, take the time together that I ever saw. The roads are good now and some dusty.
I received a letter from Emily last night. She says that Harry is sick with lung fever. She also says that Mother sent her that letter that I wrote and wrote a few lines herself about that skirmish to Dumfries. We had orders to load our guns just before we got there. Then we were ordered on. Presently we were in town. A sunken place it is and a secesh place. TO return, we passed through without any trouble and not a gun fired. So much for the skirmish. We camped a little beyond the place over night and no trouble. I visited their burying ground a little out of town in a pine grove near our camp. I saw lots of newish graves there filled with reb soldiers—some from Texas, some Arkansas, and some from other extreme southern states. Boards were set up and their names marked on the place where they belonged and to what regiment.
I understand that there was a battle there last Sunday and the rebs got a thorough whipping. I believe that I have not had orders to load my gun but three or four times. Calvin has been quite unwell some time. I hardly know what ails him. He has some cough and I guess he is troubled some with the full stomach the most of the time. He eats wolf meals. [ ] Hubbard is some down. He hain’t been out on duty in some time. I saw him out to the mustering in for pay today. I have not been excused a day from duty yet nor have I missed roll call. So much for Merrill. The most of the time I have been tough as a pig. Lately I have not felt quite as well but as it happens, I am fit for duty yet.
It is a hard place here to be sick and I am thankful that my health has been as good as it has . What awaits me ahead, I don’t know, but I trust Providence. The most of the time we have plenty to eat. Sometimes we get short, though not long at a time. We have chances occasionally to draw clothing so we keep clothed up good. The government socks ain’t worth much. I han’t got any of them. My sox are getting worn some through—not bad. My shirts are good yet and the pants that I first drawed a few days after I sent home my clothes. I saw a man in another company that had two dress coats. He said he was going to throw one away. I said give it to me so he did and so I have a good dress coat now.
I look at your likeness occasionally. It looks good—all but the hat. The case is getting some worn. I am glad that I have it. I would like to hear about the colts when you write and how they do and how you like to get along for hay and how you fare yourselves. I did think that I should be home next spring but now the prospect looks slim. Sometimes a short time brings about a good deal. I would be very glad to see you and the children. All that I can do is to send you my best respects. I know that you will do the best you can. I hope that it will be yours to enjoy good health and I hope the time will come soon when I shall see my family again and all the rest.
You must send more stamps. I am about out. You need not send anymore money unless I write. How much is our taxes and how do you make out with matters. I thought that I should have sent you some [money] before now but you see that I han’t.
I could describe the Rappahannock river. Suffice it to say that it is a rocky, lonesome stream—probably as large as or a little larger than the Cattaraugus. Banks steep on both sides. Country rough about here. I have not been right in Fredericksburg, but as near as I can judge from a little distance, it was rather a nice place before the Yankees made it a visit. Falmouth lays nearby. That is something of a place. There is considerable of the land here that has been tobacco plantations that is now grown up to little pines, thick and large enough for fence poles. Land sandy and light soil. I guess that I will insert a paragraph that was in a letter found at Donisalceres [?]—I mean from a girl to her intended husband. She says, “My dear intended husband, I hope you will soon be home. If the war don’t close, come home on a furlough. I think of the time that we lay on the sofa. I want to see you again. It is all locked up now and will be till you come to unlock it.” I suppose his key just fitted.
—B. Merrill
Letter 19
Camp near Fredericksburg January 1, 1863
Wife,
I thought that I would write a little to you. We ain’t doing anything in camp. I think of home. I ain’t situated so that I can hold New Years as pleasant as on former occasions but I am thankful that it is as well with me as it is. I am able to write to you and this is a privilege to me during the time I have been here. When I have wrote, as a general thing, I have wrote in a hurry and hain’t even read over what I have wrote. I don’t know hardly how you have got along with what I have wrote. Doubtless you have found lots of mistakes but I have designed to write pretty straight and I did not think or calculate that you would be obliged to call on someone else to read for you. I guess you better not ask anyone to read for you again for some curious notions comes into my head when I write.
Ruba, I have though for some time that I would write to you a little about how the war is moving. Maybe you will call me a secesh but this ain’t so. I love my country and its government and I feel like weeping over the deplorable condition that we as a nation are in this pleasant New Years morning. What shall I say? I lack words to describe. One thing I will say and I think that I will be safe in the statement, and that is this: unless God by His almighty power interposes, we are lost as a nation. I never was more disappointed in my life than I was when I came down here and see how this thing run. So far as the soldiers are concerned, they have come forth nobly and they have come with the intention to help crush the rebellion and save the Union. Well, where shall I place the blame? Right where it belongs—on our leading [military] men. They don’t seem to think of the government or the good of the soldiers. They think of the large pay and they seem to be jealous of each other. They all seem to want to be the largest toad in the puddle. Consequently when one makes a move, another will try and take off his head. This is generally done and generrally to the expense of the lives of a great many men. I think that I am correct in this statement. Now, what is the result? The result is the soldiers are becoming discouraged and disheartened. I have heard men that have been in all through the service say that they were sick and discouraged and did not never want to go in another battle. All seem to be of the opinion that have been disappointed. I think that I have spoke the mind of nearly all what is to be done.
What is to be done? I know of no better way to answer the question than to take the statement that I made a while ago for an answer and I leave it there. Judging from appearances, I am rather inclined to think that we fall back until spring. Then have this ground to go over again. But this I don’t know. It is only my opinion. Men are sickening and dying and they are badly exposed to the weather. Our tents are poor and that makes a poor place to sleep and I think before there is much more done, our [forces] will [be] considerably diminished by sickness and death. There could never have been better weather for this business than it has been since I have been here and what has been done—nothing. No, this statement ain’t right. There has been lots of our men killed. Now it is so late that it ain’t safe to advance on account of our artillery and baggage wagons. And another thing, the government teams are poor and jaded out so I don’t see as we can do much more this winter—only to fall back and prolong the thing. All this is only my notion of the thing. It won’t cost much. I don’t know as it would be best for you to show this to anyone. I might write more on this subject, but let this suffice while I write today.
I sit in Horace and Alva’s tent. They have gone over to the 44th [New York] to see Wilber so you see that I am alone. And here I want to write a little about Horace and Alva. They are a couple of first rate boys. They both mind their own business. They appear pretty [happy]. They seem to think as much of each other as two brothers. They look fresh and their healths are good. They seem contented so far as I am concerned. I try and take the thing cool. Sometimes I feel a little uneasy and think of home and the friends there. The most of the time my health has been good and a good appetite. For a week past I have had a hard cold and quite a hard cough and my lungs have been sore, but for a day or two past, my cold begins to loosen and I am getting better. The camp smoke has been quite troublesome to me. That has hurt my lungs some. You know that I always called a smoky chimney two bad things.
Now I am going to tell you what kind of a day we are getting here. Today it is very pleasant. The sun shines very pleasant and we hain’t any storm of any kind in a long time to amount to anything. The air today is a little chilly and when men are standing around, overcoats are not burdensome. I never saw a fall and winter so far in Cattaraugus with as little storm, It is nice weather here now to plow, make fence, or any such thing. The weather seems to be more steady than to home. I think that the climate here is first rate but the country about here and all where I have been is marked with the destruction of war. It would cost a great deal to put amost any farm that I have seen back in order again. The fences are nearly all burnt up and a great share of the buildings ruined, or nearly so. Our folks made a slaughter so far as property was concerned in Fredericksburg this other day. This looks rather hard to see—our folks coming down here and slaughtering property in this kind of a way. Whether it is right or not, I don’t know. The wood lots that have been left on farms are being cut down for wood, men that own farms are gone somewhere. There is but very few settlers left anywhere that I have seen. And allowing me to judge, things are getting in a very bad shape. I think that we would not very well like to have our home and property served in this kind of a way. I admit that the South began this, but the right ones are not being punished. I presume that a large majority of these farmers are loyal men but they are suffering tremendously so the innocent suffer with the guilty. So the thing goes. I have been of the opinion that I should come home next spring but I have about give this up. There is quite a number that their time is out next spring—whole regiments. I wish that the thing might be settled. I think it would be better, materially better, for both sides to have the thing stopped and stop killing folks and let them go to their homes and families. But we as a nation are guilty and we need chastising.
I am about out of timber. I don’t know whether I will be able to fill this page so that it will be interesting to you or not. I think that I will tell you a little about my own individual feelings. I still feel that the Lord blesses me and I have no other intention only to try and live so that I can feel those approving smiles of my heavenly Father, Sometimes I feel that I get a double portion. Then at other times I feel less satisfied. One thing when I lay down nights and try to ask the Lord to bless me—and I don’t forget to ask the same blessing for my wife and children—sometimes I think that I get the evidence that the Lord hears me. Sometimes I enjoy my mind first rate and I feel clear. At other times, not as well. One thing sure, I have no disposition to join in the wickedness that is going on around me. I have not had a word of trouble with anyone since I have been here and I don’t think that Alva or Horace has. There is card playing, swearing, and in fact, all kinds of obscene talk going on every day. I have watched the boys some and tried to advise them some and I think they have a mind to be men.
There is a good many men camped about here. Hardly a day passes without someone, or more, being buried. While I write, I hear muffled drums for a funeral procession in some regiment somewhere. I feel anxious that the Lord will spare my life to come home again and live and die with my family. I try to feel reconciled and say the will of the Lord be done. I feel rather solemn today. I want you to pray for me and I know that you do. I hope the time will soon come round when we shall meet.
From your husband, — B. Merrill
Write often and I would like to have more stamps. I am about out now.
Ruba, since I finished writing, I have been thinking over what I have written. I don’t know but you will come to the conclusion that I am homesick. I am bold to acknowledge that I would like to see home [but] don’t form the opinion that I can’t stay any longer. I expect to stay until discharged. Another thing, I find that I miss my wife in a number of ways and I miss home and the comforts of home and I miss my nest to sleep in and to tell the plain truth, I miss my bed fellow. I would just like a few nights lodging at home. I suppose you would not be worth much to sleep with until you are a little more over your confinement, would you? How is this? Do you think that you could pass muster, or in other words, muster in. I think that I would just like to see you and lay my hand on, or rather around, your waist. Oh well, I can think about these things and that is some satisfaction. Do you have any such wandering thoughts and feelings cross your path? Please let me know in your next small letter. — B. M.
Letter 20
Camp near Fredericksburg January 7, 1863
Beloved Wife,
I received a letter from you last night and was glad to hear from you dated December 21st (no. 18). I see you count cobs pretty close. I have written two that you had not got when you wrote this. Probably you will get them.
We are laying in the same camp now that we have been for the last three weeks, Probably the reason of your not getting letters is they did not take letters here for a number of days after we came here. We could send once in a while over to the 64th [New York] and get letters mailed. Now we mail and receive every day. I don’t know as I have much news to write today. You said you thought probably we had got new houses again by this time. I will tell you when we first come here we just struck tents quick and did not know as we should stay but a short time so we did not fix much. The most of the time it was warm so we did not fix much. We received marching orders occasionally but we did not go and last Saturday our Colonel gave orders to have the ground cleared off a larger spot, ad Sabbath morning we had orders to take down our tents and set them up more scattering. And the way most of us set up, we made a bottom about two or three feet with pine poles and then drawed our canvas over and the most of us have got a place to keep fire inside and our beds raised a little from the ground and it makes rather a comfortable place to stay. I would just like to have you pass through camp and see the Yankee with fixing and nothing to do with. we don’t get the new tents I told you [about] in another letter.
I thought that we would fall back but it don’t look much like it just now. But everything seems uncertain in war times. I can’t tell what will take place any ahead so I can’t tell you where we will be tomorrow. I can only say that we still are here and maybe we shall be a few days and maybe a few weeks.
We hain’t drilled much since we have been here. Our business has been picket duty, guard duty, a little drilling and the like. We picket one side of the Rappahannock and the rebs the other. I have had one 48 hour tour of picketing and saw plenty of rebs. I think if it wasn’t for the big toads, we and the rebs—I means the reb soldiers—would not quarrel or fight much. I have not spoke with any of them but some of our men have. They say if we will lay down our arms, they will and both go home. We are in speaking distance when on picket in some places.
I have had a bad cold but am getting better, I have received another letter (N. 21). There seems by your numbers that there is two letters from you that I have not yet received. Alva has not yet had the letter that you speak of. I have not got the letter from Mother that you spoke about. I have been short for stamps for a while back. I would like to have you send more stamps and you may send a little ground black pepper if you please. [ ]. M. Allen has not arrived here yet. Maybe he ain’t coming. I don’t know. Our captain is back ad I was glad to hear so direct from home. I asked him if things looked as though you would make a living through the winter. He said it did. He said things looked snug and tidy. He said you did not look as fleshy as when he saw you last.
January 9th. I thought that I would try and finish this letter this morning. Col. Hickox has come into camp this morning from [ ]. He hain’t seen Norman.
I guess I must tell you how we have got our bed fixed. We take six feet of the back end for a bed. We cut little poles about as large as bean poles, laid them the same way way that we lay on, some poles at each end, and nothing under the middlw. Then we laid on a lot of pine boughs—fine ones. The poles lay close together, and then on the top of the boughs we got some dry grass—something like that would be on the creek supposing it had stood out out until now, cut off with jack knives, and laid it on top of the boughs. And a top of that we spread our blanket which serves for an under sheet. The rest of our blankets a top and we sleep, as they say in the army, bully. My tent [mates] are the same with one exception. Mr. [Hiram] Vincent has been promoted to the office of corporal and there was a vacancy in our orderly’s tent and he gave them an invitation to come there and he accepted and went and we have a man from Versailles in his place by the name of [Taylor B.] Vanderburgh. Vincent says he is sorry that he left us and shall try and get out again. He don’t like his new company. They swear, drink, and play cards. Our family live very quiet and Horace and Alva are close by and we borrow and lend and live quiet and neighborly.
I noticed for a few days back there is a great many stables fixed for horses about here and tents are being fixed quite warm and things look as though the intention was to stay a while.
You spoke about the 17th [of December] being cold where you was. I remember that night myself when we first arrived here. We stopped nearer the Fredericksburg than we now are. Came the 16th and the 17th a little after dark. We had orders to move, consequently we started and tread the mud until about 12 o’clock at night but made but little progress. Then we had orders to halt. Then we were marched up on a side hill a little. Then we moved a short distance and camped where we now are. So you see that I can remember the 17th. That night here was cold and chilly. It did not storm. Our covering that night was the heavens and the ground for a bed. I did not lay down. I did not for fear of taking cold although a great many did lay down. I kept up and occasionally moved round some to keep warm. Probably I should not have mentioned [this[ had you not referred to that date.
You spoke about our being out of Sigel’s Corps. The talk has been that we were placed in Sumner’s Corps for ten days and then we were to be in the same place that we was. How this is, I don’t exactly know. One thing I do know, [Adolph von] Steinwehr’s headquarters are nearby the same as they have been and he is under Sigel. If Norman don’t come, you may send one pair of socks for me by mail. My docks are failing and I see that some get socks in this way. Alva says his socks are quite good yet. I would like to hear from the colts and whether Irvin keeps his calves and how the hay gets along and how many weddings there was New Years. My love to you and the children. Please excuse mistakes. Please write often. Give me a small letter inside occasionally. — B. Merrill
Letter 21
Place of Residence the same as arrival near Fredericksburg Sunday, January 11, 1863
Seeing that it is Sunday, my inclination is to write you a few lines. I got a Tribune from you this morning according to your numbers, there are two letters that I have not [received]. I have no news to write this time as I know of. I noticed in your last letter you spoke of being so lonely. It may be that you will get used to your operation going through the world horseback alone after a while. Don’t get discouraged yet. I would like to comfort you if I could.
Yesterday it rained here all day. It has cleared off and is pleasant and warm today. I had a thorough wash yesterday in warm water and put on clean clothes. When I got my clothes changed, I told [Bornt] Shelmadine that I was clean enough to sleep with my wife. Let me see how long is it since your confinement and how do you get along? I begin to have rather a heavy set of whiskers on my face. Maybe you would like to see them. I keep the beard off from my upper lip and keep a stiff upper lip. We have a comfortable tent and a nice fireplace and it don’t smoke. You know I would like to have you peep into our home. We hain’t put down our carpet yet not put up our valances around our bed.
N. M. Allen has not got here yet. Afraid he won’t come. I guess unless something new turns up, we shall stay in this camp a while. I would like our team a day to draw wood. We have to back our wood about a half a mile but we don’t have to use but little to be comfortable. I begin to be afraid that I shall forget how the inside of a house looks and how a York State lady like you looks because I don’t see such things now-a-days. The scenery for me is soldiers, horses, mules, wagons, guns, cannons, &c. It takes three span of horses to draw one cannon. Uncle Sam has got a great deal of such property now.
I am a gaining in flesh now some and I am about over my cold and someways one side of my cold. Well, I would like to write a little encouraging to my lonely wife. Well, what shall I say? Hummm. Try and run your one horse institution as best you can until I come. Then we will double teams and then maybe it will go better—in some respects, at least. Can you send me some more stuff to make ink? Will I feel a little roguish today &c. Give my love to Nancy and Irvin. — B. M.
Send stamps faster. I have borrowed.
Letter 22
Virginia Camp near Fredericksburg January 13, 1863
Beloved wife,
I thought seeing that I had a good chance to send again, I would write a few lines to send to you. Norman got here Sunday evening after I wrote to you. Alva got his boots and they fit well and look like a good pair. I am glad he has got them. My boots are good yet. My socks are failing. Captain says you sent a pair of gloves for Alva by him. He don’t say anything about socks. He checked his trunk when he was at New York for Washington and he hain’t heard from that [illegible due to paper fold] brought any socks. If there ain’t any started, you had better try one pair by mail and you had better send stamps a little faster and you may send some stuff to make ink of. I would be glad to go home with Norman but I hardly think that it would be best, My health is good now and I have rather a comfortable place to stay.
Our regiment together with three others got into camp last night being two days and a half out. Our mission up the Rappahannock River about 8 miles to fix a place for an army to cross. Report says that Sumner is going over with his Corps. As near as I can learn, our division was lent to Sumner for fifteen days and now we occupy the same position as before.
I found a letter here last night from you. I think that I have written three since you wrote that I would judge from the present appearances that our army here are about to try and do something soon. You wanted my opinion about the President’s Message. When I got that paper, my eyes was sore caused by camp smoke and I have not read it with care. I have looked it over. Consequently I ain’t prepared to give an opinion. One thing I will say, it won’t do for the President to make a move that goes a great deal ahead of public opinion. It is awful times now and it would not take a great deal to get up a rebellion in our own army. The probability is [that won’t happen but] you don’t know the minds of our own army as well as I do. About all seem to agree in trying to stop the rebellion, but when the nigger—as they call him—[is] mentioned, they say that they will throw down their arms and there is a large class of this stripe in the army. So you see it is a difficult point to take action upon. But I hain’t time nor room to write on this point.
The calculation this morning is to draw five days rations. This is a new thing, so I think that there is a move of some kind to be made. But I can’t tell what. My health is good now and last night when we got on, I slept as sweet as a man could. I was to see Norman and hear so direct from home. I saw Gus about three weeks ago. He said that he was a going to trey and get a furlough. I told him if he got a furlough, that I would try and get one too. This is all. You need not look for me at present at any rate. I think that the intention is to move the Army of the Potomac towards Richmond as fast as they can. So you see that there won’t be much chance for going home yet. Probably there is more hard fighting to do yet unless something special takes place.
You probably have seen more or less about Falmouth in the papers. I will tell you about that. It is a little nasty huddle about a half a mile from our camp. Probably Fredericksburg is two or three miles from our camp and was rather a nice place once. I can see two or three spires in that place from here. The ground where the battle was fought is in sight and our batteries were planted a short distance below our camp. Ruba, there is two things that I have learned since I have been in the army. One is a man can endure a great deal more fatigue that I thought he could. And the other is he can get along with a great deal less of the comforts of life than I thought he could do. Now a cup of coffee with a little sugar and 4 or 5 hard tacks makes a meal. And a pint cup and spoon makes out our dishes to eat it. And our bed is cheap—a coat for a pillow answers, and we get along without sheets or pillow.
I don’t mention this to complain. There is one thing I am thankful for—my health is good. It is a hard place here to be sick. I have received some inconvenience from camp smoke but now they have mostly got chimneys and the smoke is not as bad. Among other things that are inconvenient to get along with is we have to wash our own shirts and do without our wives, potatoes and apples but some of us will live through it ad go home and some will fall and sleep in Virginia without doubt. I am in hopes to be favored with the privilege of again returning home but I want to see this trouble cleared up and removed first if I can.
You spoke about Norman getting things for me here. There is no chance to get much here. There is a commissary store calculated for the officers to buy their living and I can manage to get a little from there sometimes but not much. And we don’t have any sutlers here now. The further we get from Washington, the harder to get things. You might put in an extra envelope when you send and send more stamps. It may be so that I can’t write again in a number of days and may not. I can’t tell. I shall try and write as often as I can and I want to hear from you often. I feel in hopes that things will take a favorable turn soon but I can’t tell. I am sorry that Nancy keeps so lame. Give my love to the children. Alva is well and seems to enjoy himself. — B. Merrill
Letter 23
Virginia January 25, 1863
Beloved wife,
I have a little leisure time today so I take it to write a few lines to you. I have not heard a word from you since your letter dated the 7th. Time seems long. I believe that I have written three times since that I have had no answer from.
Soon after I received your last letter we had orders to march. We moved 8 or 10 miles up the Rappahannock, There we halted and camped. Our business here was to make roads. We stayed two days and worked and then we went back to our old camp. Then I got your last letter. We stayed there two nights and then we had orders to take our tents and march back where we was before. Then we pitched our tents and stayed a few days longer and made roads—we supposed with the intention to have pontoon bridges to have an army cross the river. Then this was throwed up and a place a little above was selected and the bridges started for that place and the whole army about here was put under march, ourselves with the rest expecting to go over and have a battle and the night before we were to go over, we had a heavy rain so that our artillery and baggage trains could not move. Then the whole army had orders to fall back so there went another great Union victory.
We are now in camp about one mile above our old camp. The Lord only knows where our next move will be. I believe that we have been in twenty different camps since we crossed the Potomac. Our tents are now only not up temporary, there is some talk that we go farther towards Washington. The roads are so bad now that the army probably won’t do anything for a month or two to come. I see while they are moving our artillery back they have four span to draw one cannon. I expected one while that I should have to step into battle but still I am out and my health is good and my appetite good. Alva is alright, only he has a boil on his heel cord—not very bad. We were towards the first that fell back and I would liked to have had you seen the amount of men that have passed our camp. They have been almost without number. Had the two armies have come together, probably there would have been a great slaughter of men.
I will tell you a little about the pontoon bridges. They are scow boats the width of a wagon and about forty feet long and put into the steam the longest way up and down and fastened together as they are put in and fastened to each bank. Then they are covered over the top with plank from one end to the other. This makes a pontoon bridge.
I have written to you before about Norman [Allen] being down here and about Alva’s boots. They fit well. I want you to send more stamps and you may send one pair of socks by mail. Do them up snug as you can and you had better have Delong mail them and you might see what it would cost to send a half pound paper of fine cut tobacco. If it would answer, you may send a half pound paper of best kind of fine cut tobacco. Don’t send any poor tobacco. We can get that here. I might write more about this last army move but I will wait till I get home. Then we will talk the whole matter over.
I can’t tell what the reason has been that it has been so long since I have heard from you but I conclude you have written and I have failed to get them. I would have written before now to you but we have been on the tramp so that it han’t been convenient. I want you to write so that I can [get] one or two letters every week and make some calculation sheet, It may be that I won’t get every letter. There is talk that we will get some money soon but I han’t got much faith about it. One thing I know, the 29th New York got pay a day or two ago and they are in our division. They camp near us and it may be that we will get some. If we do, probably we will get [it] within a few days so you may look a little for pay.
I see by the little examination that the men in the army are getting uneasy and discontented and I am inclined to think that it would not take a great many more moves to cause a break in our army and a great many seem to curse Burnside. Sometimes I almost think that our army ain’t going to do anything to the purpose. If we don’t, it won’t be on account of the men. They are here and have come in good faith. The head men seem to be the ones. Things look rather dark now. The rain storm has passed off now and today asa warm and pleasant as summer. No frost in the ground nor no snow, But the roads are very bad, We han’t had a flake of snow in a long time. I see that a large share of the army horses and mules are badly fagged and quite a number are dying off. And if the war continues very long, I think that it will take a great deal to replace the teams.
I am just the same as out of money now and when you answer this I would like to have you send one or two fifty cents stamps for we can’t use anything but government money [and] maybe I shan’t get pay in some time to come. I can’t very well get along without a little money by me. I think if we make any more moves very soon, it will be towards Washington. There has been talk that the move would be next to run troops south but I don’t know about it. I want you to write all the news when you write and write often. I would like to see you and the children. I was looking in my sack this morning and among the rest, I saw your likeness and on the whole, I have thought considerable about home today. Mother sent me some dried apples, berries, cherries, and some tea and pepper by Norman. I han’t got any letter from Mother in some time. I wrote Leonard’s folks a letter since I saw Wilbur. I have not had an answer from that. In fact, I have not had a letter from anyone since I got yours dated the 7th.
I see when the men get letters from their wives, quite a number get small ones inside. I don’t know what is wrote in them. I think that I look about as I did when you saw me last. I am fleshier than I was two months ago and my whiskers are getting heavy. I keep my upper lip shaved. I think some of letting that grow too. I think that I am alright and about as keen as ever. You know when I am through that I want to stop. Now I am through and I will stop. — B. Merrill
Letter 24
Virginia January 29, 1863
Ruba, I shant be able to write you a very interesting letter this morning from the fact that I have no interesting ground to work upon. I will go back as far as the time that we left our old camp which was the 21st, I believe, and I will take from that date up to now and glean what I can remember as near as may be. To get at my story, I shall embrace a little ground before the 21st and go back as far as the 17th.
The 17th about 2 o’clock in the morning we had orders to march and have our tents and haversacks and we took our blankets and three days rations and of course we had to obey and we started in the dark and on muddy roads, Our course was up the [Rappahannock] river. By the by, we had to take our guns, cartridges, and belts, and when we had marched about four miles, we had an order to halt, load our guns, and put on our bayonets, and, as I said before, we had to obey, and we did this all in the dark.
Then the order was to march. This was obeyed and we moved through mud until break of day which fetched us about 9 miles from our old camp up the river. Then we made a short stop and then we moved about half a mile or so. Then we were halted right in the woods and not far from the bank of the river [where we] got some breakfast and rested for a while. And about the next thing that we saw [was] one or two loads of axes, spades, picks and shovels. Then we had orders to go to fixing road and we worked at this kind that day and the next, and the next day we went back to camp again. Had no trouble with the rebs then.
Then, [on the] 21st, we had orders to pack up and take tents and we went back where we were before, done more work on the road and two or three nights [more]. Then the order was to march and we move still [further] up the river a few miles and camped, expecting that the river would be bridged there and that we should cross. And what this work was done for where we was, I am not able to say. The night that we camped still up the river from where we made road and the day and night before, it rained quite steady. Consequently the roads was getting almost impossible because the whole army about here were moving and the thing of crossing the river was given up and the troops commenced to fall back. And such a time I never saw. Our artillery and baggage wagons cut the roads all to pieces and such deep mud I never saw. But our regiment were among the first that came back and we came within about a mile of our old camp and camped. And we are here yet so you see that Providence kept the two armies apart this time. Had our army crossed and the two armies have come together, there probably would have been an awful slaughter on both sides. Had this plan been made the first time the attack was made, I think that it would have been successful and it probably would have been now provided it had have been carried out. The move on our side was a large thing.
The next day after we got into this camp, there seemed to be a constant string of men passing, regiment after regiment, all day. And there is another road running the same way for far off and it was the same on that road too. After about two days, the rain stopped and it cleared off and the mud, where it wasn’t deep, began to dry up a little. The weather continued good until day before yesterday [when] it commenced to rain. It rained quite steady that day and it snowed some night before last and snowed all day yesterday and last night and melted nearly as fast as it come until last night it gained. This morning the snow was 4 or 5 inches deep but it is going fast now. Today it is pleasant and quite warm and I think that there is mud aplenty and plenty of mud soon.
I wish that I could have drawn a picture of our camp and things connected with it this morning to you but I can’t do it. But I will describe a few things as near as I can. There is four regiments of us here close together and there is probably 40 or 50 government wagons with us—heavy wagons covered like emigrant wagons, and these are drawn mostly by mules 4 or 6 to one wagon. A few horses are used. These were mostly in last night. When they come in, they have to unharness and hitch the mules to the wagons or a stump as the case may be. [There are] no stables. This morning these mules stood with their hind feet very near their forward feet, all wet and cold. Figure up and you will see quite a number of mules around camp.
Now, about the men. Our tents ain’t fixed only for the present not yet so you see that we were pinched too and had we have had four legs, our feet would have been quite close together too but our tent and Alva’s was near each other and our beds were off from the ground and last night we put on good fires of large wood and at bed time we bunked in and this morning we came out right—all but camp smoke. This troubles me and it is with trouble that I write to you this morning. My eyes are quite bad. As soon as it melts off and dries up a little, we are going to fix up and make another chimney which will be the 4th or 5th that we have made and we have been in about twenty different camps in all. But I guess that we don’t move much more at present on account of the roads. Our rations come within about two miles of us by public conveyance and the teams get them from there.
So much for the present picture. And when I attempt to look ahead, it looks dark. It may be that light will dawn somewhere but I don’t know. I don’t get no news of what they are doing in Congress. In fact, I don’t get much news any way. I did not hear a word from home in a long time. The last letter that I got from you was dated January 7th until night before last [when] I got two letters from you. One had some black pepper and the other some stuff to make ink. So you see that this morning I can make marks that won’t rub out. I see that you complained some of pencil marks in your last. My pencil was too hard for writing on paper but I did the best that I could without ink and poor or no paper, What paper I had was rough and poor. Since I received your two letters, I had one from Leonard’s folks and one from Heman. Your numbers 19 and 20 I have not got and I guess that there has been one or two more along somewhere in there that I did not get. I wrote you a short letter the day before I got your two last but this was done with a pencil and it may be you can’t read it. I wrote you a letter about the first of January with a pencil and directed it with a pencil. Did you get that? I think that I could write with a pencil so that you could make out what it means if your eyesight was or did not fail. I wrote in my last that you had better send one or two fifty cents stamps. If it is convenient, you may do so but don’t take any trouble about it. I think that we will get some pay before long but I don’t know certain when. I understand that the paymaster is at work in the regiments that are with us and it may be our turn by and by. I was glad to hear that you had got so as to ride out. After your confinement, I want you to be careful and not be so smart too soon. You know that such things don’t work very well always. Have you named your babe yet? What makes you think that little heifer will come in the spring? I did not think that the old heifer would come in the spring but I did not think that she would be farrow this winter. Of course, what you have written before.
I would be very glad to come home and see how things are moving and see what is farrow and what has come in and what is coming in. If this could be the case, I know of one thing that would be likely to come in. How do you think Dave and Fannie get along? Has Fannie got over jerking, do you think? Or do you think she haves such spells occasionally yet? I am afraid that you Cattaraugus folks are getting so unruly that you need me there to keep you steady. Seems that I am one of the steady kind. Please ask E. Roberts to keep things about as they should be until I get home. You say that his mumps are well now. I think that I would like to see one handsome good-looking Cattaraugus woman about like yourself. I han’t [seen] but a very few nice-looking women like yourself since I crossed the Potomac river. I tell you that handsome women are scarce down here. Some of the men say that they would give a quarter just to look at one but I guess when this was done that they would be hardly satisfied. I judge from my own feelings. I think that I would like to do one thing more. I would just like to—–kiss one too and this would do me. But I bear my infirmities as best I can. I han’t even had a grist ground by hand as yet so you see that I am all right and I might go off half touched. I made up my mind when I left home if it was my lot to ever get home that I would come home pure and clean as I was when I left. I am of the same opinion yet and among the rest I keep my person clean too, hair and whiskers combed, and my shirts and drawers clean too. But all men don’t keep their clothes and hands and faces clean. Jate Hull looks worse than an Indian and he ain’t the only one in this fix. Some are getting lousy and Jate among the rest.
I han’t had any trouble with a man yet and I have been able to answer to my name every time and han’t been excused a time yet. And a number call me Uncle Merrill. Our new tent mate has been sick and has been to the hospital but he is with us now. His is rather a good sort of a man. Horace and Alva get along first rate. Alva’s boil has got so that he can wear his boot now. How does Nancy get along? Does she improve in her mind and ways? Irvin, I suppose, is stubbing around about as usual. I am glad you are like to have hay enough and that the colts are doing well. Does Doll seem to be steady or does she act a little as though she would like to run away sometimes? Be careful and not let the colts get scared and run. And try to keep them so that they will grow some.
Well, I guess that I have written about trash enough for this time. Give my love to Maria Roberts. Tell her if I could see her, the first thing that I would do would be to kiss her. I expect to be home some time and I shall feel like a bird let out of a cage. Then I think that I will be my own man. Now I am under the big bugs and men ain’t very popular here unless they can swear by rule and by the by, there is plenty of it here. It is the fashion. Give my love to all that inquire after me. I must close for we are going to work at our tent to rig it up again. If there was anything in your letters 19 and 20 that you wish me to see, you will have to write it again. Plus write often, — B. Merrill
I have wrote the last of this in a hurry and don’t read it over so excuse mistakes. It may be that it would do to read the first leaf of this to some of the neighbors.
Letter 25
Virginia February 2, 1863
We have got such a comfortable tent and such a nice fireplace to sit by that I thought that I would write a few lines to you this evening. I received a letter from you a day or so ago (No. 25). I believe I have written twice to you within a short time. I don’t know that I have much news to write this time. Our snow storm has passed off and snow gone and the weather is nice again but the mud ain’t all gone yet. There don’t seem to be anything new going on. Our regiment are fixing up their tents the best now that they have either time before. The most of them are comfortable for cold weather. Ourselves among the rest are in good condition for cold, stormy weather now. Ain’t you glad.
Fodder your own cattle and take care of your horses. I don’t so such work this winter. I live in the South. It may be that I will get a farm here yet. I have got a horse but I have only squatted yet. I have made no claim. I and Alva gave drawed our pay up to the first of November, making eighteen dollars each to send home. I thought that I would wait a little before we send on account that a great many are sending home just now. Our brigade did not any of them get pay up any further than the first of November. I don’t know when we will get any more pay. Some say in one month. There is now three months pay back. You may look for our allotments in a few days. I would just like to have you drop into our house and stay one night and try our new bed. Our bed is better than what they were to Jamestown. We take small poles and lay them six or 8 inches from the ground close together across the back end of our tent. Then we lay on pine or cedar boughs, then spread on our rubber blankets, some of them, then one woolen blankets and some runner blankets last and this makes our bed. The foot of the bed, our chairs, the front end of the tent for a door one sie and the chimney the other. The sides of our house is about four feet high made of pine poles split through the middle and the split sides laid inside of the tent and the outside mudded tight and through the middle a man can stand up comfortable. The roof is made of our canvas drawn over a pole through the middle. The pole lays in some crotches, one at each end. They are higher than the sides and this gives the slant on the roof. This is a short description of our house. How do you like it? We han’t no place to keep much provision but Uncle Sam furnishes us our provision every day so we don’t need much room for this purpose and we have plenty to eat now and plenty of coffee and sugar though not a great variety of provision.
My health is good and my appetite is good and I feel quite keen.
Ruba, I have to correct a thing or two. Alva wants to read your letters. I always read them first and sometimes I find little sketches I think that he had better not read so I tell him that there ain’t much of any news and don’t let him read such letters. I like to have some such news myself and I want to tell you how this can be got along with. Just write your letter and leave out the choice news and put that in a slip by itself inside and then Alva can read all of your letters, don’t you see? I saw in your last that you thought that yourself and Nob could do without oats and in another something about my old farrow heifer so you see that i had rather have the extras by themselves on Alva’s account. Don’t understand that I don’t want no such news—only give it to me in a slip separate. I will do the same by you if desire if it would suit you any better. Tell me when you get this.
I drawed two months and two days pay and Alva got a little more so I have eight dollars and some change to keep. You spoke about stamps and about my writing to other men’s wives. I own that I have wrote to other men’s wives and other men’s wives have wrote to me. I want you to forgive me and it may be that I shall do the same thing again. I guess that I will send you a nice new fifty cent stamp in this letter and probably twenty-five cents will cover the expense for stamps that I have sent to other men’s wives and the other twenty-five cents you may pay me when I come home. You know mother sent me a letter the other day and she sent me twelve stamps. She did not stop with one nor two. She put in twelve so you can see her generosity. If you can afford it, you may continue to send stamps and you may put in an extra envelope if you please. I shall send the allotment in the envelope that you sent to me. Give my love to the children and save a large share for yourself. — B. M.
Virginia, Feb. 3, 1863. Wife Ruba, enclosed please find one draft calling for $18. Probably Alva will send his too. I have found out this morning that we can send by Dr. Venorman. He lives in the east part of Cattaraugus county. He will carry them and mail them as near home as he can. You may use some of the money to pay where you think best, maybe to Scovil’s, and use some for yourself if you want and keep a little by you. As soon as you get this, please inform me. I hope you will get it safe. Maybe that Clark will cash them for you or someone to Gowanda. If you can’t do no better, you can get it done to the bank. — B. Merrill
Please write your name on the back of the ruled mark.
Letter 26
Not long after the Mud March the 154th New York was moved to a new camp near Stafford Court House. The new bivouac was christened Camp John Manley in honor of a federal employee from Cattaraugus County known as “The Soldier’s Friend” for his work in Washington on behalf of the county’s soldiers and their families. It was at Camp John Manley that the 154th New York earned the nickname “Hardtack Regiment,” when the men engaged in unscrupulous trading for that army staple with the German members of their brigade.
Camp near Aquia February 10, 1863
Ruba,
I received two letters in one envelope from you last night (n. o 26 and 27). I was glad to hear from you. I have not got all of your letters. Since I wrote to you, we have had to move. We have moved about eight miles nearer than we was near a station on the railroad. I suppose that the intention of the move wsa to get our supplies handier on account of bad roads. We had just got a good tent where we was and then had to move, We came here last Friday night. Our regiment was marched into the woods a little before sundown, tired and hungry. We made a fire and got some supper and then set up our tents and rested what we could for the night. Then all we had to do was to try again Saturday morning. We went to work and of men ever worked, they have worked here. Since that time, no time lost Sunday. The most of them have got nearly fixed up again. We have got a good tent and a good fireplace. The arrangement is now for us to remain here a while, they say, until the ground settles in the spring.
The Cattaraugus Regiment is the greatest regiment to knock things together that you ever saw. I don’t know whether there will be any furloughs or not. There is some talk that way but uncertain yet. Alva and I sent home some pay the other day. I suppose you have got it before this time. I think that I will have Harvey Hurd make a good, heavy pair of calfskin boots such as is wanted in the army and have them ready as soon as he can. And I think that there will be some way for me to get them. I will send the measure in this letter and you had better go over and see him and get them home as soon as you can so as to have them ready to send the first chance. My boots leak some now and I don’t know how to go with wet feet and it will take some time to get them around and I shall want some socks too as soon as there is a chance. Maybe that I will conclude to have you send me a box by and by if there is no other way to get things.
“My boots leak some now and I don’t know how to go with wet feet.”
My health remains good and Alva’s health is good. I did not know as Alva felt hard towards P. W. I have not asked him about it this morning. If you have heard anything about it, I wish you would let me know what it is. All that there was about tobacco at Dumfries was he got a little of the leaf partly dried and twirled up to a house not far off. Some of it I used. It was not worth much and some was given away and he did not get but a little anyway. When I wrote to have you send me a little, I had only a few shillings left and I did not know how soon we would draw [pay]. I had heard about it so long but as it happened I might have got along without sending, but I got what you sent do it is just as well.
You wanted me to write about Alva. I think that he appears about as he did when you saw him.I think that he is a good boy—he and Horace both. They have got them a good tent about done here now. The weather is fine here now and has been since Saturday but we have had a stormy bad time to get here. It snowed the morning we started and then it rained and we camped out one night and that was a rainy bad night. But we are getting all right for stormy weather again now. This writing looks as though you could not read it the ink is dirty and clogs the end of the pen is what is the matter and that makes it bad you know.
About the colt, I think you had better get someone to bleed her in the mouth and then you had better give her two or three quarts of brand twice a day, scalded and put in a little [ ] and cuprous pulverized together and let her eat it warm. Put in about one part cuprous and put in about a teaspoonful of [ ] and feed her a little in this way some time and I think her hide will loosen after a little and she will gain.
Do you think that any bone in Nancy’s foot where she lamed it is out of place that makes her lame so long? I am afraid there is. I don’t get much news here now-a-days. I guess that I had better take a Yankee way to answer your question. You asked me which do you think is the best to have—rather a poor husband around or none at all. Mother sent me a letter the other day and twelve stamps. I did not get any letter from her with any dollar i nit. The mail goes soon and I must close and I will try and do better next time. — B. M.
