Jane Eliza Newton Woolsey to her son Charles.

New York, June, ’62.

My dear Charley: Here are lots of scraps for you. Our basket is just going off to the steamer. I hope you will enjoy the gingerbread. We are all anxiety for further accounts since the battles of the last few days. The paper this morning states two deaths on the Knickerbocker of poor wounded men. What trying scenes again for you! I agree with you in all you say of Georgy’s health, but know that persuasion is useless. You ask about coming home. We do not need your aid in getting out of town, however pleasant it would be to have you. There is no prospect of our going at present; we have no place in view at all. . . . Have the rebels cut the telegraph lines, that we get no news from the army? Where are you all to rendezvous now that the White House is given up? Some of the movements seem so mysterious to us–such as this, and the falling back of McClellan’s army to Savage’s Station, and some other strange doings. I hope it will all come out right. Do take care of yourself and the girls. I am so much better satisfied to have you where you are, than with the 22nd. Your Cousins William and Anna have been on to Baltimore to see Lloyd; they are greatly distressed at the idea of his being sworn in, even for three months! . . .

Farewell dear boy. Mother’s love and blessing to you.

June 17th.

Yesterday, and day before, boats were constantly arriving and troops embarking from here, destined for Vicksburg. There will be another fight, and of course it will fall. I wish Will was out of it; I don’t want him to die. I got the kindest, sweetest letter from Will when Miriam came from Greenwell. It was given to her by a guerrilla on the road who asked if she was not Miss Sarah Morgan.

Tuesday, 17th–It is very hot. Nothing of importance.

17th. Wrote to Brockway. Part of the Missouri expedition returned with a load of bacon. Tired horses and men. Issued some.

JUNE 17th.—It is not yet ascertained what amount of ordnance stores we gained from the battle.

Abby Howland Woolsey to her brother.

8 Brevoort Place, June 17th.

My dear Charley: We had just been reading in the Times about the scare at White House when Georgy’s letter arrived. We have read it aloud over the breakfast table, and are now going to enclose it to Mary and Carry at Astoria, that they, too, may have the private version of the affair. It was a bold and very clever dash of the rebels; just what might have been expected, however. They are up to all sorts of thievish, daring things. . . . It would not have been out of place for you all to have been much more frightened than you profess to have been. Georgy’s letter, in fact, we presume, was prepared for home consumption. She always tries to “draw it mild” for our benefit ; is always having a lazy, lovely good time, perfectly well, and in the best of spirits, and as to the scenes of suffering about her, not caring a bit ; has to pinch herself, I dare say, to see that she isn’t stone–thinks she “hasn’t any heart,” etc., etc. Tell her, of course she hasn’t, or won’t have soon–it’s ossifying, that, or something kindred, is what all surgeons die of–suppressed emotion. Tell her we insist on her coming home for a few weeks; now that you are with Eliza, she has not that excuse for staying.–Eliza, of course, we cannot induce to leave, it would be useless to try. Tell Georgy her known imprudence in overdoing herself, her known obstinacy about precautionary and remedial measures, impel me to insist on her taking a northern trip and a little rest just now. . . . Mrs. Gibbons goes back to her Winchester hospital next Monday. I am going up to see her, hear some of her tales and offer what supplies we have on hand. She and her party were obliged to fly for their lives when the rebels drove Banks out, lost on the way their three trunks, containing all their clothing, and Mrs. G. was without a bonnet. They have been very busy sewing up a new outfit, and I hope won’t be interfered with again, though Jackson threatens another raid up the valley with 70,000 men as soon as the harvests are ripe. . . . I have saved our only piece of news till the last–the engagement of Pussy Wheeler; make Georgy guess who to. . . . It is Dr. Ceccarini, the Italian oculist, an accomplished man and skillful surgeon. . . . Mother says, “Tell Charley how glad I am always to get his letters, and tell him that when he cautions Georgy on the subject of health, to be sure to be prudent himself.” You are in a most useful and important place, and we would all rather have you there than in any part of our army.

Rienzi, Tishomingo Co., Miss., June 16, 1862.

We are camped here enjoying ourselves grandly. As our brigade is scattered over a line of 50 miles we just pitch our headquarters in the quietest spot we can find independent of the command. There are only two companies now out of the 24 within 8 miles of us, and all we have to do with any of them is to send them orders and receive their communications and forward them. In the heat of the day we read and lounge in our tents, and mornings we go to the creek and bathe and then ride a dozen or so miles to keep our horses exercised. I have a clerk, too, for my copying, etc., so I’m a gentleman. Evenings I visit generally some of the half dozen families within a half mile of us of whom I borrow books and in return furnish them with occasional papers. We have splendid water and my health is perfect. This is the healthiest part of the South.