Letter 27
Camp near Aquia Station, Virginia February 12th 1863
Beloved wife,
Although far distant, I take a little time this evening—it is now nine o’clock—to write a few lines to you. It has not got still and quiet in camp and it is a good time to write. And what shall I write? I would be glad to write something that would interest you. In the first place, I will describe to you how our new home looks inside. This evening I sit on the foot of the bed with a gun bayonet stuck unto the ground just before me, point down, and the other end serves for a candle stick, with my ink to my right on the foot of th bed and my writing on my knee. Calvin—a little to my left, tossed over backwards on the bed and one foot up on the pile of night wood fast asleep Charles fashion. [Bornt] Shelmadine is washing his clothes before the fire. This makes our family. Our other tent mate is nursing to the hospital. His health is not very good. We have got a good fireplace, comfortable tent, and comfortable bed. I said our new home because we have just moved into the woods and put up a cabin or house and it is all done but the painting. We had just got fixed all comfortable to our last camp and thought that we were to stay awhile and about the time you wrote to Alva—he got a letter last night—we had orders just at daybreak to be ready to march at half past eight which was rather a short time to pack up and get ready to move but we were on the move in time before this time. It had been quite cold for two or three days and that morning it commenced snowing and it snowed all the forenoon and rained all the afternoon. We marched about half our distance that day and were halted a little before night and turned into a large flat meadow to curry for the night. It still rained and rained all night and it rained the next morning but we had orders to move at nine o’clock. Consequently we were ready and there was a stream of water just ahead and that had rose so high it could not be crossed without a pontoon bridge and they were back about two miles. Still raining and we waiting all packed up so we were ordered up on the side of a hill into some woods. There we made fires and dried some and made coffee and about noon the bridge was in and we started and landed a little before dark into the woods and no shelter. But we struck tents and eat a little and rested as best we could.
Log Houses occupied by the 154th New York near Stafford Court House. Sgt. Marcellus Warner Darling Memoirs.
And now the woods are gone and we have comfortable quarters—log bottoms and the canvas over. Bottoms mudded and fireplaces all done since last Saturday morning. Such is a short sketch of soldiering. How do you like it now? While we lay in camp we have it rather easy. We are still in Sigel’s Corps. We have done considerable tramping but probably we have been in camp half of the time and maybe more since we crossed the Potomac. I think that I stand it very well and I am now quite fleshy.
I wrote a few lines to you a short time ago since we came [here] but we was not quite fixed and I did not write much. I have written a number of times within two or three of the past weeks. Probably you have got them before now. Among the rest I sent you one eighteen dollar draft. I hope you have got that. I forgot to write in my last letter about the price of that dress coat. That coat cost six dollars and seventy-one cents. Probably you had better take off one dollar and maybe a little more since the first day of January them coats cost more. I am sorry that I don’t get all of your letters. I would be glad to hear from home at least once a week. Our mail comes now every night and leaves every morning. I sent you in my last letter a measure for a pair of boots. I want a good pair and taped and well heeled, and heel plates on. i want them made of heavy calfskin and I want a pair that is worth six dollars and I think you had better get them ready as soon as you can and I think there will be some chance for me to get them. If you don’t get the measure. I think that large sevens or small eights would be the thing. One of my boots leak some now and I don’t know how to go with wet feet.
The weather here now is pleasant but rather cool. No snow nor no frost in the ground. We have had considerable rain of late. I think from the present appearance that a part of the Potomac Army will be moved south and a part left and no more fighting in Virginia. Whether we go or stay, I can’t tell. I would like to stay but I can’t have my choice in this matter. I rather think that we stay for a while. At any rate, I think that it will all come right in the end. I think that I shall come home again sometime—the sooner the better to suit me. I think that some time in March I shall get two months more pay. I think the design of the government is to keep two months behind in pay at least.
Does our cellar freeze any this winter? And how does the potatoes and apples keep. I was glad that Alva got his last letter from you for he was getting out of patience. He said that he would not write anymore until you wrote to him. I done my washing all up nice yesterday and changed my clothes. I have got so that I can wash or cook quite well. I am glad you have sent some things. I hope that I shall get them. When you send me another letter, you may send me a little woolen yarn to darn socks and a few good pins. When I sent back that little bag I ought to have taken out the yarn but I sent in a hurry and did not have time to think what I wanted. I only thought that I wanted to get my load as light as I could. I will close by signing, — B. M.
Please write often and write all the news.
Letter 28
Virginia February 21, 1863
Ruba, I received your letter last night and was glad to hear that you got allotments safe. You sent a nice little envelope and stamp on it all fixed up. I suppose your envelope a specimen of all you have around—everything small, snug and nice.
The prospect here is now that George Real will be home on a short furlough next week. I want you to have my boots ready and I guess he will bring them to me and I guess that Horace and Alva intends to send for a box and try to have the box start a couple of days before he does and maybe he can see to it in Washington. So you can be getting his things ready and I guess that I will have a pair of socks and my hat and some paper, envelopes and ink. I han’t time to write now. Be getting things ready as you think he will want and you will hear from me again soon maybe when he comes.
Short and sweet, — B. M.
Private
Ruba, you can see by this writing that my pens are worn out. My pens that I brought from home have all failed but one and that is too course to write fine hand. It is a course hand pen and in god order for that use so I don’t mind it and I guess you had better send me some fine hand pens.
How do you like sleeping alone his winter? I suppose you like it for you don’t have anyone to disturb you or keep you awake. Or do you feel a little sometimes as though you would like to be woke up and crowded a little tightly? I feel as though I would like just to do that thing for you. I am as keen as a brier and as good as new and clean enough to get between the sheets with you. I would like to see home and see the children and see the inside of that old meeting house. You that are at home don’t prize the privileges that you enjoy as you ought. I han’t seen the inside of a meeting house since I have been in Virginia or hardly the inside of a dwelling house. I sojourn in a strange land—a land of all men and no women. I think that the thing won’t work to keep them apart long but I see that some of our big officers have their women along.
I was called down the other night to guard the Brigade Headquarters and I heard a strange noise in the night inside. Thinks I, that is the advantage the big men have. So the world goes well all towards twenty-one. Well, I guess when I get home I think I will make up lost time. Try and keep your health good and be all nice. I feel somehow queer now, you know.
Harvey Inman is quite unwell. I don’t know what ails him. I believe that the regiment are generally in tolerable health. There is a man here from Rutledge. He come into camp last night. He says that he don’t think much about the women. Some of the men told him if he had been down here five months and eat hard tacks, he would. The men here say that calico would look good to them now if they could see it but I suppose that they mean something else. I can think of other things that I would rather see than Calico. Sometimes I think that I just must go home and then I think that it would not be best so I bear my infirmities.
Well, I guess that I will live through it and see my wife again someday or night. Sometimes I think, well, what a fool I was for coming off down here and at other times I take a little different view of the thing. Sometimes I think it is my duty to be here and at other times I see things that I am disgusted with. Then I wish I was out and home. So I have my trials about it. When I look back, the time seems long. I hope that Providence will so arrange that I can go home soon. I would like to see old Cattaraugus and its inhabitants again. I think of our neat little home, the front bedroom, and the warm kitchen and wife and children daily. But I keep up good courage and hope for the best.
Virginia would be a pleasant place provided it did not bear the marks of war. The climate is good—first rate, but the soil is such that when it is wet, it is very muddy. But it soon dries off.
Well, I guess that I have scribbled about enough for this time. Maybe when you read this, you will want to blow out the light before you read if you want, or would like to give me anything that has a barren in this direction. Please enclose on a scrap by itself. I would like to have a little of this stripe.
Yours, — B. Merrill
I will try and send you a daily paper printed at Baltimore. You can see the difference.
Letter 29
Virginia February 21, 1863
We ain’t doing anything no-a-days and the weather is nice and for me to lay idle, it makes the time seem rather long. So I seat myself to write a little to you. I think that it may be that George Real will be home on a ten day furlough now soon and if you got the measure for my boots, I would like to have [you] see that they are made and I guess that he will bring them when he comes back. Horace and Alva thin of sending for a box and I thought that I would send for a few things too but I rather not risk the boots to come in a box. I want him to bring them right along and I will pay him for the trouble that they make him.
I would like to have you put in their box for me my hat if it is good as when I left. If not, get me a new one. And I guess one pair of socks, some dried fruit—mostly dried apples, and some butter—not a great deal, and a piece of cheese, one quire of paper, and one or two packages of good envelopes, and a bottle of good ink, and send by him fifty cents worth of stamps. And I want a coffee pot, tin cup, and a small knife and fork. I have wrote to John about these. I guess you may pay John for them and he will pay to Gowanda.
I would like a little woolen yarn and I hardly know what to say about tea and tobacco. I han’t got what you sent yet. There is a lot of boxes coming soon. Maybe I will get it with them. And I would like to have you send a little maple sugar and a small bag of flour. I think you need not send any tea nor tobacco now. Maybe you will think of some other little fixings that you will think that I will want that you can send. There is one thing more that I would like but I think that it would not be convenient to send it and I will have to do without it.
Corp. Job B. Dawley of Co. K, 154th New York.
I think if James Rich wants to buy the kettle and is willing to pay what it is worth, you may sell it to him. I think the prospect slim for me to use it to make sugar this spring. I think that the kettle is worth thirty or thirty-five dollars. I don’t exactly know how much myself. I think that it is worth more than the new ones they buy now and it han’t been used in the arch enough to injure it at all. If you could find out what they were worth in Buffalo, you could tell something about it yourself. I guess that it would be best to have it sold if it can be sold for what it is worth….[more instructions for managing things about the farm and home follows.]
I have had my hair cut and whiskers trimmed and on the whole I look about as good as new and think that I would like to see you now and measure legs. I guess that mine are the largest. I wrote two letters, one to each of the children and put them both into one envelope and directed them to you and put in a twenty-five cent stamp in each of them as a present. Have you got them? ….
I spoke with the Captain a day or two ago about my having a furlough to go home. The present arrangement is is for one out of each company to have a furlough of ten days, one at a time, and there is one in our company that is sick that wants to go home now. Probably he will go, and there is one or two more than have spoke before me. If nothing new should turn up, I guess that I could get a ten day furlough some time towards the last of March. What do you think? Do you think that it would pay? It will cost me twenty-five or thirty dollars to go and get back and about three days each way. If I should have good luck, I could stay three or four days and nights at home. What do you think? I would be very glad to see you but I don’t see how I can figure up so as to make it pay. If I could get a furlough for twenty or thirty days, it might may. And I see nothing to hinder quite a number out of each company now from having furloughs at a time and go home and see their families. We ain’t doing much here now and probably won’t move from here until the roads get good in the spring. It may be that there will be different arrangements about furloughs soon. I don’t know. You had better not look at all for me and then if I don’t come, you won’t be disappointed. I think that they don’t like to let many go for fear they can’t get them back again. They know about how the men feel there is a possibility that George won’t. His papers are not yet in his hands but that is the present arrangement for him—to have them and come. Calvin, Shelmadine and I talk of sending for our women to come down and see us and we find one difficulty to get along with and that is we hain’t sleeping rooms enough in our house to lodge three couples. I hardly know whether we will send on that account. Can you contrive anyway how that thing can be managed? If you can, let me know in your next.
Sunday 22nd. It continued to snow here last night about ten o’clock and it has snowed ever since. Today it snows and blows, not very cold, but rather blustering….We have but a very little cold weather here yet but considerable rain of late and plenty of mud. our tent is very comfortable and a good fireplace and the chimney don’t smoke and I don’t hear wife scold. We have to bring our water about eighty rods and we have to bring our wood about the same distance and you see that I am alright—only I want a woman to wash my shirts, that is all…
When I look back, it don’t seem as though it has been five months since i saw you. I often think of the last time we spent together. The time looks short to look back but to look ahead, it looks long and the weeks pass swiftly by. Ruba, sometimes I get to thinking about home and it seems as though I must come and see my family. It may be that Providence will so order it that I can come but unless the way opens tolerable fair, probably I shall wait awhile. I try and keep as quiet as possible but I see things here at the head of management that I call perplexing and that don’t make me feel any more patient. So far as our regiment was concerned was a blank. Our men are—some of them—sickening and some dying off and probably our regiment is full one-third smaller now than when we left home. I believe that fifty-six or 7 men is all that our company draws rations for now and when we came down, it was eighty or over. But I have been wonderfully favored on all and nearly all sides since I came here for which I feel thankful. I have not had hardly a bad time to go out on picket or guard duty since I have been down here.
I don’t know as I have been healthier or tougher or weighed more since you have been acquainted with me than now. I can lug around and carry luggage like a horse. I did not think that I could begin to stand what I have. Sometimes I get tired but I can lay down and rest and it don’t make much difference what the bed is if it is out of the water. I have had quite a number of different beds to sleep on since I saw you—sometimes in a tent and sometimes with the heavens for a covering. I guess I will mention a few of the different materials that I have made my bed of since I saw you—oak leaves, pine boughs, cedar boughs, corn stalks, haw, straw, and when I could not do any better, I have spread my blankets right on the ground and they make quite a good bed. It has seemed to me that the Lord has been with and blessed me and given me strength a great many times which I feel thankful, I assure you, but I have been blessed with good health and I hope and try to pray that the Lord will hasten the time when I can again return to my home and family and there I let the thing rest.
I have written the most of this sheet in a hurry. Probably the whole thing has been done in about two hours. Maybe you can’t read all of it. My pens are poor and ink about gone and probably some mistakes. Pass all such by and please write often to me. I have had no letter that brought any news about your visit and Miss Shannon’s. I am sorry that I don’t get all of your letters but I know of no way to help it—only for you to make calculation on having some lost and send a little oftener…
Ruba, sometimes when I write, I try and feel as keen as possible and sometimes I do. At other times, before I close my letter, I almost feel as though it would be a kind of relief for me to drop a tear over my writing. I have made up my mind since I have been down here that probably I think as much of my family and home as any man ought to and I feel anxious to see home as soon as convenient. I often feel that I wish that I had been a better man and a better Christian and had taken things more patient. On a review of my past life, I see many things that I could wish were not so, but the past is gone and gone forever. It can’t be recalled. I intend to try with divine help to live a Christian man for time to come and it seems to me today that I can look beyond the musty trash of earth and behold a mansion prepared for me. Yes, and the time is coming when I shall step in. Ruba, my mind is as clear as a bell today and I wish that I could enjoy the privilege of attending a class meeting on this holy Sabbath day in the old church at home. But these are privileges that I don’t enjoy.
The orders were last night in camp that today at half past nine this morning there would be a general inspection but the storm came on and no inspection and this is about the first Sabbath but what there has been something wanted and I am heartily glad that there is a God in heaven that overrules. And sometimes it seems as though it would be wickedness that is practiced in the world. It is an awful wicked place here and sometimes I feel heart sick.
I don’t know but your patience will be wearied on studying out my scribbles but somehow I feel a little like writing and I have only to pen what comes into my mind….Give my respects to all that enquire after me. From your husband, — Barzilla Merrill
I don’t want you to say anything to anyone about my coming home for it is very doubtful about coming.
Letter 30
Virginia February 25, 1863
Ruba, I received a letter from you and one for Alva night before last, both in one envelope. I was glad to hear from home. It may be that you have seen George [Read] before this time. I hope you have. You will have such a good chance to hear from Alva and I and I gave George two dollars and tolf him if you wanted to use that, he might let you have it. If not, he might bring it [to] me again. I was informed yesterday quite credible that we would have two months more pay some time in March and I have five dollars and some change by me now. Alva says that he has four dollars and I want you to keep the two dollars anyway and I think that we can get along without it very well. Use it as you think best.
I don’t know that you will think that I am extravagant to put on a stamp to a letter sent you by private conveyance. I thought that I would have to send by mail after I wrote. I thought that George would not get away as soon by a day or two as he intended on account of his furlough and I wished you to have the letter as soon as you could, but he went as he intended so I sent by him. Be sure and send me some stamps when he comes back. You need not send envelopes unless you can send larger ones. I want envelopes but I don’t want such small ones. I am quite a hand for large things you know. Paper and envelopes I can get, but not very handy. But stamps, I can’t get here unless they are sent.
Alva uses rather more money here than I think he ought to. He had nearly two dollars more when we sent home our money than I had and now he has a dollar less and I have sent three dollars since a fifty cent stamp to you…I thought that I should have sent you more money before this time and Uncle Sam hain’t hard up as I expected so you see that I have done the best that I could in that direction. I did not know but you would begin to think that I was calling quite often on you. Well I was, and am still, but I don’t call on you for all that I want you to furnish me by no means. And I don’t expect to have you supply all my wants while I stay here.
I would like to say a little about the war but when I undertake this, I hardly know how to begin or where to stop. I just would like to draw you a true picture of what is around where I am stopping now. In the first place, I will say that we are a part of Sigel’s Corps and Sigel’s Corps is the 9th [11th] Army Corps of the Potomac and I believe that his whole corps lay around here as near as may be except his sick and they will be here within a day or two. The hospital tents are nearly ready now. And we are in [Adolph Von] Steinwehr’s Brigade which is four regiments in all and the whole corps make rather a large thing. And this is but a small piece of the hydra headed monster. And I wish that I could manage to help you to form some kind of an idea about what it costs to run this piece of the Devil’s intention but I can’t—enormous.
I don’t know as I have much news to write today. I have been on guard for the last 24 hours—two on and four off—and today I have nothing to do so I thought that I would write to you a little. Do you think that I had better write to Alden and Howlett about what money you had ought to have in that direction. Please tell me when you write. I have not said much to Alva about paying out his money here. Perhaps you had better write a little to him about it. It is a fine place here to use money and everything is very high. Our rations now are a plenty. All there is. It is the same kind—too much [and] not quite enough of a variety. If you think that I had better talk with him about it, tell me in your next.
Have you got any shoes on that light sleigh this winter? I guess you had better sell the Roberts’ cow this spring if the little heifer is coming in and maybe the calves. Probably you will have to hire them pastured if you keep them. Maybe you can get 25 or 30 pounds of sugar for them troughs and [ ] and maybe a little more. If you can, you had better let them go. Try and manage so as not to be short for fodder. This would be bad for you. Did the children get their letter from me? — B. M.
Please write often.
Letter 31
Virginia March 1, 1863
Mrs. B. Merrill,
I concluded to spend a little time this afternoon to write to you. I have just come in from a 24 hour picket duty. No sleep last night so you see that I am in good trim to write. My head is clear and thoughts quick and discerning. I have been along near the lines since we came from Fairfax and conveniently this kind of work haves to be done and the way the thing runs, the cavalry picket between us and the enemy and this morning [ ] were relieved…
Alva received a letter from you Saturday night and I found one from Irvin. I was glad to have him write. Why did not Nancy write too? I don’t notice as you or Irvin speak about anything that was in the letters. I put in a twenty-five cent stamp in each letter. If they got them, it seems as though that they were worth mentioning. Irvin wanted me to tell you what I thought about your having the clots to go to spelling schools. I don’t think that it would be best. But I expect you to do as your ma thinks best about it and all other matters of course. And I think you will, won’t you? I know you will be a good boy, Irvin….
Our regiment was mustered in for two months more pay last Saturday which makes four months pay overdue now. I think that we will get some pay soon.
[Quite a lot not transcribed in this letter but it is faint and difficult to read. It also appears to be mostly home front news.]
Letter 32
Virginia March 7, 1863
Wife,
I have a desire to write to you a little today seeing that I am situated in such a fix that this is all that I can do for you. I am a little short for timber or in other words, short for news. All is quiet on the Potomac.
George [Read] got into camp Thursday in the forenoon. I think that it made him look just fresh to be home and sleep with his wife. He brought my boots. They are a good pair and fit well.
Well, Ruba, I feel rather keen today and I…think you would hardly know me if you should see me now. My face is plumping up, my joints are getting limber, my hands are getting smooth, and while inside I think if I had a little of your hair dye to give my hair and whiskers a little brush, that I would answer as good a turn for any kind of business as I would twenty-four years ago. And I think that I could do some things better.
There seems to be quite a stir or considerable conversation with regards to men that came into the army on the last call and there is talk that they will be considered nine-months men. Do you get any such news? I don’t know whether what we hear about this matter is camp rumor or whether there is something to it. Time determines nine months matters you know. It seems as though it was not right for me to spend so much time doing nothing and you have so much to do and look after and I have wished that I was near enough to there so I could come and do your chores a part of the time. It might make it easier for you but I am so far off you will have to do the best you can, and when you csn’t get along any longer, call on Roberts.
You wanted I should write our position in the army. Well we are in the 11th Army Corps, Second Division, First Brigade of the Potomac Army, 154th Regt., N. Y. S. V. This I believe, is correct. You wanted to know why Alva and I did not tent together. I know of two reasons. Further, the boys like to be together and old steady men. I had Shelmadine arrested yesterday for making what I believed was a false statement and the trial went off closed about dark last night but I failed to get my point on account that my complaint was not dated and he was released by the court with a charge to be very careful what he said. After this I think that I will give you the false statement that he made on [separate] slip.
It is a general time of health in our regiment and we have a very good campground, probably about halfway between Washington and Richmond. What will be our next move is more than I can tell. My health is good. I asked George [Real] how it looked around Slab City—if it looked natural? He said it did. I asked him if you looked fleshy. He said he thought about as when I saw you. I thought perhaps you had fleshed up considerable by this time. He says the cattle and colts looks well. My ink is poor and paper dirty. It is paper that I have had some time but it is about gone.
I noticed t=in your little book paid Henry Darbee fifty cents that husband owed him. I paid Chester that part when I settled my note that he had and the balance was made some way in work it was talked over and settled between Chester and myself. Did he ask you for the money? You may do as you think best about speaking to him about it. It is but a small matter. I understand that neighbor John Rice has moved away. How do you get along without him? I wish that I had some news to send but the mail goes soon and I will close. — B. Merrill
Letter 33
Virginia Sunday, March 8, 1863
Ruba,
I will try and write a few lines but short for news. I am getting tired of not having much to do some days. I have the blues a little and I know that his won’t do and I get out of this train of feeling and some days I feel lively and bouyant and some time my mind is clear and sound and sometimes I think what a fool I was for coming down here. Sometimes I feel tired and perplexed so you can see that I have ups and downs and I think that I am right positive to pass through these scenes. But along with all this, I find some sunny spots and have done ever since I have been this side of the Potomac. I have seen some as happy seasons since I have been here as I ever experienced, and probably some as sore trials as ever and passed through within my life. Sometimes it has seemed as though God has forgotten to hear prayer and turned a deaf ear to our calls. When I let my eye glance around and see what has been done, I sometimes wonder why it is God suffers things to go on in this way. And when I look on the other side of the leaf and see the wickedness that is practiced in high places, I make up my mind that we as a Nation need punishment.
But there is one thing that I can hardly solve and that is why it is that so many noble men are suffered to fall and others away from home in camp and weathering the storms of such a life all for the wickedness of others. I don’t wish you to understand me that I am embracing skeptical views with regard to duty. I was only saying that i was not able to solve this question. Maybe you can help me on this point. I want to be understood that I still hold on to the promises of God and another thing I want to say to you, I think that I am learning lessons here that will be of use to me after I get home. I try and glean when and where I can get knowledge. It is a good place to study human nature and see some men that are men in mind and body, and a great many that are only men in body and a well developed mind looks better to me than it ever did before. And some that are placed over us, their minds are very small, but their bodies are very large—especially in their own concept. All such passing events I observe and try and gather useful knowledge from the same. And the principle of selfishness is very fully developed here and this is one of the meanest traits of all for a man to be glued over with selfishness. I like to see a man that is a man in mind and a man in acts. Probably I might say the same with regard to the other sex.
A post war image of Horace Howlett and his wife, Mary Beebe. Horace was a tent mate with Alva Merrill in Co. K, 154th New York.
I feel as though I would like to say a word with regard to Horace Howlett. I have probably seen him every day since we have been down here and he has proved to be a man throughout. He is a man that I respect and love. He is a whole-hearted man and has reputation that is good here and I think that I can say the same of George Newcomb.
But to return to what I was speaking about a little while ago, I still feel that this trouble that we as a Nation are involved in will be overruled for our good and the clouds will disperse and God will show a smiling face. I hope that we as a Nation will be cleansed and be left to stand on the broad basis of the government unimpaired as it was—only rid of wickedness.
Ruba, I want to give you [give me an answer], why is it that the innocent suffer with the guilty in this war? The getters up of this melee are the leading men and get big pay and a great many of the soldiers have come with a good motive but have been deceived to a great extent. I expect that this will come [out] all right but why was this suffered to be? I can’t write all that I could if I could see you. I have endeavored to give you all the information that I could but things come and my observation that would be too lengthy to write. When I get home, we will talk. — B. M.
Letter 34
Virginia March 14, 1863
Ruba,
I have not received a letter from you since George [Read] came and I thought that it would be no more than right for me to write you a little this morning. We still stay in the same camp. We don’t do much but picket and guard duty and we have plenty to eat and a comfortable bed and a comfortable tent and a good fireplace and it don’t smoke. And there is a few things that I don’t have that would be very agreeable to have.
Alva had a letter from you a couple of days ago. There was a couple of sentences in that I thought you must have used some head work about in order to give your opinion about, or in other words, advise. One was to caution Alva about using money. This was done middling nice. The other was your advising me not to come home. This was done extremely nice. There must have been a large share of exertion used about this in order to get the thing out and leave a very smooth face to it. Why did not you just come right up to the rack and say, “Alva, I don’t want Pa to come home.” I don’t know as I can come anyway but if I should happen to come, I might call and see the rest of my friends and return. I don’t happen to want quite so much courting. I am ready now to say that I would like to see you and the children and some of the rest around there.
My health still remains good. Alva’s health is good but he has had another boil on his knee lately but it is about well now. I shall send you a two dollar bill in this letter you your use as you may think best.
I have a good dress coat that I had given me when we were at Dumfries so you see that I am provided for a coat and have been about ever since I sent that home. I wear the one that I have every day. We are getting rather cold weather here now but no snow. I shall look for a letter from you when our mail comes on tonight. I would like to have you let me know particular how your health is and particular how you are getting along. We have to keep our guns in good order ready for use any moment. That rule works well. Always take good care of your health and be ready for use any moment.
Don’t infer from what I have wrote that I that I am coming sure. I shall be just as likely not to come as I shall to come so don’t make up your [mind] any other way, only not to be disappointed at any rate. I have been in the army long enough to learn to take things as they come along and not be disappointed and not make a calculation [more than] one bet ahead. — B. Merrill
Please write often.
We don’t get that box yet. I am sorry that I did not have you send me more tobacco. That you sent is good—the best that I have had since I have been down here. And the tea is good. I think that that last box will come safe. My boots fit well and they are a good pair. I feel a little dull and thick-headed this morning and time is short and please accept a short letter. Please look the under side of the bill and find a kiss send from your husband. So I will say goodbye for now. — B. Merrill
to his wife R. C. M.
Letter 35
Virginia March 17th 1863
Mrs. Merrill, I sit down to write you a few lines. I am about out of timber but I will try and glean a little.
I received a letter from you Sunday evening and I am always glad to hear from home. Sometimes I think perhaps you might write a little oftener but I know that you are generally behind a little so I might make some allowance. My health still remains good. I am as tough as a pig and am getting quite fleshy. I used to think perhaps if you did not have a man to bother you, perhaps your health would be better. But I don’t see as that makes much difference with you. It seems as though you might flesh up this winter. You have nothing to do nights—only to go to bed and go to sleep. No one to bother you or keep you awake. But by some means your health is poor.
I have hardly seen the inside of a house since I have been down here. Sometimes I have a tent and sometimes only the heavens for a covering. I han’t seen a sick day yet and can endure like a horse. Hard tacks and coffee are healthy for me. I find that I yet have a constitution like a horse. What do you think now about my having too much meat when I was to home? Well, I feel thankful that my health is good.
Alva is getting to be a great stout fellow and he weighs more than i do. I rather guess that I could not handle him now, I think that there is considerable Cole about [him] by some means, I hardly know how it happened. Can you tell anything about it? His hair is a little curly and he is getting heavy boned. He is troubled some with boils. He had one a short time ago on his knee but it is well now. I would like to see my nice little delicate wife about now very well. But I must wait. And I hope your health will be good when I come. You know that I shall expect you to be quite willing and able to do about all the work for a while because my hands are getting quite tender. The callouses are about all gone on the inside and they don’t look as though I could do much work.
About coming home, I am afraid that I can’t get a chance to come but it will depend on the movements of the army. If we should stay about here, I think that I shall come home some time in April. But if we should leave, probably that I can’t come. There is two or three that will go before I can come. Supposing the thing runs as it now does, I can’t tell any ahead what I can do. We are not our own men now so don’t be disappointed anyway. We may lay here some time yet and we may leave soon. We are just as likely to go as stay and stay as go so don’t worry nor fret. Take all quiet and I think all will come right in the end.
Ruba, that cheese box found its way to our camp yesterday all safe. It came a little sooner than I expected. We are glad to get the things, Nothing injured at all. Shelmadine had quite a share in a large box come a few days ago and now we live on the top shelf. He had a can of nice strained honey and we get some soft or light wheat bread now. Our rations now are more than we can use. We have now plenty of rations to last a week on hand. We han’t but one thing to hinder us from having things about as we want it just now. What do you think that is. Guess and tell me now in your next [letter]. Well, on the whole, I feel a little keen. Plenty of hair on my face. Well, I am all right and clean as a penny. No lice. No sores.
A great many are thinking now that the 154th [New York] are nine-month’s men. Do you think or hear any such news? We hear a great many reports and I can’t tell much by what we hear. But one thing I think—that things are moving more favorable than they were two months ago. Our folks are having pretty good success about Vicksburg now. One of our brigade, their time is out in about two months and there is quite a good many in the same fix. It seems as though the army must be strengthened when they leave if the thing continues to be carried on.
I have quite a good many anxieties about the matter but I try and keep as cool as possible. But I heat up sometimes about it and wish the whole matter was back to the father of it. I long to see this Nation rid of this trouble and the men go home to their families. But if my health will admit of it, I expect to stay and help pick the bone if it is to be done and if not, I would like to go home. I think that I could not do justice to the town to which I belong. I expect to do as I agree and I shall expect the town to do by me as they agreed. But I hope that there will a way open that will release me and all the rest of us, I came with the regiment and I want to go with the regiment & love my country now just as well as ever. And I was just thinking what a warm attachment some seemed to have for their country and how soon they manage to get out and back and leave the rest here to hang to.
My spunk is good yet. It makes me disgusted to see men sing another tune so quick. I was thinking about hearing a certain man say farewell Sunday school scholars, farewell brothers, farewell sisters, farewell all. Please keep shady and private about this letter. I think that I am making some advancement in the study of human nature as we call it…
Tuesday evening after roll call. I have a nice time to write a little o you this evening. I am keeping house for Alva and Horace. Horace is out on picket and Alva is on guard so you see that I am alone. I sit on the fore side of their bed by their cozy little fire with a little strip of hard tack board on my knee and my writing on that so I am all alone and I will write you a little letter to go with the other. And I suppose you will read it alone. I have lived a kind of widower life for five months and over so you see that I can do it but I begin to think considerable about wife and would not grudge a V if you should spend the night with me tonight…I would like just to put my arm around you and give you a good hug and a sweet kiss. I remember the first kiss that I ever put on your cheek and I think back and can think of many pleasant seasons that we have had together and I see some changes that I wish had not happened. But I let this all pass. My affection for you is probably as strong as it ought to be for I have had a trial of this during the past five or six months. I can see just how you look and when you write please—inform me if you have any different feelings tonight from usual. Somehow a great many scenes that have transpired with us in former years come up before me this evening. I can think back twenty-six years to the time when you and I stood out by the end of the rain trough to the back door to your father’s house and had a talk and so along down and I can think of almost any circumstance that has happened that is of any account up even to your sitting by the front window and I can think how you used to look when your name was Cole and you used to have your hair cut off and a black ribbon headband around your head and that white cape about your neck. And I can remember how other things look that you have got and on the whole all is right.
Well the officer of the day has come along and says that candle must be blowed out so I will write some by fire light. Probably I will drop a number of thoughts here but I don’t know as it would interest you to read it….
Letter 36
Virginia March 20 [1863]
Today is a very snowy day. Nothing going on and I hardly know how to idle and I thought I would write a few lines to you but I am most ashamed to write anymore until I hear from you. There is quite a number ahead of this that I have had no answer from. I suppose tomorrow at seleven o’clock I will have to go out on a three day picket tour and I may not have a chance to write again until I come in. This is a new move for us—three days at a time. The rebels made an effort to cross the Rappahannock the other day and quite a skirmish ensued but they were driven back. The cannons rattled pretty lively for a while. It was not many miles from us but our brigade was not called on. The report is that quite a number of prisoners were taken.
The health of our regiment is good now and there seems to be a better feeling in the army than there was right after the Fredericksburg battle somehow. That was a great dumper on the army. But for a while back there seems to be a different feeling and not so much fault finding among the soldiers. But how the thing will work when we commence to move is more than I can tell or what will be the policy to work upon is more than I can tell. Judging from appearance, it looks as though our troops were intending to take the defensive about here and work south and southwest from the fact that there has been a great many men sent from this direction south this winter and our Corps are gathered together here as neear as may be and they have been scattered some and the Corps that Wilber [Merrill] belongs to lays next to us towards Fredericksburg. But it ain’t much use for me to try to plan or calculate ahead. All the guide I have is to watch the moves. But I do think in a few weeks we will know more about what the move will be. The reports here are that the rebels are running very short times for something to eat now.
We are laying not far from the lines and there may be such a thing as an attack, I guess. They are getting considerably cornered up about now. The Rebel cavalry made a raid on Fairfax a short time ago and captured a number of our horses and away again. This is the report here, There has been a number of times since I have been here that the cannons have rattled pretty briskly but our brigade have escaped so far. The rest of our brigade are some old regiments that have been out ever since about the commencement of the war and they are small now and ours was never full and probably about five hundred is all that we could muster now. Almost all the captains that came out first are resigning and going home and some lieutenants you know.
I think that the Potomac Army is not near as strong now as it was last fall and quite a number of regiments time are out this spring. There is a report that we are nine month’s men but I guess that it will take us three years to get out of our scrape. I have heard of women getting out of scrapes in nine months but the men are not so smart. I guess it will take the men about three years, maybe not. Can’t tell yet. We are growing large.
Well, I guess that I will write a little about Old Virginia. The improvements here looks very much like the reservation improvement and some such timber—oak, pine, hickory, some cedar, and such like. the pines are about all burned up and a great share of the building are gone. Once in a while one left and occasionally a family. Such families are seeing tough times for something to eat. Some have their slaves around them but I have hardly seen one that is full-blooded. Some are nearly white.
I was out on picket a while ago and the picket line run nearby where a family lived and he had some slaves and a house not far from his where they lived and the men on that post near his house had leave to go into that house where the slaves stayed to make their coffee with the rest and see how things looked inside. They had a large old-fashioned fireplace—something like the one in the Perry house—and about as good a building as that. It looked quite clean. There was two youngish mulattoes men there and two mulatto women and about a half a dozen little fellows. One of the women was nearly white—more so than the other, and her hair combed straight, and if she was up to Dayton and dressed up nice and no one knew where she came from, she would pass quite well for white. And she was good looking. I concluded that them little fellows belonged to them two women.
When we are on picket, we can see a few of this stripe or class of folks. Generally their masters live in a house nearby. Some have quite good houses and some not so good. Sometimes there is a stoop goes from one into the other but there ain’t but a few left and what are left, their houses are guarded and I find that it is for the purpose not to get news into the rebel army as far as I have seen. One man [is] stationed to a house and he is called a safeguard. Our picket lines are thrown out about two miles around camp, some of the way through clearing and some way through woods. There is considerable of the woods that have been old plantations and have grown up to small pines large enough for a fence pole and some hickory and some oak second growth stuff and the ground is smooth.
Uncle Sam has got a bakery started a short distance from our camp and the way they make light bread there is a caution. We get soft bread now part of the time. They mix in large vats and a man goes in up to his elbows. The dough is weighed and made in pound loaves and our bread ration is one loaf a day.
Evening now and the boys are singing about camp this evening and it sounds like camp meeting singing. They seem to enjoy themselves well. I wish you could look round here and see how things look. Up on the knoll above our camp is a battery of fifteen cannons planted and it takes three span of horses to draw one cannon. They look savage. Things about here look very much like war. If you could leave home and had the means, I would be a mind to have you visit our camp. Some men have their wives come to see them occasionally. I see a nice Yankee woman in camp and that does me some good. What do you think about coming? You don’t think best for me to come home. I have tried a widower’s life for the past six months and I begin to feel somewhat uneasy now. What is to be done? I feel as though something should be done some way for me soon. Please advise me what to do.
I a, detailed for a three day picket tour this morning. Don’t infer from what I have wrote that I can’t stand it any longer. — B. Merrill
Please write.
Letter 37
Virginia March 24, 1863
Ruba,
I wrote in my last letter that I had got to go out on a three day picket job. Well I have just got back into camp. While I was out, Badger returned to camp. He brought me a letter from you. I was glad to hear so direct from home and was glad to hear that your health was good. Now I don’t know as I can write much today for I have had but very little sleep for three nights back. I feel rather thick headed this afternoon.
We have more picketing to do now than usual. [J. E. B.] Stuart’s cavalry have been raiding around some down back so we have to strengthen our pickets. I had to picket long side of the Rebs on the Rappahannock river a while but I don’t know how near they are now. We each have to be on post two hours and six off and that makes quite a number into a time and we have houses made of pine boughs throwed on the ground, our rubber blankets spread on top of them, and our woolen blankets over us makes our beds. And when we are off from post, half have to stay up three hours at a time so you see the chance is small for sleep. About three o’clock this morning, Whang! went a gun on the picket line and we were all called immediately to our arms supposing that our lines were attacked, but it proved to be a man saw—or thought he saw—a Reb, ordered him to halt but he did not, and he fired. No man could be found. Some said they had seen a large dog a number of times about there. Probably this was his Reb. This makes the third or fourth time that I have been called immediately to my gun and no bones broke yet.
I am all right and tough as a pig. I expect to sleep sound tonight. What is to hinder a good brush bed and no one to keep me awake. I gave George one dollar for bringing my boots. He left it for me to say. He said he had to hire a team in Washington to move his baggage. I felt as though I ought to make him good. He said he would pay me some back. I felt afraid to have him come in a box such a pair would cost twelve dollars here.
I think if you could get ten or fifteen cords of wood for 6 shillings per cord and have it so as to have a season and get good wood, perhaps you had better get it. I guess it is as well as you can do. Are you like to have plenty of hay? Is the red heifer coming in this spring? I don’t know but you can keep Irvin’s steers now. The cow is sold but I guess if they can be sold so as to have it do, you had better sell them some time this spring. I think if I can get a furlough, I shall be home before it is time to do spring work. But this will be uncertain. I can tell better as soon as I learn what kind of a move the army makes. You had better have the colts have a very little grain from now out and maybe that Irvin can earn a little dragging in the spring with them. I don’t want you to let them out to work. Perhaps Resign [?] will sell his drag so that it would do. I see no prospect now of my being home to do spring work. I think there is a better aspect (is this a proper word) in the army now than there was two months ago. There is more oof the men that appear more loyal and they show less sympathy for the South. We have southern sympathizers here. Some don’t feel afraid to advocate the doctrine here. I suppose the reason that W. R. got a furlough was he wanted to see to his bees and another thing—he is a officer, but it seems to be hard work to get much of a promise of a furlough. Things may work a little more favorable in this direction and it may not work at all. Can’t tell yet.
I don’t get much news here about the war. Report says that the people are nearly starving in Fredericksburg now and that ain’t very far from us. Report also says they are seeing tough times in Richmond. All eatables are very high there. I don’t hear from Vicksburg lately. The last news was favorable from there…I don’t get much news now days for there don’t much of anything now happen. We are here yet. When or where we will go, I can’t tell. There is talk that we move soon but I don’t know how that is. I shall continue to write often as long as I can send. If we should have to march, there won’t be much chance to write until we get settled again. I think that the roads won’t admit of a move—not yet. I think that we will get some pay before we leave this camp. I understand the paymaster is in this corps now. If you should get something from the town, I would like to have you get yourself a good black silk dress and use all that you get from that source for your convenience. I have had a talk with the Colonel this afternoon about a furlough. He tells me that there is talk about arranging the matter so as to grant thirty days furloughs but it is unsettled yet. I shall wait a spell and see how the matter shapes. I want to come home if the thing should work so that I could think that it would be best.
I did calculate to write some more in my last letter but I had not the time. I don’t get as much time now as I had a while ago. I have to do my own washing and mending and some other house work and do my duty in the regiment and guard duty about camp and my gun to keep in order and all take up time. I took my old blouse and furred them pants before and behind that I drawed to Jamestown and they are quite good now. I done it good but I had a job to fit the sit down pieces. I made two pieces for that place. Was that the right way? I have a new pair f blue pants now that I put on occasionally.
You told me that I might look for a small letter next time. I got it and it was small enough. I want one leaf filled occasionally with matters that we would not talk about in company. I don’t know but you think that I write improper or impolite, but I write about as I happen to feel when I am writing. What do you think about what D. P. read in class? Do you think that the church was glad to hear from me or not? Did the writing sound proper? Did D. P. seem to act as though he would treat the letter rather cool or did it seem to please him to hear from me? I felt a little delicate about writing. I did not know hot it would suit.
We are getting a very rainy evening here. We have just been to supper. We had for supper light wheat bread and butter, molasses and coffee. I am very glad that I am in from picket before this rain came on. It would be a very bad night to be out tonight. It seems as though the men would suffer. The rain is cold and falls fast. I am sorry to have to call on you for so many things but I can’t get along here and keep comfortable without using some money and I shall try and take good care of my health. I am thankful that my health is so good. I am some fleshier than when you saw me but I don’t flesh up like some. Calvin is so fat that his eyes ain’t very large. Have you got the two dollars I sent you in a letter and I sent two ten-cent stamps in another letter. My love to the children. How old is Dane? Please let me know. From B. A. Merrill
to R. C. Merrill
Letter 38
Virginia April 2, 1863
Ruba,
I received your letter of the 26th last night. Was glad to hear from home. I don’t think of much news this morning.
Yesterday morning we had orders to pack up and be ready to fall in at a moment’s call but we are here yet and probably will be until the roads and weather is better. We are [having] rather cold weather now and occasionally a little snow. When we do move, I think that our move will be south. Whether we cross the Rappahannock here to Fredericksburg or not, I can’t tell but I think that the move will be similar to the last one….I think that our field of labor this spring will be between here and Richmond. Some think that our brigade will move towards Washington but I think that we have more to do first. I have my doubts whether I can come home this spring but can’t tell yet. It looks as though they would hardly consent to let or give furloughs for a spell at any rate.
The health of the army is good now and they seem in good spirits and I think if we have good leaders, we will succeed. I think that light begins to dawn and I for one would like to have matters close up as fast as possible.
Ruba, I have not laid up anything that has happened and I hope you won’t. I am very sorry that we have ever had an unkind word and there has been no need of any such thing but the past is gone and can’t be recalled. It may be so ordered that we shall never meet again on earth but I expect to meet you on the other shore, I expect, should Providence favor [me] to come home.
I don’t feel any depression of spirits and I think that all will come right. I look for this and expect it. And I feel as though it was my duty to help. I hope you will keep up good courage. I noticed one statement in your last letter that I think was not correct and I will take the opportunity to correct it. You stated you thought if I was at home the night you wrote we would have a good sleep. I don’t think that I would have slept at all. We would want to visit, &c.
Ruba I have sent my overcoat and dress coat in a trunk directed to Rice to the Summit and you will want to see about them and pay your share of the freight if they come. I don’t want them here any longer. I put in one hard tack. They are in that leaf you sent me marched with red chalk. I would have been glad to have sent a few other clothes I had I shan’t want this summer but i could not get them in the box. I left one nice little article when I came that I want but I don’t see how i can have it unless you should come and bring it to me but I suppose that it ain’t convenient for you to leave home so I will have to do without it. I suppose will self denial is quite a lesson to learn.
I think when we pull up here, Shelmadine and I will tent alone. I think that it won’t be healthy for too many to tent together in warm weather…My doctrine is to do by others just as I agree and then I want others to do by me as they agree and this is right and this rule will wrong no one. I agreed to come down south and help put down the rebellion on certain conditions and consequently I have come and if my health and life is spared, I calculate to do just as I agreed and not play sick. I intend to help ick the bone. And I want the friends at home to do by just as they agreed. Until then, all will be right. This is all. A word to the wise is sufficient. You may read this last sentence to W. H. when it is handy for you to do so…
When we lay in camp week after week as we have, there son’t seem to be much news to write about so I write just as I happen to feel and I don’t expect that anyone will read my letters but yourself. When anything happens to give a foundation for a letter, I will write on such occasions in such a manner that you may read them to other folks if you like. I suppose that a man and wife have a right to write or talk a little on nice points if they choose. Don’t you see that I have tried a widower’s life for the past six months and it would be a matter of course that I would begin to think a little about the finer sect. But I have got along better than I expected on this point. But I have occasionally thought in that direction. I don’t hardly know how it happens…
My boots appear to be good ones. They fit and sit airy on my feet. I like a good fit, you know. I think that we never enjoyed the privileges that we enjoyed as we should when I was about home and the children [were] to school. I could come in and get some water and a little lunch and have a nice time with you. Now I am placed where I think about these things but I suppose you are too old to have fine feelings or do you have an occasional flit in that direction? Maybe so? Maybe I could help you a little in that direction. Mother says that I ain’t weaned yet. Well, I am about the same old coon. Please excuse the abuse received by me that night you went and sit by the window. I am very sorry you did so. Please forgive. — B. M.
Letter 39
Camp John Manley, 154th Regt. N. Y. Vols. Near Stafford Court House, Va. April 9, 1863
Beloved companion,
I take a little time to write to you this morning. My health is good. How is your health and how do you get along with your matters? You have to have the mind taxed with matters in the house and out doors and I am afraid that it will be too hard for you. I hope that you will try and be careful of your health and take matters as quiet as you can and keep up good courage. And I am in hopes that the time will soon come when I can again come home to my family. I think of my wife and children daily and I am not without my anxieties about them. It has been now a little more than months since I came down here and on the whole, the past 6 months have been six months of toil and anxiety with me but amongst the rest, I have enjoyed some happy seasons. I have had a friend that has taken me all the way along thus far safely and I have been shielded from harm. And I still feel like exclaiming praise the Lord for his wonderful goodness to me. On taking a review, I can see that the Lord has had a watchful eye over me ever since I left home. I have not had an accident of any kind nor have I been sick a day and my appetite has been good all the time. And I have rested good nights when I have had a chance so you see that I have been wonderfully favored and I feel like trusting Providence for time to come. And I think that I shall be taken safely through and I shall again enjoy the privileges of our quiet home. I think much of home and loved ones that I have left but duty calls for me to be here. Yet as soon as I can see that it is duty for me to go home, I shall feel thankful.
I have no news to send you about the war. We are still in the same camp and I see no signs of a move just yet. General Howard reviewed this Corps today. Review went off nice. Probably you northern folks would like to behold such a scene. I think about thirty regiments [were] present and a great deal of nice music. We don’t think much about such scenes here. Yesterday General Hooker reviewed four corps of men near Falmouth about seven miles from here. This corps was not there. Falmouth is near Fredericksburg and so it goes. Figure a little on the number of men here.
We laid one of our boys in the grave today—a young man that you did not know named Adelbert Rolph. Disease, inflammation of the brain. Wasn’t sick but a few days. Had a decent burial. Put in as decent a coffin as the circumstances would permit of. Alva received a letter from you last night and a memorandum for March. I looked the letter and memorandum over. Was glad to hear from you. When I came down here I thought that we would get through and go back this spring but I think now that we will have to stay longer so you must make calculation to run your one horse team a while yet. I suppose you like it. I suppose that you are making your calculation about your spring work. What I left for you to live on will be used up after a while. You know that a word to the wise is sufficient. You will want bread, potatoes, &c. and I suppose that you will want your garden plowed so as to raise a lot of things.
The news comes almost daily here that they are seeing very short times for eatables now. Last night we had news that there had been quite a riot in Richmond with the women on account of the scarcity of food. Shops [were] broke open and the like. And according to report, it is an important crisis about now to Charleston. I hope that things will work favorable there. I hope for the best. I think that this matter is moving rather favorable of late but slow.
Perhaps you will like to know how I came by this sheet. I will tell you. Our new captain made each of the boys a present of two sheets. I noticed that you complained about your ink and about different shades all out of the same ink stand. How does this happen? It may be so.
A little about your dress. I think that you would look very well in such a dress. There is quite a similarity in the color. Do you color your hair a little occasionally? Presume you need to. My hair is all right combed nice and but very few gray hairs. I’m sure you would not exactly like the looks of my face now and around my mouth but as long as you don’t see me it is all right.
Well, I can’t write no more this time. Please give a variety of news when you write and keep all right. You know that I have been down here six months and I want all the news of course and a little about all. My love to the children. — B. Merrill
I am most out of stamps.
Letter 40
President Lincoln at Grand Review of the Army of the Potomac on 8 April 1863
April 10, 1863
Ruba, I would like to send you a picture of what I have seen today but this I can’t do. But can write a little about it. The eleventh and twelfth army corps were reviewed today by the President about one mile from our camp and of course your husband made one among the many of that number. You probably will see an account, of this review in the papers. It was a grand thing. Maybe if you can get one of Frank Leslies papers—the right number—you could see an engraving or picture of the same. I could see a man to work on the other hill in front of us but he was so far that I could not see what his business was. If you should see a picture of he same, the man that rode ahead of the gang of horsemen passing amongst the troops will represent the President. He had his hat in his right hand about as high as his breast. He rode a dark bay horse and a very good one. There was four or five women rode in this gang all dressed in long black riding dresses and black has some like Nancy’s. Do you think you could manage a horse in such a spot? They done it nice. If you could get a picture of the thing you would get a nice picture.
A few words about the President. His portrait don’t do him justice. He is a smarter looking man than that represents. He has a very good shaped forehead and an intellectual looking man but he looks careworn and palid. His hair is dark gray. He is tall and slim built. Te next to him is General Hooker. He is a man about the same age and smart looking. Next is General Howard. His right arm is off about to the elbow. He lost his arm in some of the battles. He looks like a smart man. He commands our Corps now i place of Sigel and there were lots of big men present. Our corps was reviewed by Howard on the same ground yesterday. When you see this print, you will get a better idea than I can give you.
A little about the soldiers. I don’t know how many was present but I would think that they occupied a piece of ground as large as Blodgett’s clearing on the south side of the road supposing fences and buildings ere all out of the way…The soldiers were well clothes and in good condition and they made a fine appearance and when they marched in review the scene was sublime and in order and it takes men that are drilled to do this. They march in double columns at half distance when they passed the President and the rest of the big men. Probably you don’t understand what the command double column at half distance means. I han’t room to explain.
There was very nice music to march by and the men marched nice. Our regiment knows more now that when they left Jamestown but the old regiments that have been out ever since the war broke out puts us into the shades yet…. — B. Merrill
Stephen “Selby” Fish (ca. 1839-1874) enlisted in the 17th New York Infantry in May 1861. Not long after his arrival in Virginia, Selby contracted typhoid and was hospitalized for two months. The disease left him permanently weakened and he was again hospitalized in May 1862 with an unspecified illness. By that summer, Selby had recovered sufficiently for active service, and under McClellan, took part in the Peninsular Campaign (the siege at Yorktown and the Seven Days Battles) and in Pope’s campaign in northern Virginia (including 2nd Bull Run). In 1863, Selby returned to Williamson to study law. He was admitted to the bar one year later and, in November of 1864, moved to New Orleans where his uncle Wright R. Fish was a probate court clerk. Wright Fish was a member of the Southern Rights Secret Association, a secessionist group active during the war. While attending a radical Republican convention in 1866, Selby was shot twice and severely beaten when a violent mob of citizens and police disrupted the meeting. He recovered and set up the Fish & Dibble law firm (1866-1867) and in August 1867, was appointed attorney by Philip Sheridan. Selby married Josephine (Josie) of Marion, New York, in 1870. He died in early 1874, and was buried in Williamson in the spring of 1874.
Selby wrote all of these these letters to Eliza C. Boyce (1841-1915), the daughter of Peter Henry Boyce (1812-1890) and Eunice Davis (1813-1860). Eliza was born in Marion, Wayne county, New York. Her siblings included Armina (1834-1915), Sarah Jane (1837-1928), Emily (1842-1898), Carolina (1845-1925) and Clinton (1850-1900). Eliza married George Franklin Harvey (1838-1866) in Cook county, Illinois, on 15 November 1863. The couple had one child named Maud Harvey (1864-1926) before George died in 1866, leaving Eliza to raise her only child.
We owe a debt of gratitude to Eliza for preserving Selby’s letters. Some of the letters Selby wrote to his family are preserved at the University of Michigan (see below), but the following letters to Eliza (or “Lide” as he sometimes called her) are in a private collection and accompanied by a handwritten note that reads, “I wonder if he kept my letters, packed away somewhere. I don’t think his heart was involved; he never did come to Chicago to see me. He promptly and I suppose properly cancelled our correspondence when he learned of my betrothal. Later on he married a girl from his home town by the name of Josie Eddy, then went to New Orleans to work on a newspaper. He was the innocent bystander who was shot in a street riot. Poor dear, Stephen Selby Fish.”
Selby Fish’s Obit in NEW ORLEANS REPUBLICAN
More on the Fish Family Letters
The University of Michigan houses a large collection of the Fish Family Papers, 1847-1933. The Fish family letters subseries (336 items) largely document the lives of Dan, Carlton, Selby, and Julia Fish. Throughout, the siblings discuss their deep animosity toward their father. The first four letters (1847-1850) are between Wright R. Fish, in Poughkeepsie, New York, and his father Isaac Fish, in Williamson, New York. Letters written during the Civil War-era include 18 letters from Carlton, 27 from Selby, 14 from Daniel, 9 from Judson Rice (all addressed to Julia), and 49 letters from Julia to Carlton (with 3 additional, post-war letters). These include descriptions of the Peninsular Campaign (Yorktown and the Seven Days Battles, particularly Gaines’s Mills) by Selby, and Judson Rice’s account of 1st Winchester. Both Selby and Carlton commented on their regiment’s occasional ill discipline and low morale. Selby described his experience in army hospitals and sometimes reflected on death, war, and the hard life of a soldier.
Dan’s letters, written mostly from California and Oregon, provide commentary on the life of an itinerant (and sometimes vagrant) traveler in the gold fields of the Far West. Julia described local events and family news, frequently discussing family strife. She occasionally discussed the politics and society in Williamson. In a particularly notable incident on July 17, 1864, Julia consulted a psychic to diagnose Carlton’s mysterious illness, which appeared during the siege of Yorktown in May 1862. Many Civil War era letters contain illustrated letterheads.
17th New York Infantry, Library of Congress
To read other letters by members of the 17th New York Infantry transcribed and published on Spared & Shared, see: William Bragg, Co. A, 17th New York (1 Letter) George W. Westfall, Co. I, 17th New York (1 Letter) Manser M. Dunbar, Co. K, 17th New York (1 Letter)
Letter 1
Marion, New York 1 11th September 1860
Friend Eliza,
While the elements seem combined in a scheme to give poor weak man a particular soaking, I sit in my room perfectly quiet with “none to molest.” And by the way, the rain which is now pouring down reminds me of my journey from Palmyra when a “fish out of water” was not an appropriate title for me; but in the mean time, I had the pleasure of a fast ride.
I was at William’s last evening. They had just received a letter from you. I learn that you arrived in Chicago safe though at a later hour than you expected. Had a pleasant ride, I suppose. You received a scolding; did it make a good impression? How do you find the flock of little ones who had come together without a shepherd? Has Chicago remained unchanged during your absence? If not, what improvements have been made in the social, moral, or political aspect of affairs?
“Uncle Stephen” was the Hon. Stephen A. Douglas of Illinois who ran for President in 1860.
How is Uncle Stephen 2 prospering in your community?
Was at Mr. Phelps Sunday evening. Had a good visit with Aunt Minerva and some sport withal, which perhaps it will not be worth while to mention. Dela & Herbert have not yet returned from their western tour. Hope they will arrive in better spirits (not champagne) than they departed. I spent Saturday last at home with Julia & Newton and pleasantly the hours glide away at home; though perhaps not as profitably as it is but little that I study when there. Julia has received a likeness of you & is much pleased therewith. Marion is rolling on about as usual, with occasionally a little excitement such as is induced by a Political Caucus or display of smoke lamps.
We had a right old-fashioned sermon last Sabbath by a Mr. Eldridge. His theme was founded upon the whole bible with no text except nominally. Yet he advanced some important truths and in a very amusing manner which might have done good if they had been put in a shape to be remembered.
The school has had quite an addition to its number of pupils since you left, among which are those Southern gentlemen that arrived in town the night before you left. They attended an Antislavery Lecture given in the place Sunday. How such things will take with them, I don’t know. One thing is certain—that they’ll not stay in Marion without hearing some opinions advanced which they are not accustomed to in Old Alabama.
There is to be a concert in the Hall this evening. The hero of the occasion is James G[owdy] Clark—“the celebrated balladist [balladeer]” 3 [and] one of Aunt Minerva’s favorites. Think I shall not go up as brother Greek and I have had a falling out this afternoon and it will need all my time this evening to get reconciled again.
The bell is ringing for the students’ prayer meeting and I must away. I shall expect to hear from you by return mail according to contract. Respectfully your friend, — S. S. Fish
[to] Miss E. C. Boyce, Chicago, Illinois
1 Selby wrote several letters from Marion, New York, where he was undoubtedly attending the Marion Collegiate Institute. The school obtained its charter in 1855 and started with 90 students in an upper room over a store. In 1856, a three-story brick building was completed and the expense largely borne by the Baptist Church. It remained in operation for 49 years until taken over as a Union Free School in 1904.
2 This is a reference to Stephen A. Douglas, a candidate for US President—nominee of the Northern Democrats.
3James Gowdy Clark (1830-1897) was a composer of poems and music. “He is now largely forgotten, but when the war broke out, he was already well-known as a poet, singer, and songwriter, and he tried to enlist in a regiment from New York. Just as in later wars, where celebrities got put in mostly non-combat roles, the Army decided to send Clark out as a celebrity recruiter. Unfortunately, he got sick on the recruiting trip, acquiring a serious lung infection that required months of recuperation. At the recommendation of his doctor, he was released from the Army, ending his “military” career without his firing a shot. However, he later performed many concerts, with one-third of the gross gate money at each one being donated to the U.S. Sanitary Commission. That kept him fed, and the musical theaters happy, but the overall result was that the money flowed in to purchase supplies to aid wounded and sick soldiers. He continued to write songs and poems, ranging from heavily patriotic to extremely sentimental, matching the tastes of the time. The fact that he both composed and performed gained him additional notoriety. His poetry was compared by major journals to the quality of others such as John Greenleaf Whittier, but it was pointed out that Clark could also perform his work.”
Letter 2
Williamson, New York September 22nd 1860
Dear Friend,
Your letter was duly received and perused with interest. You speak of my allusion to a contrast of which you have “no recollection of being a party to.” Now we sometimes use the expression “return mail” without meaning the first return. Of course, I shall not expect to receive an answer to a letter by mail in the same direction. Such an idea would be in opposition to all mathematical calculation and philosophical reasoning. If by the statement I am to understand that you do not desire a correspondence, I certainly would have no inclination to urge it; perchance my “imagination” to the contrary notwithstanding.
Armina is indeed on earth, or was yesterday, as you are aware by the reception of her letter, as she wrote you a week or more ago. Uncle Stephen 1 you say is nowhere. No if you could have seen him at Clifton last week surrounded by twenty thousand (according to his own statement) eager listeners grasping each word as crystals from the pure fountain, perhaps you might change your opinion. What gave him such success there was the fact that he had succeeded in at last fingering his affectionate mother. He must be a very ungrateful son indeed who could not gain inspiration from such an occasion. Think of scores of carloads of Irishmen arriving from both Syracuse and Rochester to hear the illustrious man and then talk of his being “nowhere!!”
You say that Chicago is a good Republican city and in the next breath say that the morals of the place are at the lowest point. These statements are incompatible with each other. Which shall I credit? Pardon my dissension, for I cannot believe them both. If the latter is the true one, then if there be one sot found in the city, my advice to him would be to flee hence to be no more there.
Old Wayne witnessed the largest general assemblage of its sons and daughters ever known last Tuesday at Palmyra in the form of a Republican Mass Meeting. The number present was estimated to be not less than fifteen thousand coming from the various towns in processions formed of teams of from one to eight horses. With banners flying and Rails and Buttis [?] waving. Among the speakers was Senator Wade of Ohio—a noble specimen is he. In the evening following I had the honor to be one among seventeen hundred who promenaded the streets under the Wide Awake Banner. Such demonstrations would seem comparatively infantile to you who are accustomed to witness the immense gatherings in the large cities but we of the country seldom congregate in so large numbers.
Cousin Asa Wright Russell was buried yesterday. He died very suddenly Tuesday evening calmly and without a struggle. We believe he died as he has lived—a sincere and devoted Christian. Eliza, there is a pleasing thought connected with the death of the righteous. Goodbye. Your friend, — Selby
1 This is a reference to Stephen A. Douglas who spoke from his barouche for two hours in Clifton Springs, New York, on 15 September 1860. An estimated 15,000 to 20,000 people were said to be present.
Letter 3
Marion [New York] October 11th 1860
Eliza,
We have had two days of fine, warm weather in succession. What a luxury. How I prize it. It is something we have scarcely been blessed with heretofore for weeks. Well, I suppose if we did not have some of the bitter, we could not duly prize the sweet. Yet it is not always convenient to be thankful for adversities even in so small an affair as the state of the weather.
Marion people are all prospering well; feeling well, or at least I am. How my own family are doing I cannot say as I have not been home in about three weeks. Yet I have had communication. Newton has met with an accident by way of a fall in the barn which will probably disable him for a few weeks. I trust not worse. I shall go home tomorrow night to see “the Old Folks at Home.” Think it is quite probable I shall run wild Saturday to see if there is any virtue in a variety of exercise.
Your letter was duly received. I was sorry to read that you judged our correspondence had become distasteful to me. Yet perhaps your inference drawn from my statement may be reasonable. I did not intend to be thus misunderstood. I did and do desire the correspondence. Had I not, I should not have requested it. I trust that I have too much sense of honor to make any such proposition for compliment’s sake, or to “urge” a request of a lady which I have reason to believe is against her wishers, for my own gratification. It was from fear of a violation of this last principle (though perhaps from wrong interpretation of the statement that I referred to in my last letter) that I wrote as I did.
I have not the honor of an acquaintance with the gentleman of whom you speak as being very “clever” but the character you delineated, I am well acquainted with. I see such every day & a surplus of them too. For my part, I like to see people take a decided and high position either for good or bad and let the world know their whereabouts. I can enjoy either honey or vinegar but deliver me from a compound milk and water. I can sympathize with you in your deep distress & hope you may yet have an opportunity to see America’s noblest son. You reiterate the statement which you previously made and upon which I joined issue with you & challenge me to prove its contrary. Now I believe it is the custom in debate for the affirmative to not only make their statements but to give the onus probandi before they call for disproof; consequently I shall not as yet accept your offer.
You saw the celebrated Prince of Wales; probably you came to the conclusion as others have that he was but a man, although he is imprisoned by a band of noblemen. Would you not like to exchange positions with him? I think I should (not). Then indeed you have at last seen friend Stephen [A. Douglas]! Now do you think he is nowhere? S. is the theme by day and the song by night. Truly his name rings in public places.
Think I shall attend a large political gathering in my native town Saturday evening and witness the maneuvering of several companies united, of political [ ]; the people out that way are becoming Wide Awake and are holding discussions between men of different parties. Think Williamson will yet be the center of the World.
Write soon. Your friend, — S. S.
Letter 4
Marion, [New York] Saturday, 3rd November 1860
Dear Friend,
I received your letter Wednesday but have been very much engaged since until now. I prize the leisure of Saturday when I do not feel impelled to labor with all my might for the recitation. I have been studying very had for some weeks past but have learned that I cannot and therefore shall not continue to overtax my powers of mind. How well I shall follow my determination, the future will determine. We frequently hear the enquiry, why hurry through the world. And sure enough, why the folly of crowding the whole earthly existence in a few short years. For my part, I believe it better to be content with Nature’s order of things. Yet notwithstanding my philosophy, when I reflect upon what is before me that I wish to attain, do not feel at rest without the greatest effort to obtain the long desires of my aspirations. I cannot conceive [ ] happiness multitudes of men can possess who blindly pass through the world, live, die, and are forgotten persons who never have an aspiring thought, and much less perform a noble deed. Yet a large portion of mankind never know that there is anything in this world worth investigation, who do not even know that they possess qualities superior to that of the brute creation, and I sometimes very much doubt whether they do, for certainly their actions indicate a great inferiority. How a being that has an intellect, stamped with image of Divinity, can sleep away life without a thought except to eat, drink, and be merry, is what augury has not taught me. But such is life and such all the creatures that we are to encounter through its course.
You speak highly of Williamson. I presume you don’t think that the most important place in the world, but we will show you next Tuesday [Election Day] what Williamson is. Then perhaps your disapprobation will be changed to exultation and praise. If credit can be given to your opinion of Chicago, then certainly it will not be advisable to move our great emporium any nearer your degenerated city unless it should be to cast reforming influence over your darkened minds.
Attended a Republican meeting in this place last evening. Was there three minutes in which time I got my head crammed with precious truths and vivid illustrations by the way of cats, chickens, bugs, garden plants, &c. &c. But you think they must have been interesting? But don’t judge such to be a specimen of one old story. You know we must have a variety to spice life, but sometimes we get too much spice for the proportion of nutriment in which case it is like the salt that hath lost its savor. You charge the men of esteeming the opposite sex in general knowledge. Now is not this the case? There are to be sure noble exceptions but as a general rule the ladies are not exceedingly well versed beyond light poetry and novel discipline. As a sample illustration, last Wednesday Mr. Spencer assigned to a portion of the school to write a composition upon a certain branch of political economy on account of which a prominent young lady of the school came to me with the doleful inquiry, “Where can I find the Constitution of the United States?” The supposition that the young lady devoid of common sense and mobility of character is more attractive in the estimation of the opposite sex is apparently too true. But Eliza, the young man of sense does not respect the flirt, however much he may appear to, and not infrequently when the vain and deceitful creature glories over her success, she finds to her sorrow that she herself is the deceived one. This appears evident from the fact that three ladies who attain noble positions are not hollow-hearted, self-conceited, nonsensical class of girls.
I was at home last Saturday and Sabbath. My good sister permitted me to read her letter from you. I think that when you and she become beacon lights for the rest of the world, and the rest of the world follow these lights, we shall have a glorious old time indeed. I have hastened to prepare this for this morning’s mail but I see that I am late. Yes, I do think you are becoming quite a politician though none too much so. But I as an aged and experienced man would counsel you to be mindful of how you commence your political career and how you cast your first vote. Such is the advice of—
Yours in friendship, — Selby
Letter 5
Williamson [New York] December 23rd 1860
Eliza,
Sunday evening I improve the opportunity of writing to our absent friend. Your letter reached here about ten days ago but I was not favored with a perusal of its contents until after ten o’clock last evening as I have not been home for two weeks past. Saturday & Sabbath last I spent at Marion. People in that locality are preparing for a day of festivity to commence the 1861. Expect they will surpass anything on record. I have the honor of an appointment as committeeman. Don’t you envy me? Furthermore, I received an invitation to contribute anonymous letters or Valentines for the New Year’s Post Office. But such a delightful enterprise I resign to be carried on by those of a more fanciful and loving mind. The only thing with which Chicago is not blessed (or cursed) we have in abundance, so you must admit that we are ahead of you once in awhile. This one thing has been improved by all parties in the community where I am located.
The industrious and worldly are extending their piles of burning material or feeding the saw mills, but another portion of community have been improving the fine roads and light nights by pleasure rides, donation visits, and another institution—perhaps peculiar to the community where I stay—called surprise parties. 1 But lest the surprise should cause consternation and mortification to favor such a drive in with my presence, it confirmed my dislike for such performances. I am fond of society and am in favor of young people having social gatherings if they can be conducted so as to be of any benefit to the parties either socially or morally, yet I do not favor the idea of young men and women and even girls with short dresses assembling at from nine until ten o’clock and then running, chasing, grabbing, hugging, kissing until morning. Such I do not believe to be conducive either to morals or social qualities. I believe them to be one of the seven plagues of modern times.
Death and marriages alternate in quick succession in Old Wayne this season. Four happy pairs started on a wedding tour from Marion at one time a few days since. Miss Matilda Bitter is to be united with Mr. Rice Tuesday next. Dr. Fuller has taken to himself Miss Adaline Eldridge. Oh vanity of vanities, all is vanity saith the preacher.
You accuse me of extreme audacity in addressing Pip. I felt guilty at the time and I crave ten thousand pardons for applying to you such a homely, uncouth appellation. What that superior name shall be of which you speak, I know not. Perhaps I can think of some good one by the close of this scrip.
I admire your judgement of the right suffrage to be extended to women but do not agree that women would be less liable to be swayed by the “tin and a glass of lager” were the temptation placed before them. I believe that the woman first fell and consequently brought misery into the world. My experience and observation lead me to believe that the female exercises less power of resistance to temptation than the man and were they placed in the same situation, I believe would become more polluted than the stronger sex. You do not believe that the colored rare in its “purity is equal to the white.” Read the words, “All men are created free and equal.” Then decide whether you will agree with Thomas Jefferson or Jefferson Davis.
By your friend, — Selby
To the school marm.
1 In this letter and in several more to follow, Selby mentions the “surprise parties” which were popular among the young people at the time. These were simply a horde of uninvited guests that showed up at someone’s house, sometimes with food and drink and musical instruments, sometimes not. It’s clear that Selby did not think highly of this diversion, believing it an imposition on the host with an opportunity for embarrassment or mortification. It had similarities to a charivari which was also popular at the time though the uninvited guests did not generally remain long and limited their activities to banging pots and pans when a newly married couple attempted to spend their first night together.
Letter 6
Williamson [New York] January 14th 1861
Friend Eliza,
I obtained your epistle from the Post Office Saturday night. Pardon my confession of merriment at your “speculation.” Strange it seems to write under date of ’61 yet the old year with all its pleasant associations are passed into oblivion. No! it is not so. The transactions of the past year are never to be effaced from the memory of Americans. The New Year is created amid scenes—social and political—which can never pass from the mind as long as the remembrance of the once glorious Republic of America shall be on record. You state that you were celebrating the movements of Colonel Anderson [at Fort Sumter]. Demonstrations of singular nature have been made throughout the East. It is a thing so unusual for an officer under the Executive Department of Government to do his duty that who dares to assume the position of a man is immediately extolled as a hero; and is saluted with demonstrations of honor never so enthusiastic. Our Chief Magistrate [James Buchanan], notwithstanding all his corruption and treason, says that if he survives until the 4th of March, he will ride to the Capitol with Old Abe even if he is to be assassinated for the act! A bold assertion for an unrighteous coward—a man who dares not use rightful powers to quell disturbances which he has control over and who asks Americans to pray for him in his weakness and yet shows no signs of retracing his wrong steps.
It is true that great events develop great characters. In my mind the noble men of the early history of our nation would on ordinary occasions, many of them. been considered not more than ordinary men. Patrick Henry was but a homespun, ignorant man till the great principles of Freedom permeated his whole being. Then he gave utterance to those words which have since been the motto of every man. I deem that we have men in the present age with greater talents and more capable of understanding any emergency than the “Immortal Washington,” and yet for such sentiments I should be considered as unworthy to enjoy the great blessing won by that worthy patriot. You do not believe that the words “All men” in the great Declaration of Human Rights included Africans. Now Eliza, what language can be more comprehensive than “All men?” Yet if more proof is necessary to convince you of his sincerity, listen further to the out-gushings of the same noble mind. “Indeed, I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just; that His justice cannot sleep forever.” If we allow that the colored man is an inferior being, and should be degraded, treated as a brute—in short, that slavery is right, then certainly its extension and predominance is just and normal.
[possible page missing?]
But they will feel worse if the report be correct that he has ordered Sumter to be evacuated so that they will be less likely to see the Republican Party plunge the country into Civil War. Such a thing would be a sad disappointment to those whose chief ambition is to see a general smash up of that great political organization. Eliza, I have read in the language of Americans about “The first in war, the first in peace,” but I also read when as very small urchin (or brat) “that we should not believe all we hear or even read in books.” I would not pluck one flower from the wreath upon his brow yet because some extravagant eulogist has pronounced him the Demigod or Co. God of all creation, I am in no way bound to worship him, others may do so if they choose. you say had it not been for the efforts of Washington, Adams, and Jefferson would not have had the opportunity of founding the Republic. I say had it not been for the efforts of John Adams, Washington never would have been the leader of the Colonial forces. And had it not been for the great efforts put forth by those and other high minded statesmen, her never could have succeeded. Such thoughts as you express savors too much of the principle of honoring the doer of an act at the expense of him who plans it and promotes its execution.
Yours with a merry hearty, — Selby
Letter 7
Sodus [New York] February 6th 1861
Eliza,
For two months past we of the “East” have been luxuriantly blessed with the only thing of which Chicago is minus. The condition of the elements at present remind me of the lines:
“All above was in a howl All bellow a clatter The earth was in a frying pan Or some such hissing matter.”
Yes, Eliza, I know woman makes it her “particular promise to indulge in small talk;” perhaps this should be so to some extent, but I glory that some of the “fairer sex” can rise above the fashionable routine of versatile “accomplishment.” My school has been thinned today by preparations for another of those detestable parties. If such institutions sink to the lowest depth of hell (there they are sending multitudes of their victims), I could sing the funeral dirge with joy. When young people so much more highly prize the cultivation of their passions of a lower grade than the intellect that they will leave school to ride fifteen miles in a pelting storm to attend a miserable surprise party—to say the least it calls to mind the words, “what is man that thour art mindful of him.” If there was any advancement of social interests therein I could look upon such proceedings with some allowance; but that is beyond the picture. One of more experience than I hath said that “We must take this world as we find it.” But Eliza, would it be sufficient to be willing to leave it as as find it? That, I deem a serious question. Now don’t excuse me of being an “Old Deacon” for to be honest, I don’t feel very pleasantly just now.
Probably we should not agree as to the construction to be placed upon the Declaration of Human Rights if we should dispute till the last trumpet should sound (there is one expedient left—i.e., the right of disagreeing. But I will venture in a few words more. Our forefathers must have included the African in “All men” unless they considered him a brute. There can be no denying both of these positions without imputing hypocrisy to those time-honored veterans. The latter cannot be or Washington would never have emancipated his slaves or Adams would never fought with such desperate energy all attempts to fasten the fetters that bound the “brute.”
Henry, Pinckney, Hancock & others would not have given their curses against the system of oppression; Jefferson would not have left on record his solemn protest against the degradation of one portion of the human family. If Jefferson had believed in the system of human degradation, why did he present and manage through Congress a bill to consecrate forever that vast Northwest Territory to freedom which [are] now the states of Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Wisconsin, and Illinois. The founders of the Confederacy looked upon slavery as a then existing evil (those who gave it any degree of tolerance) and deemed it a matter of expediency to let it remain for the present. They hoped and expected that the “Inhuman Traffic” would soon be abandoned.
I cannot join you in your opinion that the time ever was when Washington might have worn the “Royal Crown.” He believed that a kingdom would be the strongest form of government but his opinions met with so great opposition that he did not urge them, and afterwards rejoiced that they were rejected. Washington nobly “fought our battles,” and nobly wielded the reins of state, yet he had far less to do with laying the foundation of the Republic than did Adams or Jefferson.
You think there is not a slaveholder who deems slavery morally wrong. I have conversed and corresponded with friends from and in the midst of slavery. Their report is that the majority of the slaveowners hold that it is a moral evil and founded in wrong, yet they deem it would be a greater evil to leave the ignorant race to their own support, or to wrest from the owner his property.
Eliza, would you consider that person a more desirable companion who has attempted to cultivate social qualities at the expense and in the absence of intellectual attainments, that he who cultivates the intellect at the expense of the social faculties? I believe that instances are numerous where the “intellect” and “heart”, or both, have received a great degree of cultivation. I contend that the former is the servant of the latter. That in proportion as man’s mental powers are developed in such ratio are his capacities for happiness or misery increased. I think the quotation I made from Pollok is the bright side of one extreme and the verses you quoted a beautiful illustration of the dark side of the other extreme. To find the golden mean should be the aim of all.
Eliza your fears as to my patience need no other comment than that it may be often troubled in the same way is the wish of your friend, — S
Letter 8
Williamson [New York] March 16, 1861
Esteemed Friend,
Well, Eliza, those dark visions have all passed away now for “small talk.” The clouds have fled before the gentle rays of the sun. The wind has passed its searching gale, the drifting snow storm has changed to fine weather, [and] there is not a wrinkle on my brow. I regret that I expressed so much ill humor in my last letter. I strive to so govern my temper as to avoid all appearance of ill nature, whatever be the surrounding circumstances, for ill will furnishes no good entertainment at any time in any place. But I frequently find times when I have not the power to resist passions force; perhaps forbearance is not a virtue in all cases. If it is, then virtue and I are often aliens.
If I said aught in condemnation of social parties, it was in the heat of passion. Let the Graces witness that there is naught in my heart averse to social enjoyment, if it does not trample upon the rights of other accomplishments. Such things as I referred to near no resemblance to social parties. “Let my right hand forget its cunning” if in anyway I bar the social pass. Cornwell’s language about King James the First, when charged with wanting allegiance, has a significant application here. It is thus: “No, I am true in my allegiance to the king. Bring me a king and I am ready to bow down to him and to do reverence, to obey his authority. But this thing that you have here is a heartless effeminate boy. There is nothing kingly in his person or his life. And by virtue of all my regard for true kingly dignity, I am bound to see that this thing be displaced from the seat of a king.”
I received your letter a week ago on which account I fear a scolding. But my stars inform me that you are not the only one that has reason to complain. I have not thus delayed writing in many months before; though frequently I have not received letters until several days after they were due or been able to mail mine as soon as written on account of absence from home. I deem myself excusable this time as this has been an uncommonly busy week with me. The secret of the affair is this—I have a new sister. I have lately read “The Lady of the Lake”—one of Scott’s legendary poems and a spirited thing it is too. Allen and I are to play a part of this, including the combat between Fitz James and Rhoderic Dhn [?] at an exhibition of his school a few days hence.
Yes, Eliza, the Democrats do feel chagrined because Lincoln did not give their clansmen a chance to make an example of their barbarity upon him at Baltimore. Upon such a premises what have those who claimed to be a party of “Freedom: been contending for? Why have they, by “staying the tyrannical hand of oppression” brought confusion and turmoil upon this government.” The concession that I understand you to make is the very starting point of the difficulties, which have now culminated into almost an overthrow of the principles of “American Liberty.” Be not offended if I charge you with an ironical flourish as I have placed an estimate upon your wisdom and good sense to credit that you could give such advice in sincerity. As to the pleasure of the revels attending those advertised surprise parties, I consider that should be of a secondary consideration.
“Not enjoyment, and not sorrow
Is our destined end or way;
But to act that each tomorrow
Find further than today.”
If I consider it unpleasant to be “sent to Rome,” what must it be for the lady who is supposed to have a proper share of modesty. I consider it (in most cases) more distasteful than unpleasant, but to answer the question, I suppose that a lady had the same right (or should have) to refrain from participating in such scenes as a gentleman. I attend weekly a Lyceum in our village of which I am a member, where I have join in discussion, not only with those of my own age, but old and experienced men. Such exercise, although sometimes embarrassing, is interesting and profitable. In a former epistle you refer to the country school teacher as public property. All I tried to say as to that is the public sometimes fail to control their property…
— S
Letter 9
Marion [New York] April 14th 1861
Dear Friend,
Upon my return from Rochester last evening I found your letter which had been forwarded to me from Williamson, and by the way my address for a few weeks will be to Marion, notwithstanding the day I write, for the morning’s mail.
Eliza, where there is honor attached to any pursuit or occupation persons may occupy one of two positions; either they may honor their position or their position may honor them. I hold that the greater share of nobility is attached to the former. Now with the opinion that I hold in regard to surprise parties, I cannot conceive it to be an enviable compliment to “be honored by receiving a surprise party” if as you assume there is no favorable difference between the institution in Chicago and the thing I described. You consider that certain amusements are looked upon with a greater degree of favor in the West than East. I think there is not as much difference as you suppose in the so called “beau monde.” Marion excepted—such amusements employ the principle attention, even in the East. I claim and want no such title as “model for morality and virtue;” neither do I deem that because I disapprove one set of evils that I must necessarily sustain another. There are many things fashionable, very popular, yet to my mind this is no valid reason for indulging them if they are not proper. Fashion, I admire. But it should have no force beyond conscientious limits. Though the best members of society or of the church approve an evil, that will be no shield for me when the final account is “posted and the balance struck.” Character can only be estimated by the light of comparison, but who is to be the beay ideal of perfection? Can we find a human being worthy of our imitation in all respects? Or shall we not rather compare our lives with that of the Immaculate? You may think this a grave subject for your people to trouble their minds with, but Eliza, we should certainly refuse those enjoyments which have a known tendency to draw the mind from all association with religious subjects.
Grace Greenwood (1823-1904), a.k.a. Sarah J. Clarke; Joining the lecture circuits in the 1850s, she spoke on the need for peace, prison reform, and the abolition of capital punishment. During the Civil War she sold her writing to raise money for the U.S. Sanitary Commission and frequently lectured to patriotic organizations and troops, earning the title “Grace Greenwood the Patriot” from President Lincoln.
I congratulate you upon hearing the lecture of the talented Grace Greenwood. I could have enjoyed the repast with a good relish, even though the speaker was out of her “peculiar sphere.”
I wish you a right merry vacation and a pleasant trip to the Mississippi if such you have. People are very much excuted about the war programme at present and probably will be for some time. Yesterday’s reports about its progress we don’t want to believe. Each minute will seem as an hour until we get tomorrow’s papers. Now that the war has commenced, I hope that the Government will give it a vigorous prosecution nor cease till every traitor is among the things that were and the leading rebels are stretched till they are dead! dead! dead!
Then you have had more rain than your share of rain, have you? I think you have had part of ours and demand a speedy return. Longfellow’s poem of which you spoke I have not read. I am now much interested in Homer’s Illiad translated from the Greek, as the events are intimately connected with those. I have been reading in Virgil’s Latin Poem. Now Good Night. From your friend, — S. S.
Letter 10
Marion [New York] May 1st 1861
Eliza,
With pleasure I received your epistle last evening. Marion had “heard of the war;” moreover we hear by via Rochester dailies twice each day. If you had placed more confidence in the “classical allusion” that “all things noble, intelligent, and intellectual spring from the oriental regions,” you would not have asked such a foolish question.
Illinois’ sons have done nibly but New York has done equally well. Although our noble brothers have not entered the St. Louis Arsenal and borne its treasures hence upon Freedom’s soil, yet they have powerfully and promptly entered the service of their country and in a manner that reflects honor upon the “Old Empire State.” Today’s paper gives an account of a committee from New York visiting the President and tendering him an addition of 75,000 men and 100,000,000 dollars to keep open the road from Pennsylvania to Washington through Baltimore.