Monday, 16th–It came my turn for the first time to go on fatigue. Our men are throwing up a line of breastworks and building some very strong forts. I worked all day at one of the big forts built for the siege guns. The fort is fifteen feet high, with a ditch in front fifteen feet wide and ten feet deep. At the top within each fort the guns will be mounted on a dirt platform about ten feet high so as to afford a good view in front. When the works are completed on this grand scale it will require one million men to defend them.^[1]

[1] These works were never completed, the commanding general having called off the work. It was a good thing that it was discontinued, for the heavy work during the hot weather would have greatly injured the men.–A. G. D

16th. Monday. Issued rations to several companies. Stayed at the Commissary most of the day.

Monday, 16th.—Got to Knoxville at 4 A. M.; went one mile to camp. Regiment ordered to Loudon. Being sick, I was left at camp. J. M. Badgett and W. T. Swanson were also left, and waited on me very well.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

Hot Weather.

June 16. It is so hot most of the time we are scarcely able to do anything more than keep ourselves as comfortable as possible. All duty is suspended except guard duty and dress parade, and we are getting almost too lazy to eat; in fact do miss a good many meals unless they happen to have something we like. We lie around in our tents or in the shade of the trees from 9 o’clock in the morning till 4 in the afternoon, brushing away the flies, and trying to keep cool. I thought I had seen some flies at home but they are no comparison to what we have here. I really believe there are more flies in this camp than there are in the whole state of Massachusetts. Besides they are regular secesh ones, and by the way they bite, one would think he was among a nest of hornets. I am often reminded of the old minstrel song:

“If you perchance in summer time

Should visit Carolina’s sultry clime,

And in the shade should chance to lie

You’d soon find out the blue tail fly.”
.

We were visited last evening by a thunder storm which makes it quite comfortable today. For several days past the weather has been very hot, the thermometer ranging about 100 degrees in the shade. Just before sunset last evening the clouds began to gather and we soon heard the low mutterings of thunder. [continue reading…]

BOOK II
“I hope to die shouting, the Lord will provide!”

Monday, June 16th, 1862.

There is no use in trying to break off journalizing, particularly in “these trying times.” It has become a necessity to me. I believe I should go off in a rapid decline if Butler took it in his head to prohibit that among other things. . . . I reserve to myself the privilege of writing my opinions, since I trouble no one with the expression of them. . . . I insist, that if the valor and chivalry of our men cannot save our country, I would rather have it conquered by a brave race than owe its liberty to the Billingsgate oratory and demonstrations of some of these “ladies.” If the women have the upper hand then, as they have now, I would not like to live in a country governed by such tongues. Do I consider the female who could spit in a gentleman’s face, merely because he wore United States buttons, as a fit associate for me? Lieutenant Biddle assured me he did not pass a street in New Orleans without being most grossly insulted by ladies. It was a friend of his into whose face a lady spit as he walked quietly by without looking at her. (Wonder if she did it to attract his attention?) He had the sense to apply to her husband and give him two minutes to apologize or die, and of course he chose the former.[1] Such things are enough to disgust any one. “Loud” women, what a contempt I have for you! How I despise your vulgarity!

Some of these Ultra-Secessionists, evidently very recently from “down East,” who think themselves obliged to “kick up their heels over the Bonny Blue Flag,” as Brother describes female patriotism, shriek out, “What! see those vile Northerners pass patiently! No true Southerner could see it without rage. I could kill them! I hate them with all my soul, the murderers, liars, thieves, rascals! You are no Southerner if you do not hate them as much as I!” Ah ça! a true-blue Yankee tell me that I, born and bred here, am no Southerner! I always think, “It is well for you, my friend, to save your credit, else you might be suspected by some people, though your violence is enough for me.” I always say, “You may do as you please; my brothers are fighting for me, and doing their duty, so that excess of patriotism is unnecessary for me, as my position is too well known to make any demonstrations requisite.” [continue reading…]

June 16th, Monday.

My poor old diary comes to a very abrupt end, to my great distress. The hardest thing in the world is to break off journalizing when you are once accustomed to it, and mine has proved such a resource to me in these dark days of trouble that I feel as though I were saying good-bye to an old and tried friend. Thanks to my liberal supply of pens, ink, and paper, how many inexpressibly dreary days I have filled up to my own satisfaction, if not to that of others! How many disagreeable affairs it has caused me to pass over without another thought, how many times it has proved a relief to me where my tongue was forced to remain quiet! Without the blessed materials, I would have fallen victim to despair and “the Blues” long since; but they have kept my eyes fixed on “ Better days a-coming “ while slightly alluding to present woes; kept me from making a fool of myself many a day; acted as lightning rod to my mental thunder, and have made me happy generally. For all of which I cry, “Vivent pen, ink, and paper!” and add with regret, “Adieu, my mental Conductor. I fear this unchained lightning will strike somewhere, in your absence!”