Week ago Sabbath, a sermon was preached in nearly all the churches in Old Wayne [County]. To arms! is the cry. The council fires have been lighted. The tomahawk has been dug up. Let us be cautious how we raise the death blade against our brother in civil war. But when we are compelled to do this, let it drink deep at life’s fountain and leave no vestige of rebellion—neither its first great cause. If our fair land must be washed in blood, give it a thorough purging. Dig out the deep worm and accursed stain of slavery. Let “Our country” emanate from the scenes of blood and carnage awaiting it purer, spotless. Let her stand emphatically before the glaring world what she has long professed to be—a “Land of the Free.”
I attended a war council in Williamson last evening. Several have been held in this place. A company of minute men being formed here in which your humble friend bears a part, though that does not exactly satisfy my desire to be “off” in the defense of right. Farnsworth, an intimate friend of mine, and I have been discussing the propriety of going to Rochester tomorrow and enlisting with a company of volunteers. This we have decided not to do at present—perhaps not at all. That will depend upon news from the seat of war. Julia says if I go, she will not remain behind.
I was much pleased with your turn of the subject of being honored and doubt not that you are sincere and right in your last decision without making any allowance for egotism. Eliza, you must stir up a more patriotic feeling than to restrain your friends from scenes of danger when our country and honor depends upon their speedy and vigorous action. I thank you for the honor attributed to me for my position in certain respects; I hope that my actions may ever merit such honor; that I may act conscientiously and rightfully, wavering not for public opinion or fashion. I learn from late accounts that the man you hold up as an example of patriotism has abandoned his position as a soldier and soon sails for Europe.
Please write again soon you your friend, — S
Letter 11
Selby’s letter was written on patriotic stationery. The quotation by Union General John A. Dix probably captures Selby’s sentiments as well as any.
Williamson [New York] May 20th 1861
Dear Miss Lide,
Your advice I accept and will obey at present. Now that the fever has somewhat abated and there seems to be no urgent demand for soldiers, I have no inclination to take up with camp fare. At one time there seemed to be a demand for the service of all that would enlist under the glorious old banner of Liberty. Then I was ready to obey the call of a country that was well worth protecting; nor was I hasty in my determination for with that hardship, temptations, and danger of a soldier’s life in mind and duly considered, I determined that my life was no better to be sacrificed upon our country’s alter (if sacrifice must be made) than others. As long as there are more in the “Old Empire State” offering their service than can be provided for, you may rest assured that I shall not be among the “Soger boys.”
In Old Wayne [County], we are forming state militia companies in the different towns, in which we shall learn something of military life. The company in Williamson which I have joined meets tomorrow evening to perfect their organization.
Well, Lide, if you are sincere that you could not consent to their exposure to danger, it is truly providential that “big brothers” are given to those of more generous emotions; but I am unwilling to believe that you are not deceived as to your own patriotic judgement. If, as you fear, the Union is to lose supporters on account of the affair at St. Louis. let them go! We don’t want any of that class of supporters and well would it have been for the Union if that class of Union men—or rather Union traitors—had all sunk down to the lowest depths of Davis’ Confederacy long ago.
Lide, how are those sixty urchins prospering [in your school]? You have written me nothing about them in a long time. Can they all run alone and talk a—b—c yet?
Your old friend Stephen [A. Douglas], I suppose, had a brilliant reception upon his return from Washington. Did you witness the scene? 1
Your melancholy weather has a parallel here for even now, past the middle of May, one hardly dares venture from the fireside without his great coat and mittens. Such weather furnishes a dark prospect for farmers. And yet there is an old saying, that “a bad beginning makes a good ending” which, if verified in this case, will render a most bountiful harvest.
[Sister] Julia requests me to ask if you received her last letter which she wrote some time since. I did survive “the infliction;” but if you pass a very mild judgement upon the epistle, it may be that it was written in the dark. Now good night. Yours with much respect. — Selby
1 Little could Selby have imagined that in less than two weeks Senator Stephen A. Douglas—the “Little Giant” of Illinois—would be dead. The senator died in his Chicago hotel room on 3 June 1861 after an exhausting effort to rally public support for the Union and to prevent the South from seceding. His speech before the Illinois legislature just before his death included the statement, “You all know that I am a very good partisan fighter in partisan times. And I trust you will find me equally a good patriot when the country is in danger.”
Letter 12
Camp Mansfield Washington July 1st 1861
My friend Lide,
Little did I think a few weeks ago that I should be as negligent about writing to my friend as I have, but from either laziness or want of time, I have not written since I came here except one saucy letter to New York. I begin to know something of soldier’s life. While in New York, all was sunlight in comparison with the reality of soldiering. You say all those who wear uniforms in Chicago are petted, lionized, &c. They will find much of this to be delusion when they pass beyond the danger of desertion and many a smile upon the face of him who wished to obtain the command of the various bodies of soldiers will be changed to a repulsive frown; many a young man now bitterly curses the men whom they supposed to be “very clever” because they do not prove to be in reality what they took them to be.
Our lieutenant—although considered a brave and honorable man—was thought to be a surly and independent fellow, but he proves to be the most sympathetic officer of the company and the one who has the most regard for his men. Quite the reverse is true with many commanding officers. For my own part, I have nothing of which to complain for I expected “hard fare” and was prepared to meet it without complaint.
Our regiment left New York for Staton Island on the 14th of June. There we remained a week, then returned to the city, marched through Broadway and set out [by train] for Washington via Harrisburg & Baltimore. Our journey was slow but we arrived at the Capitol after a ride of nearly two days, quite hungry and well prepared to enjoy a good night’s repose upon a board. I kept quite close watch of the scenery from the cars but I found nothing that would compare favorably with Western New York. Through Pennsylvania I saw no fine houses at all and but very few in Maryland. All through Maryland the railroad was lined with “picket guards” particularly near bridges, several of which were new, having been burned and rebuilt. In every village north of Baltimore there were more Federal flags flying than in any other state through which we passed and greater demonstrations of all kinds were made. In Baltimore, no banners were flying but the soldiers were treated more courteously than in any northern city or village.
In Washington, we spent one day. I visited the Capitol and spent several hours there. It is an immense structure and when finished will be a splendid-looking mansion on the outside as it is on the inside now. I looked with much interest upon the surroundings of the place where Senator Douglas has so long and so prominently acted—but acted for the last time. Well, Lize, I say that writing with a rubber blanket on my knees for a table and a stick of wood for a seat is not very pleasant, but it will do. Though when one has not a dozen about to converse with and try to hector and hinder in such a case as has been mine while writing this, if anybody can collect any thoughts worthy of notice, they have a better discipline than I.
Since I commenced, we have had a pelting thunder shower. The rain came down in torrents for about half an hour. Most of our tents were not prepared to resist such a messenger. In consequence, most of us have to bunk in wet places tonight. This will be remedied to some extent in the tent which I occupy as we have rubber blankets enough to cover the bottom. Some of the boys I pity.
All but one of the boys in our are wont to commune with the Great Father. We have a prayer circle each evening which tends in a great measure to render the camp more pleasant to me. I cannot help being influenced in some degree by the rough associations characteristic of such a place and keep as clear from them as I can conveniently. Yet it is only by trusting in the Ruler Supreme and by continual watching and prayer that I expect to quit the soldier’s life uncorrupted.
I hear from and write to [sister] Julia quite often though not half as frequently as I would like to. No one has greater claim upon me than she. I have received a letter from her and several others since my stay in Camp Mansfield whither we came week ago yesterday, or one day after our arrival in Washington. We are about three miles northwest from the city. There are encamped almost in the same field about a dozen regiments. On the Virginia side of the river are over sixty thousand U. S. soldiers, Scouting parties have frequent skirmishes. No heavy battle is anticipated for some days to come. I remain yours truly, — S. S. Fish
Capt. [Andrew] Willson, 1 [Seymour] Lansing’s 2 Reg. 17th New York Volunteers, Washington D. C. 3
1 Capt. Andrew Willson mustered in as Captain of Co. I, 17th New York Volunteers. He was mortally wounded in the 2nd Battle of Bull Run on 30 August 1862.
2 H. Seymour Lansing was the Colonel of the 17th New York Volunteers, sometimes called the Westchester Chasseurs.
3 The 17th New York Infantry was stationed at Camp Mansfield/ Woolsey, in the vicinity of Columbia College, on Meridian Hill, west of Fourteenth Street Road, D. C., on 23 June, 1861.
Letter 13
Camp Mansfield Washington D. C. July 7th 1861
Lide,
Having sought a pleasant spot in solitude beneath Nature’s tents, I will pen a few thoughts to those far away from those around whom my affections are intertwined, and whom there are many chances never to meet again on earth—it may be a reunion in a better land. My thoughts have been led to look upon death as a messenger near at hand, more during the last few hours than ever before. One of our company who less than two days since was as healthy as any of us now lies a lifeless corpse. He was taken ill night before last and in twenty hours breathed his last. Many of us think he had the cholery [cholera] though the physician will not admit it. Thus in life we are in the midst of death. Two of our most robust boys have now fallen and we have not seen the battlefield, and what is worse, both of them had given no true attention to the “great future” and on their sick bed had no chance for repentence.
The climate here is not much warmer than in New York but our food is not as it should be. The water is very unhealthy. A large number of the 17th Regiment are daily on the sick list and the remainder are unfit for the rigid drill which is imposed upon them. We shall, I think, remove to Harpers Ferry in a few days. Then I hope we shall be situated in a more healthy position. On the 4th [of July]] we marched down to Washington and by the White House in front of which were stationed the President, his cabinet, and Gen. [Winfield] Scott. 1 I was so much interested in the President and the old general that I overlooked the rest entirely. Lincoln is much finer looking than I supposed him to be judging from reports and quite a small man too beside [Gen.] Scott. 2
Yesterday, I received a number of card photographs forwarded from New Yorkm one of which I enclose to you which is the best I can do at present. I have no citizen dress with me.
I have been quite unwell for a few days past but am better now. I have just received a letter from home—the first in several days. The cause I don’t know. I think I may with propriety ask you to forward your likeness to me. In doing so, you would please your true friend, — Selby
The scene outside the White House on 4 July 1861 when 23 New York Regiments passed by the President and his cabinet in the pavilion with the flag.
1 In the Lincoln Log, a Daily Chronology of the Life of Abraham Lincoln, it was recorded that for one hour and 40 minutes on 4 July 1861, from a pavilion in front of Executive Mansion, President Lincoln, with General Winfield Scott and cabinet, reviewed more than 20,000 men of the 23 New York regiments. He made brief remarks from the platform both before and after introducing Scott. Remarks at a Review of New York Regiments, 4 July 1861, CW, 4:441-42; National Republican (Washington, DC), 8 July 1861, 3:3-4; Extracts from Meigs Diary, John G. Nicolay Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
2 Gen. Winfield Scott stood at least six foot five inches tall and by 1861 weighed an estimated 300 pounds. President Lincoln stood about six foot four inches tall and weighed approximately 180 pounds.
Letter 14
This letter and a few that follow it were written from the “Georgetown Hospital” which was the Female Seminary in the rear of the Union Hotel in Georgetown. It was commandeered by the army as a Union Hospital shortly after the Battle of Bull Run.In his last letter from this hospital, Selby referred to it as “Union Hospital.”
Georgetown Hospital August 8th 1861
My friend Lide,
Your letter of July 14th ws received in good season but I was so unwell at the time that I hardly cared enough about letters to read them and some I did not and forgot that I had them until a few days ago looking in my pockets. I have had the typhoid fever very severely. Am now recovering fast but can sit up only a little while at a time. I don’t think I would make a good heavy shadow yet. Knowing my health, you will certainly excuse a very poor hand writing. I have good treatment and the best of friends to care for me.
A boy from the regiment came over to see me a few days ago but it not being visiting day, he could not get in. He lent a five dollar gold piece for me to get extras with. I have just been eating a large piece of a noble watermelon which one of the boys of the room brought in. I have watermelon and peaches presented to me quite often. The managers are sending all the patients who are able to go home from here to Annapolis. I think they are cleaning out, expecting to have another battle near here soon and want room for the wounded. Oh, how I wish I was able to be in the regiment if they go to battle so as to perform my share in destroying the seceshers.
I think it is time that I should receive another letter from you, and perhaps there is one in the regiment. My letters all go there and as it is some ten or twelve miles away over in Virginia, I don’t have communications very often. On Friday next I expect to see the boy here who takes charge of my letters. It will be a pleasant meeting, I can assure you, if he does come. You need have no fears about the direction of letters if they are only directed to the regiment and company. — Selby
S. S. Fish, Co. I, Lansing’s Regiment No. 17 New York Volunteers, Washington D. C.
Letter 15
Georgetown Hospital August 25, 1861
Must respected friend Lide,
I was favored a few minutes since with a package of letters and was much pleased to find among them one from my Chicago friend. The last received from you before this was written, I think, July 12th. Have you written since then, before now? If so the letter has “deserted.” Friday I received a letter from William and Armina, the latter of who I suppose is with you. I am sure you will have a joyful time. Am sorry to learn that William is not as well this summer as usual.
You ask my opinion about a certain man and of characters similar to his. My answer is that any man who has not had a course of military study that is too good to enlist as a private is not good enough for an officer. The man you speak of would be likely to be treated as many officers have and as many more will be if the solemn and earnest vows of some of their men are carried into effect—i.e., when the first opportunity presented itself upon the battlefield, they fall by the bullets of their own men. You may think this an unruly mode of court marshaling an officer but such instances are not unfrequent.
When I saw your letter, as I opened the package, I expected to see your “face,” but was disappointed. The last letter I wrote you I presume was a pretty rough concern (more so than usual). I don’t know what it contained and don’t know as I did at the time.
Yesterday I rode over to Washington [and] visited the Patent Office. Have been allowed to go into the streets several times. Think I shall soon be able to join the regiment again.
Lide, I am heartily glad that you are reforming and hope that you will continue the good work. This is the wish of your sincere friend, — Selby
Letter 16
General Hospital Georgetown September 3rd 1861
Dear Friend,
Two days since I received your letter in response to mine of an old date, which had been searching the world over and at last found the little village of Chicago. That is but one of many that have lost their proper course. Both that I have sent and that have been sent to me. A long time ago I wrote to our friend Delia P. S. As I wrote without an invitation, I have thought my letter might have been unfavorably received. But am more inclined to think it “deserted.” Aunt Manerva requested by Mrs. Williams that I should write to them. Such requests reach me quite often in the same way; they would please me better if they were made by the pen of the individual making them.
My health at present is good with the exception that I have not yet recovered my usual strength and flesh. I now sit up half of nearly every night with a wounded friend and assist in his care during the day. I wish in some way to offset the excellent care bestowed upon me by boys who have left here before now.
Today I had sent in to me an excellent vegetable dinner which is the third presented to me in about a week, by ladies who often visit the hospitals. There are many very patriotic and generous people in Georgetown and many more who will rob the soldiers of all they can if they can only get them to deal with them, but dare not show their true colors.
Spent Saturday and Sabbath with the regiment about half a mile beyond Alexandria and eight or ten from here. Our Co. I with four others were to come to Alexandria to guard the city on Monday. From a high observatory not far from our regiment can be seen both rebel and federal forces in near proximity, each entrenching and erecting batteries with all possible speed. The late victories down the seacoast is giving a new impulse to the war feeling. There must be a great battle fought in Virginia soon though perhaps not under a month. It is reported this evening that Jeff Davis has given up the war to return to his long home.
My best wishes to Armina. When you write, tell her your envelope will enclose two sheets. Yours truly, — Selby
To Eliza. Washington D. C., 17th Regt, N. Y. V., Co. I
Letter 17
General Hospital Georgetown D. C. September 10, 1861
Eliza,
It seems that another of my wandering letters after performing many evolutions and circumvolutions. Instances are common with my letters of the nature of the one to which you last responded. One reached its destination more than two months after date with the dead letter stamp upon it. Thus it is proven that there are Post Masters of the old administration style yet in charge of the mail. I hope that notwithstanding the pressure of public business at present that the appointments of new mail officers will soon be made wherever that have not been.
There is indeed a certain attraction about military life of which you speak, but laying aside reason and judging from the character of those who prefer it as a profession, I should say that that charm attracted those of weak intellectual and moral endowments. I have intercourse with many soldiers of the regular army and have met with none that I thought possessed a cultivated mind or the attributes of a Christian character. There undoubtedly are men of high position in the regular service, prompted in most cases by love of fame or the income of their position endowed with high intellectual attainments. I hold war as a necessary evil—an evil it itself, but necessary in some instances. Then let the noble freemen rush around the standard and step with the beat odf drums. Let the best blood of America flow when tyranny is about to upset its free institutions.
You accuse me of assuming “a Brutus Argument.” I would that I were worthy to claim a Brutus honor by striking the would be monarch of the Cotton Kingdom a death blow.
To think that Julie suffers more on my account than I. If she does much. It is true for most of my pains were un[ ] by me, I being insensible during most of my sickness. I have taken but very little medicine since the fever left me and become rational.
As ever yours, — Selby
Direct to General Hospital, Georgetown D. C.
Letter 18
Union Hospital Georgetown D. C. October 30th 1861
My Friend Lide,
Some time since your letter reached me containing a promise of your likeness in a few days. I delayed writing for some time that I might acknowledge the receipt of the likeness—which by the way, I have not received. More recently I have been determined not to remain here longer than I was obliged to. Have been undecided whether I should return to my regiment to perform the active duties of a soldier or go to another hospital of more recent formation to attend to the wants of suffering soldiers. Today I learn that several from here, including myself, are detailed to go to the Circle Hospital, Washington It is called Circle, not from the form of the building, but on account of a circular park in front around which the Pennsylvania Avenue passes and in the center of which is the statue of Washington mounted, presenting the appearance in the distance of “a lion in the way.” 1
Eliza, I did not intend to intimate that the “Lecture on Theatrical Amusements” in any way appealed to your case. I very much approved of it and deemed it would be interesting to you. Your cry of “Moderation, moderation!!” will hardly be appropriate in this age of steam and lightning. Its exponents will be left in the background before they are aware of it.
Every letter received from home brings news of some of my old associates and acquaintances leaving for the war. In a letter of yesterday, I learn that Mr. Ethel Allen 2 and cousin Whitney Russell were about to start for Washington. A younger brother is a member of a cavalry regiment out in Maryland in which there is a large number from near our place.
Many of those who are coming now to “sustain the government” are destined to disappointment. They come forward with the idea that the war is to close in a few months and they are to have the benefit of travel and a nice bounty and go home with the honors of war indelibly attached to their immortal name. But they will learn to their sorrow that the war will last much longer than they wish to be soldiers. The government has been at work now over six months and what great advance has yet been made? Why, the great Army of the Potomac has succeeded in forcing the rebels five or six miles from the river and have been badly whipped several times at that.
Excuse my hasty and sickly letter. Yours as ever, — Selby
An 1866 view of George Washington’s equestrian statue in D. C.
1 The equestrian statue of George Washington was erected on Washington Circle in 1860. Washington Circle is at the intersection of 23rd Street, K Street, New Hampshire Avenue, and Pennsylvania Avenue, Northwest.
2Ethel Maynard Allen (1840-1911) entered the service as 2nd Lt. of Co. C, 98th New York Infantry. He left the service as the company’s captain.
Letter 19
Washington D. C. November 4th 1861
Dear Friend Lide,
Yesterday your long looked for letter arrived. It came to hand as I was about starting to visit my brother Carlton. 1 I found the camp of the regiment to which he belongs after a pleasant walk of 3 miles. I waited very impatiently his return as I supposed from watering his horse when , as endurance was becoming almost vile, I saw him come from his tent while he had been writing while I was becoming almost angry at his long stay at the watering place. We had a hearty reunion I tell you after a separation of six months. His Co. I of the 6th U. S. Cavalry appear to be the finest body of regulars that I have met during my sojourn in the land of war. Many inquiries were made by members of the company about differewnt New York Regiments in which I am acquainted. I conversed with a number of young men from Wyoming county from whence is one company of our regiment. One had two brothers in the 17th.
You state that Julia seemed vexed at the departure of Carlton for the war and ask if it can be possible that she is deficient many of those generous emotions of which you say I insinuated you were deficient some time since. Now Eliza, I am not surprised at all that she is furthermore must acknowledge the frailty of all——(women).
It seems that you of the West and North have come to the conclusion that Fremont will not be removed. I have heard no such assertion made here, seen in any Washington papers, or even heard it spoken of as probable. Yet the excitement which the event has produced shows the absolute slavery of soldiers, even in high positions, simply because in time of a emergency, Fremont, instead of waiting for an order, relied upon a wiser judgement than that of his superiors in office and did what he believed to be his duty, has subjected himself to be reduced from his high position and disgraced for life. 2
Eliza, the more I see of the army, the greater is my disgust for it. No sensible person that has any emotions of equal liberty and that knows what he is subjecting himself to will join the army except under necessity and imperative duty.
A sad accident occurred in the City last night. The Infirmary Hospital at which were many soldiers burned. I believe no lives were lost in the event though a few deaths were occasioned by it. 3
Respectfully & in friendship, yours Selby
Circle Hospital, Washington D. C.
1 Carlton Brewster Fish (1844-1884) served in Co. I, 6th U. S. Cavalry. He enlisted as a private on 4 September 1861.
2 “On August 30, 1861, Frémont made a decision that would start a chain of events leading to his resigning from the military. On that day, Frémont made a proclamation to institute martial law and execute any Confederate guerrilla fighter captured behind Union lines. The proclamation also called for the confiscation of the property of Confederate sympathizers in Missouri and the freeing of all slaves owned by Confederate sympathizers in Missouri. President Lincoln did not fully agree with the proclamation and tried to gently change Frémont’s mind and avoid firing him from his post. Frémont did not easily back down from his position. Lincoln sent Postmaster General Montgomery Blair and Army Quartermaster General M.C. Meigs to St. Louis to check-up on Frémont and explain the president’s position. Blair and Meigs were not happy with their meeting with Frémont and they, along with others, began to question Frémont’s ability to command. In November of 1861, President Lincoln took Frémont off command of the Department of the West.” [Source: Georgia Historical Society]
3 “The Washington Infirmary had been opened on E Street, in Washington D.C. in 1843 as a teaching institution for the George Washington University Medical School and was the first general hospital in the capital. When war broke out, the government reclaimed the building and used it as a military hospital. In the early morning hours of November 4, 1861, fire was discovered and very quickly the entire building was in flames. Around a hundred patients were hastily evacuated. Remarkably, no serious injuries were reported.” [John Osborn, House Divided]
Letter 20
Selby’s 27 November 1861 Letter contains a first-hand observation of the Grand Review of the Army of the Potomac at Bailey’s Cross Roads on 20 November 1861. “A splendid appearance,” according to Selby.
Washington D. C. Circle Hospital November 27, 1861
My friend Lide,
Yours of the 14th came to hand in due time. You acknowledge the receipt of mine of the 4th. I wrote a few days before which if you have not received has “played the truant” upon the road as soldiers’ letters are so wont to do.
I witnessed the “Grand Review” of soldiers in Virginia on Wednesday week, a long detailed account of which you have undoubtedly read before now. I can truthfully say that ninety regiments of infantry with due portions of cavalry and artillery, all well uniformed and under good discipline, present a splendid appearance. This was by no means the whole “Army of the Potomac” as there were many left on guard and picket duty besides many on the extreme advance and others too far away to present themselves on that noted occasion. If the main body of this enormous army should meet an equal number of the enemy, what must be the consequences? 1
The volunteers received so much praise that the Regulars in and about Washington began to “look to their laurels.” Accordingly there was a review of all their forces yesterday. They were determined to show themselves yet “superior to the lousy volunteers.” They may excel in military discipline but in those qualities which compose the true man, they are sadly deficient. Nothing could induce me to take a position in the Regular Army for if I wished to go to Hell, I should take Old Parson Brownlow’s view of the subject and want to go direct. He didn’t wish to go round through a Southern Confederacy to get there.
There is a little excitement in Washington at present. All are anxious to hear more reliable news from Pensacola and have strong hopes of another brilliant victory as at Port Royal. Eleven seceshers were brought into the City in bonds yesterday. The particulars of their capture have not yet [been] learned.
Well, Lide, you must be quite an epicure indeed if you “believe” that “innate virtue is very often nothing but a full stomach and male vice an empty one.” I congratulate you on your “promotion” to be presiding officer of your Good Templar Lodge and by the by, I intend to join a lodge soon which has a world wide reputation though perhaps not as public in its sessions as yours.
Every your friend, — Selby
1 The Grand Review of the Army of the Potomac with President Lincoln in attendance was held at Bailey’s Cross Roads, Virginia, in eastern Fairfax county on 20 November 1861.
Letter 21
Washington D. C. February 2nd 1862
My worthy friend,
Your kind letter of the 21st January was received with a great deal of pleasure last evening. Your likeness, which I had begun to think for some good reason you had concluded not to send, was truly acceptable. Your “smiling”—if it be a failing—is a very good one notwithstanding the “insinuation.” Eliza, your friend Miss Young is the lady who came with you to New York and of whom you have often before written, is she not? The Society I contemplated joining when I wrote you before, I did not join’ hence, am member of no “lodge.”
You wonder as the to the cost of a redeemed inebriate is very natural; yet I believe there is rejoicing in Heaven over one victory raised from the ditch. If good can thereby be accomplished, it is often wise to perform acts which under other circumstances would be most repugnant.
I took a step a few months since which had it not been from a sense of high duty would have been most distant from my inclinations. A few days since I was at a reception given by President Lincoln. Had the pleasure of taking my honored Uncle Abraham by the hand and addressing him. 1 Society I do not mingle with but very little. I am conscious that those who do and are so favorably received are not the gainers by so doing. Those ladies who are charmed by men because they wear a government suit or perchance a shoulder strap, and who attract such notice on the part of many soldiers in Washington, I conclude are deceiving many of the “too credulous.” I know too much about soldiers to suppose that good society would confide in a stranger soldier.
A highly interesting course of lectures are being given here by the most eminent men of the country. Most of them I attend. They have all thus far been upon National questions and frequently of the character which would not have been tolerated a year ago by a Washington audience—such is the general influence of the Northern element at present in the modern Babylon.
Eliza, you undoubtedly remember our conversation about theatres and the character of actors and actresses. You claimed that there were those of the first class of society. I disagreed with you. I have since attended the most popular of theatres and operas in New York and Washington and have failed in my observation and conversation to find one person in such association I deemed worthy of the confidence of a virtuous person. You, I presume, will differ with me in opinion but as on a former occasion, we will agree to disagree.
Yes, Eliza, I do “imagine that the recent change in the Cabinet will have a good effect,” but I do not deem that the President by such act has removed one foot from the Republican platform. 2 Democrats as well as Republicans are carrying on the war for the government. Mr. Stanton is as sound on this question as any Republican. This change for the better towards the close of Buchanan’s Administration was owing in a great measure to his being a member of the Cabinet in the decline of the old fogey.
I am very much obliged to you for the compliment you give me for principles of integrity and religion. I hope I may prove myself worthy of such [___ment] but the lion often appeareth in the way.
You remarked after I sent you my card photograph that you would have preferred an Ambrotype. Please consign that one you have to the flames and I will forward the other tomorrow. I hope it may be received kindly and may it recall associations pleasant to me at least—associations which I hope may yet be renewed. Hoping that your pen will become brighter by more frequent use, I bid you adieu with the good wishes of your sincere friend, — Selby
1 Selby does not provide us with the date of his “Lincoln handshake” but my hunch is that it was during the Grand Reception at the White House on 1 January 1862, although there would have been later opportunities such as the public levees held on January 7th, the 14th, 21st, or the 28th. At the time, Lincoln was hold levees on every Tuesday evening.
2 In January 1862, President Lincoln replaced the ineffectual Secretary of War Simon Cameron with Edwin Stanton, a lawyer who opposed Lincoln’s election, but once in office, fully supported the administration in its quest to reunite the country. The men were completely different in their demeanor and characteristics but made a good team.
Letter 22
Washington D. C. February 27, 1862
My friend Lide,
Yours of February 16th was received yesterday reciting the rejoicing in Chicago over the recent victories won by the brave “Western Soldiers.” I am sorry to acknowledge the correctness of your statement that the western soldiers were taking the laurels from the eastern. Yet if I mistake not, one of the most prominent actors of the late drama of which you boast is a bold and Christian man from the East.
Rumor this evening states that Gen. Banks’ Division on the Upper Potomac have been repulsed in an attempt to advance. This has not yet been confirmed but there is a great movement in the direction of Harpers Ferry. The railroads are under military direction. Many regiments have left here this p.m. Others are to start in the morning. If something has happened to awaken the energy of the long dormant Army of the Potomac while in other portions so much life and activity prevails, it may be a happy event. 1
You seem to think that my Ambrotype is of a deceitful character probably possessing “secession proclivities.” If you persist in such opinion, I shall call a “court of inquiry” and have the matter laid before the “investigating committee” of Congress. I am confident that they will exonerate me as well, at least, as you have done in your own case.
Eliza, after all our “talk” on theatres there is that I can discover no difference in our opinions. I have attended them quite frequently since I came from home. There may be performances entirely of a moral character, but they are more frequently (and almost always) intermingled with scenes not appropriately brought before a moral audience or performed by moral persons. Such prevails usually where the principal part of the exercise is of an entertaining and instructive character. This has been my experience at least. I cannot condemn them altogether, but as for myself will treat them as I strive to all other things in keeping with utility but which are dictated to fill up the “bill of fare” viz; be moderate and if appetite or desire perchance is likely to overcome reason, abstain altogether.
Lide, do you indeed think that friendship and society are to be sacrificed at that period when single blessedness is reckoned among the things that were. I am inclined to hold the opinion of the French at a certain period that the lady does not rise to her social zenith until that event. I am now reading Tucker’s Life of Wellesly” or the “Duke of Wellington” and can but contrast the activity and indomitable courage of the British soldiery with the imbecility of our own.
Accept the good wishes of your friend, — Selby
1 In late February 1862, Gen. Banks’ Division crossed the river at Harpers Ferry to provide protection to B&O Railroad work crews who were making repairs to the road in northwestern Virginia that had been destroyed by retreating Confederates.
Letter 23
Camp of 17th New York near Chickahominy, Va. June 8th 1862
My dear friend Lide,
A long time ago before I left Washington, I received the last letter from you that I gave an immediate response. Since then as far as my knowledge extends, our correspondence has been at an end. I had watched the mail and waited long in vain, then came to the conclusion that you had unceremoniously broken the correspondence. But in a late letter from [my sister] Julia, she stated that you wrote of not having heard from me in a long time, from which I inferred wither you had not received my last, or that you had written and I failed to get your letter.
I had endeavored to give a speedy reply to all my letters but after doing so awhile and waiting three or four weeks for return after letters were due from several correspondents, part of whom had urgently requested me to write them, I concluded to do as I was done by in that respect, thinking perhaps it would be the most acceptable course. This perhaps was not a good course to pursue but, Eliza, could you see with what anxiety the soldier watches the mail day after day for missives of friendship from respected ones far away, and the look of disappointment with which he turns away when he finds the welcome bag contains no message for him, you could not blame me for pursuing a course unjustifiable under other circumstances.
Today we have sent to New York as a trophy of this regiment a gold piece taken by them in the battle at Hanover Court House. This is a new 24-pound howitzer made of bell metal, and has often made music of different character from those unwelcome sounds when it was turned against our boys at Hanover.
We are all on the right of the Potomac Army and at present in a reserve corps. Gen. McClellan’s headquarters are within the lines of our corps. Professor Lowe’s balloons are in the immediate vicinity of our camp. On account of illness, I had been off duty for three weeks before the last three or four days. Am well at present and ready to help force a passage into the heart of rebeldom—a point about eight miles south of us.
We are encouraged by the news that reaches us in every day’s paper. The rebel state government of Arkansas has been blown up. We hope to hear in a few days of the clearing of the Mississippi. Beauregard’s are being riddled. The demonstration before Mobile indicates its speedy fall. The great commercial city of the South is controlled by the bald-headed Yankee [Benjamin Butler]. The alarmed people of Charleston hear the deadly roar of our Parrott guns. North Carolina is fast returning to her senses. Banks performed a most noble retreat before an irresistible force. Then the gallant Fremont rushes over the mountains for the destruction of Banks’ pursuers. In the Peninsula, we have frightened the enemy from Big Bethel, dug them out of Yorktown, fought them out of Williamsburg and West Point, whipped them on the Chickahominy and at Hanover, and will soon scatter them from their great central hole of treason. May this strife soon end.
— Selby
Letter 24
Harrison’s Landing James River, Va. July 7, 1862
My esteemed friend Lide,
Your very acceptable letter of June 18th came to hand this morning via Williamson. I thank you for the frankness expressed for the close of the epistle. My address has remained for the year past and probably will the remainder of my term of service (which by the way is little more than ten months yet). Letters directed as I will give below will at any time be forwarded to the various regiments. Hence you may have no doubt about directing your letters.
This has been an exceedingly warm day—in fact, so warm that is has been oppressive. I am in in fear of warm weather more than anything else. It has been the first cause of all my sickness thus far. My health is reasonably good at present and I pray that it may continue thus until the conflict shall end. I had an easy position in the hospital at Washington and was fearful of my health when I left, but I could not rest contented when my regiment went into active service to be left behind. “All is well that ends well.” I shall endeavor to make the above expression applicable to my own case.
The army is now resting and recruiting after a long and desperate conflict. I say desperate not that our soldiers were driven to such straits, but that the fox contended with the enemy of madmen. This is probably owing in a great measure to the whiskey and powder they drank and with which the canteen of the prisoners taken were filled. The 17th [New York] was not in the principal battles recently but they several times ran the gauntlet of an overwhelming foe and nothing but a good fortune, good management, or rapid movements (or all combined) saved them from utter annihilation.
Last Thursday week before daybreak [24 June], we were up and ready to move under “light marching orders.” Our baggage was to be forwarded with the train. Hence, everything not absolutely necessary to the march was packed and left behind. It was afterward burned which leaves us quite destitute. 1 The first object of our movement was to prevent a movement from Jackson’s army up in our rear and we were expected to have a more severe time than those left behind. Two regiments of infantry (our and the 18th Massachusetts), three only squadrons of Stoneman’s cavalry, and two batteries under command of Gen. Stoneman were dispatched to the vicinity of Old Church for the above purpose. After maneuvering in this vicinity and scouting out the county several miles about, we were ordered to “double quick to the White House” [Landing], 20 miles distant, as the only means of saving ourselves form a large force already in our rear and keeping the stores at White House from rebel possession. We did arrive before the enemy did, yet not many hours before. I have seen it iterated in New York papers that no enemy appeared at that point but could they see the mark upon the gunboat Marblehead, 2 could they have heard the balls whiz about our heads or the shells fly all around us, or could they ever see our one wounded man and the bullet holes in the clothes of many more could then report bear witness to these facts, and that a small body of skirmishers went ashore and fought two advancing regiments. I think he would change his tune.
Three companies of the 17th [New York] were the last to steam down the Pamunky aboard the gunboat Marblehead. We completed the destruction of property at the White House. I then had the pleasure of seeing the residence of Col. Lee washed away beneath the devouring flames. This the place of Washington’s early married life is now owned by [ ] high as a rebel leader. yet the property has been carefully guarded until the last few days before its destruction and denied to the poor, the dying, sick and wounded soldier who lay in many instances one or two days exposed to all the inclemencies of the elements before he would be removed to a northern hospital.
However great may be my confidence in our commanding general in other respects, I fear the spirits of many a departed soldier will cry out against him in this particular. I think he has done wrong in protecting the property of such men as would turn if they dared and murder the man who is protecting them.
We passed down the York & Chesapeake to Old Point, from thence up the James. On the sight of historic Jamestown, the ancient turf covered earth fort and the numerous barracks for Confederate soldiers adjoining is a strong blending of that patriotic with the treacherous and rebellious [ ] the fort Powhattan is another relic of history, but this too is disgraced by rebel works.
The James is a magnificent stream and did it flow through a region of Northern enterprise and agriculture, would be renounced for its commercial capacities.
We landed at Harrison’s bar, then rejoined our division and brigade who had changed their position from the right seven miles nearly north from Richmond to one double that distance to the southeast from that place. The Corps of the Army to which we are attached is commanded by Gen. Porter. The division (Gen. Porter’s) is now commanded by Gen. Morell. Our brigade by Gen. Butterfield. By these statements you can tell when you read of our movements of of those connected with us in command.
Eliza, you think I should not have joined the army on account of not being accustomed to the hardships attendant upon a soldier’s life. This may be in a measure true, yet I am proud to own that from my earliest youth I have been accustomed to physical labor and as I had always been healthy, I knew not why I could not endure soldier’s life as well as a majority of those that enlisted. I cannot quite adopt the language of Byron:
“The Soldier braves death, for a fanciful wreat In glory’s romantic career.”
Yet I was anxious to lay my offering upon my country’s alter. Our hopes of a speedy termination of the war (to judge from first impressions) may seem to be blighted, yet in truth there is more hope than before our recent reverses for the government is becoming alive to the fact that ours is no holiday affair, and that it will not do to treat our most deadly enemies with kindness and brotherly love.
As to the profit of holding the “seceded” states in the Union, my opinion is that could we constitutionally, peaceably, and without establishing a dangerous precedent, separate from them, it would be the best thing that could be done for us. But secession cannot be accomplished with either of these qualifications.
Your new constitution is rejected and I thank Heaven that it is so. 3 I was surprised that a convention of Illinois delegates would degrade themselves as to present such a document to the people of that state. I think you are rash, Eliza, in your wish as to the negro. It would be lamented that they are among us if they are not needed to cultivate Southern soil in a state of freedom, but they are here and are not responsible for their being here. Neither are they responsible for their present degraded state. I do not consider them as unequal nor do I think it right to mingle with them as we do with our race; yet they are human beings and it is our Christian duty to give them their rights as such.
Lide, write me about your school. I am interested in such matters—your feeling as you pursue the pleasant yet irksome task of youth training. Last winter I heard your oratorical hero. Also Gerrit Smith, Horace Greely, George B. Cheever, and many others. Also frequently witnessed the debates in Congress where eloquence and patriotism were marred by quarreling and [ ].
With sincere regards, — S. S. Fish, Co. I, 17th New York Vol., Washington D. C.
1 “White House Plantation rested on a bluff along the scenic outside bend of the Pamunkey River. White House had been the home of Martha Custis where George Washington courted her in 1758. The property then passed through Martha’s son to her grandson, George Washington Parke Custis, the father or Mary Anna Custis, who married Robert E. Lee. They moved to Arlington and Parke Custis passed the farm to Mary Lee’s son, W. H. F. “Rooney” Lee. When the war broke out Mary Lee had left Arlington and was living at White House when the Army of the Potomac advanced up the Virginia Peninsula. She was packing to move to the home of Edmund Ruffin in Marlboro, Hanover County, when the Union Army arrived. The original manor house where George courted Martha had burned and a second house was built on the original foundation. This was the house that stood on the grounds when the Union arrived in May 1862 and would become the major supply base for the Union thrust toward Richmond…The success of McClellan’s Peninsula Campaign rested on establishing his main supply base a White House Landing and making use of the York & Richmond Railroad in his advance to the outskirts of the Confederate capitol itself, Richmond…From May 10 until it was burned on June 25 [as mentioned by Selby in this letter], White House Landing served as the Army of the Potomac’s major supply base for the drive toward Richmond.” [See US Army/Transportation Corps]
2 On 29 June 1862, at daylight, Stuart’s Confederate force entered within sight of the White House and found that the Union soldiers had gone. About 1/4 mile away, the Confederates discovered the Union gunboat, USS Marblehead. Stuart ordered a 75-man detachment to attack the ship. When they were close to the ship, the ship opened fire on them. Some Federals disembarked and opened fire on the Confederates, also. Maj. John Pelham opened up with a couple of cannon shots. One of the shots exploded above the ship. The Marblehead began to gather steam and called in its skirmishers. While Pelham was continuing to fire at the ship, it withdrew downstream.
3 In the midst of the Civil War, Democrats in Illinois attempted to wrangle control back from the hands of the Republicans by proceeding with a proposal to revise the state’s constitution and codify certain provisions on banking, barring Blacks from entering the state, and gerrymandering districts that would make it more likely Democrats in less populated areas of the state would wield the power. It failed in a referendum in June 1862.
Mort Kunstler’s “The strangest Race” depicts Pelham’s battery racing the USS Marblehead downstream near White House Landing in order to fire at her as she tried to escape.
Letter 25
Harrison’s Landing, Va. Camp 17th New York August 6th 1862
Dear friend Lide,
Your letter bearing date July 20th reached me the 4th inst. I know no reason why letters should be thus long on the road between Chicago and here. I get them in four or five days from home; but if not as soon as desired, they are welcome when they do arrive. I judge that you western people must be “too credulous.” It will be quite a number of day before you will have occasion to be jubilant over the downfall of Troy—I mean Richmond—but there is one thing that we may well rejoice over, i.e. the falling off of proslavery arrogancy and interest on the part of some of our important generals. This is very humiliating to many of them and their old ways hang on the last breath of a dying cat. But like the other, they must end in time. The decree has gone forth—the whole populace are expecting and demanding a change for the better.
That McClellan could not have gone into Richmond at the time of the late battle is not altogether certain. Yet had the left wing pressed forward into the City, it would have caused the total annihilation of the right wing of the army to which the 17th belong and to which Mac referred when he said, “What is worse than numerical loss—the loss is among my best troops.” We may have our own opinion about the ability to have taken the rebel den at the time the army first advanced even into its suburbs, but after we had given them a month’s time to fortify and render their force more than double our own, we could not without unwarrantable sacrifice have entered the town as conquerers.