June 16.—Max got back this morning. H. and he were in the parlor talking and examining maps together till dinner-time. When that was over they laid the matter before us. To buy provisions had proved impossible. The planters across the lake had decided to issue rations of corn-meal and peas to the villagers whose men had all gone to war, but they utterly refused to sell anything. “They said to me,” said Max, “‘ We will not see your family starve, Mr. K.; but with such numbers of slaves and the village poor to feed, we can spare nothing for sale.’” “Well, of course,” said H., “we do not purpose to stay here and live on charity rations. We must leave the place at all hazards. We have studied out every route and made inquiries everywhere we went. We shall have to go down the Mississippi in an open boat as far as Fetler’s Landing (on the eastern bank). There we can cross by land and put the boat into Steele’s Bayou, pass thence to the Yazoo River, from there to Chickasaw Bayou, into McNutt’s Lake, and land near my uncle’s in Warren County.”

Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in post-civil war New Orleans, her diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were generally used instead of full names—and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials. (Read Dora Richards Miller’s biographical sketch.)

JUNE 15th.—What a change! No one now dreams of the loss of the capital.

Sunday, 15th–There were five hundred men from the Sixth Division detailed to go out and cut down the timber in front of the fortifications around the camp. The trees are cut so as to make them fall outward toward the approach of an enemy; the branches are then sharpened, making what is called an abatis. The trees in a space six hundred feet wide and twenty miles long are being felled. We had company inspection at 5 o’clock in the evening.

15th. Sunday. A beautiful Sabbath morning. Would love to be at home or somewhere to enjoy peaceful rest. Read the Independent. Wrote to Emma McWade.

15th.—General Stuart has just returned to camp after a most wonderful and successful raid. He left Richmond two or three days ago with a portion of his command; went to Hanover Court-House, where he found a body of the enemy; repulsed them, killing and wounding several, and losing one gallant man, Captain Latane, of the Essex cavalry; continuing his march by the “Old Church,” he broke up their camp and burnt their stores; thence to Tunstall’s Station on the York River Railroad; fired into the train, destroying a part of it, and taking some prisoners; thence to Pamunky River; found three transports loaded with provender, which they burned; filled their haversacks with West India fruit, which had been brought on for Federal consumption; then went on towards Charles City Court-House, encountering a train of wagons; took their horses, mules, and drivers, and burnt the wagons and contents; thence they went to a Yankee sutler’s stand, took what they wanted, and burnt the rest; thence across the Chickahominy and on to Richmond; bringing 175 prisoners and a number of horses and mules. We are all full of excitement and delight, hoping that he discovered much about the Federal army which may be useful, but which, of course, is kept from the public; and I trust most fervently that our dear ones at S. H. and W. may have been cheered by their presence, for they must have gone very near them, if not immediately by their gates—how the appearance of our men must have excited them! I wish I could see some member of the cavalry who could tell me all about it—where they went, and whom they saw. General Stuart must have gone, it is said, within a few miles, perhaps nearer, of his father-in-law, the Federal General Cooke. I wonder what the old renegade Virginian thinks of his dashing son-in-law? If he has a spark of proper feeling left in his obdurate heart, he must be proud of him.

Sunday, 15th.—Hotel burned in town last night. About 12 o’clock regiment came in, having been ordered back at Bean’s Station. Very sick all day. One of Company D knocked Spencer Pursly down with his gun, as they were marching along. Got aboard the train, and left for Knoxville, 11 P. M.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

When the 30th Regiment was organized at Raleigh some one proposed that the commissioned officers should call a chaplain. Lieut. Cain wrote me from Raleigh that they had chosen me, and urged me to accept, modestly suggesting that it would give me a field for large usefulness. I prayed over it a few days and wrote to Governor Clark that I would accept. My commission was dated October 25th, 1861. The 30th Regiment was soon sent to Smithville. I reported for duty. Col. F. M. Parker kindly allowed me to finish up my work on the circuit and go to Conference at Louisburg.