After the six days battles, all had been quiet for nearly a month until about midnight the last day of July [when] we were aroused by the bombing of shells in our midst. The rebels had suddenly and simultaneously opened fire from three masked batteries on the opposite side of the [James] river. The scene was terrific. Shot and shell came much faster than once could count and with good aim, passing in some instances through the tops of tents, then onward to other camps before they found a resting place, or sent their broken fragments broadcast, seeking whom they might devour. It was a renewal of the siege of Yorktown. We were under this most unpleasant for for nearly an hour when our 32 lb. Parrott guns and one or two of the gunboats coming down from above told them in language too plain to be misunderstood to be off. They heeded. Next morning left no traces of them save their baggage and munitions thrown away in their preciptate flight.
The casualties of the engagement are trifling compared with the threatening aspect of the affair. Some half dozen were killed in our division. Here at the landing, one—Alex Chitry of Co. I, 17th. We buried him with the ceremonies and honors of war. The low roll of the muffled drum and the mournful cadence contrasted strongly with the enlivening strains and quick step with which we went on parade and review but a few days before.
— Selby
Letter 26
Near Shepherdstown Ford, Maryland September 23rd 1862
Dear friend Lide,
I will now resume the pleasant task of writing to a far off friend. If chance should allow us to remain in one position sufficiently long and I have an opportunity for mailing, you may be burdened with a few uninteresting lines form a worn out soldier. Since previously writing I have received two letters from you bearing dates August 17th and September 7th. You rightly judge when you think the battlefield not a good place for writing, and you favored me much by writing without waiting a reply.
Since the 14th August we have been continually on the march or battlefield—Sundays not excepted. In that time we had two days rest in Virginia opposite Washington but during that time I was occupied making out our muster rolls (a tedious job as our company is so much dilapidated at present). Hence, you will see that my opportunities for writing have been decidedly limited.
Your humble friend has passed the ordeal thus far without receiving a mark. Would that I could say the same of many a worthy friend who has fallen by my side within the past month. Farnworth, the young man that enlisted from Marion with me was left on the fatal Bull Run field. Our Captain was mortally wounded in the same desperate encounter. Several of our best men never left that field. Many are now writhing with pain in hospitals.
It is well that the new levies are fast moving to the seat of war for the old regiments, or a large portion of those from the Potomac Army are reduced to mere skeletons by the summer’s campaign on the Peninsula together with the long march up into western Virginia and the recent battles.
For example, our brigade—Butterfield’s—counted by the Commanding General one of the best in service, went on the Peninsula last March with five well organized and well disciplined regiments. Now there is not effective men in them all sufficient to form one maximum regiment. Our general and two colonels are away sick. One Colonel has been wounded and one killed so that we have but one Colonel (he commanding the brigade), one Lt.-Colonel, and one Major in the whole brigade. Three of the regiments being by captains. Of eight captains that went onto the field (Bull Run) with the 17th on the 30th of August, three are dead and two wounded. 1
My friend [Edward] Farnsworth 2 was a noble young man. Of poor parentage and a somewhat reckless family, he had aquired a liberal education and a young man with better principles of morality and religion is not in the circle of my acquaintance. Such things as these are uninteresting you will say and too solemn for social letters, but you will pardon me, Eliza, as war is almost the only theme of conversation or thought with us.
I like the appearance of the country and people in Maryland infinitely better than Virginia. The farms and production between this point and Washington show more northern enterprise and industry. Indeed, it seemed almost like going home after traveling six months over the worn out and fenceless farms and among the negro huts of Virginia, to march up through the well-cultivated fields and thrifty well-loaded orchards of Maryland. At short intervals on the roads that we have traveled through the state is covered with thriving villages as at the North, while in Virginia a haystack, one par post, and two mud holes compose a city.
If perchance you read eastern papers during the fore part of the Peninsula Campaign, you probably found some large ideas of the magnitude and splendor of such places of renown as Big Bethel. Little Bethel, Newport News, New Kent Court House, &c. as most people at the North did. Now to illustrate the height of the Virginia conception, I will describe a few of these places. Newport News had an old rickety wharf called a landing, a moss-covered hotel, two or three other buildings of the same character, a few negro huts, and barracks, storehouses, and docks built by the soldiers. Big Bethel contains one small church riddled by the CSA, one dwelling and a stream of water. Little Bethel has two or three little dwellings and a small stream of water. Jamestown has two farm houses, their attendant negro huts, the old fort, and a few CSA barracks.
In western Virginia there is a little nearer approach to civilization, yet here is plainly visible the blighting influence of slavery.
In a Palmyra (Wayne county, New York) paper of late date, I read a letter from “Ned”—their “very interesting and instructive correspondent” at Harpers Ferry, being one of the “recruits” in the 111th New York Reg. Poor boys they had to be “one whole night with no covering but the bright blue canopy of heaven.” Tis indeed hard for these “three hundred dollar” patriotic men to suffer during “one pleasant night” what the “hirelings” on the peninsula had endured without a murmur for six months during wet and dry, heat and cold. Again he “instructs” his readers by telling them they (his regiment) are joined to Col. ____’s corps, thus making a Colonel assume the command of a Major General. Also by telling them that the more wealthy class of secessionists about Harpers Ferry had gone over to rebeldom!!!
Again he tells his “instructed” readers that his regiment “have been on picket guard every day since the day of their arrival.” People of Wayne may credit this from their “able Marion correspondent,” but I don’t think it. We know they wouldn’t be trusted in picket when the enemy were as close to them as at Harpers Ferry. And I reckon that by the time “Ned” has stood on an outpost 48 hours without shelter or fire and eaten his hard tacks and salt pork, he will learn the difference betweeb camp guard and picket duty. We have the “$200 patriots” among us and have some sport over their speculations which is about all the amusement we do have now.
You make make reference to our generals among others McClellan. Since the disaster in western Virginia, Pope has been relieved of command here, and McDowell under arrest, McClellan stock has been rising. He has successfully driven the rebels in strong force from Maryland and handled a fatigued and demoralized army in a most praiseworthy manner. Many of us may have censured Mac for his slowness heretofore and for some of his moves in eastern Virginia, but in coming from there under other commanders, we felt the loss of a true friend. After the retreat from Manassas and Centreville and Mac had been again appointed to command the armies of Virginia, there was the most unbounded enthusuasm manifested among his old soldiers as he rode through the remnants of their broken ranks.
Pardon the length of my letter. With good wishes I remain your sincere friend, — Selby
1 An after action report of the role the 17th New York Regiment played in the 2nd Battle of Bull Run was written by Major William T. C. Grower who commanded the regiment on 30 August 1862. As part of Brig. Gen. Dan Butterfield’s brigade of Fitz John Porter’s 5th Corps, the 17th New York was in the first wave of Porter’s attack on the Deep Cut. Grower was wounded during the engagement and wrote his report from a New York City hospital which read, in part: “Nothing could surpass the behavior of our officers and men, the latter steadily closing up the huge gaps made in the ranks by the terrific fire of the enemy. Placing myself at their head, I now gave the work, “Double-quick, charge,” and with a mad yell the gallant fellows rushed up the hill to what was almost certain death.” (see The 17th New York at Second Manassas)
2 Edward Farnsworth (1839-1862) was 20 years old when he enlisted on 24 May 1861 in Co. I, 17th New York Infantry to serve two years. He was promoted to corporal in August 1861 and to sergeant in late October 1861. He was mortally wounded in the 2nd Battle of Bull Run and died of a gunshot wound on 16 September 1862 in a Washington D. C. Hospital.Edward was the son of Samuel Farnsworth (1803-1874) and Betsey Helen Fisher (1815-1863)—both English emigrants who married in Oneida county, New York, and settled in Wayne county. Prior to his enlistment, Edward was a school teacher.
Letter 27
Camp 17th New York Antietam Ford October 11th 1862
My dear friend,
Lide, it was with much please that I received a perused your letter of the 30th ult. yesterday. I hardly know whether you speak ironically of the “contrast between our letters” or to depreciate your judgement to the extent of believing you sincere. Eliza, I beg you have no more misgivings about my becoming tired of your letters. It is far otherwise and should I become disinclined to farther correspondence, I promise you to inform you honestly and frankly to that effect and trust that you would do the same.
You complain of the sameness of your letters owing to “humdrum life.” A monotony in your letters I have not noticed, think they were well spiced. And as to the lack of the wild, romantic and dangerous, I am thankful that it is so, for were they of that character, their pictures would contrast less with the realties that we here undergo and would have less tendency to divert the mind from the rough and wild scenes of camp to those most quiet and pleasant at home. Literature (farther than the daily papers) is a scarce article with us; hence correspondence with those having recourse to its beneficent volumes are to me of more interest than that of “soger boy,” filled with anecdotes such as make up ever day of my own experience.
Kellogg (from Marion) and I have just received by Express a large box filled with the good things of home and are having a “feast.” These articles serve a double purpose for while we are reaping a physical benefit from a collection of articles such as only one interested in the welfare of “soger boy” could think of, we are assured that we are not forgotten by the loved ones far away. I have to return most of my thanks to one of the best of sisters, not forgetting a sister who was not a sister when you visited Wayne county.
Yes, no doubt the 111th [New York] boys think they suffer extremely but if they should be so importunated to spend a year and a half in the service, should spend a summer’s campaign on the Peninsula of eastern Virginia, travel its length four times, then in one month travel 500 miles, 300 of them by continuous marches including within the space 12 days on the battlefield, me thinks they will have a altered views of the hardships of the “bold soger boy.” I sincerely hope they will not have to endure what we have, yet when I see the new regiment with full ranks about us—those hale men with “large bounties”—I can not help thinking, “You ought to have come before. We needed you on the Peninsula.” Neither can I think the bounty & the draft was not the great “I am” with many of them. I believe I made mention in my last letter of one in the Palmyra Courier from the 111th.
Eliza, I have endured the marches and exposures of this summer and fall campaigns far better than I anticipated—better even than most of my comrades, and I sincerely hope that I may never again be inmate of a hospital. Yet I should be almost tempted to wish it necessary for me to be laid away there again were I certain of a being done up in one of those garments “ornamented with very lengthy and elaborate stitches”—“knowing whose work it is” the very fact would be a cure for any ordinary disease.
The ladies are doing a good work not alone in supplying the poor sufferers with articles of comfort; but showing the hearts of those they most love are united with the soldier in a most just cause. The present crisis opens a field of labor for all of both sexes, and of little worth would be the friendship or esteem of anyone of whom it could be said “je has done nothing for his country during the war.” My friend [Edward] Farnsworth whom I thought killed on the field August 30th I have since learned died in Washington of wounds after suffering intensely most three weeks. I would have made most any sacrifice to have seen him before his death had it been possible.
Our position now is about eight miles above Harpers Ferry at the mouth of Antietam Creek. Most of the army have left this vicinity [and] I think have crossed into Virginia, both at Harpers Ferry and at Williamsport. We (Porter’s Corps) may remain in our present position three months, or again three days may not pass before we are on the battlefield far up the Shenandoah Valley. Such are the uncertainties of a soldier’s life. Today all is gay and propitious, tomorrow his corpse is borne to its final resting place, or perchance he has awakened to the reality of being a cripple the remainder of life. It is only by faith that the All-Wise will “order all things well” that I could enter the field of death with any degree of calmness. Although I may not have expressed such thoughts, often has it seemed probable when writing that that might be my last letter. I always strive to enter the field or post of danger with feelings of devotion and reconciliation to my Master’s will. It is a query with me how men can rush into known destruction reveling in curses and blasphemy as I have often seen them do.
As I have expressed my feelings somewhat freely, Eliza, allow me to ask your religious sentiments. Are you (I know you are not a disbeliever) a professed Christian or one waiting for a “more convenient season?” Knowing from the tone of your letters that you at least have a reverence for religion, I trust you will pardon the inquisitiveness and grant the request of your sincere friend, — Selby
Letter 28
17th New York On the March November 5th 1862
My dear friend Eliza,
The date above will show you that we are not idle. The Army of the Potomac is again in Virginia and on the advance. One column from Harpers Ferry up the Shenandoah Valley, another by the circuitous route of Leesburg, both towards Winchester. Porter’s Corps (the reserve in the movement) have halted at Snickersville in front of a gap by the same name in the Blue Ridge. Here we may remain several days in position to strike toward either column as occasion may demand, Our being in the “reserve corps” does not relieve us from the expectations of being actors in the great pending battle. I fear our lines (as has been the case altogether before) are too much extended as the enemy can concentrate at a single point easier than we. But McDowell is out of the way, Pope also has been relieved by one whom we believe to be more competent to command a large army and who at least has the confidence and support of his command. And now with the great addition to the strength of our army and in their present state of discipline and organization, we feel confident of success—although we expect a terrible conflict is before us. Many more will mould beneath the wasted soil of Virginia. It may be the fate of your humble correspondent to end his career in the approaching battle. Be that as it may, God is my guardian and if I but honestly perform my part all will be well.
Your letter of 20th arrived the day we commenced our march from Antietam. Your musings with the “Godess” are somewhat amusing; yet very natural. I think the [ ] Diety has flown from me at the present writing for it seems almost impossible for me to write. Yes, Eliza, it is too common for us to “modify our conversation” to accommodate our hearers; yet one does not wish to be a “lone star” by adopting a different course. I have had letters recently from Marion—Josie Vaughn is there attending school. Doubtless Armina has made you acquainted (as she has me) with the fact of her having a new relative in the person of a little Miss Pulver! Success to the most favored of parents. Lide, you say your religious sentiments are “vague and unsatisfactory.” I fear you will consider that I am taking too much liberty and think it easier to tell what to do than to follow my own teachings, yet allow me to suggest that in the cross is found a cure for those vague and wavering conceptions. The path of leads but one way. The Providence of God must be acknowledged in all our doings. My observation has taught me that character is moulded (as you say) in a great measure by the circumstances under which it is formed. In a place like Marion, one brought up with any share of parental care could hardly fail of being what the world would call goo. And yet Eliza, we must remember that where effort is small, the virtue of acquisition is also small. It is he who has borne the thorne of temptation that is prepared to buffet life’s tempests.
My associations in Marion have been somewhat extended but I have often regretted that a much larger portion of my time has been spens among the rougher elements of society. Yet as my experience increases, I look upon such associations almost as beneficial for by them I obtain a more practical knowledge of human character than can otherwise be obtained and can trust myself with impunity in positions that be dangerous were I less acquainted with the “ways of mankind” and not, in a small degree at least, prepared to meet temptations.
Then you could not school yourself to believe in Universalism? It is well that you could not. I remember once to have argued in debate that man could believe what he chose. My views have changed somewhat since then. You think the New York troops at “Camp Douglas” finer soldier than most others you have seen? I am willing to admit that such is the case with all New York soldiers and I am sure that as far as my observation extends, the “old soldiers” are as good a class of men and much more thoroughly imbued with the spirit of military than the “new levies.”
You speak admirably of a cultivated intellect. It is indeed a boon to be highly prized. I had hoped that I might possess a liberal education in its full sense. I wished to pursue a thorough college course. Such hope has withered for by the time I shall have fulfilled my engagement with my venerable Uncle, it will be too late to attempt such an object by my own efforts. These facts have caused me a great deal of thought. I do not feel sufficiently competent with my limited education to undertake the study of a profession and to fill such a position as I should want to if I undertook it and yet that has been my anticipation for several years.
I could enter with interest and enjoyment into other occupations could I become contented to do so. As it is, I have no definite plan for the future adn in this I don’t know as I am worse than the majority of mankind for I firmly believe that the greater share form no “basis of operation” for life until necessity compels them to; but it is not satisfactory to follow in the path of the multitudinous throng when conscious that that is not the true course. Julia has been quite busily engaged lately but I think there must have been miscarriage of either yours or her letters. I will mention the fact to her in my next. When it is possible, I write to her each week and expect to have a return as often. Sometimes, however, she disappoints me. Still I ought not to complain as I get more than my deserts. When I commenced, I did not expect to write much; but I see that I have considerable (in the gross) the net weight though is small.
Please remember me as often as the “Godess” is with you, and if that is not often, please do as I have had to do in this instance—write without her assistance. — Selby
Letter 29
Camp 17th New York near Falmouth November 26th 1862
Worthy friend,
Lide, I was favored with your letter of 10th inst. two days since. But circumstances have forbidden me writing in return sooner, or of writing before its receipt. You can well imagine the inconvenience of writing when in the field, and particularly so when on the march. Just picture the seven Army Corps now under Burnside with their infantry, artillery, cavalry, and ammunition, baggage and ambulance trains forming a column (if extended on one road) over one hundred miles in extent. Mark out this picture and will see but little room for a laboratory or writing desks and you will, I am sure, make all due allowance for a badly written letter; or a seeming loss of time in attending to epistolary intercourse.
Side, I doubt not that the Illinois soldiers are good fighters. I have never heard of them as being headed by “Quaker Generals.” But in the same connection the 69th and 79th New York earned a name for their desperate courage at the first Bull Run battle; the 9th or Hawkins Zouaves at Roanoke, and again at Antietam have made their name immortal; at Hanover St. the steady fire of the 25th & 44th and the dashing charge of the 17th display courage unexcelled; in the “bloody week” the 12th, 5th, 13th, 25th, and 44th and many others reflected the highest credit upon the New York soldiery, and in the fatal 2nd Bull Run the 12th, 17th, and 44th withstood the most deadly encounter of the whole field with an energy and desperation that never would have yielded that bloody field had they been properly supported. These few instances with very many more that might be mentioned will serve to give the “old soldiers of New York” a somewhat fighting character. As to the “new levies,” it will be time to give them a name when they have earned it.
You were inclined to the right opinion respecting the New York vote. Although we are slightly beaten on Governor, we have a majority of the representatives in Congress from the state elected. In New York City and vicinity when many Democrats have enlisted in the army, their (Democratic) majority is nearly the same as two years ago. But in western New York, from whence nearly all the soldiers are Republican, our majority has fallen off amazingly. Another item which operated somewhat unfavorably toward the election of Governor Wadsworth was his antipathy toward Gen. McClellan.
You mention an interview with Conway Young. I am but slightly acquainted with him personally; he has been away from home most of the time when I have been at Marion. His opportunities for mental culture have been very good and I suppose he has well improved them, Well it is for him if his moral and physical character are equally cultivated. Doff Page tells us that it is only by the development of these three characters that the educated man in constituted proper. Perhaps by the intercession of Gen. Wadsworth and others, the New York paroled prisoners at Chicago may be returned East. But they had better not allot too much upon getting home for disappointment maketh the heart sad.
You ask if I am in regular correspondence with Armina. Well I have written to Armina & William nearly ever since I came away and they also to me. Sometimes at longer intervals than I could wish but I was so unreasonable that I would not write to each of a dozen or more much oftener than they to me.
Eliza, I am sorry to see written over your signature such expressions concerning the removal of Gen. McClellan. I well remember how you sympathized with the “Son of the West” at the time Fremont was first deprived of command; hence I suspected you would have charity for those who have an equally strong love for and confidence in the General of the East. McClellan has made mistakes—who in commencing worse than nothing, i. e., with an utterly demoralized army would not?
In the advance onto the Peninsula, he was too confident in his numerical force but after the battle of Fair Oaks, he too well knew that he had not sufficient force to capture Richmond. He would not have again given the enemy battle until the government had been able to largely reinforce him (which was done a few days too late) had he not been compelled to do so by the enemy’s attack. Never was there in the history of this war a better conducted battle than those under McClellan’s supervision. After the siege of Yorktown, his van pursued the foe to Williamsburg. There battle was offered which was at first unfavorable. But the timely arrival of Chief Commander insured a splendid victory. This it was in the first great series of battles before Richmond the foe were driven to their strong defenses at the very outskirts of the city. Again in the second series, when out-numbered by the vast hoards of treason, each day’s fight was in itself a victory and each night’s adventure a skillful withdrawal from an untenable position to a strong one nearer the place where the army could be safe under cover of the gunboats.
The Battle of Malvern Hill July 1st is not excelled in the history of wars. There Mack not only held his position against vastly superior forces but drove them from the field with terrible slaughter. Mack’s failure to accomplish the purpose of the Peninsular Campaign is attributable to several causes other than his own incompetency—not the least among these was the fact that McDowell instead of vanquishing the Rebel Jackson’s force, or at least holding him away from Richmond, was criminally delinquent of duty and allowed that very General to pass through his hands adn turn the right of McClellan’s army. Again a large reinforcement sent to McClellan arrived just one week too late.
When the army was again organized for another attempt on Richmond, it became necessary for them to move for the defense of Washington, Then McClellan’s command was taken from him and his men turned over to Gen. Pope. The result you well know and we deeply deplore. Then, when the army had run the gauntlet for Washington was terribly shattered and demoralized, the enemy had gained strong positions in Maryland and even raided Pennsylvania, the whole country looked with disappointment upon the maneuvers of Gen. Pope and he asked to be relieved from a command he was in no wise able to maintain, the government sought one to again assume the command of the “Potomac Army.” As I understand the matter, it was then offered to Gen. Burnside but he declined assuming it under such perilous circumstances. It was finally urged upon McClellan. His energy, skill, and promptitude until after the Battle of Antietam deserve not censure but the highest approbation of all America. How removal at the time when he had [rest of letter missing]
Letter 30
Camp 17th New York Near Potomac Creek, Va. December 19th 1862
My dear friend,
I opened my portfolio yesterday for the purpose of writing you then, but circumstances prevented and I was afterwards glad it was so for in the evening I was favored with your letter of the 7th inst.
Since I wrote before, we have been in active and exciting scenes, neither have the critical ad disastrous been far removed from the positions in which we have acted. However, your humble correspondent has again great reason to thank a kind Providence that he has in this instance been a favored one.
I tell you, Eliza, you can but faintly conjecture the feelings of a person when entering the jaws of death. Despite the strongest drive and the calmest mind, there are emotions that thrill the whole being of a most uncomfortable character. The feeling is prevalent to a much less degree when in a fair engagement on a charge or otherwise energetically employed than when as our Division was all day Sunday lying under a slight cover but short range from the foe, when but a stir to raise a head was a summons for a score of bullets.
The details of the Battle at Fredericksburg you will of course read in print long before this reaches you. The 5th Army Corps [of] Gen. Butterfield (formerly Gen. Porter) went upon the field Saturday p.m. They gained at dusk a ridge which had been contested for by both armies all day. This we held during the night when we were relieved. There was no general engagement Sunday except such as I mentioned above, which is more properly picket firing than a battle, but I assure you it is more torturing to be on picket where for either party but to show their heads is to call for a death warrant than to fight a fair field battle.
I know the most fictitious minded of us never hugged a delusive hope with greater ardor than we did the ground the 14th December 1862. When night brought relief, it was with ecstasy that we “Schonged posish.” That bloody chapter is ended. Many thousands of brave men have fallen victims of the foeman’s steel; yet no advantage is gained. We are no nearer the close of the war for aught that has been sacrificed to the rashness of the Commander in Chief of the USA. The foe have their position and fortifications in such a manner in the rear of Fredericksburg that will cost the sacrifice of more men than Uncle Samuel has to spare at this time.
I do not think it should be charged to the gallant Burnside that he has slaughtered a legion of freedom’s sons to no purpose; but I do think the military dictator at Washington will have to answer for the lives of thousands if he gave preemptory orders to storm the enemy’s works when the commander in the field and all his marshalls in council assembled decided that it would be of no avail. Burnside managed the fight nobly. His Marshall Corps, Division, and Brigade commanders heartily cooperated and the men fought as bravely and desperately as those engaged in a righteous cause ever could. The fight of Saturday is the true and only Waterloo that has been reenacted during the contest.
The battle opened and closed upon the same fields with but very little change of position. One Brigade and Division was led to the front; and [rest of letter missing]
Letter 31
Oakley Farms, Virginia January 9, 1862 [should be 1863]
My dear friend Lide,
Some time since I received a “short” letter from you with a promise of another on a few days. but there seem to be many days between the arrival of the two letters. I will not say I have delayed writing a second letter since the receipt of yours on account of the non-arrival of the expected letter for I should not, I presume, have written before I had received it as we have been quite busy and I have been quite unwell withal.
The 30th, 31st, and 1st January we were out on a reconnoissance up and across the Rappahannock. In the affair we were three days exposed to very inclement weather, the effect of which many of us still feel.
Eliza, I see that William and Armina are as strong anti-McClellan advocates as you are, and I judge that such is the general sentiment in that vicinity. And this is not the end of the matter. By the clamor of the people, rulers are induced often to do what better judgment and better knowledge of the true position of affairs would dictate. I contend that the soldier is the better judge of the merits of a general—and surely he is more interested in the character of him who is to be the guardian of his life and honor than one enjoying ease and comfort far away from danger. When soldiers have been with a general through many a hard fought battle and have given him their confidence on account of his skill and bravery, and their affections because he has manifested the greatest regard for their interest, it is a bad stroke upon the army to replace than man by some other who has a claim either upon their confidence or regards.
Veteran soldiers must have their wishes consulted or you have no right to expect them to win. Why should their judgment be weaker than their less brave associates who know nothing of military by either experience or observation, but base their ideas upon the flimsy newspaper gossip. With this portion of the army it is a most distasteful thought that at least ten thousand of their number have been shot down as victims of political heresy. One cannot blame us for railing [against] the North with bitter rage for causing such useless and wanton shedding of blood. But you will have read enough of this style.
News from the West is of importance but you get that before us. I will close this epistle andn enclose with it a few thoughts written when in a more pensive mood. — Selby
Letter 32
Oakley Farms, Virginia February 8, 1863
My dear friend Lide,
Although I have been negligent of you this long, I trust you will pardon this once. Excuses can be formed at any time with reason or not and amount to little when offered. I will trouble you with none. January 17th I received yours dated the 2nd and postmarked 12th. The 25th, yours of the 14th came to hand. You partially admit the truth of my statements regarding McClellan, then express the hope they are not true and you wish McClellan to be covered with [____quy] in order to cover the calumny “of President & Cabinet.” Upon this I have no comments to offer; neither do I care about defending or eulogizing the man other than as a sympathetic soldier and skillful General. There is now but little hope that he will be reinstated in his command and since a set of unprincipled politicians are striving so earnestly to claim him as their own, and by his popularity with the legions of voters in the army to gain power for their broken down hobly [?], I claim no prerogative in his case other than to wait the development of future events.
Yes, Lide, “teaching” is indeed a “humble” occupation—particularly in a young lady, or at least we should judge so were we to accept snuffs and puffs of those of their own sex who live upon “tight lacing and French novels.” But Eliza, there may be some consolation in the knowledge of the fact that most of those that rise to eminence in any noble or useful calling come up from a “humble” position; while the more fastidious rise only in their own estimation, pass away and are forgotten.
“Nothing of importance to communicate from the Army of the Potomac.” The above has been the amount of press correspondence from here for several days past, yet I suspect that not many days will elapse before it will be known why theres “nothing to communicate.” The 9th Army Corps have passed down the railroad to Aquia, their destination or who will follow next would be only a matter of speculation at present with us. I hope this army will be so assigned as to do good in the coming season for here is much of our best metal yet here, as a whole, under any man that can now be assigned to its command. I cannot hope for brilliant achievement. My time is drawing to a close. I should hate to be crippled in the last end of my service after being bomb and bullet proof so long; yet if the 5th Corps should be wanted to aid in the reduction of Charleston or Vicksburg, I could not wish the 17th [New York] to be detached.
You have read our “last movement” if you see Harpers Weekly in the number for “Feb. 14th.” You will see a very good representation of our condition near “Camp Stuck in the Mud.” Some features of that movement are not given to the public and I think it well that they are not. Well indeed! for the reputation of the “new troops” and some of the old ones.
Eliza, you are six months minus one day younger than I. Your meditation on your “old age” were to me very natural. Often have I, when musing upon that subject, wondered if other people had such thoughts as my own. When free from the army, I shall be nearly 24 years of age, yet how small a beginning have I made in life’s mission. Two years though, with some addition for reust I can charge to Uncle Samuel, which I trust he will give me credit for in my final balance of accounts. Yes, I too “know that neither William nor Arminia are McClellan men” and I have very much transcended their idea of propriety in my correspondence with them. But then the truth “will out” sometimes with a soldier. The reason that he has done nothing to “command the respect of those not connected with the army is because they only look at his deeds through a colored glass.
No, Lide, I never met the lady of whom you speak—Miss Manchester. Perhaps you are right in the opinion that “man does not expect very much of woman;” but the question now is whether or not man is right in his depreciation of woman. Who can tell? Your resolve is a good one; if for no other reason; regularity and system of habits are great benefits, yet if you knew the laxity of my habits, you would call me a hypocrite—teaching what I did not practice.
I never would advise anyone to fall in with a popular current simply to be popular but by such course it is often easy to accomplish a great good, comparatively easy, which under other circumstances would be much more unpleasant.
You mention the efforts of “Elder Knapp—a great revivalist” in your city. Now let me ask would it not be well for you to make use of the above suggestion and attend to the most weighty matter of your life? In this you will receive the prayer of your sincere friend, — Selby
Letter 33
Oakley Farms, Virginia March 8, 1863
Dear friend Eliza,
It is now my turn to complain of “humdrum life.” We have a little change from snow to rain, then fair weather sufficient to look out doors before it commences to snow again. When we came to our present encampment in November last, we could scarcely see daylight, the forest was so dense. But now we cannot see a tree save those few reserved as ornaments. But in their stead we cannot look amiss of a camp It has been quite awhile now since we (17th N. Y.) have done any picket duty, marching or reconnoitering, and with the monotonous routine of camp duty, times passes sluggishly on.
Your mention of your enjoyment of different works of poetry &c. brings a fait recollection that there is, or was somewhere, something in the shape of literature beside the silly novels and the daily recurring “Herald, Tribune, & Times.” Perhaps, Eliza, your standard of oratory is too high. Wendall Philips is thought by us of the East to be among the best of his kind, but were you to hear John B. Gough, as perhaps you have, you would be sure to like him also, and be highly entertained, notwithstanding he is “theatrical” in his style.
You comment somewhat upon the arbitrary power of the military. Military law is rigid and summary but the very nature of the institution for which an army is formed and the fact that all classes and characters are massed together demand this seeing severity. All have to yield to their superiors in rank, but with a man of reason it is looked upon as necessity and done without humiliation, or “loss of self respect,” although it is by no means an uncommon occurrence to see a commanding officer have under him many who are intellectually, morally, physically, and by position (previous to the war) greatly his superiors and are under him simply from the fact that they were sufficiently zealous in their country’s cause to enlist in her cause without seeking a position.
I don’t know as I feel any more humble or deficient of self respect when associating with a superior than an equal or inferior in rank. This freedom may be owing in a measure to the fact that there is less of that aristocratic distinction between the different ranks in our regiment than in many others.
We expect to “push out” before long though we hear not the least whisper of when, where, or how the spring campaign will be made. But we believe Uncle Joseph [Hooker] will show that the Army of the Potomac is yet alive before the two-year’s men from New York leave him. — Selby
Letter 34
Oakley Farms, Virginia March 29, 1863
Lide,
Your favor of the 20th was received two days since and its contents “devoured” with interest for although I have become emphatically and of “loving to write letters,” I still have an inclination to be exacting of others. Eliza, do not feel in mourning the loss of your sister as one in the agony of despair, for Divine wit informs us that such separations are needful and proper. I shall endeavor to make the acquaintance of your sister and her husband upon the event of their visit East next fall; provided, however, that I am at home then which event there are at present reasons to doubt.
I al glad, Lide, that you prefer “Wendall” to “John B. Gough” but something whispers to me that you must have somewhat modified your opinion regarding the “everlasting nigger”—the subject which alone calls forth the remarkable pathos of “Wendall.”
You ask if you do not write “real stupid letters” and enquire upon me to be candid & uncomplimentary. Hence, I must give a solemn answer or none at all. Now, Eliza, this is really bad in you not to allow me to mention any complimentary qualities of which your letters abound. The good taste, refined sentiment, lively style, near penmanship. As you must have an answer, I shall say—yes! I am writing to my lady friend in the Far West and yet it almost vain that I should do so for by her last letter I am informed that she expected to “blow away.” Should you, perchance, still be of the present tense and receive this epistle, please inform me whether it was on account of age, beauty, or other quality that you entertained such “fairy notions.”
I suppose it would not seem natural to receive a letter from the army with no war items among its contents so here goes to the Army of the Potomac. With Fighting Joseph at the head, they can flog any equal force in front and the combined clan of Copperheads at the North. The army here has improved to an amazing degree within the past two months. Its numbers have been swollen largely by the return from hospital of many that were wounded in action or worn out by the long marches of last season. Also many exchanged prisoners have returned.
The reaction and almost utter demoralization of the army occasioned by the loss of their favorite leader, the defeat of Fredericksburg, and the discouraging sentiments so prevalent at the North have subsided. Gen. Hooker in his zealous efforts to discipline the army has manifested a deep interest in the welfare of his command and is fast winning their esteem and confidence. He is known to be a brave man’ we now think him competent to meet the exigencies of his present position. Many of McClellan’s warmest friends have entire confidence in Gen. Hooker. But give us the support of a united North and we will do our share.
Your true friend, — Selby
Letter 35
Oakley Farms, Virginia April 14, 1863
My dear friend,
Your favor of the 7th inst. came to hand last evening. You state that my former letter came into your possession “about a week ago after an ominous silence of a number of weeks.” My last letter, 29th ult. was written two days after receiving yours, whereas you acknowledge a week between the date of your receipt and writing. Again, your little short letter. But my dear Miss, your letter possesses the same quality in (I think) a larger degree; but I will not scold as that wouldn’t be pretty. I shall be obliged to write a short letter this time also as we are to march early tomorrow and I have two or three letters to write besides getting ready to move to a new home.
At the time of your writing, you were reading that beautiful poem, The Lady of the Lake. When you read that portion styled “The Combat” please, for me, remember your friend as an actor of the part of [ ] due in connection with my old chum, E. M. Allen, a soldier in the 98th New York.
I hope your expectations of coming East with your sister the coming season will be realized.
The report of the “Congressional Committee on the Conduct of the War,” recently published has to some degree caused a reaction of feeling here regarding Gen. McClellan. I suppose that your brother William will now depreciate my judgement more than heretofore for my being so recreant to Republicanism as to [ ] upon our leader with any degree of levity. While here I have often been censored for my want of confidence in Gen. McClellan. I do not think this fact is attributable to my attempting to hold a position adverse to my associates but because the position I thought to be reasonable was neither as enthusiastic as most of the soldiers nor as sarcastic as their friends at home.
A large body of cavalry move both to the right & left yesterday with necessary supports of infantry and artillery to allow them to cross the river into rebeldom. The whole army are preparing to move immediately with “eight days rations” and a large supply of ammunition. If Gen. Hooker proves to be as successful with a large army as he has with a smaller force, brilliant acquisitions will result from the campaign now begun. This is to be my last and I hope it will prove that will do honor to the “Army of the Potomac” and efficient service to the country. Hard fighting or fast running will undoubtedly occur within a few days. The same mail that brings the news of victory will cause mourning in many a household of our friends. Our trust is in God and our steel. Cheerfully yours. — Selby
Letter 36
Newark, New York September 8, 1863
My dear friend Lide,
It has seemed a very long period since I wrote you last. And indeed it has been two months. I could not now attribute the non appearance of the highly prized epistle to the :irregularity of the mail.” And after waiting what I thought to be a long time for return, reluctantly concluded tha, from some cause, you had chosen to break our correspondence, and too, without that understanding between us expressed as well as in etiquette always implied: when the party becomes disinclined to farther correspondence. But the receipt this evening of your letter of the 6th inst. in part dispelled my unpleasant inference. Perhaps I did you injustice to entertain such thoughts.
Far from “not missing” your letters, Eliza, during this long vacation, coupled with the inference mentioned above, I have missed them more than at any former period, and partly for reasons hereafter to be made known.
New York [State], since my last writing, you are aware, has been the theatre of active events. Gov. Seymour’s dear friends have enacted a “play” which draws the attention of the world and renders the “Empire State” more conspicuous than ever before. We have also had a malignant epidemic passing, as it were, through the Heavens. So many have caught but a single draft of the infected air, have been smitten by the terrible malady. This has led to divers diseases curable only by an appeal to the learned doctors of Abraham and then in most instances the healing balm could only be obtained by the payment of $300.
I am occasionally interested in my studies but to the beginner in the [legal] profession the antiquated Commentaries of Blackstone are not the most entertaining notes that might be laid upon one who has long been unaccustomed to studious habits. My greater interest, therefore, is in expectancy rather than the obsolete forms I am now drumming over.
Lide, you are pleased that I have chosen the profession that I have, but you remain silent on a point that from our long correspondence I deem you as well, if not better, able to judge than anyone else. To wit: my mental and moral ability to e successful. My grandmother says I should have studied medicine. She says I am too slow of speech for a lawyer.
Lide, allow me to ask you to lend me your photograph in your next letter, if convenient. I am having some vignettes printed and will send you one in my next if you wish. You sent me your Ambrotype some time since but I am sorry to state the “casualties of war” robbed me of it. I believe you have mine with the “army blue” which I prefer you to destroy as I think the civilian becomes me better.
I must close somewhat briefly but will write more at length next time. Hoping for an answer in a few days. I trust I may not be disappointed. Truly, — S. Selby Fish
Letter 37
Newark, New York September 29, 1863
Dear friend Lide,
I have this evening returned from Marion—from a visit thither under solemn circumstances. Cousin Daniel Russell was buried today, vut off in the spring time of life. He was partner with Mr. Norton (of your acquaintance) in the Marion Foundry & Machine Shop. Well engaged in business—life’s prospect was bright before him. But alas, how soon and suddenly is it turned to naught! We would have otherwise; but our will cannot rule the destiny of man.
Were it my lot to be cut off in youth, I should wish it could have been while in the army. However sensitive others may be about their friends being buried on a distant battlefield, denied the presence of loved ones to smooth the dying pillow and to pay the last tokens of respect by a Christian burial, for me (were early life to be yielded to its giver) there could be no higher boon than for my ashes to mingle with the slain thousands of freedom’s sons.
Lide, you probably noticed that in my last letter I wrote vinettes for vignettes. I soon thereafter learned that Webster knew of no such word and I had in that particular become an author.
Your letter of the 23rd was received this evening. I do not think that my manner of writing at times has been owing (as you suppose) to any distrust of your friendship; but while in the army the absence of congenial society and since my return having been most of the time among strangers; I have felt a loneliness and expressed an impatience and puerility perhaps, which, with more consideration I should have avoided. Our intimacy has led me to be free and unguarded in my expressions, writing always upon the first impulse, judging that the less constraint and formality used the better you would like my letters. How far I have misjudged your taste in this particular, I care not to estimate at present.
I am thankful, however, to have my faults brought to my notice that I may amend my ways therein. But my friend, if recollection, or old letters testify correctly, these faults have not been all on one side. Specifications might be made, were it pleasant to do so. Enough has been said on that point.
As to your question, to wit: “Do you know or can you imagine that any circumstances or change of circumstances could occur so that our friendly letters would be no longer pleasant or proper or right?” As this question, I say, is in a form and connection to demand an answer, I will simply say that I do not know of any. But I conceive there might be such “change of circumstances” with either party as, if unknown to the other party, would render a continuance of correspondence by that party improper.
Yes, we do have sad news from Gen. Rosecrans but I can hardly agree with you that “it seems strange to hear bad news from a quarter where we have been accustomed to hear such good reports.” I hold that success or disaster depends as much upon the force brought against an army as it does upon the skill and bravery of that army. When Rosecrans was pressed by overpowering force as the ARmy of the Potomac has often been, the result with his army even, is equally to be lamented, with the worst disaster to that most noble army of the East. And on the other hand no achievements of the “Cumberland Army” or that of indomitable Grant shine with more intense luster than do many of the brilliant deeds of the Army of the Potomac.
You see that I still claim honor for those veterans with whom I have passed so many eventful periods; neither would I cancel aught of the well-earned fame of the Western troops.
Eliza, I deem it best that our correspondence should cease for the present; however, as you have my likeness, you will not hesitate to send me your photograph as before spoken of. Your letters have been a source of great pleasure and of profit to me. I thank you for your kindness. I hope that mine have in some measure contributed to your pleasure during our three years correspondence. Wishing you much happiness, I hope ever to be remembered as your sincere friend, — S. S. Fish
The following 1863 diary was sent to me for transcription. I was informed the first part of the diary was kept by a member of the 2nd Rhode Island Infantry who had not yet been unidentified. His entries were cryptic up until the Battle of Chancellorsville, when, on the morning of May 3rd, the Regiment supported General Gibbon’s division in carrying Salem Heights, near Fredericksburg. The diary gives some pretty good detail of the regiment’s movement on the “Mud March” in late January but the majority of his other entries serve more as a ledger for loans the author has made to officers and enlisted men in the 2nd Rhode Island. The majority of these seem to be in Co. B though there are loans to comrades in other companies as well. The amount of money loaned is rather significant and seems to be beyond what would normally be handled by anyone other than an officer. However, his handwriting and spelling are poor and more likely that of an enlisted man—especially since he does not record any activities typically performed by an officer.
On the inside cover, “found on the battlefield, Sunday May”
The diary is then taken over by Walter Augustus Weddin (1840-1902) of Manly’s Battery, Co. A, 1st North Carolina Artillery. A faint notation on the inside indicates the diary was “found on the battlefield.” Weddins started daily entries in June—including Gettysburg—and on through the year. Weddins also used the memorandum section as well as the first half of the diary (written around and on top of the previous owner’s entries) to keep various lists.
With the help of my friend Rob Grandchamp, an expert on Rhode Island regiments, I have been able to identify the author as John T. Goldsmith (1823-1904), a carpenter by trade. The numbering of the letters received and sent suggested to me that the author had only recently joined the regiment which had been in existence since much earlier in the war. John was not mustered into the regiment until 4 November 1862. He was mustered into Co. B but that company was consolidated with Co. A shortly afterward. In mid February he was detailed to the Brigade Quartermaster Department with whom he served until after the Battle of Chancellorsville. He then was assigned duty as a Provost Guard until mid-December 1863 and then worked in the commissary until deserting at Cold Harbor on 6 June 1864. These details and activities coincide reasonably well with the diary entries and are consistent with a man his age, which was about 40 years old. What’s more, John Goldsmith had a younger brother that served with him in the same company named Tobias A. Goldsmith, also a carpenter by trade, who enlisted in early August 1862 when he was about 30. Corporal Tobias Goldsmith was reported missing after the battle of Salem Heights and was “probably killed” in the battle. The clincher, however, was finding the author’s brother, “Asa” with a death date of 13 March 1863—the date stated in the diary. In Ancestry.com I was able to find that Asa H. Goldsmith (1834-1863) died on that date in Providence. In the 1860 US Census, Asa was identified as a 26 year-old “stable keeper” still residing in his parents home in Providence’s 5th Ward. His parents were Hubbard Goldsmith (1796-1879)—-a carpenter, and Joanna Roberts (1796-1875).
The Goldsmith/Weddin 1863 Diary
John Goldsmith was married on 26 April 1849 to Emily Frances Barton (1831-1910). She was the daughter of Robert H. and Julia Ann Barton of Providence.
[Note: This diary is from the collection of Rob Morgan and was transcribed and published on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
Transcription
JANUARY 1863
Sunday, January 4, 1863—Inspection of arms this morning. Orders for three days rations for fatigue duty, to be ready at 7 o’clock in the morning.
Monday, January 5, 1863—Broke camp at 8 o’clock. Went to landing 10 miles.
Tuesday, January 6, 1863—Went out to work this morning at 8 o’clock corduroying a road from the new landing at the Potomac Creek.
Wednesday, January 7, 1863—Went to work on the road at 8 o’clock.
Thursday, January 8, 1863—Went to work on the road at 9 o’clock. Returned to the camp near White Oak Church.
Friday, January 9, 1863—Nothing of importance.
Saturday, January 10, 1863—Raining.
Sunday, January 11, 1863—Received a letter from George [Edwin] Cushman. 1
1 George Edwin Cushman (1837-1898) was the son of Asa Cushman (1798-1884) and Puah Tilton (1795-1863) of Massachusetts. George was married to Susan L. Waite (1838-1865), the daughter of Stephen and Nancy B. ( ) Waite. in July 1855. In the 1860 US Census, George was a “laborer” residing in Providence’s 6th Ward. In 1870, he was employed in a screw manufacturing company in Providence.
Monday, January 12, 1863—Tending for the sutler.
Tuesday, January 13, 1863—Tending for the sutler. Received letter No. 17
Wednesday, January 14, 1863—Sent Letter No. 3.
Thursday, January 15, 1863—Received letter No. 18.
Friday, January 16, 1863—Marching orders. Orders countermanded.
Saturday, January 17, 1863—Went to the landing with the sutler.
Sunday, January 18, 1863—On inspection.
Monday, January 19, 1863—Received letter No. 19.
Tuesday, January 20, 1863—Broke camp at 11 o’clock to cross the Rappahannock. Marched 9 miles and camped for the night. Rained all night.
Entry for 21 January 1863 during Burnside’s Mud March
Wednesday, January 21, 1863—Broke camp at 6 o’clock. Marched 4 miles. The roads so bad that we could not go any further. The 4th Battery struck in the mud and most of the pontoon train. Some of them tipped over in the road. At 2 o’clock we moved 1 mile and camped for the night.
Thursday, January 22, 1863—Marching orders at 10 o’clock. We took our tent down and packed up. At 4 o’clock we pitched our tents again and waited for further orders. Order at 9 o’clock to turn out at 4 o’clock in the morning to ready to move at daylight.
Friday, January 23, 1863—Turned out at 4 o’clock and packed up. Started at 7 o’clock for our old camp. Arrived at 3 o’clock. 8 miles. Cleared off pleasant.
Saturday, January 24, 1863—[no entry]
Sunday, January 25, 1863—Sent letter No. 4.
Monday, January 26, 1863—On general inspection. Colonel [Nelson] Viall left us today. Read on dress parade.
Tuesday, January 27, 1863—Received letter No. 21.
Wednesday, January 28, 1863—Snowing. Sent letter No. 5.
Thursday, January 29, 1863—Cleared off beautiful. Snow 7 inches deep.
Friday, January 30, 1863—Went to the landing. Got stuck in the mud. Received letter No. 20.
Saturday, January 31, 1863—Credit Mr. Brady one dollar.
FEBRUARY 1863
Sunday, February 1, 1863—Brother T[obias] and I built a chimney to our tent. Received letter No. 22.
Monday, February 2, 1863—Sent Letter No. 6.
Tuesday, February 3, 1863—[no entry]
Wednesday, February 4, 1863—Loan Mr. Booth $1.50 of Co. C. On guard today. Brother T[obias]] detailed to go to headquarters as a carpenter.
Thursday, February 5, 1863—Received letter No. 23. Sent letter No. 7.
Sunday, February 8, 1863—The regiment gone on picket. I am with the sutler.
Monday, February 9, 1863—Loan [Peter] Riley, the tailor in Co., one dollar. Sent letter No. 8.
Tuesday, February 10, 1863—Over to the 139th [Pennsylvania Infantry] with the sutler.
Wednesday, February 11, 1863—Over to the 139th [Pennsylvania Infantry].
Thursday, February 12, 1863—Loan Sergt. [James C.] Nichols [Co. B] $4 with $1.25 [interest] ($5.25). With Bedwell today. Received letter No. 25.
Friday, February 13, 1863—Received letter No. 26.
Saturday, February 14, 1863—Loan two dollars.
Sunday, February 15, 1863—Loan F[rank] D. Morse [Co. B] four dollars. Rainy. Sent letter No. 9 with [$]20.
Monday, February 16, 1863—Sent a letter to G. E. Cushman. Sent letter No. 10.
Wednesday, February 18, 1863—Received letter No. 27.
Friday, February 20, 1863—A man in Co. F borrowed the spade. Sent letter No. 11.
Saturday, February 21, 1863—Commenced snowing at 10 o’clock this evening. Received letter No 28.
Sunday, February 22, 1863—The severest storm ever witnessed out here. The snow is 10 inches and still snowing.
Monday, February 23, 1863—Cleared off very fine.
Tuesday, February 24, 1863—Loan Luke Kelley [Co. B] $2. Received letter No. 29.
Wednesday, February 25, 1863—Received a letter from George Cushman. Sent letter No. 12.
Thursday, February 26, 1863—Started for three days picket. Down to the [Rappahannock] river. The Rebs is trying to send a board across the river with some tobacco to our boys. It is a stormy day.
Trading coffee for tobacco with the Reb pickets on the Rappahannock River
Friday, February 27, 1863—It has cleared off very warm. We are out hunting rabbits. A broiled rabbit for breakfast.
Saturday, February 28, 1863—We caught 8 rabbits today. It rains tonight.
MARCH 1863
Sunday, March 1, 1863—Came off picket today. It is a beautiful day.
Monday, March 2, 1863—Mustered in today. Lent $1 to Hunt, Co. C.
Tuesday, March 3, 1863—Loan T. B. Howath one dollar. Morris O’Hern $6.
Wednesday, March 4, 1863—Loaned James Stanley [Co. E] $1. Received letter No. 30.
Thursday, March 5, 1863—Received a letter No. 31. No. 9 Lincoln Street. Sent a letter to T. M. & A. H. with $20 (sent letter No. 13).
Friday, March 6, 1863—Loan Lt. [Edwin A.] Russell $10.
Thursday, March 12, 1863—Built a fire place and chimney for the colonel.
Friday, March 13, 1863—On line drill. Loan Corporal Calley $1. Brother [Asa] died today at 11:30 o’clock.
Saturday, March 14, 1863. Received letter No. 34.
Sunday, March 15, 1863—Sent letter No. 15.
Monday, March 16, 1863—Went on picket for three days. Brother Asa was buried today at 11 o’clock.
Tuesday, March 17, 1863—Loan Frank Carr $2.
Thursday, March 19, 1863—Loan Tom Reynolds [of Co. B] $1. Came off picket today. Received letter No. 35.
Friday, March 20, 1863—Stormy.
Monday, March 23, 1863—Loan Frank McCaughey $15. James Bishop $1.
Wednesday, March 25, 1863—Sent letter No. 18 with my knife.
Thursday, March 26, 1863—Received letter No. 37.
Monday, March 30, 1863—Blustering snow storm. Miss Millum. Received letter from Just Clarke. Sent letter No. 21 with $20.
Tuesday, March 31, 1863—Loan T. Custy $1. Sent a letter to mother $5. Sent brother [ ] a letter with 2 dollars. Sent a letter to Gust. Clarke. Received letter No. 38.
APRIL 1863
Wednesday, April 1, 1863—Loans [to] Robert Yeaw $2. Lt. Russell $5. J[ohn] T. Goldsmith $7.
Thursday, April 2, 1863—On guard.
Friday, April 3, 1863—Loan McManuel $2.
Saturday, April 4, 1863—Some Capt. [Henry H.] Young $10. Richard Grant $1.
Sunday, April 5, 1863—Very stormy. Snow and rain. Received letters No. 39 and 40. Sent letter No. 22.
Monday, April 6, 1863—Loan John Heart $1. Lt. Gifford $5. W. H. Rutser, Dutchess county, New York. Sent Letter No 23 with 20 dollars.
Tuesday, April 7, 1863—Loan John T. Goldsmith $15. [apparently a loan to himself]
Wednesday, April 8, 1863—Loan Hilton $2. Morris O’Hern $1. Was reviewed by the President today. Received letter No. 41.
Thursday, April 9, 1863—Loan Foster $2.
Friday, April 10, 1863—Was mustered by Colonel of the 37th Mass. Received letter No. 42.
Saturday, April 11, 1863—Loan M. O’Hern $2. On guard today. Received letter No. 43.
Sunday, April 12, 1863—Going on picket for three days. Sent letter No. 24 with $20.
Monday, April 13, 1863—Received letter No. 44. One from mother.
Wednesday, April 15, 1863—Came off picket. It rains in torrents.
Thursday, April 16, 1863—Loan Lt. Gifford $15. Sent letter No. 25 with 5 dollars and one to the treasurer.
Friday, April 17, 1863—Received letter No. 45.
Sunday, April 19, 1863—On guard today.
Monday, April 20, 1863—Sent letter No. 26 with $5.
Tuesday, April 21, 1863—Answered brother T’s letter. Received letter No. 46. And one from Brother Tom.
Wednesday, April 22, 1863—Sent letter No. 27, with $40 and another $20.
Thursday, April 23, 1863—Loan Bishop $5. Very rainy. Sent a letter to Charley Becker. Sent likeness with 40 dollars.
Friday, April 24, 1863—It rained all day. Receive letter No. 48
Monday, April 27, 1863—From 7 o’clock a.m. to 12 at night. 17 hours. 254.00
Tuesday, April 28, 1863—14 hours $125, 17 hours $254. 31 hours $379.00. No. of checks that I sent today 32.19 $700 dollars. Broke camp at 3 o’clock. Went down near the river and camped till further orders.
Wednesday, April 29, 1863—Broke camp and started at 7 o’clock. Corcoran’s Brigade crossed the river at sunrise. It is now 10 o’clock. We are resting in the road near the river. A very little firing his morning. Sent letter No. 29 with check $700.
Thursday, April 30, 1863—Daniel T. Lyman, Allotment Commissary. No. 42 Weyhosset Street, Providence, R. I. No, 3289 Sent 50 dollars check in a letter No. 30. A slight cannonading today. A beautiful sight to see it.
Friday, May 1, 1863—As fine a morning as I ever saw. Everything quiet. Received letter No. 50. Sent letter No. 30 with check 50 dollars, No. 3289.
Saturday, May 2, 1863—Received letter No. 51.
Sunday, May 3, 1863—The batteries opened at 4 o’clock a.m. The rebs opened first and was soon answered.
[To see the remainder of the diary, kept by Corp. Walter Augustus Weddin of Manly’s Battery—Co. A, 1st North Carolina Artillery, see 1863 Diary of Walter Augustus Weddin.]
I could not find an image of Andrew but here is a painting of Pvt. John N. Nichols of Co. K, 32nd Massachusetts Infantry (Kevin Kilcommons’ Collection)
The following letters were written by Andrew J. Lane, Jr. (1841-1925), the oldest son of Andrew Lane (1818-1899) and Susan S. Simpson (1820-1894) of Rockport, Essex county, Massachusetts. Andrew had two brother who are mentioned in these letters—Ivory Lane (1842-1869) and Leverette Lane (1844-1929). His younger siblings included Horace (b. 1847), Franklin (b. 1852), John H. (b. 1855), and Susan (b. 1857).
Andrew enlisted on 27 November 1861 as a private in Co. D, 32nd Massachusetts Infantry. He was promoted to corporal prior to his being wounded at Shady Grove Church Road on 30 May 1864 and he was discharged on 1 December 1864. According to the regimental history, Company D was recruited in Gloucester, and was almost entirely composed of fishermen and sailors and had a reputation for unruliness. It was commanded by Captain James P. Draper. The late Adjutant-General James A. Cunningham was First Lieutenant, and Stephen Rich, Second Lieutenant.
[Note: There are reportedly sixty letters in this collection that I will be adding to this webpage as I get them transcribed.]
To read letters by other members of the 32nd Massachusetts Infantry that I have transcribed and published on Spared & Shared, see: Luther Stephenson, F&S, 32nd Massachusetts (1 Letter) Edmund Lewis Hyland, Co. F, 32nd Massachusetts (1 Letter) William Litchfield, Co. F, 32nd Massachusetts (4 Letters)
Letter 1
Interior of Fort Warren in Boston Harbor
Fort Warren, [Boston Harbor] December 5, [1861]
Dear Father,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope you all are the same. I like it up here first rate now. The first day we came up here, we hadn’t much to eat. They marched us in and we scambled and get a piece of bread. That’s all we had. Dipped that in a pail of tea. That’s all we had that night. We have good grub now—corned beef and beans. We have got good places to sleep. Got a sack filled with straw. We lay in the fort. Have a fire all night. There is four companies up here now. We don’t drill much yet. We have to stand guard. We have to stand 3 days in a week; go on two hours then stay off 4 so that makes 8 hours out of 24.
There is about 1200 prisoners up here we have to guard. That is all we have to do. There is all kinds of prisoners here. Some of them are dressed up as nice as any gentleman you ever saw, Some looks like the Old Harry [the Devil]—Hatteras prisoners. I was on guard last night. I have seen Slidel & Mason. 1
No more at present. Give my best respects to Johnny and tell him I wish he could see us up her and see the rebels. I don’t know but we shall stay here until the war is over. If I find out that we are, I shall send home after some things. I suppose we shall know before long. Give my love to all the folks. No more at present. — Andrew Lane
Direct your letter to me Coo. D in 1st Battalion, car of Capt. [James P.] Draper.
1 Fort Warren at this time was occupied as a depot for Confederate war and state prisonersduring the winter of 1861-62. In February 1862, a detachment of prisoners from Fort Donelson were sent to Fort Warren— “mostly long, gaunt men, given to wearing sombrero hats, and chewing tobacco. With this party came Generals Buckner and Tilghman.“ [The Story of the 32nd Regiment, Massachusetts Infantry, by Francis J. Parker, Colonel]
Letter 2
Fort Warren [Boston Harbor] April 6th 1862
Dear Father,
I take this opportunity to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I received a box last Sunday by Joseph Sewall. The pillow case fits pretty well but it full large.
They put us through drilling now. Our parade ground is dry and hard and in good order now but it snowed last night but it’s gone now. It is my turn to go on guard tomorrow.
I was on guard a week ago last Saturday night and was laying on the bench asleep [when] one of the fellows came in and said the garrison was alarmed. I springed up and grab my gun from the rack. She was all loaded and capped. When I got out, there was all the company drawed up in a line of battle. I couldn’t think what was the trouble. I thought the prisoners had risen [up] or the [Confederate ironclad] Merrimac had come. Come to find out it was done to see how quick the men would be on hand. Most all our fellows were in their bunks asleep with their boots off. They were all equipped, fell in and out on the parade ground in line of battle in 4 and a half minutes, all ready for a fight. Some of the companies were longer than ours. All 6 companies were out in 6 minutes. It was work, I tell you.
I don’t know of anything about so I must close. I am going to put some rings in and you can do what you please with them. Give one to John, one to Frank. Give Mary Wade Smith one. Do what you have a mind to with the rest.
[Joseph H.] Wingood is going home tomorrow, he expects, so I will send it by him. From your son, — Andrew Lane
Write all the news.
Letter 3
Fort Warren May 21st 1862
Dear Brother,
As I have plenty of time I thought I would write I am well, live and kicking and hope you all are the same. I received your letter last night and was glad to hear from you for I haven’t heard from home since [Joseph] Wingood came back.
You stated in your letter that Alexander was dead. What was it that ailed him? I received a letter from Solon last week. He didn’t say anything about the prospect down there. I guess it ain’t much.
We was paid off two months pay last Wednesday. We was paid up to the first of May. We have drawed more pants. There was new hats came for us last night. It has been hot up here inside of the fort drilling in the middle of the day.
Caleb Farr was up here last Monday with a load of sand. I was on guard outside and went down [and] board of him two or three times. He thought the war would soon close. Everything looks nice up here now. The grass looks green and forward around here. I shall be home on a furlough in about a week from next Monday if nothing happens. Bane will be at home the first of next week. I expect his turn comes before mine does. I don’t know of anything more to write now so I must close now.
Write soon. Tell Ivory to write. From your son, — Andrew Lane
Give my best respects to Rob and all the folks.
Letter 4
Fort Warren [Boston Harbor] May 26, 1862
Dear Father,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. We had orders come for us to be in Boston at 3 o’clock this afternoon to go to Washington. All six companies is going. Major Parker came down here last night at 2 o’clock. Our cooks are cooking 3 days rations. I am packing up some boxes to send home. Look out for them. Tell Mother to keep cool—not to fret about me for I shall do the best I can. This is quick notice for us, I tell you. They say that Gen. Banks has been cut to pieces and the rebels are advancing onto Washington.
Give my love to all the folks. We are getting ready for to go so no more this time. So goodbye. I will write as soon as I get there and tell you all the news.
From your son, — Andrew Lane
I haven’t got time to write any more. Have good courage for I have got [it]. Don’t worry about me. Goodbye. Bane [Vane? Cane?] was coming home tomorrow. I was coming next Thursday but orders some so we can’t. 1
1 After months of garrison duty at Fort Warren, most of the members of the 32nd Massachusetts were “glad to be out of jail, some said—glad to be moving to the front; all desiring to see that actual war for which they had passed through long and careful training, and anxious as new troops can be, for a share in the realities of the campaign.” [The Story of the 32nd Regiment, Massachusetts Infantry, by Francis J. Parker, Colonel]
Letter 5
Camp at Washington D. C. Wednesday afternoon, [May 28th 1862]
Dear Father,
I take this time to write to you. We have just arrived here about 4 o’clock. We have been on the road since Monday afternoon. We haven’t stopped but twice since we started and that was in Philadelphia yesterday and got some dinner there [after which] we started again. We left our muskets in Boston and got Enfield rifles in Fall River. When we was at Philadelphia, we heard that there was a mob in Baltimore so we loaded our rifles.
We was accepted in Philadelphia tip top. We got into Baltimore at light this morning and marched through the same street that the Old 6th was attacked. We had no trouble. Flags was flying all around. They took us in and gave us a good breakfast. They cheered us all the way along. We are all hoarse cheering so much. I tell you that everything looks splendid out this way. Grass is almost high ready to mow. Peas all podded.
We had a good time coming out. We come from Fall River to Jersey City in a steamer. She had berths enough to accommodate 1,000. We are here close to the White House in a building. We are going to stop here to guard Washington. There is 8,000 troops here now [and] 5,000 more expected tonight. These are going off tomorrow. We are going about a mile and a half to the other part of the city on the Potomac to relieve troops to go South.
I can’t write anymore this time. I shall write again son. Direct your letter to Washington D. C., 32nd Regiment Infantry, Mass. Vols., Co. D.
Write to me soon and let me know how things are. I think this is a the nicest place in the world. — Andrew Lane
Letter 6
Washington [D. C.] Monday, June 23rd 1862
Dear Father,
As I have plenty of time this morning, I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope all of you are the same. I haven’t heard from you for some time now.
It is warm here. They say we are about to leave here. I think we shall go this week for the officers are packing up their things. They say we are to go to Alexandria. That is about fifteen miles from here. We are going there to guard a railroad track but it is hard telling where we are going. We ain’t doing anything where we are now. Our captain is gone on to Boston with a prisoner.
There was a lieutenant-colonel died in the city and out regiment had to go to escort him to the depot. He was way up by the White House. We had to march about five miles. There was a band there. We marched reversed arms—that is, under our arm, butts up. They all thought up in the city that we was Regulars. They told our officers that it was the best regiment they had seen for they were all young fellows.
When we first got here, we had rather poor grub but have better now. All of us Rockport fellows are all in one tent together. I think we shall leave here this afternoon or tomorrow for I just heard the Colonel tell the sergeants to get their things together so I think we are going right off.
I suppose you will begin haying before long now. I don’t know what to think of this war. I don’t think it will close very soon for they don’t seem to be doing anything as I can see. They don’t print anything in the papers here. I think we shall have to see some fighting before we get out of this.
There is seventeen hundred men to work on the Navy Yard making shells. 1 I don’t think of anything more to write so I must close now. When you write, direct to Washington to be forwarded to 32nd Regiment.
From your son, — Andrew Lane.
1 Members of the 32nd Massachusetts would have had an opportunity to view these activities at the Navy Yard from their encampment at Camp Alexander. The camp was pitched on a high bluff overlooking the eastern branch of the Potomac.
Letter 7
Camped somewhere, don’t know where Somewhere near Fairfax [Virginia] June 27th 1862
Brother Joe,
As i have got time now, I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and all the rest of the Rockport boys and I hope all of you are the same. We are all of us in one tent together. we have moved since you heard from me last. We had orders to start last Wednesday which [we] did. We started in the morning and marched with our knapsacks on, the brigade train in the rear, 20 of them with six mules each. We had a good cool day to march. We arrived here about 5 o’clock in the afternoon. We came through Alexander. We are about three miles beyond Alexandria.
There is a lot of regiments here. The 99th Pennsylvania, some Indiana Regiment and [the 10th] Rhode Island, and they keep coming all the time. There is a regiment just came. There ain’t but two houses to be seen [and] them are all riddled to pieces. Everything looks deserted out here and everybody gone. Our army has cut all the wood around as far as you can see. Large oaks [have] been cut off here. We are about twenty miles from Washington. I think they are afraid that Jackson would come around this way and try to get into Washington—that is the reason we came here.
The Bloody 69th New York is here and a lot of batteries of artillery. They are practicing here now. They have got 6 horses to a piece. They go around here like lightning, fire, then off again.
When we came through Alexandria, I saw the house where Col. Ellsworth was shot. The house was all ripped to pieces. They say the same flag is flying that he put up there. I saw Henry Robinson the other day before we left and [illegible] and McLain’s brother. They belong to the 14th Mass. Regiment. If you only had such land as there is here to clear up, you would never work on that Dennis pasture—I bet you wouldn’t—for here it is level as a house. There is not a rock to be seen and mellow loam. But anyone wouldn’t want to live here, I shouldn’t think.
We belong to a brigade now—Sturgis’s I believe. I don’t know how long we shall stop here. I expect we are leaving now. I must close. Give my love to all the folks. Tell [illegible] to be good boys. Direct your letters to Washington to be forwarded to 32nd.
From your brother, — Andrew Lane
Letter 8
Fortress Monroe Laying on board Steamer Hero awaiting orders July 2nd 1862
Dear Father,
I take ths time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope you all are the same. We had orders come last Sunday night for us to report in Alexandria on Monday and Monday morning we pitched our tents and started and marched to Alexandria—the distance about six miles. We waited there until sundown for a transport when we started for Fortress Monroe—the distance about 200 miles. We anchored in Hampton Roads at nine o’clock last night and went to the wharf this morning and [are] waiting for orders. I think we shall go to Richmond to reinforce McClellan as there is lots of regiments on the way.
Saturday and Sunday before we left, the cars was running night and day bringing troops from Harper’s Ferry to go on to Richmond. There is any quantity of steamers loaded with troops. I never began to see so many steamers and vessels and gunboats as there is here in the Roads loaded with everything. There is six lays here loaded with horses, some with cannon, some with wagons, and a great many with hay if we shall go up the James river.
I haven’t got much time to write for the mail is going off now. I will write as soon as we arrive at our destination. The officers don’t know where we shall go and we may stop off at Fort Monroe yet. We can’t tell. 1
If you write to me, direct to Washington to be forwarded to 32nd Regiment and it will come where we are. I must close now. Write to me soon. From your son, — Andrew Lane
1 “We arrived at Fort Monroe early on the 2d of July, and reported to General Dix, commanding that post. Here we heard of the seven days fighting across the Peninsula, and found the air full of exciting and contradictory rumors as to the incidents and result of the battles. Even General Dix had no precise information as to the whereabouts of General McClellan, but he knew that he wanted more men and wanted them quick, and we were directed without disembarking to proceed up the river until we found the army. Facilities were provided for cooking the necessary rations, and early in the afternoon, after receiving repeated injunctions to take 42every precaution against falling into the hands of the enemy, we weighed anchor and steamed away up the James. Our heavily-laden boat could not make the distance by daylight, and we passed the night at anchor in the river, with steam up and a large guard on duty, and with the early dawn were again underweigh, in search of the army.” [The Story of the 32nd Regiment, Massachusetts Infantry, by Francis J. Parker, Colonel]
Letter 9
Harrison’s Landing Sunday, July 6th 1862
Dear Brother Joe,
I take this time to write to you to let you know where I am. All of us Rockport boys are all well—the same as we was when we left home. I wrote hime when I was at Fort Monroe.
We landed here the 3rd of July. I tell you, it looked dark when we landed. The army was on the bank of the river. They had retreated back from Richmond to here and the rebels followed them back and was fighting. When we landed we got eighty rounds of cartridges and started up, the mud up to our knees. I never saw such a time in my life there. The men was laying dead and wounded, horses and mules laying dead, and the shells bursting around. We went up to the edge of the woods. I thought we were going right into a fight. I felt just like it. We was drawn up in line of battle at the edge of the wood and halted. Just through this woods was a large field and they took the rebel battery by a charge. They was on the retreat. That was never known to be done before. 1
We stopped there until night when we moved away to the right in the woods and there we stopped. We have been here ever since. This division we are in is the 3rd Reserve. The army and two reserves have gone on before us but I don’t know how far they have gone. There is three regiments in this division that is cut up bad—the 9th Massachusetts, and a Pennsylvania Regiment. We are laying back for them to recruit up. I wish you could see the 9th Massachusetts Regimental flag all riddled to pieces with bullets. The men are all Irish. They only had two officers left in their regiment. They say the rebels fight like the devil. They would come up and put their hands on our cannon when they was firing grape and canister into them and our fellows would put in double charges of grape and canister and mow them down like grass. They all say here that they killed 5 rebels where they killed one of ours.
You folks at home that think that a half dozen men can go through the South had better come out here and try them. They ain’t no cowards. The men say that our batteries would cut regiments down and they would close up again and come steadily on. They wouldn’t flinch a bit for the bullets, but when they come to a charge bayonet, they leave.
There is regiments arriving here all the time now. The Maine 5th was drawn up in line of battle behind us that first day we came but I didn’t have a chance to go and see them but I saw one [illegible] and Steve Parker’s and the fellows are in. He sas the boys are all right but Benson for he is wounded and expects to be taken prisoner. The Maine 5th has gone on the advance. It was cut up pretty bad.
I don’t know what to think of this retreat that McClellan has made. They say that he done it to let Burnsides and Pope come in behind them to Richmond. The fellows say that the rebels are drunk—full of whiskey and gun powder. They [illegible] full of it.
When we come up the river, I saw the Cumberland and Congress that the Merrimac sunk. The Monitor lays off here. She took a rebel gunboat yesterday. All we had to eat the first day or two was hard bread and pork. Now we get beef, bread and coffee. I don’t know how long we stay here. We pitched our tents last night. I think we shall stop here some time yet. Direct your letters to Washington D. C., 32nd Mass. Volunteers. Write to me. — Andrew Lane
We are 16 miles from Richmond now. We are close to the James River. Give my love to all the folks.
1 Col. Parker had the following to say of the regiment’s arrival at Harrison’s Landing on the James river: “At the head of the wharf a mass of men were striving to pass the guard, hoping to get away on the steamer which had brought us. Passing them, we looked for the road up which we were ordered to move “direct.” In every direction, and as far as we could see, the soil which twenty-four hours before had been covered with promising crops of almost ripened grain, was trodden into a deep clay mud,—so deep and so adhesive as, in several cases, to pull the boots and stockings from the soldiers’ feet, and so universal as to have obliterated every sign of the original road. Everywhere were swarms of men in uniform, tattered and spattered with mud, but with no perceptible organization, wading through the pasty ground. On and near the river bank were open boxes, barrels, casks, and bags of provision and forage, from which each man supplied himself without the forms of requisition, issue, or receipt. Everywhere too were mule-wagon teams struggling in the mire, and the air resounded with the oaths of the drivers, the creaking of the wagons, the voices of men shouting to each other, the bray of hungry mules, and the noise of bugle and drum calls, with an accompaniment of artillery firing on land and water. To all these were added, when we appeared, shouts, not of hearty welcome and encouragement, such as we might naturally have expected from an overtasked army to its first reinforcement, but in derision of our clean dress and exact movements—warnings of terrible things awaiting us close at hand—questions as to how our patriotism was now—not one generous cheer.
Officers and men alike joined in this unseemly behavior, and even now when we know, as we did not then, the story of the terrible days of battle through which they had passed, and the sufferings that they had patiently endured, we cannot quite forgive their unmannerly reception of a recruiting force. Through all this we succeeded in finding General Porter’s headquarters, and by his direction were guided to a position a mile or more distant, and placed in line of battle with other troops in face of a thick wood, and then learned that we were assigned to the brigade of General Charles Griffin, division of General Morell, in Fitz John Porter’s, afterward known as the Fifth army corps. As soon as we were fairly in position our Colonel sought for the brigadier. The result was not exactly what his fancy may have painted. On a small heap of tolerably clean straw he found three or four officers stretched at full length, not very clean in appearance and evidently well nigh exhausted in condition. One of them, rather more piratical looking than the others, owned that he was General Griffin, and endeavored to exhibit some interest in the addition to his command, but it was very reluctantly that he acceded to the request that he would show himself to the Regiment, in order that they might be able to recognize their brigade commander.
After a time however, the General mounted and rode to the head of our column of divisions. The Colonel ordered “attention” and the proper salute, and said: “Men, I want you to know and remember General Griffin, our Brigadier General.” Griffin’s address was perhaps the most elaborate he had ever made in public. “We’ve had a tough time men, and it is not over yet, but we have whaled them every time and can whale them again.” Our men, too well disciplined to cheer in the ranks, received the introduction and the speech, so far as was observed, in soldierly silence, but months afterward the General told that he heard a response from one man in the ranks who said, “Good God! is that fellow a general.” We all came to know him pretty well in time, and to like him too, and some of us to mourn deeply when he died of the fever in Texas, after the surrender.
The officers of our Field and Staff found in the edge of the wood just in front of the Regiment, a spot somewhat drier than the average, and occupied it, but not without opposition. A long and very muddy corporal was gently slumbering there, and on waking, recognized his disturbers by their clean apparel as new comers, and thought they might be raw. Pointing to an unexploded shell which lay near him on the ground, he calmly advised the officers not to stop there, as “a good many of them things had been dropping in all the morning.” His strategy proved unsuccessful, for he was ranked out of his comfortable quarters and told to join his regiment. After all, the day passed without an engagement, and the sound of guns gradually died away, until near evening, when the Brigade was moved about two miles away and bivouacked in a wood of holly trees, the men making beds of green corn-stalks, and going to them singing and laughing.” [The Story of the 32nd Regiment, Massachusetts Infantry, by Francis J. Parker, Colonel]
Letter 10
Harrison’s Landing July 12th 1862
Dear Father and Mother,
I take this time to write to you to let you know that I am well and was glad to hear that all of you were. I received your letter and paper yesterday and was pleased with them. We are laying back in the woods where we landed at first. We have pitched our tents at the edge of woods. It is a pleasant place, I tell you.
There is a plantation here that we are on. The night we came here the corn was up to our shoulders just as far as you could see. They turned in three thousand head of cattle into it the night we came here. I tell you they went into it good. It looked too bad to see them eat that corn. That is the drove that follows the army for them to eat and when they retreated back, they came in before the army. That is the biggest drove that I ever saw. You tell Joe that I should like for him to see them and pick him out a pair of steers for there are some of the best looking cattle I ever saw in my life. They have ate the corn all up and they have moved them over across the street into another corn field.
A recruiting poster for the 32nd Massachusetts Infantry in mid-1862
I don’t think it is so hot here as it is at home. We haven’t done the first thing since we have been here yet but I think we shall move soon. We are back as a reserve. The advance troops are out three or four miles beyond us. They are building forts and entrenchments and I think we shall have to go out and help them. The 5th Maine Regiment is out there. I and [Sylvanus B.] Babson, 1 [Joseph] Sewall, and Pickney went up there the other day to see the boys. We saw [Otis] Wallace & [Charles M.] Coburn and some more fellows. They was glad to see us. [Stephen] Perkins is taken prisoner [or] shot—they don’t know which, for he went out after his knapsack after the regiment had fallen back [and] they never saw him since. Scraper left his regiment before the fight commenced. They haven’t seen him. I saw a sergeant in his company. He says he hopes he never will come back. He thinks he has deserted.
Yesterday Otis [Wallace] and Coburn & Thomas was over here to our camp all day. It rained a little. They look just the same as ever. Some of our boys are gone out after some hogs. We saw four or five over the other side of the plantation and they went into the woods and they have gone to shoot them. Bane is gone with them. I don’t know whether they will get them or not. If they do, we shall have some fresh pork.
I like it out here tip top. It was a hard sight the first day we landed to see the stragglers down at the landing. I should think there was 10,000 that had lost their regiments. The mud was up to our knees and they was laying about in that—dead, wounded, and tired. I thought we was going right into a fight for the rebels threw shells over where we were. Killed horses but they took [their] battery in a short time after that.
Continued [sheet]
I don’t think there will be any more fighting until cool weather and they get more troops here. I think that Burnsides and Pope will get in the rear of them. Fort Darling is about 15 miles up the river from here and they say the gunboats are going to shell them out—that there is a slew of them here. I saw the Monitor that day we landed. The talk is here that they are drafting. I hope they will. That will bring them out. You tell Ivory not to think of going to war for if he knows when he is well off, to stay at home. I suppose if they draft, you and he will hope to stand a draft. But if you are drafted, don’t you come. I didn’t know but if they drafted that Ivory would be for coming in someone’s place for the rebels are careless. They will fire right at anyone’s face.
Old Abe & McClellan was here the other day reviewing the army. It was about 10 o’clock at night when he went by us. They cheered him good. It was so dark that we could not see him very well.
If you could only see the horses and mules there is here, I think your eyes would stick out some. I don’t see any grass out here. All wheat & corn. Fields of wheat that you can’t see the ends of them. I think you are right into the haying now. I heard some time ago that the grass was winter killed bad.
When we came up the James river, we saw the Congress and Cumberland that the Merrimac sunk. Their masts was out of the water.
Tell Ive [Ivory] mind not get cut by that machine when he is mowing. Tell Susan to be a [good] girl. How is Old Fide. He alive yet? Tell John to spread swaths. Write soon. — Andrew Lane
1 Sylvanus Brown Babson was 21 years old when he enlisted on 22 November 1861 as a private in Co. D, 32nd Massachusetts Infantry. He was promoted to sergeant in 1863 and was killed in action at Laurel Hill, Virginia, on 10 May 1864. He was one of the “Rockport Boys.”Babson was the son of Isaac & Mary (Whitman) Babson. He was married to Lucretia N. Sargent on 26 January 1864.
Letter 11
Harrison’s Landing August 2nd 1862
Dear Parents,
I received your letter and two papers last night and was glad to hear that you was well. I am well and all the rest of the Rockport boys. I wrote a letter to you the other day stating that I and [Sylvanus B.] Babson was detailed for extra guard and we are there yet but expect to come up the first of the week. We went up to camp yesterday and signed the pay rolls and was paid off with two months pay.
We had quite an exciting time night before last. Just after 12 o’clock, the rebels opened fire upon us with shot and shell came where we was fast and [I] think they had a crossfire upon us. And as we was right on the bank [of the James River] and they was on the other bank, both about the same height, and all the army stores & provisions was there, I think they tried to destroy it. 1 We had five tents pitched on the edge of the bank. I and Vane had a shelter tent made of our rubber blankets a little one side from the rest. We was both asleep. The first thing I knew was that I heard something go over us—sounded like a rocket when it starts. I gave Vane a pull and out we went. And they was a coming right along, I tell you. Some of the fellows ran one way and some the other but there was a gang of us laid down flat in a little hollow place. Some went about ten feet beyond, some went into the bank behind. Some burst right over our heads. I expected every moment to get one in the back of the neck. There was four fellows that had been fishing come along close by us and stopped. One says to the other, “This is a dangerous place.” They started to come and lay down where we was [and had] just started when a 12 lb. shot struck where they left, sent the dirt all over us. Then the gunboats opened fire upon them and some siege guns that our folks had planted on the bank. But our fellows soon got the range of them and they left. They fired at us I should [think] an hour. It did not hurt any of our fellows. It killed one fellow a short distance from us. Cut him in two. They shelled the camp away back. There was one shot went through two tents up in our camp but did not hurt anyone.
The boys picked up 4 shots in the morning around our camp. They killed and wounded about twenty men—mostly Pennsylvania and New York men. They killed and wounded eight or ten horses.
Yesterday afternoon about 2,000 troops went across the river and burned eight houses and some small barns. They set them just before dark. They burned most of the night. They came back about 12 at night. This morning they have gone over again. They are cutting away the woods in front of the plantation and have gone away back in ythe woods a scouting. I don’t know how they will make out for they say that there is 40,000 or 50,000 troops above here across the river.
Oh, that night there was seven of our gunboats drawn up ready for the young Merrimac and ram as they was seen up the river. Some think that the firing was to draw the gunboats down but they did not come as there was two already down.
The way I look at it, I think we are pretty well bagged for they [are] in front and behind and all around. If they don’t do something soon, we shall have to cut our way out or surrender up. I call this war a real humbug. It is all a money-making business for the officers but the privates has to take it. I don’t blame the boys for not enlisting. If they knew as much as I do now, they wouldn’t. I pity professor if [he] comes out here where he can’t get a lunch and get only 4 small hard bread and a piece of pork. You tell them to come as an officer and then they can have anything they want—green corn and good hot loaves even. You folks don’t have no idea of this war. I pity Calvin Pool if he goes in the ranks. If a man is sick here, they don’t mind anything about him. I want to see all the men we can have out here and put this thing through and go home, but I wouldn’t enlist if I was at home and knew as much as I do now if they gave me five hundred dollars bounty. You may think by this that I am pretty sick of it. The thing of it is they don’t try to put it stop.
You said something about a box. If you have sent one, write how you sent it and how directed too. They send everything here by Adams Express. Write soon and tell me about it. Write all the news. — Andrew Lane
I enclose a twenty dollar note in this letter. You can use it if you want it or put it in the bank. Give my love to all the folks. Here is a little shiner for sister—one dollar. Tell her that is better than a nigger.
1 Most likely Andrew was detailed as a guard at the quartermaster stores on the banks of the James River. According to the regimental history, “eighty men and three officers were at one time serving as guards over the quartermaster’s stores, on the river bank. It was while they were there, that enterprising John Reb. brought some field pieces down to Coggins’ Point, just opposite to us on the James, and opened fire about midnight, first upon the shipping in the river, and afterward upon our camps. Two of the officers of our detached party, after the freshness of the alarm had passed, were sitting in their shelter tent with their feet to the foe, watching as they would any pyrotechnic display, the flash of the guns, and the curves described by the burning fuses, when one of the guns was turned and discharged, as it seemed, directly at our friends, who, dodging at the same moment, struck their heads together and fell, each under the impression that the enemy’s shell had struck him.
It was on this occasion that Colonel Sawtelle, the officer in charge of the transportation—our quartermaster said he was the only regular officer within his experience who could do his duty and be civil too—emerged from his tent at the sound 53of firing and stood upon the bank gazing silently and sorrowfully upon his defenceless fleet, among which the shells were exploding merrily. Soon his silence broke into a shout to his superior, “Look here Ingalls, if this thing isn’t stopped pretty quick, the A. P. is a busted concern.” In the regimental camp a half mile away, the shelling did no serious damage, but produced some commotion. One of the officers complained that every time that he got comfortably settled for sleep, a shell would knock the pillow out from under his head; in emulation of which story, a sailor in D Company declared that he slept through the whole affair, but in the morning counted twenty-three solid shot piled up against his back, that hit but had not waked him.” [The Story of the 32nd Regiment, Massachusetts Infantry, by Francis J. Parker, Colonel]
Letter 12
Near Arlington Heights September 3, 1862
Dear Parents,
As we have stopped marching this morning and have got our mail once more, I will try and write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and I was glad to hear that you were. Now I have began, I don’t know what to write.