There three others had an experience with me. A noble citizen put us in a nice new house. One night we left our house unlocked while we were out. Rev. R. A. Willis lost his trunk, with books, clothes and manuscript sermons. Rev. J. H. Robbins lost his overcoat. Rev. R. S. Webb lost his valise and clothes. My carpet bag and clothing were gone too. We hired a detective to hunt our lost goods. One day we heard a valise had been seen on some drift wood in Tar river. We hastened to the spot. As we crossed a field we saw sheets of paper among the briars. They were Brother Willis’ sermons. We walked on picking the sheets from the briars. Bro. Webb, in a solemn, dry tone, said: Bro. Willis sows “beside all waters.” Bro. Willis did not laugh. We found a shirt for me and a garment or two for others.

My regiment was moved to Camp Wyatt, on Federal Point. I rented a house near by for wife and three children. I preached often and held prayer meeting in some company almost every night. I copied rolls of companies, noting age of each soldier, where born, postoffice, creed, and to what local church each belonged, married or single, number of children if any. etc.

In the spring of 1862 the regiment was ordered to White Oak River, Onslow County.

J. W. Russ, of Bladen, asked me to send my family to board with him. I sent them.

Regiment was reorganized in May and ordered to Richmond in June, reaching there June 15th.

RICHMOND, VA., June 15, 1862.

Dear Mother:

I hope you are not uneasy about me because I have not written before. I knew if I wrote it would take a week for you to get it, so I put it off till I could send it by Mr. Albert Farmer, who will go tomorrow. The Surgeon of the hospital has given me a passport to stay wherever I please in the city and report to him every week. I believe I should go crazy if I had to stay out in the hospital where everything is so dull and disheartening. In fact I don’t believe I am the same being I was two weeks ago, at least I don’t think as I used to and things don’t seem as they did. I don’t believe I will ever get over the death of George. The more I think of him the more it affects me, and unless I am in some battle and excitement I am eternally thinking of the last moments of his life. How he must have suffered, if he was conscious of it. I shall never forget it. I think a long letter from some of you would make me feel so much better. I shall send by Mr. Farmer my watch, sleeve buttons, also the shirt I wore off. Everything I ought to have left at home I brought away and a great many things I ought to have brought I left behind. I only brought one flannel shirt, and by the way I’ll send this one back and try this summer without them, as they are very heavy for summer wear. The war news you read every day in the papers, but Capt. Billy Brown came down from Gordonville with some of Jackson’s prisoners. He says he was in Lynchburg. Twenty-two hundred were sent in and that thirteen hundred were on the way.

The Yankees that are near Richmond, we don’t hear anything of, everything is quiet. Please some of you write me soon.

Your loving son,
WALTER.

Letters from two brothers who served in the 4th North Carolina Infantry during the Civil War are available in a number of sources online.  Unfortunately, the brothers are misidentified in some places as Walter Lee and George Lee when their names were actually Walter Battle and George Battle. See The Battle Brothers for more information on the misidentification.

Dr. Hugh Lenox Hodge to Georgeanna Woosey.

Philadelphia, June, 1862.

Dear Georgy: Once more our paths have separated. . . . Upon my return with the wounded from the battle of Fair Oaks, I received appointment to a large hospital (1,500 beds), now building in West Philadelphia. I will live at home, but will be there a part of each day.

The Pennsylvania delegation to which, as you know, I was attached when at the White House and elsewhere, has been dissolved.

June 15, 1862.—Max got back to-day. He started right off again to cross the lake and interview the planters on that side, for they had not suffered from overflow.

Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in post-civil war New Orleans, her diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were generally used instead of full names—and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials. (Read Dora Richards Miller’s biographical sketch.)

Rienzi, Tishomingo Co., Miss., June 14, ’62.

We have located for a somewhat permanent stay, as the clumsy order said, in the most beautiful little town I have yet found in Mississippi. We have pitched our tents in a little grove in the edge of the burgh and are preparing to live.

We have been rioting on plums and blackberries the last week. Dewberries are about gone. I don’t think the plums are as good as ours. There is already much suffering amongst the poor here, and God only knows how these people can live until the new crop of corn is harvested. The wheat is all cut these ten days, but ten acres of it will hardly keep one person a year. Cotton is not planted this year to any extent, a tax of $25 per bale being laid on all each man raises over one bale. I told you how we rode out to Baldwin on the 12th; well, this morning the enemy nearly surrounded our picket there and killed or captured a few of them, scattering the rest. They have nearly all got in. There are no troops between here and the picket at Baldwin, 25 miles, and this little body is 12 miles ahead of the main army. ‘Tis an outrage to post troops in this manner, and if they all get cut off (the two battalions on picket) it won’t surprise me. There are not many slaves here, very few planters work more than 25, though 60 miles further down many have from 300 to 400 each. We don’t think these are large bodies that are troubling our outposts, but they will hover around so long as the picket is advanced thus far.