Anyway, it looks good to see Washington once more for we can see the Capitol all plain from where we are now. I should think it was about 6 miles off. I think we shall stop here for awhile and get rested and recruited up as General Porter rode through our lines this morning and they cheered him. He says now, “Boys, you are going to have a good rest,” so I think by that we are going to lay by for a spell and let them 300,000 take a turn. Porter’s Corps is pretty well used up. Some of the regiments can’t muster only 2 or three hundred men. His Corps done most of the fighting on that retreat from Richmond and it is pretty well used up.
There was fifty men in our company this morning. We haven’t got nary officer. Our lieutenant was taken sick the other day and has gone to Alexandria. A lieutenant from Co. G has got charge of us now. All of our Rockport boys stand it tip top and are well.
I suppose you hear and read and know more about [more] things than I can tell you for I can’t hear nothing. Haven’t seen a paper for twenty-two days since we left Harrison’s Landing and we have been going ever since. For a week past, we have been trying to catch Jackson but haven’t yet and don’t think we will either. He is a smart one. We haven’t had much of a brush with him but some of them has by what I have seen and I don’t think our folks got any the best of him by the loads of wounded that I see them hauling off the battlefield. Our whole army was after him. We have been all through Bull Run and everywhere else. We expected to attack him every day. We kept in the woods so we couldn’t keep the track of him. He would fight one day here, then that night he would start. The next day you would expect to have a great battle [and] the first thing we would hear, he has attacked somebody else 15 or 20 miles ahead. [Then] away we would go there [and] when we got there, [it would be] all over and don’t know where he is. So that is the way that they have kept us a going night and day, rain & shine. I tell you what, it is rough.
I haven’t seen a Southerner left on a plantation on the whole march—all niggers. Every [man] is in the Southern army, I expect. I thought I used to be tired sometimes when I was at home, but I wasn’t. I tell you what, let a fellow get a good soaking, then march 13 or 20 miles over this country. He won’t feel very nice. If men should live to home as we do out here, not much to eat, and nothing part of the time, hard bread and water the rest, then lay down in a puddle of water to sleep when you you could get a chance [and that wasn’t very often. For all that, I haven’t had cold feet first rate but I expect better times now. I hope that they will close this thing up pretty soon. Oh, if you could only see the property that has been destroyed in this war—cars blown up, engine stove up, provision strewn around.
Our new companies are down to Alexandria. They are coming up to join us now. They have found out where we are as one of the captains has been here. We haven’t had a chance to shoot our small guns at the rebs but we came pretty near if we had been nigh. We laid on a hill and the rebs was down across a hollow in the edge of the woods. They seen us on the hill and they put the shot and shell into us until Griffin’s Battery—the one that we was supporting—opened on them. There was a squad of graybacks showed themselves out of the woods when our battery put some shell among them. They left quick, you better believe. They killed 4 out of our brigade and wounded several but none of our regiment. But the regiment on the right of ours. They have took some of our regiment prisoners what couldn’t keep up. All I can say is that we have been lucky. There is plenty of new recruits in these forts here but they belong to New Jersey.
The letter I got from you was dated August 24. I couldn’t have wrote today if I hadn’t got this paper. I will write as often as I can but I don’t expect that will be very often. Some of us will manage to keep you posted. I must close now so goodbye. I feel tired. I expect to have some sleep.
— A. Lane
Letter 13
[Beginning of letter is missing. It was written probably sometime during the last full week of September 1862 following the Battle of Antietam.]
…these new fellows are sick of it already. I was talking with some of the 20th Maine that came just as we left Washington. He said if he had his bounty with him, he would burn it up. I told him he would have a chance to spend his bounty—that is all the satisfaction they get out of us. That shuts them up. We tell them they are paid for it and they have got to do the fighting.
Calvin Pool don’t look so slick as the first time I saw him at Arlington Heights. N. Burnham looks tough as any of them. You say you expect they will draft. I hope they will. I hope they will draft Young Allen Smith and Charley Pool and some others I know of.
How is the second crop and apples? You didn’t say anything about them. How is Ivory? Is he warrish? How did George & Charles get clear from going? You tell them boys at home if they knew when they are taking comfort, they are now at home. Out here you don’t know where you are or where you are going or what you are going to have to eat, nor where you are going to lay at night. Turned out nights at all times. Get your sleep when you can and when you lay down to sleep, you can’t sleep much on the hard ground. You have to do our own cooking. I have got a quart dipper that I do all my cooking in—make coffe, boil potatoes, squash meat, beans.
The 5th Maine was in that fight Sunday night back at Middletown but Otis and them boys come out all right. I don’t know whether they was in the big fight back at Sharpsburg or not. I haven’t found out. I expect they was.
Bane and Sewall went on picket last night [and] haven’t come off yet. All the Rockport Boys are well. Our company is small now. All we have got is 54 now. They are all strewn about sick. Capt. Draper has resigned and gone home. Lieut. Rich has command of the company now.
Tell Mother that she needn’t worry about me if she don’t hear from me for some time for we are marching about so much that there ain’t no chance to write and if there was, there [ain’t] no chance to send it. I will write as often as I can. I should think some of you would write as often as every Sunday. I get a letter about once a month.
We have just drawn some fresh beef. I am going to have some for supper. I wish I had a piece of your short cake too. I must close now. Give my love to all the folks. Write soon. We have got three months pay due. — A. Lane
Letter 14
Warrenton, Virginia November 15, 1862
Dear Parents,
I write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and the rest of the boys are [too]. Since I wrote to you last, we have been on a march. We left Sharpsburg the 30th October. We came here last Sunday. Have been here a week. When we was at White Plains, we had a snowstorm. Since we have been here, we have been reviewed by McClellan and by Porter. Burnside [now] has command of the Army and Hooker has the Corps that Porter used to. So we are in Hooker’s Corps now. We are waiting here for clothes. The cars run here to Warrenton.
I received your letter & paper and the other bundle yesterday. I was glad of them. I don’t think we shall be paid off until January for I see by the papers that there ain’t no money in the Treasury. We haven’t seen anything of the rebs this time. The advance had a little skirmish with them at Snicker’s Gap. We held that Gap two days, They say the rebs are at Culpeper. I don’t know where we are a going. Some think we shall go to Richmond but I don’t know nor anybody else.
I must close now for the mail is going out now. I guess you had better send some money. Give my love to all the folks. From your son, — Andrew Lane
Letter 15
Camp of Potomac Creek about 5 miles from Fredericksburg, Va. November 28, 1862
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope you all are the same. Yesterday was Thanksgiving—the driest one I ever saw. We have been laying here a week now and our supply train hasn’t got up with us until last night so all we have had for six days was 14 hard bread. The day before Thanksgiving we had a half cracker dealt out to us. So I turned out Thanksgiving morning with nothing to eat. All we had the day before a half hard bread so I didn’t have no breakfast. So we waited [and] expected it would be here every moment but dinner time came—nothing to eat. The regiment was almost starved. You could hear the regiments holler “Hardtack!” all around but there wasn’t any to be had. So just at supper time the train came up. We had 15 given us apiece and some fresh meat and coffee. So we made out to have some supper. That was the hungriest I ever was in my life. All we had was one day’s grub in six.
I and [Joseph] Wingood is in one tent together. He had money but couldn’t buy anything. There is a large army here with us. We ain’t reserve now. We are in the 3rd Army Corps in the middle so if there is any fighting to be done now, we shall have to go in. As we have got Hooker for a leader and he is a fighting man, I feel tip top. I have got [as] good health as I ever had and look as well, so they tell me, but there is a great many sick. There was a fellow in our company died last night—Henry Pew, Jr. of Gloucester—with the chronic diarrhea. It is pretty tough laying around on the frosty ground. There is two fellows over here from the 35th Regiment—one of them I know [named] Sol Grimes. He says they lay about two miles from here. Wingood has gone over to see Burnham and the rest of the boys.
I received your bundle last night and was very glad of it. In two days more, we shall have 5 months pay due us. One year ago yesterday I enlisted. I hope they will settle this thing up so I shall be free once more. You won’t catch me into another scrape like this, I’ll bet you. I thought when I enlisted it would be settled up before this time, but I can’t see any prospect of its closing now.
Our mail has just come and one of our fellows has just handed me three letters. I am glad to hear that you are all well. We have had heavy rains here. The roads are hub deep with mud but yesterday was as pleasant a day as I ever saw. We are close to Aquia Creek where we landed when we came from Harrison’s Landing. We have traveled this road over three times. All the Rockport Boys are well. Give my love to all the folks. Write often. Accept this, — A. Lane, Jr.
They have just got the cars running from Aquia Creek now.
Letter 16
[Note: At some point in time, someone attempted to darken the ink of the handwriting and actually made it slightly more difficult to decipher the words and names. Contains a description of the Battle of Fredericksburg.]
Camped in our old camp about 3 miles from Fredericksburg December 19th 1862
Brother Leverett,
I received your letter last night and was glad to hear from you. We are all well. We have been in a tough old fight, I tell tell. But the Rockport boys come out all safe. We did not have any killed in our company. We had five men wounded. Our regiment went up on the charge bayonet. The rebels are on a hill entrenched and they can’t be drove out very easy as there is a clear field in front of them for half mile that we had to cross. 1
Our army had to fall back. We stayed in Fredericksburg two nights. It was directed we fell back in the night to this side of the river. Then we was ordered to our old camp. We just got in when we was ordered to go on picket. We have been on picket two days. Come off last night. I haven’t had a chance to write before since the fight and haven’t got much [time] now. I will give you the details some other time about the battle when I have more time. 2
There ain’t any snow here now. It is good weather. You must break Fanny in this winter in the sleigh.
We have build us a log hut that we live in out here. I wish you could see us. I see John Knowlton that day we went on picket. He is loafing about here. I expect you had pretty good times down East last fall. What is Ivory doing? I don’t hear anything about him. Tell him I want him to write and tell me the news. I see all the Rockport boys in the 55th Regiment last Thanksgiving Day. They was over to our camp. They looked tip top then. They was in this fight and I haven’t heard how they come out. Scraper [?] said that Crofert [?] Holbrook was wounded. Bane [?] just told me that he was over there yesterday afternoon and the Rockport boys—part of them—was left behind on guard.
You ask father to inquire of the expressman if there is any sight to get a box out here. If there is, to send me one. I want a pair of boots & some shirts. Our sutler has got boots but he asks $8 dollars for them. I heard that boxes were put through now. If that is so, I want one. I want some sugar & tea and something to eat. The mail is going so I must close now. — A. Lane
1 From the regimental history: “We recall the terrific accession to the roar of battle with which the enemy welcomed each brigade before us as it left the cover of the cut, and with which at last it welcomed us. We remember the rush across that open field where, in ten minutes, every tenth man was killed or wounded, and where Marshall Davis, carrying the flag, was, for those minutes, the fastest traveller in the line; and the Colonel wondering, calls to mind the fact that he saw men in the midst of the severest fire, stoop to pick the leaves of cabbages as they swept along. We remember how, coming up with the 62d Pennsylvania of our brigade, their ammunition exhausted and the men lying flat on the earth for protection, our men, proudly disdaining cover, stood every man erect and with steady file-firing kept the rebels down behind the cover of their stone wall, and held the position until nightfall. And it was a pleasant consequence to this that the men of the gallant 62d, who had before been almost foes, were ever after our fast friends. Night closed upon a bloody field. A battle of which there seems to have been no plan, had been fought with no strategic result. The line of the rebel infantry at the stone wall in our front was precisely where it was in the morning. We were not forty yards from it, shielded only by a slight roll of the land from the fire of their riflemen, and so close to their batteries on the higher land that the guns could not be depressed to bear on us. At night our pickets were within ten yards of the enemy. Here we passed the night, sleeping, if at all, in the mud, and literally on our arms. Happily for all, and especially for the wounded, the night was warm. In the night our supply of ammunition was replenished, and toward morning orders were received not to recommence the action.”
2 The 32nd Massachusetts was brigaded with the 4th Michigan Infantry and a few years ago I helped my friend George Wilkinson create a website entitled, Crossing Hell on a Wooden Bridge to showcase his large collection of 4th Michigan letters and diaries. One of the letters in this collection written by the Major of the 4th Michigan describes the movement of the battalion at the Battle of Fredericksburg in which both the 4th Michigan and 32nd Massachusetts were a part:
“About 1 p.m. the order came for our division to fall in. In a few minutes we were ready. Our regiment led — Lieut. Col. G. W. Lombard commanding — and in less time than I can write it, we were on our way. We hastily crossed the bridge, while our batteries on the hills this side of the river, threw shot and shell over our heads that screamed through the air like so many demons. But on we pressed, following our gallant leader, until we reached the main street running parallel with the enemy’s front. As we turned from this down the street leading to the front, their artillery — previously planted — opened upon us, and it seemed as though we were to be annihilated there. But it was of no use, on we went, following our brave Colonel (J. B. Sweitzer, as brave a man and officer as ever drew a blade or pulled a trigger), commanding our brigade, and our gallant Lieut. Colonel following closely upon him, with sword waving high over his head, cheering us forward.
But the brave 4th, taking a double quick and with a cheer, rushed forward with the spirit and enthusiasm which they only can do, hardly needing the encouragements which their officers gave them. Close behind came the brave and heroic 9th Massachusetts, and they followed by the 32nd Massachusetts, while the brave New York 14th, commanded by Lieut. Col. Davis — and for the last 18 months we have fought beside — brought up the rear. To march down those streets was like walking into the jaws of death. Shot, shell and bullets came crashing through our ranks, but not a man flinched but pressed forward, eager to get to the front where they might revenge themselves upon the enemy. We filed to the right around an old brick yard and proceeded to the extreme right, where we unslung our knapsacks and everything else that might impede our progress. And then, filling our canteens from a brook that was running near, we lay on our faces to escape the storm of lead that was hurled against us.
After resting for a few minutes, our colonel asked permission of our brigade commander to advance, but he wanted us to wait a few minutes. He asked him three times and the last time, in going to him, one of the 118th Pennsylvania, thinking he was going to leave us, drew his piece to shoot him. But before he had time to think, the soldier was seized by a squad of our men, disarmed, and I fear would have suffered for his folly only for the interference of our officers.. The order was then given to load. Every ball was rammed carefully home, guns capped, and we stood ready for the order forward.
About this time, General Humphrey led in his division in person accompanied by his entire staff, and bravely did they advance while the brave fellows fell by scores in almost every rod of the road. The sight was horrible and one I hope I may never see again. But — brave fellows — on they marched, bearing their breasts to the leaden hail that was poured into them. We moved our brigade to the left again and on the center. In a few minutes, all being ready, our brave Sweitzer, accompanied by his aids, Lieut. Cunningham, Plunket and Yates — as brave young officers as the world ever saw, and all [of] them mounted — rode to our front. The brigade lay at the feet of a small hill but not low enough to protect them, unless by lying down. We had to rise this little ascent, then cross an open space, but slightly ascending for some 25 or 50 rods. Then there was a small mound, as such as one as they build their fences on in Virginia, and the enemy some 30 rods from that protected by a strong stone wall, while the hills beyond were covered by their cannon. This open space the rebels swept with shot, shell, and cannister, while the musketry seemed almost to sweep everything before it.
As Col. Sweitzer rode to our front, and saw the energy and determination that was depicted on the countenances of his brave command, he took off his cap and waving it high above his head, in his clear and distinct voice, gave the command, “2nd brigade, forward — double quick — march.” With a cheer, we started — the brigade commander taking the lead. As we reached the crest of the hill, the leaden and iron hail was awful, and many a brave man fell. But quickly closing up our broken ranks, we marched into that terrible fire, and in a few minutes reached the little mound earth — fell behind it upon our faces — to escape the terrible fire we were exposed to. Our officers were everywhere, where their duty called them, and encouraged everyone by their own example. In a short time we were ordered to relieve the regiment on our front. As they fell back, our men took their places, and we opened fire on the enemy. And the men were ordered to keep down as much as they could. But as they became more and more excited they would get up and take deliberate aim as though they were shooting squirrel.
I was acting as Lieutenant Colonel, and had charge of the right wing. Captain Jeffords, of Company C, was acting Major, and had the left wing, while our brave and gallant Lieutenant Colonel had the center, commanding the whole. I cannot speak too highly of him — this being his first effort in taking the regiment into battle under his immediate command. But by his cool bravery and heroic bearing, he won the admiration of all — both officers and men — and the 4th need have no fears while under his command. He had established a name as a military man that will always follow him. And Captain Jeffords, although young in years, the prospect before him, if his life is spared, will be the envy of men older in military science and arts of war than he is. He is all we can wish for. Brave to a fault — cool in battle, he too is one of our favorites and the one that the boys will stick to.
The line officers all were heroes. Captains French, Hall, Lamson, Parsons, McLean, and Loveland. Lieut. Allen, commanding company G; Lieuts. Robinson, Gilbert, Vreeland, Gruner, Theil, Bancroft, and Rogers — all were everywhere where duty called them and acted nobly. But what shall I say of our lamented Adjutant, James Clark. But lately promoted to a Lieutenancy in the regiment and Adjutant of the regiment in full, and this being the first engagement he had been in as a commissioned officer, he was everywhere present, and by his cheerful voice encouraging his comrades on. He was the personification of heroic daring and cool bravery. After the action became general he came up on the right to company D of which he used to be a member, and smiling to his comrades and associates, says, “Boys keep your front ranks filled,” Sergeant Chester Comstock was between him and me. One of the boys told him to keep down, or so he would be hit. The words were hardly out of his mouth when a musket ball struck poor Jimmy on the third button of his overcoat, glanced to the left and went directly through him. He fell over toward where I was lying, and with a smile upon his countenance, he yielded up his young life without a struggle or a groan. I detailed four men from Company D to carry him to the rear, and put a guard over him, to protect his body from the robbers that follow in the wake of an army for no other purpose that to pillage the dead. Brave boy, although dead to us, your memory will live in our breasts. Kind and affectionate, to all, and by his gentlemanly ways he had won the respect and admiration of the whole regiment. I wish I had the pen to write his eulogy, but it is written in the hearts of all who knew him.
And what shall I say of Fred Wildt? He too, was instantly killed — shot nearly in the same place that poor Jimmy was. He was First Corporal in Company D, and one of the best and neatest soldiers in the regiment, ever ready to do his duty, which was always done cheerfully and willingly, and one who kept the neatest and cleanest equipments in the company. Brave boy! He too, has yielded up his young life upon his country’s altar. He too was carried to the rear and today Fred Wildt and James Clark lie side by side in Fredericksburg. Captain J. W. Hall, with the company and Chaplain of the regiment, Rev. Mr. Seage, buried them on a pretty little knoll in separate coffins, making their graves with a carved head board in order to find them again if necessary. Sleep on, brave soldiers and comrades, and while we who are left to fight our battles will revenge your death, sad hearts will be at home. Fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters will mourn your loss. But it will be consoling to them to know that they died brave and facing the enemy. How will this end? Am I not to lose all these brave and patriotic young men of Ann Arbor who left with me one year ago last May? I hope not. But it seems as though fate was against me. John Fisher was slightly wounded, but will be around in a short time. These are all the casualties in Company D. All the rest are here and well. I wish I could make mention of all this company, but suffice it to say they all did bravely. At last, night closed the scene, and the tired hosts of either army laid down and slept almost within hearing distance. The living laid down with the dead, and thus they slept. All night long could the groans of the poor wounded and dying soldiers be heard, as he wore the weary hours away in pain. One poor fellow belonging to 28th New Jersey was shot through both hips, and his groans for help were heart-rending. Our orders were to hold the position at all hazards. We were almost entirely out of ammunition, but about 12 or 1 a.m., that came, and we filled up anew, so as to be ready in the morning to renew the contest.
Sunday morning at last dawned upon us. The rebels during the night had dug some pits for their sharp-shooters, and if one of our men showed his head a dozen bullets would be after him. And thus they lay all the Sabbath, targets for each others sharpshooters. On that evening the regiment was relieved and fell back to the city, where they remained until about 3 a.m. on Monday, when the Division recrossed the river, being the last of the Grand Army of the Potomac to leave Fredericksburg….” — Major John Randolph, 4th Michigan, December 17, 1862.
Letter 17
Same old camp 1 January 3rd 1863
Dear Parents,
I received your letters and paper last night and was glad to hear from home. I am well and so are the Rockport boys. We have just had a hard march. The orders came in camp Tuesday noon for us to have three days rations and be ready to march in an hour’s time. So we packed up and got our rations and started. We couldn’t imagine where we were a going as the army was not on the move—only two of our brigades. One other division was with us. We started on the road leading to Warrenton. We marched until 10 that night when we halted for the night in the field, having marched 20 miles since 1 o’clock. It rained and the roads were muddy and bad. As it was my misfortune, I had to go on guard so I did not get any sleep. We were not allowed to kindle any fire. We had to go without our coffee.
We started at daylight and advanced 10 miles to Morristown without seeing the enemy as as part of our party had took another road and come here and had seen nothing, we were ordered back. It now being 12 o’clock and we being 30 miles from camp, we started. It began to snow and we thought we were going to have a storm. We reached our old camp at 7 o’clock having traveled 30 miles in 7 hours—the most we ever done, but we were pretty well used up when we got there.
Col. George L. Prescott—a “Bully man.” (Heritage Auctions)
Our Colonel [Francis Parker] has resigned and gone home. The Lieut. Colonel [George L. Prescott] has command and a bully man he is too. He says, “Now boys, I want you all to try and get in camp tonight for I am going to muster you for pay in the morning and you shall have your whiskey after you get in,” and he done all he agreed to. There was some of the boys gave out [and] he let them ride his horse and he carried their gun for them. That is more the Colonel ever done.
The object of our expedition was to capture Stewart’s Cavalry as they say about 20,000 had crossed a ford but as we did not see anything of them, I guess they had recrossed again. And as we was out, I heard that they had made a dash to Alexandria and captured two of our regiment and killed a lot of our cavalry and captured a lot of our wagon train enroute for Centreville.
You wanted that I should state how bad I was off. I ain’t very bad off. I have got 2 shirts. Them I have on. The shirts that we draw are those white cotton shirts. The shoes are poor for they [are] nothing [but] old rags.
1 “After the disastrous attempt upon the heights of Fredericksburg, the Regiment had remained in their old camping-ground near Stoneman’s Switch, in the neighborhood of Falmouth.Excepting the reconnoissance to Morrisville and skirmish there, with that terrible march on the return when our brigadier, Schweitzer, led his “greyhounds,” as he termed them, at such a terrific pace for twenty-five or thirty miles, nothing occurred to break the monotony of camp life. The night of the 31st December, 1862—that of the march above alluded to—was extremely cold, and the men, in light marching order, without knapsacks or necessary blankets, compelled to fall out from inability to keep the pace, suffered terribly from exposure, and many lost their lives in consequence.” [The Story of the 32nd Regiment, Massachusetts Infantry, by Francis J. Parker, Colonel]
Letter 18
[Contains a good description of Burnside’s Mud March]
Camped in our old camp January 25, 1863
Dear Parents,
I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I received your letter last week stating that there was a box about to start. I haven’t received it yet.
We had marching orders last Friday but did not start until Tuesday. We left camp Tuesday afternoon and marched about a mile and a half and camped for the night. It came up a rain storm. Rained all night. The next morning we started with mud over our shoes. We marched about 4 miles then camped and there we stayed until last night. We came back to our old camp. It has stormed all the time we have been gone.
We was to try a flank movement but Burnsides got stuck in the mud. Our brigade and others left our guns and went to work and cut trees and logged the road all the way so as to get our artillery back for they was stuck. They had to have 12 horses on a piece. We carried all the fences that the farmers had to make roads of. You would laugh to see them march a brigade up to a fence, then charge on every man with a rail on his back. I tell you, they take down the fences. It ain’t no use to tell about moving for they can’t.
Yesterday we signed the pay rolls for 4 months pay [to be] paid off tomorrow, I expect. The fellows say that there is a lot of boxes down to the depot. We shall get them soon. I didn’t take no peace on this last march thinking about them boots going over my shoes every step. When we got back, somebody had carried our house off and we have got to go to work and make another. I am on Police today. Been cutting wood for the officers. I expect today is Sunday but I shouldn’t know as it was.
I should like to see J. Graham just now. I expect he will be here today or tomorrow. The Rockford boys are well and anxious for their boxes. I must close now for they are after me to work. I will write again soon as I get the box. Accept this from your son, — Andrew Lane
Letter 19
Camped in old camp January 28, [1863]
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. Mr. Marshall arrived here on Monday afternoon but his boxes were down to Falmouth but he went up to our headquarters and saw our Major and he started a six mule team off after them and they came about dark. We was building our house that afternoon so we just got her up that night in time. I gave him an invitation to stop with me which he accepted. He stopped here until about 9 o’clock when he and Cobson went over the the 35th. We was paid off Sunday night. Four months pay [or] 32 dollars, so we had a good chance to send it home by him. He took money for most everyone in our company. I had a fifty dollar bill so I gave him that to take home so if I get out, I shall send home.
I opened the box and found everything good in it and enough of it. I tried on the boots. They fit tip top. Yesterday I went down to the brook and had a good wash. Then stripped off my old shirts and socks, drawers, and put on new ones from head to foot. I feel like a new fellow. I think I shall gain a streak off of this box. That kettle is just the thing. When you nailed the box up, you drove a nail and it went through the side but I can stop that I guess.
You tell Susan that I tried her cake first one. It went good. Her molasses drops I haven’t tried yet. You return my thanks and best wishes to Mrs. Henigher for her cake. The same to Mrs. Smith for her cake and tea. I had a pot of her tea last night for supper. It was very nice. Tell Aunt Margret that the fish halibut is the best I ever tasted. Everything in th box was nice and just what I wanted. To mother and Susan, tell them they shall have a new dress when I get home and I expect to one of these days if nothing happens. It rained all night last night. It is snowing now today so it is nasty enough around here.
Oh, them stockings knocks all. I put on that long legged pair and they feel like stockings. My legs use to feel cold with them short legs on and no pants on. I guess I can stand it now.
We can’t move very soon now for it is storming and the mud is up to our ankles anywhere here. They say here that we are going to shift camp ground nearer to wood. I hope not now we have got our house built. There ain’t but two of us in it now. Yesterday Wingood went off on provist Guard over to General Griffin. If they like him over there and he does his duty, he won’t come back to the regiment again. It is a good berth—don’t have to go into any fights & get used better than we do. All they have to do is to go out on patrol twice a day and pick up stragglers that is out of camp. He is got a good place. I must close now.
So goodbye, — Andrew Lane
Letter 20
Camp near Falmouth, Virginia February 14, 1863
Dear Parents,
I received your welcome letter tonight and was glad to hear that you were all well. I am well and the rest of the boys are the same. There is two hundred men detailed out of each regiment in our brigade. They went last Monday. They have gone, as I understand, about fifteen miles from here to a place called U. S. Ford. They [say] that our pontoons was left out there when we got stuck in the mud and they are building a road to get them back. I have been to work over to Gen. Switzer’s Headquarters building him a log house and a stable. He is home on a furlough and is going to bring out his wife when he comes back.
I don’t know what to think about our staying here. The Army is all leaving here. The 9th Corps has gone. I see a train start today loaded going down to Aquia Creek to take transports. They were ordered to report at Fort Monroe. They have been going now for ten days. The 33rd [Mass.] left about a week ago. Sigel’s Corps is going too. I think that they will all but this center division and they will either stop here and hold this place, or evacuate itor go nigher Washington. This thing is kept still for I don’t see anything about it in the papers. They are going up the Peninsula or to North Carolina. It is hard telling wher they are going to but time will tell.
Our Colonel is home on a furlough. They grant furloughs to privates [now]. There is one gone from our company to Gloucester. His name is James Murphy. He stops at Barnard Stanwoods when he is at home. There was two out of our company discharged the other day—Isaac Manwood and Carliss Stanwood [who] lives at Rockport. I heard that the high school gave an exhibition and tableaux. One of the tableaux was the boys in the 32nd Regiment receiving their boxes, some of them eating apples, one with a piece of salt fish, another trying on his boots. I should like to see the performance.
I heard that Ivory was down on the long beach hauling seaweed. He thought that was tougher than it was standing guard out here. Tell him I would like to swap with and let him try and see when it rains. He has somewhere to to go for shelter but out here he would find none. He would have to stand it wet or cold and lay down in the water that would come up to his hips.
There was five fellows came and joined the company [who have] been off sick. I don’t know those fellows that you told of in your letter. The weather out here is fine—warm for winter. The fellow in the tent with me had a ox come this week and has another on the way. I received a letter from Leverett last night which I will answer soon. I wish you had the oak timber that has been cut out here for fire.
Last Sunday I had them beans bakes for breakfast. They was nice. I baked them in the fireplace. They feed us better now [that] Hooker is in command than they used to. My rations of candles is about burnt out so I must close. Write often. Write all the news. From your son, — Andrew Lane
Letter 21
Camped near Falmouth, Virginia March 7th [1863]
Dear Parents,
I received your welcome letter yesterday and was glad to hear that you was well as I am and the rest of the boys are. Capt. Rich came back last night. I haven’t seen him yet to speak to him. Our brigade has been on picket this week. They came in yesterday. I didn’t go for I was on guard over to General Headquarters the morning they went. I don’t know of any news to write. The furloughs of this regiment is stopped for the present. Our Colonel is under arrest for breaking his furlough. So is the Major. A captain has command now. They say this regiment is disgraced and I think it is.
I received a letter last night from George Simpson. He says the folks are all well. He says that they are going to draft down there. He says that the won’t stand it. He says there will be war at home. All the folks say so. Some of these folks would look pretty [sorry] if we had to be called home to put down a war. I am glad that law has passed. It serves them all right. I want to see everybody come and whip this thing out. There ain’t no use in keeping us out here three years. I want to see this thing put through. Then go home. I hope that some of them fellows I know of in Rockport will have to come. They have been blowing long enough. Let them come out and try it. I hear that they can’t hire no substitutes. They have to come themselves. It is raining here today. That fellow that is in the tent with me—his name is Charles Parsons. He belongs to Manchester. He is about my age. He has a carpenter’s trade. He is a pretty good boy. We was mustered the first of the month for pay but I don’t think we shall be paid very soon. If we don’t, I shall want a little money.
Tell sister I have eat them molasses drops. They were very nice. Tell her to be a good girl and keep the the dishes clean. It is all dull times here now. I don’t know of anything to write now. I will try and write more next time. I must close now and get ready for inspection. So goodbye. Write soon. From your son, — Andrew Lane
Letter 22
Camp near Falmouth, Virginia April 10, 1863
Dear Parents,
I received your welcome letter and was glad to hear that you were all well as I am, as usual, and the rest of the boys. I expect [Sylvanus B.] Babson will be home on a furlough soon for he had a letter come stating that his mother was sick and his furlough has been sent into Hooker’s [headquarters].
We was reviewed last Wednesday [8th] by Father Abraham and staff, his wife, and two sons were there. His sons were about the same as Frank and John. They rode a pony. They looked nice. The biggest one had a cavalry suit on. His wife was in a carriage with four horses on it with a company of lancers for guard. It was the best review I ever was on. He had acres of staff and guard with him. Them are regular government suckers. Old Abe looks rather poor. He don’t look as well as he did at Harrison’s Landing. He looks pale now. 1
The weather is pleasant and the roads are getting dry. I expect every day when we will move but I don’t see anything that looks like it yet. Where we went on review, we could look over to Fredericksburg [and] could see the rebel camps, enough of them, and could see their fires in the woods.
Solomon Pool was over here to see me about three weeks ago. He looks about the same as ever. He says he is third sergeant and is on the staff of the 1st Army Corps General but I don’t believe it the same time for he didn’t look so to me for he didn’t have hist stripes on and he wasn’t dressed up enough to be on a General’s staff for they have to look pretty well. Besides he had an old plug for a horse. Stephen Perkins and Henry Ferrel that used to drive team for Preston was over here to see [me] the other day from the 5th Maine. They are in camp at Belle Plains about ten miles from here.
We haven’t been paid off yet and I don’t know when we shall be. The last of this month we shall have six months due.
You stated in your letter that if I would like to get acquainted [with] Underhill and E. Young [but] I don’t know of any New Hampshire Battery about here. If he ain’t in this Corps, I shouldn’t be no more likely to see him for this army covers a great many miles. It is about like me being in Rockport and he is in Essex. We don’t have no chance to go about for there is a Provost Guard that picks up all who is out of camp. This army has cut 33 square miles of heavy oak wood since they have come in this camp. We have cut and burnt some of the handsomest White Oak timber as ever grew. If it was in Massachusetts, it would be as good as gold.
That likeness of sister’s looks natural. I think she has grown tall since I came away from home. If we are here when we get paid off, I think I shall have mine taken as there is a place about a mile from here where they take them.
I don’t think I ever was do heavy as I am now in my life. I think I would weigh about 180 now. I don’t know of any news to write so I will close now. I want you to write often and tell me all the news. — Andrew Lane
Accept this.
1 Noah Brooks, journalist for a Washington paper wrote that President Lincoln reviewed “some sixty thousand men,” representing four infantry corps. Brooks accompanied Lincoln’s party, and recalled, “[I]t was a splendid sight to witness their grand martial array as they wound over hills and rolling ground, coming from miles around . . . The President expressed himself as delighted with the appearance of the soldiery . . . It was noticeable that the President merely touched his hat in return salute to the officers, but uncovered to the men in the ranks.”[The Lincoln Log]
Letter 23
In camp near Falmouth [Virginia] April 10, 1863
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope this will find you the same. We drew eight days rations the 14th and would have moved but yesterday it rained all day and night as hard as I ever saw it but it is a pleasant day to day. I expect we shall be on the move in a few days now. There was 15,000 cavalry went out the 4th and they was reinforced by 20,000 from Washington. Where they have gone, I don’t know, but I expect they will make a raid somewhere.
We was paid off today with four months pay and I am going to send fifteen dollars in this letter and some more at some other time for I am afraid to risk too much in one letter. I don’t know of any news to write.
Sol[omon Pool] was over to see me the other day again. I saw a letter he had from his father. By that letter he is not doing much in his store. He is on the move. He wants to come out here. He wants to know the price of pork out here for he had 20 barrels on hand. He wanted to know the price of apples and the price of land. There is land enough here but God only knows who owns it for there ain’t nobody lives here. And pork, the U. S. buys by thousands so he wouldn’t do much with pork here for this country is full of wild hogs. You can’t get along the roads for them. He had better stay at home. He thought he could set up a shop outside the lines. If he done that, Johnny Reb would grab him quick. These fellows at home have curious ideas about the army out here. They have no idea at all. Our pickets g oout 4 miles in the woods away from camp on picket.
I don’t think [Sylvanus B.] Babson will get [a furlough] now as we are about to move. My candle is getting low and I must close now. I want you to write often [even] if I don’t, for I don’t expect I shall have much chance when we move. Accept this from your son, — Andrew
Letter 24
Camp near Falmouth [Virginia] April 19, [1863]
Dear Parents,
I am well and we haven’t started yet. I heard last night that our cavalry took 3,000 prisoners yesterday at Gordonsville. I don’t know whether it is true or not. I enclose fifteen dollars more in this letter. You send me some post[age] stamps when you write for we can’t get any here.
There is nothing new to write so I will close. Accept this.
— Andrew Lane
Letter 25
In camp near Falmouth [Virginia] April 25 [1863]
Dear Parents,
I received your letter today and was glad to hear from you and to hear that the folks are all well as I am and the rest of the boys are. We haven’t started yet. It has stormed now for three days. Today is pleasant. The peach and cherry trees are in blossom here. We have just received orders to go on picket in the morning for three days. I hope we shan’t have so hard a time as we did before. There is one hundred and fifty cases of the small pox in our division in the 3rd Brigade in the 20th Maine Regiment. They have moved the regiments away from the brigade. 1
I heard there was five or six in our brigade in the 4th Michigan Regiment but I don’t know whether it is true or not. The 20th Maine did lay about as far from our brigade as from our house to David Smith’s. They have moved them about as far as it would be from our house to John Groves.
We have got to carry 380 men on picket and that will take about every man. Our company has got 42 men left. We are color company now. I haven’t heard anything more about them prisoners. I guess there wasn’t anything in that report. The cavalry is out yet. They haven’t come in yet. I don’t know any news to write.
Our Lieut. Colonel has command again. Our Colonel is under arrest yet. He ain’t allowed outside the limits of the regiment. Rather tough for him. I must close now for the drum has beat for taps—that is, put out lights at nine o’clock.
— Andrew Lane
1 “In the spring of 1863, members of the 20th Maine Volunteer Infantry were vaccinated against smallpox while serving with the Army of the Potomac near Fredericksburg, Virginia. Something went terribly wrong, and dozens of solders in the unit came down with a virulent form of the deadly disease.” The regiment was unable to participate in the Battle of Chancellorsville in April-May 1863, due to a quarantine prompted by a tainted smallpox vaccine that had been issued to the unit’s soldiers.To read more on The 20th Maine’s Quarantine Experience with Smallpox, readers are referred to an article posted on the National Museum of Civil War Medicine on 17 April 2020.
Letter 26
[After the battle of Chancellorsville, the whole army retired to its old position about Stafford Court House and Falmouth, on the Rappahannock, opposite the City of Fredericksburg. The 32d Massachusetts was detailed to guard duty along the railroad from Acquia Creek; half of the command under Lieutenant-Colonel Stephenson being posted at or near the redoubts on Potomac Creek, guarding the bridge; the remainder, or right wing, under Colonel Prescott, posted south of Stoneman’s Switch.]
In camp on Potomac Creek May 21 [1863]
Dear Parents,
As I have time to spare this morning, I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you all the same. I haven’t received any letter from you since before we started that time across the [Rappahannock] river. Since I wrote last, our regiment has been detached from the brigade and is now guarding the railroad between Stoneman’s Switch and Potomac Creek Bridge. It is a good place if we can only stay here this summer and I think we shall be likely to as there has got to e somebody stay.
Our regiment relieved the 35th New York Volunteers. They went home yesterday, their time being out. The 2nd Maine went yesterday. The talk is here that our Corps is going to do guard duty around Washington and Baltimore as our Corps is very small. The most of our Corps has gone home. There was all of one division (the 2nd) all 9-month’s men. They have gone—all but two regiments—and there are quite a number of regiments gone from our division. They have got to do something with it as there ain’t 10,000 men left in it out of the 40,000 there used to be. There is a great many men leaving this army—2 year’s men and 9-month’s. I think they will draft before long.
We live tip top down here. We have got those big wall tents and stoves to cook with. If we can stay here through the summer, I shall have some hopes. The 35th has been here ever since the Army came here [and] haven’t moved.
Sol was over yesterday to see me. He has been sick for about a week back.
All the Rockport boys are well. [Sylvanus Brown] Babson has been promoted sergeant. The weather is warm and pleasant here now. Our company is on guard today—24 men, 3 corporals, 1 sergeant. It didn’t take me. Our company has to go on guard once in five days. I don’t know of any news to write so I will close now. Write often. Accept this from — Andrew
Letter 27
In camp on Potomac Creek May 23 [1863]
Dear Parents,
I improve this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and was glad to hear that you all are well. I received your letter and papers night before last and I was glad to hear from home.
I was on guard last night. We are fixing up nice here, setting out trees around our camp. It use to be think pines here but the Army cut it off last winter. The cut the stumps high out this way. They don’t bend much when they shop here. While we was gone out this time, it caught a fire and burnt all over.
You stated in your letter that [brother] Ivory had gone to Amesbury to work in a mill. I should think that was a poor place for him in a mill. He will be sick again, be all stuffed up and have the tissick [dry cough]. I should think you would want him to help you this summer. What was his notion of going over there? Is there anybody over there that he knows or went with him? What pay does he get?
You told about throwing away knapsacks. If I only had all the blankets and overcoats that was threw away, I shouldn’t want to be worth any more money. Overcoats cost 9 or 10 dollars apiece. The roads was full of them. Some of the old farmers would yoke up a pair of bulls and follow us up until they got a wagon load of blankets. I expect after this every Reb will have one of our coats on. I didn’t throw away my coat but I did my blanket.
I don’t know of anything new to write. I should like to have a pair of gingham shorts. Write often. Write all the news. From your son, — Andrew Lane
Letter 28
[“On Thursday afternoon, May 29th, orders were received to break camp and move to Barnett’s Ford. The left wing moved promptly, but the right wing, owing to the temporary absence of Colonel Prescott, did not march until after nightfall…At Hartwood Church the two wings of the Regiment were again united, and moved on the following day past Barnett’s to Kemper’s Ford. Mrs. Kemper and her daughter were the only inmates of their mansion, Mr. Kemper being “away,” which meant in the rebel army, and of the swarms of servants which no doubt once made the quarters lively, there remained only two or three small girls and an idiot man. Our stay here was one of the bright spots of army experience. The location was delightful and the duty light. We had a detail on guard at the ford and pickets along the river bank; opposite to us on the other shore, and within talking distance, were the rebel pickets, but no shots were exchanged, and all was peaceful and quiet. We had extended to the family such protection as common courtesy demanded, and when we were about to leave, a few of the officers called to say good-bye, and found the ladies distressed and in tears on account of our departure, or the dread of what might come afterwards. They told us that ours was the first Massachusetts regiment that had been stationed there; that they had been taught to believe that Massachusetts men were vile and wicked; “but,” said one of them, “we have received from no other soldiers such unvarying courtesy and consideration; we have discovered our mistake, and shall know how to defend them from such aspersions in the future.” Promising in reply to their urgency that, if taken prisoners and if possible, we would 162communicate with them, we took our leave, with the impression that it was well to treat even our enemies with kindness.”—The Story of the 32nd Regiment, Massachusetts Infantry, by Francis J. Parker, Colonel.]
Camped at Kemper’s Ford June 1, [1863]
Dear Parents,
I improve this time to write you a few lines to let you know where I am. I am well and hope those few lines will find you the same. Our railroad guard played out quick. We was there ten days. Just got things fixed up so as to live when we had to move. Our division was ordered to picket the Rappahannock from Falmouth to the Rappahannock Station that is near Warrenton. The 9th [Massachusetts] is at Barnett’s Ford, the 62nd Pennsylvania Regiment & 4th Michigan is at Kelly’s Ford. 1 Our regiment has to picket about three miles along the river. The river ain’t very wide here. The rebel pickets on the other side—cavalry—came here the day before yesterday and I went on picket as soon as we arrived. I came off last night. The rebs didn’t know what to make of our coming. I guess they thought we were going to cross for they flew around and doubled the posts. Everything is all quiet as yet. We don’t shoot nor they don’t.
The morning I went on [guard], the next post to me after they was posted, the rebs called out for them to come down close to the river and have a chat. Said they wouldn’t shoot. They asked our fellows if they had any papers to exchange with them. They asked what the news was and what regiment. They said they belonged to the 2nd South Carolina Cavalry. In some places our posts are as near as from our barn to the gate. Can throw a stone across easy.
The reason we had to leave the railroad was because our division is so small. They had to have all the men. The 91st Pennsylvania relieved us. It is all the regiments there was left in our 2nd Division in our [Fifth] Corps now—ours and the Regulars, and theirs is small for there is a great many that has served their five years and they have been in about every fight. They haven’t been recruited any.
I am sorry we left the railroad for I was in hopes to stay there this summer. But it is hard telling. You will be in one place one day and somewhere else the next. I think we shall stop here some time if we don’t get drove off. I think Hooker is a little afraid of their crossing and attacking him.
I must close now as the mail is going soon. Write soon. write all the news. How is the mill doing now? Has it paid out anything since I came away? Our orderly sergeant is dead. He died the 11th of the month.
The Rockport boys are all well. Accept this from your son, — Andrew Lane
1 For a good article on The Fords of the Rappahannock, readers are referred to an excellent article by my friend, Clark B. Hallpublished by the American Battlefield Trust.
Letter 29
In camp at Aldie, Virginia June 25 [1863]
Dear Parents,
As I haven’t wrote for so long, I now write you a few lines to let you know where we are. We haven’t had a mail or had a mail go for ten days. Our [Fifth] Corps is here supporting the cavalry. We was up to the front in that cavalry fight and drove the rebs through the Gap. I don’t know where the rest of the army is. We are about 25 miles from Centreville [and] about the same from Harper’s Ferry. We held Manassas Junction Gap 3 days, went through Bull Run to Centreville, then here.
We have evacuated the Rappahannock. We have had a tough time of it coming here. There was a good many men sunstroke. Our regiment has just come off picket tonight and they say there is a mail going at 9 o’clock so I write these few lines. I must close now. Write soon. Accept this from your son, — Andrew Lane
All the Rockport Boys are well.
Letter 30
[“On the 29th of June 1863, the 32nd Massachusetts Infantry, now under the command of Lieutenant Colonel George Prescott, was ordered to Gettysburg, where they finally arrived on July 2nd after a three-day march. Despite the long trek, the unit felt fairly rested, as marching eleven miles a day was a relaxing stroll compared to the thirty miles that many regiments were often forced to travel on a forced march. As they approached Gettysburg, the 32nd would have heard panicked rumors about Lee’s latest breech into Union territory, and then heard the distant echo of cannon, followed by the solemn reports about the first day of battle. July 1st had been extremely challenging for the Union. Despite inflicting heavy casualties on the attacking Confederates, the Union army had taken a severe blow on the ridges west of town and had been pushed completely out of Gettysburg and onto the hills south of the borough. Hearing the news of the costly July 1st fight, the Massachusetts men would have felt the high stakes of the impending day’s battle and the significance that any role they might play in it would carry: Should Lee secure a major victory on northern soil, northern morale and political support for the war would surely plummet. Furthermore, if Lee were able to break through the Union lines at Gettysburg, there was no other Union army to block a potential Confederate march on Washington. [Charles] Appleton [od Co. G] and his comrades understood that they may be joining the only force that stood a chance of stopping Lee’s army from marching straight to the northern capital, and the 32nd needed to be ready to help halt them at all costs.
On July 2nd, Lee sought to attack the Union’s left flank, anchored at Little Round Top, simultaneously with an attack on the Union right flank, on Culp’s Hill. From there, he hoped to roll up the Union line and oust the Federals from their commanding defensive position atop Cemetery Hill. Just prior to the attack on Little Round Top, General Daniel Sickles had, without orders, decided to advance his 3rd Corps from its original position atop Little Round Top out onto what he considered the more easily defensible (yet far more exposed) ridgeline along the now famed Peach Orchard. In doing so, he had stretched his lines so thin that he created a gap in the Union left flank. Confederates under General James Longstreet threatened to exploit this gap and punch through the Union line. As one of the more rested Union regiments, the 32nd, along with the rest of Lt. Col. Jacob Sweitzer’s brigade of Barnes’s division, was called upon to plug that critical hole in the Union left along a “stony ridge” bordering George Rose’s Wheatfield around three o’clock in the afternoon. Accompanying them was none other than their old rivals-turned-friends, the 62nd Pennsylvania.
The Pennsylvanians’ familiar presence likely provided comfort and a needed morale boost to the 32nd as they faced off in what would be some of the most brutal fighting of the day. As the Confederates began their attack late that afternoon, the 32nd advanced into the Wheatfield, where they received a staggering blow from the 2nd, 3rd, and 8th South Carolina regiments under Major General Joseph Kershaw, which felled large chunks of the 32nd’s line within mere minutes. However, not long after this first blow, the Union line to the right of the 32nd, made up of the 62nd Pennsylvania and the 4th Michigan, began to crumble and retreat. Fearing that they would be cut off from the main Union line if they did not retreat from the overwhelming Confederate tide, these soldiers felt they had no choice. However, their retreat left the 32nd essentially abandoned by its fellow comrades. Panicked and pressured by the heavy small-arms fire of Kershaw’s approaching forces, the 32nd began to turn and fall back. According to the regimental logs, an unnamed Lieutenant Colonel saw the 32nd starting to flee and ordered the men to stand their ground. An officer’s orders had to be followed: Disobeying could result in public shaming and a court martial, or punishments ranging from a brand on clothing to execution, in rare cases. Despite the charging column of Confederates closing in in the lone Massachusetts men, the regiment dutifully reformed and marched back into the bloodied Wheatfield to counter the Confederate attack.
The unsupported Massachusetts men suffered their heaviest casualties of the war in the four hours of fighting in the Wheatfield. The blood of friends and foe spattered across the wheat, now flattened by repeated advances and retreats from both sides. Bodies of friends and comrades co-mingled together, littering the ground around the regiment, and the pitiful cries of the wounded were only drowned out by the incessant rifle fire and roar of the cannon as the Wheatfield changed hands six times during the battle. At 8 o’clock that evening, the 32nd mercifully received an official order by General Sykes to retreat behind Little Round Top. As the bloodied Massachusetts men caught their breath and began to account for friends and comrades, they discovered a shocking 81 men killed, wounded, or missing–more than a third of the regiment’s 227 men with whom they entered into the battle.” —From Charles Appleton, Company G, 32nd Massachusetts Infantry, Killed at Gettysburg, the final footsteps of Gettysburg’s fallen.]
Map of the fight in the Wheatfield by Col. Jacob B. Sweitzer’s 2nd Brigade of the 1st Division, Fifth Corps, Army of the Potomac, on 2 July 1862.2nd Lt. William Patterson f the 62nd Pennsylvania remembered that just before the fighting commenced, the Wheatfield was “covered with the plumage of waving grain, ready for the harvest, and when twilight gathered over its surface the ripening stalks were trampled into the earth and dyed with the blood of the blue and the gray, and when the light of the moon cast rays over this gory plain, it revealed scores of the pale, upturned faces.” [See Civil War Times, August 2021]
Camped at Middletown, Maryland July 9th 1863
Dear Parents,
As I have a few moments to spare this morning, I improve it by writing a few lines to you to let you know that I am alive. I received your letter & papers last night. I suppose you see by the papers that we have had a hard battle at Gettysburg. We fought the 2nd of July. Our regiment went in the fight with 252 men and lost about 100. We had 90 killed and wounded. 1 We got flanked by a brigade of [South Carolina & Georgia] rebels. There wasn’t but 3 regiments of our brigade in [the fight]. The 9th Massachusetts was detailed away on the right to act as skirmishers. They never lost any men. The 4th Michigan hasn’t got but 90 muskets now. They lost their colors and so did the 62nd Pennsylvania lose one of their colors. Our regiment is the only one that brought out their colors.
William H. Wentworth of Co. K, 32nd Massachusetts. (Michael R. Cunningham Collection)
I tell you, the bullets flew like rain in front and behind for we was flanked. They came up so nigh that I could strike them with my musket. The men fell like grass. Our company was lucky. We only had one wounded. Company G carried in 18 and lost 12 out of the 18.
We had a hard forced march. The rebels retreated and we are following them up. There will be a big fight at Antietam, I think. We are about 20 miles from there. We lost a great many men as well as the rebels. I haven’t got much time to write as I expect to start soon. You need not send them shirts if you have not. All the Rockport Boys are well. They say that Vicksburg is gone up.
After we get through of this, I will write all the particulars about the battles.
Accept this, — Andrew Lane
George Hale Nichols (1843-1864) was a college student when the Civil War erupted. He planned to follow his family members into a career as an educator. Nichols mustered into Co. K, 32nd MA Infy. He was taken prisoner at Gettysburg on July 2 and died of disease as a POW in Richmond, VA on 27 March 1864. (Michael R. Cunningham Collection)
1 Official post-battle figures state that 78 out of 227 officers in the 32nd Massachusetts were killed or wounded in the Battle of Gettysburg.Sweitzer’s Brigade officially lost about 30% of its strength (427 out of 1423) but one regiment, the 9th Massachusetts, was only lightly engaged in skirmish duty near Wolf’s Hill, while the other regiments were caught in the maelstrom of the Wheatfield.See also—Stumbling Across Civil War History-Part 2.
Letter 31
In camp near Warrenton [Virginia] July 28, 1863
Dear Parents,
As I have time this morning, I improve it by writing a few lines to you to let you know where we are. I am well but about played out after the march we have had. We have been marching now for the last 60 days. We have marched 600 miles in that time and the boys are ragged and about used up. All the Rockport boys are well.
We are in camp about two miles beyond Warrenton. We came here yestrday about noon and have pitched our tents. The whole army is in camp around here. The 1st Corps is at Warrenton Junction. The 8th Massachusetts was with them. We crossed the river at Berlin on a pontoon. We have been following the Blue Ridge along.
The other day we went into the mountains at Manassas Gap. It is ten miles through the Gap and the hardest road I ever saw. We had to climb hills, then go through sloughs. The rebels held the Gap. The 3rd Corps was in the advance of ours. They met the rebels about 3 o’clock and began the ball when our Corps came up behind and formed in line of battle and advanced up to the 3rd Corps and formed on their right. The 3rd Corps kept driving the rebs. When they opened on our fellows with a battery, we advanced into a piece of woods for about a mile but could not find any rebs. The 3rd Corps drove them through the Gap and as far as Front Royal so our Corps did not get engaged. We was out of rations and had to go back. From there we came here. How long we shall stay here, I don’t know.
We are getting clothes today. We received a mail this morning—the first we have had for a long time. We haven’t had any go before this. I received your letter and was glad to hear from home. Joseph Sewall left us last Wednesday to go home for to get conscripts for our regiment. Our Major, one Captain, one Sergeant, and 8 men went from our regiment. I think he will have a chance to come home.
About that letter, I wrote that letter at Middletown, Maryland. Just as I had finished, we had orders to pack up and start. Just as we was leaving the field I saw a little ragged boy standing by the barn. I gave it to him and told him to post it. There was a stamp on it when I gave it to him. He must have pulled it off. I didn’t much expect he would put it in.
I pity them conscripts if they come in this army. Half of them will die before winter if they march them. These months are the hottest part of the year out here. We may stop here some time yet and recruit up and have them conscripts join. We want about five hundred in our regiment to make our complement of men. I received them stamps in the other letter and this. Write soon and tell us the news. Accept this. — Andrew Lane
Letter 32
Camped near Beverly Ford 1 August 27, 1863
Dear Parents,
Having a few leisure moments to spare, I thought I would improve them by writing a few lines to you to let you know that I am well as usual and am getting fat.
We are having pretty easy times of it now. There is a great many sick in the regiment at present. They seem to break our with sores—the scurvy some say it is. Our company is in good health. We haven’t any sick in our camp. Our Colonel has gone home on a sick furlough. Capt. Cunningham is in command of the regiment. Company C come back to the regiment yesterday. They have been gone ten months on detached service. I am glad they had to come back for they have had an easy time of it. They haven’t been in any fights. 2
There was five men to be shot yesterday in our division in the 3rd Brigade. They dug their graves yesterday morning. They was to be shot between the hours of twelve and four in the presence of the division. They are to be hot close to our camp. They have prolonged their time until Saturday. They came out as substitutes in the 118th Pennsylvania Regiment [and] then deserted. It will serve them right if they can’t take a joke. There was 200 came out for the 12th Massachusetts [and] they have all deserted but about fifty. So you see thy have got to do something to stop such things. They are a damn sight more plague than they are good for it takes all of the regiment to guard them. I hope we shan’t have any if they are like them. The conscripts are good enough but the substitutes are the worse. 3
The execution of five deserters in the 5th Corps, sketch by A. R. Waud
I received your letters and papers last Sunday and was glad to hear that you was all well. That handkerchief was just what I wanted as I didn’t have any. You wanted me to try and get a furlough. There ain’t no such thing as getting a furlough now. Furloughs are played out. There are men here sick—just alive—and [they] can’t get home. I don’t see how you get along withIvory and Leverett both gone. I suppose Frank is big enough to go to market this summer.
There is good news from Charleston. We get papers every day from Washington so we get the latest news. The cars runs within two miles of our camp. How do you direct a letter to Ivory? If I knew, I would write to him. How does John Knight like soldiering down South? There was talk here about our going to Charleston but I don’t think there is anything in it. How does the Dennis Pasture shell out this fall?
I don’t know any news to write. All quiet on the Rappahannock. Write soon and tell us all the news. — Andrew
1 The camp at Beverly Ford was described by Sergt. Spalding in a letter home as the cosiest he ever saw: “Our camp is in a forest of young pines, planted since our arrival. It looks beautifully, especially in the evening. I went out a little way from our camp last evening to take a bird’s-eye view of it. How cosy it looked with the lights from our tallow candles glimmering through the trees from nearly every tent, which seemed almost buried in the green foliage that surrounded it. Our camp is laid out in streets, one for each company. At the head of each street is the captain’s tent, which is surrounded by an artificial evergreen hedge with an arched entrance, with some device in evergreen wrought into or suspended from the arch—as, for instance, Company K has a Maltese Cross (our corps badge). Company I, of Charlestown, has the Bunker Hill Monument. Company D, of Gloucester (fishermen), has an anchor, &c., &c. But our tented cities, be they ever so comfortable and attractive, are short-lived. We build them up to-day and pull them down to-morrow. We may be quietly enjoying our quarters to-day, and to-morrow be twenty-five miles away. Such is a soldier’s life.” [The Story of the 32nd Regiment, Massachusetts Infantry, by Francis J. Parker, Colonel]
2 Company C (Captain Fuller) had been detailed since 12 October 1862 to serve as a guard to the reserve artillery. They were detached from the regiment for ten months!
3 The new recruits from the City of Philadelphia filling the depleted ranks of the 118th Pennsylvania included 109 drafted men and substitutes. They left Philadelphia on 22 July 1863 and 50 of them deserted before they could even get them to the regiment at Beverly’s Ford. “Because desertion undermined the discipline of soldiers and military authority, army commanders decided to set an example to potential deserters and chose soldiers of foreign birth to do so. These men could not defend themselves and there was little sympathy for them. For this reason, five immigrants, men who could barely speak English, were court-martialed, convicted, and executed for desertion in August 1863. These men were George Kuhne, 22, of Hanover; John Folaney, 26, of Italy; Charles Walter, 28, of Prussia; Gion Rionese, 20, of Italy; and Emil Lai, 30, of Prussia.” (See Civil War Immigrant Executions)
Letter 33
On picket near Cedar Mountain Sunday, September 20, 1863
Dear Parents,
I received your welcome letters last night and was glad to hear that you was all well as I am.
Since I last wrote, we have advanced across the Rappahannock and are now camped about two miles beyond Culpeper and the Rapidan. The rebels are fortifying the other side of the Rapidan. The rebels have been fooling us having a strong picket on the Rappahannock. Gen. Meade sent out a reconnoissance of cavalry and the 2nd Corps and they skirmished to Culpeper and didn’t find a heavy force. When the whole army advanced, they left the railroad in good order so the cars followed us up.
Sol Pool was over to see me at the other camp. He said that the cavalry had orders to start the next morning so he was in the reconnoissance. The 1st Maine Cavalry boys [are] out in front of [us] now doing picket to the river.
Here where we are on picket is a house—a real nice place in a grove of oaks. He has got a farm of 600 acres, so the old nigger says that is here. They deserted the house before we came here. There is furniture in and bedding in the house. Our fellows have got nine cane seat chairs out in the fields sitting around and beds. They have tore everything all to pieces. I tell you, we are living high out here. There [is] apples, corn, cabbage, beets, squash, potatoes, watermelons, sweet potatoes out here. That’s what we had yesterday for dinner.
The boys tear houses down to get boards to build tents of. This man had about twenty slaves. He carried them off with him to Richmond. He left two old servants and one old man. Letters that we found show that he has got five sons in the reb army—one a Major [and] he was killed at Gettysburg. Two that is Colonels and one a quartermaster.
We came through Culpeper. There was nobody there. The stores was all cleaned out and houses all deserted. I don’t know whether we shall advance and have a big fight or not. It kindy looks as though we are going to stop here for awhile as we have got a good position. The army is up and down the river fifteen miles long.
I will close now as I don’t know nothing new to write. From, Andrew
Letter 34
Camp of 32nd [Massachusetts] Near Brandy Station [November 1863]
Dear Parents,
I have neglected writing before now because we have been on the move most all the time. We came here last night. We have been doing picket duty the other side of the river about ten days. We joined the Corps last night. We crossed at Kelly’s Ford. We lay in the woods between Kelly’s Ford and Brandy Station. The other two divisions of our Corps that has been laying here have laid up and made houses. It looks like winter quarters but I don’t see it yet. I think Old Meade is going to make a forward movement across the Rapidan toward Richmond. We have been carrying eight days rations this fall. Supposed to have them on hand all the time. The other day they didn’t issue rations—for three days they went. Every time the General went by they would all cry out, “Hard tack!” That made them mad so they gave us a hard tack drill.
They inspected us last night and found out the men didn’t have any rations. They are going to give us eight days more. The government thinks the men has rations enough but they don’t. You’ll see in the papers that the army draws potatoes. The last time we drew, we drew one potato to a man, two spoons of beans, 1 spoon full of molasses, and two of rice. I call that hell of a mess—not one thing or the other. Somebody is making money out of this war. No wonder it lasts. Thank God I haven’t got but one year more to serve. I guess I shall live through it if I don’t get shot. I am well and the rest of the boys.
That fight that we had at Rappahannock Station, we was there but not engaged. Our Corps was on the left of the 6th. They were engaged. We advanced in line of battle across a plain field. They shelled us. I saw two shells burst in the 18th Massachusetts—killed and wounded some. The shell just went over our heads. We moved to the left under cover of the woods.
We expect to be paid off now every day two months pay.
When we get in a place where I think we shall stop, I think I shall send for a box. Have a pair of shirts & drawers and a pair of boots if I don’t get them before. I shall buy a pair of the sutlers if they bring any and they suit. I received your letter last night and was pleased to get it. I begin to think you had forgot me altogether.
I suppose you though the same of me but tell the truth, I had no paper nor envelopes nor there wasn’t any in the company, nor none to be had. There ain’t been no sutlers in the army since we retreated from Culpeper. They have got the railroad in running order again. The Rebs tore up the track, burnt the sleepers, and carried off the [?] so our fellows had to lay a new track.
Excuse this. From your son, — Andrew
Letter 35
[Contains a good, albeit brief, description of the Mine Run Campaign.]
Camp near Bealeton Station, [Virginia] December 13, 1863
Dear Parents,
As I have a few leisure moments to spare, I thought I would improve them by writing a few lines to you to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you all the same.
Since you heard from me last we have been on a hard march. We didn’t have much fighting. The rebels took up a position on a range of hills and fortified themselves. We was ordered three times to charge them and take the hills. The last time we moved to the right with the intention of flanking them but they found out that there was a large brook between them and us that was from three to six feet deep and it was a very cold day and water would freeze the moment it struck. We didn’t have to go and we was glad we didn’t. If we had went, what of us hadn’t got killed would have froze to death. It was a hard look to see them cannon looking at us in the face.
We are back across the Rappahannock all safe once more. We have gone into winter quarters. We have got a stavin house built. We are doing picket duty along the railroad now. I think I could have a box come. I think I should get it. I want a pair of shirts. I don’t want any under shirt. A pair of drawers, socks, a pair of good, thick calf boots with an extra top, No. 9. Put in a pail with some butter, some tea & sugar. We ain’t been paid off yet and I don’t know when we shall be.
I think we shall stop here if nothing happens this winter. Send the box by Express and get a bill of it. I haven’t anything new to write so I must close. Excuse this. From, Andrew
Letter 36
Camp of 32nd Regiment Bealeton Station [Virginia] December 25 [1863]
Dear Parents,
I now take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I received your letter last night and was pleased to hear that you were all well.
Today is Christmas and I have just come off of picket and there is quite excitement here in camp about reenlisting. If the regiment can get two-thirds of the men for duty to reenlist, they are to go home as a regiment for thirty days furlough. Our company has to get thirty in order to go. They have got 26 so far and I think they will get the other four and the regiment will go home soon. The old men & conscripts that don’t reenlist are to be transferred to some other regiment or form a battalion here. The most of our old company have reenlisted. Of the Rockwood Boys, E. Pickering, W. Pickering & J. Wingood [have] but I can’t see the reenlisting although it may be a good thing as we have got about 11 months more to serve and in all probability this next summer will be hard fighting and we shall have more men and I think they will settle it up. You see if I don’t reenlist, I have got to go through just as much as they and get nothing for it. And if the war was settled, then they would have 11 hundred dollars where I get nothing. But to serve three years more—there ain’t money enough coined to hire me to. I don’t think I shall reenlist. I think I shall run my chance to come home next fall whether I get anything or not.
Those fellows that enlist—if they enlist and serve three years, their pay and bounties will amount to over two thousand dollars. That is more than a man can make at home. But then he is got to suffer for it. Babson will be here Sunday night. I don’t know what he will do. Henry Dennis Jr. wrote to me and told me if I reenlisted too late from Rockford, he would give me ten dollars out of his own pocket. I wrote him back and told him we had no idea of enlisting. It is tough on us. I don’t know what is best.
I expect you will hear of our company being in Gloucester in a few weeks but I don’t think I will be with them. Write soon and let me know what Father [thinks[. I will do what you think best.
— Andrew
Letter 37
Camp of the 32nd Regiment Bealeton, Virginia January 5, 1864
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you all the same. I received the first box last night and was much pleased. Everything was in good order. The boots fit well. They are just what I wanted. They all say that have seen them that they are the best pair they have seen since they have been in the army. I have got a new suit this morning from head to foot. Now I shall lay back and take comfort. There is about two inches of snow here now and looks like more.
There was twenty-eight of our company mustered yesterday for three years more. I couldn’t see it—-the three years. All the old ones that is here have reenlisted but seven. There is nearly three hundred reenlisted in the regiment and are coming home on a furlough soon. I don’t think there will be any sight for me to come home this winter as the furloughs are stopped. Only those who enlist can go. If there is any sight to come, I shall. If not, 11 months will soon slip away.
Of the Rockport Boys enlisted, there is J. Wingood and the Perkings—that is all. It is hard. I should like to go home with the company but I can’t reenlist. I and Babson are all the Rockport [Boys] that are here that haven’t enlisted. It is too late now to…. [rest of letter missing]
Letter 38
In camp near Bealeton Station [Virginia] January 26, 1864
Dear Mother,
I received your welcome letter today and was glad to hear that you all was well as I am am are are getting fat—weight 180 now. I suppose you would feel bad to see the company and not see me with them but I can’t help it. I don’t feel like reenlisting for three years more and what is more, I shan’t. I did not come for money and now I shan’t reenlist for money. I have made up my mind to stay the rest of my time and then if I am alive, I shall return home. If this don’t last but 90 days, I am glad of it. Then I shall get home the sooner, but those that reenlist will have to stay. Mother, if I had any thoughts of reenlisting, I would been one of the first to put my name down. I would not reenlist now anyhow now that the company has gone home.
If them fellows get the bounty and get home as soon as I do, all right. Mother, I don’t want you to think you are to blame for my not enlisting. You are not. I expect they will have a good time at [home] but when they come back, the will feel blue.
It don’t make any odds to me whether they stay to home to recruit or not, I shan’t come. I expect to join the company when it gets back. If I get killed before my time is out, all right. If not, I shall come home to stay. Secretary Seward don’t know any more about this war than I do. I have seen enough of this paper talk about the rebs giving up but I can’t see it yet.
I have done what I think best. I want you to keep up good courage. This summer will soon slip away. From your son, — Andrew
Letter 39
In camp near Bealeton, Va. February 28, 1864
Dear Parents,
I now improve this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I received your letter & papers last night and was pleased to hear that you were all well. The order came last night for our Corps to have three days rations and be ready to start this morning. It is ten o’clock now and they haven’t started yet. The orders are to be ready at a moment’s notice. I don’t have any idea where we are a going.
I am here on cattle guard yet. All the rest of the fellows have gone back to the regiment that was detailed when I was and the old fellows [veterans] have come back but that corporal and he is not coming back so I think I shall stop now. I like it here. We don’t have much to do. We kill twice a week now, seven cattle at a time, and those don’t take us but an hour. It is a good place for anyone to practice. It cuts the hide all the same.
The regiment came back last Monday. The boys look well but feel blue. They don’t seem like the same fellows [as] they did before they went home. I didn’t hardly know them—they was dressed up so. I went up to sign the pay rolls the other day [and] the captain wanted me to enlist. I told him I couldn’t see it. There is some more of them coming home.
They raised the old boy in Baltimore. the provost marshal had to get them out of the city. They went into them Jew’s shops, pulled the shoe cases onto the floor, then jumped into them. Then they threw the clothing out into the streets in among the boys. Some of them got silks worth a hundred dollars. The provost marshal took and arrested some of them, then come on to Washington and arrested some more. He took Corp. [Charles S.] Davis from our company. 1
I had a letter from Ivory the other day. He told me he was going to leave the mill [and] that he was coming home.
We was paid two months pay the other day and have two month more due. I put ten dollars in a letter about the time the Regiment started. You never stated whether you received it or not. I don’t know of anything new to write, therefore I will close for I am going up to the regiment now to see the boys. We lay a mile and a half from the regiment by ourselves in the woods.
From, Andrew
1 Charles S. Davis was a mariner from Gloucester, Massachusetts. He received a severe wound in the the right elbow at Laurel Hill, Virginia, on 12 May 1864 and was discharged for his wounds in April 1865.
Letter 40
In camp Bealeton Station [Va.] March 27 [1864]
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you the same. I am here on cattle guard yet but I don’t know how long we shall stop here as they have reorganized the Army. They have put the 1st Corps with the 5th Corps. They are not going to have but three Corps in the ARmy this summer.
It has been very stormy here of late so we can’t move very soon. Old Grant went to the front the other day. We had a big snow storm here last week. It was about six inches deep on a level. It is all gone now. The mud is up to one’s knees now. Farr came back last Sunday. He says he was down to the house and you were all well.
We was paid off last Sunday. I shall enclose twenty-five (25 dollars) in this letter and run the risk whether she goes or no.
There ain’t nothing new to write about so I will close. Write as soon as you get this and let me know if you received it. I sent 10 dollars in a letter before [but] you never told me whether you received it or not.
From, Andrew
Letter 41
In camp near Bealeton Station April 9, [1864]
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you [know] that I am well and hope these few lines will find you all the same. I received your letter the other day and was pleased to hear from you and to hear that you received the money all right. We had a very heavy rain storm here last night. It is very muddy here now. Capt. Burdett, the Brigade Quartermaster where we are here, leaves tomorrow [and] the Quartermaster of the 3rd Brigade takes his place. I don’t know if he will send us to our regiments or not when he comes in command but I don’t think he will.
There is a talk here about our Corps moving to the front to Culpeper but I don’t know whether there is any truth in it or not. They say the Invalid Corps is going to relieve our Corps and they are going to guard the railroad. We have to kill [cattle] three times a week now.
I don’t have any news to write as everything is quiet along the lines.
Who bought John Grover’s land? I see by the Gloucester paper that it was to be sold at auction.
The storm last night washed away three bridges between here and Washington so there is no trains run today. One of the bridges was Bull Run Bridge. As I know of no news, I will close. From, Andrew
Letter 42
Mount Pleasant Hospital Washington [D. C.] June 4th 1864
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know how we are getting along. We have had a hard time of it. I got wounded on the 30th of May in the right side—not bad—only a flesh wound. It went in and struck a rib and glanced out. We was transported to the White House [Landing], then took a steamer for Washington. Arrived here today. Walter Johnson was killed just before I was hit.
We lost about twenty-five or thirty that night. It was about eight miles from Richmond near Mechanicsville.
I must close now as the mail is about to leave. We haven’t had no chance to write before as we have had no mail leave. I will write again soon and let you know where I shall stop. So no more this time. From, Andrew
Letter 43
McDougall Hospital at Fort Schuyler in New YorkHarbor
McDougall Hospital [at Fort Schuyler] 1 New York [Harbor] June 12, 1864
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know where I am and how I am getting along. I arrived here yesterday from Washington. There is almost a thousand of the slightest wounded sent here as Washington is full of badly wounded. I am getting along tip top. There is some talk of sending the wounded to their own states but I don’t know whether there is anything in the rumor or not, but I hope there is.
This is a pleasant place. Here we can see the steamers & vessels pass and get the salt air.
I should like to have you send me a little money, 2 or 3 dollars, as I haven’t got any money. If I had stopped in Washington a few days longer, I would have been paid off. I don’t [know] of any news to write so I will close. If they don’t transfer [us] to our own states, I will try for a furlough if they give any. I haven’t had any letter from home since we started on the march.
Accept this from Andrew
Direct your letters to Fort Schuyler, McDougall Hospital, Section A, War 4, New York Harbor.
1 Fort Schuyler (McDougall) Hospital was located on the East River. It was “formed like a wheel, the hub being headquarters and the spokes extending into wards for patients.” It housed approximately 1600 patients.
Letter 44
Fort Schuyler July 21 [1864
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know how I am getting along. I arrived here Tuesday noon. The doctor came around this morning. He thought I was pretty well. They talk here of sending a squad to the front the first of the week. I don’t know whether he will send me or not.
There is a chance to get detailed here now as there are plenty of citizens here to clear the draft. I tell you, it makes me feel homesick to get back here but I shall soon get over that.
My side is healed now. It don’t run any now. They live here now about the same as they did before I went home.
I see the Government has called for 500,000 more men. I think Ivory was lucky to go for one hundred days as he would be pretty likely to be drafted. I don’t know any news to write so I will close.
Direct to Section C, Ward 1, Fort Schuyler
From, — Andrew
Letter 45
Fort Schuyler, McDougall Hospital July 31, [1864]
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you all the same. I haven’t gone to the front yet and don’t know when I shall go. I see by the papers they are fighting out there again. I hope they will get through before I get there. I see by the papers the 8th Regiment has gone to Washington. There was about three hundred sick and wounded came here the other day. The hospital is near full now. I don’t know any news. — Andrew
Letter 46
Fort Schuyler, New York Harbor August 9, 1864
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I received your welcome letter yesterday and was glad to hear that you are all well.
There was three hundred wounded arrived here last night from the front. They was wounded in that charge before Petersburg [see Battle of the Crater]. There is quite a lot of Massachusetts men among them but none of them that I know. 1 The hospital is full here now. I expect they will be for sending off a squad this week to the front. I guess Farr didn’t think that he would be sent back so quick.
I wrote a letter to Ivory the other day. I didn’t know where he was but I direct to Washington. I haven’t had no answer from him/
We have had plenty of rain here since I have been here. The crops look well in this state. They have had more rain here than in Massachusetts. We have had five heavy rain storms since I come back here.
I don’t know of any news to write so I will close for this time. Accept this from, — Andrew
1 Most of the Massachusetts regiments were in Brig. Gen. James Ledlie’s Division who led the charge the charge into the Crater. These regiments were the 21st, 29th, 56th, 57th, and 59th Massachusetts who were all brigaded with the 100th Pennsylvania “Roundheads” under the command of Brig. Gen. William F. Bartlett.
Letter 47
McDougall Hospital Fort Schuyler [New York Harbor] August 17, 1864
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you the same.
It is a very heavy rain storm here today. It commenced this morning and rained until noon and raining now.
I don’t hear anything about their sending any to the front very soon. It is rather [poor] living here but I don’t care how long I stay here for I think that they will have a big fight out there before long and I ain’t anxious to be there. They haven’t done much since I left and it is time now for them to do something if they are going to this fall. I hope they will take Richmond before I go back.
I should like for you to send me a Gloucester paper once in awhile.
They have transferred all of those that came last that was able to go to their own states. When you write, tell me how you direct a letter to Ivory. I don’t know any news so I will close for the present. Accept this from, — Andrew
Letter 48
McDougall Hospital Fort Schuyler [New York Harbor] August 23, 1864
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I received your letter today and was sorry to hear that Mother was sick. I am sorry [too] that you sent that box for I don’t think I shall get it here. If it comes here, I don’t think the doctors here would allow anyone to eat anything but what they allow him and I make out pretty well now for something to eat. It is better than it was. We have got a new doctor in charge of the hospital. He looks out better for the men than the other one.
I had a letter from Ivory the other day. He like it out there but he is on guard every other night. He thinks that is rather rough. He is afraid he won’t go to Washington before his time is out.
I see by the paper that Joseph Sewall has gone back to the regiment. I see by the papers that our Corps has moved and got possession of the Weldon Railroad. They had a hard fight. I can’t think of nothing more at present so I must close. From, — Andrew
Letter 49
McDougall Hospital, New York August 26 [1864]
Dear Parents,
I improve this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I received the box this morning. The chicken & meat was spoiled. It smells very bad. All the rest of the things were good. That camphor scented the cakes so they taste of it but nothing too hurt. I am sorry about the meat. It has been so long on the way way this warm weather. They opened it down to headquarters but I don’t think they took anything out as the box was full. They don’t allow the boys to eat apples here but they did not trouble mine. Everything is quiet here. I don’t know of any news here so I will close. Accept this, from Andrew
Letter 50
McDougall Hospital, New York September 4, 1864
Dear Parents,
I improve this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you all the same.
We had a general inspection here the 2nd of this month. He was a regular officer. I don’t know where he was from. He was a sharp one. He straightened the boys arms and legs for them. He is going to give the hospital a cleaning out. He recommended some for the Invalid Corps [but] most for the front. They are going Monday. There is three to four hundred of them. I heard about his coming so I managed to be out of the Ward when he came around so he never took my name at all. So I am all right for another while. If I had been in, I should been a victim sure for he took some of their names that their wounds wasn’t fairly healed up.
It is quite a rain storm here today. I expect they are shivering there at home for fear of this draft. I suppose it will come off tomorrow.
I see by the papers that Atlanta is taken. That is a death blow to the rebels.
I don’t know anything new to write so I will close. From, — Andrew
Letter 51
Fort Schuyler, New York September 8, 1864
Dear Parents,
I improve this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I received your welcome letter today and was pleased to hear that Mother was getting better. You stated that she thought I was poor. I did lose some flesh when I first came back but I have gained since. I am fat now and never felt better than I do now.
Now about the box. The camphor only scented some of the small cakes on the top of the box. The loaf cakes were all right. They are very nice. I have just been eating a piece of fruit cake. It is fresh and nice.
I guess Ivory don’t like to be have his company broken up that way but they will do what they please with them. That is a pleasant place up there where he is in Maryland. I don’t understand what he means by those blockade runners without he means deserters smuggling goods across the river. I think that’s what he must mean.
I see by the papers that you have offered the colt for sale.
It must be pretty hot at Petersburg by our company letter by them getting sunstroke. It is cool and nice here. We have had a heavy rain storm for three days but it has cleared off pleasant today. I don’t know any news so I will close for the present.
From your son, — Andrew
Letter 52
McDougall Hospital September 23, 1864
Dear Parents,
I improve this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you all the same.
We had a general inspection here last Friday for men to the front and Invalid Corps and discharges, but they never got me. There was a new lot came here last night from the front—about three hundred. Most of them was sick with the diarrhea. They look bad. I think a great many of them will die—they are so weak that they can’t stand alone.
I received your papers last week and was pleased with them.
We have got a new surgeon in charge here now. He is a regular and a sharp one too. My time is getting so short now I don’t think that they will send me away although they may as they want men out there. I am in hopes they will let me stay here the rest of my time. My time is getting short now—it flies off fast now.
There is a sergeant belongs to the 22nd [Mass.] Regiment. His time is out in about a week. He was wounded the same day that I was. My descriptive list is here so if I am here when my time is out, it is all right. I don’t know of any news to write so I ill close. Accept this, — Andrew
Letter 53
Fort Schuyler, New York October 6, 1864
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you the same. I see by the papers that our division has had some hard fighting. I am glad I was not there. I had a letter from Ive [Ivory] last week. He says he is getting fat. His captain says he is going to have them home in time to vote but I don’t believe he will.
They have got a big paper here. Tells when all of hte Massachusetts regiments time of service is out. It says the 32nd is out the 18th of December but if I am here, I shall. But if I stop here, I will get discharged from my Descriptive List which says my time is out the 2nd of December. But you see they have averaged the time of the companies so they can’t get home until the 18th of December. I hope I shall be here until my time is out but I can’t tell what day they may send me off.
There is going to be some tall fighting this month, I think, before election. Then they won’t do much after election. I don’t know when we shall get paid off. They owe me seven months now. I don’t know any news so I will close. Accept this, — Andrew
Letter 54
Forrt Schuyler, New York Harbor October 12th 1864
Dear Mother,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I received your letter this morning and was pleased to hear that you were all well. As I haven’t heard from you for so long, I thought that you must be sick. I am here doing first rate. There is nothing the matter with me. I am on duty here. I have got charge of a Ward here. There is fifty beds in it and they are full now. We had a new lot come here Saturday night. Some of them are very bad with the diarrhea. I don’t think they will live long. There is three with their legs off. They are doing well.
I don’t have anything to do but to see that everything is kept in order and keep count of the clothing and see that the men have something to eat. I have got six men under me that does the work. I can get plenty to eat now and plenty of clothes to wear. I don’t wear any under clothes of my own. I am fat and feel first rate. There ain’t nothing that I want now. I don’t want you to worry about me for I have got a soft job now.
We have got two stoves in the ward. We keep them going night and day. We have got a real nice doctor in this ward. He told me that I would not go back again if he could help himself so there is no trouble.
We expect to get paid next week. My time is getting short—only fifty days more. That won’t be long slipping by. I don’t know of any news to write so I will close. Write soon. From, — Andrew
Letter 55
Fort Schuyler, New York Harbor October 23, 1864
Dear Parents,
I improve this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you all the same.
There is talk of transferring all Mass. men to their state so to give them a chance to vote in the coming election. I expect we shall be transferred to Readville Hospital, from there to get furloughs to go home and vote. The doctor took our names yesterday. I expect we shall start the first of the week but we can’t tell when we shall go, if we go at all.
I see by the New York papers today that the Army of the Potomac is going into winter quarters and Lincoln has called for three hundred thousand more men, the draft o commence the fifteenth of next month, but I don’t know whether it is true or not.
I haven’t heard from Ive [Ivory] very lately. I expect his time is near out. I don’t know any news to write so I must close. If we go, I will write as soon as we get there and if we don’t, I will write. So no more at present. From, — Andrew
Letter 56
U. S. Hospital, Readville, [Massachusetts] October 26 [1864]
Dear Parents,
I take this time to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I came here yesterday from New York. There is quite a lot of my company here. I saw Wingood & Parsons and quite a number of others here.
I thought when we got here we would have furloughs, but they don’t give any now. They may next month so I don’t know as I shall get home now but I am in hopes to vote in the election. I had a letter from Ive [Ivory] the other day. He expects to start for home the first of the month.
I don’t like it here as well as I did in New York. I wish I had stopped there now. The six regiments [of] one hundred day’s men are here. They expect to be mustered out tomorrow. I don’t know of any new to write so I will close.
Direct to U. S. Hospital, Readville, Mass. Ward 32.
Spared & Shared 23 