Woolsey family letters during the War for the Union

Washington, July 8, 1861.

My dear Cousin Margaret: I should have begun by dating my letter Ebbitt House, we having been established here since Saturday, spending the first three days of our visit, or probation, at the “National,” in the fifth story, a prey to several inconveniences, but refreshingly near processions. Joe sent his man down to meet us, and came himself after evening drill. He looks brown and well; is dashing round on horseback all day from camp to the War Department, and back again to camp, where he must spend seven hours a day drilling. Then all the cracks are filled up with our society out there. We go out every day in time for evening drill, and stay till it is time to shut up for the night, having a nice time in the door of Joe’s tent “in the cool of the day,” and this sort of thing we fondly thought was going to last an indefinite length of time, till yesterday, when Joe surprised us by the news that they were ordered into Virginia, and would leave on Tuesday or Wednesday. The Colonel has been made an acting Brigadier-General, and he and Joe were eight hours in the saddle yesterday, flying round selecting three regiments to form the Brigade with the Sixteenth. Joe has been in today on the same business, being entrusted to decide upon them and take whichever he thought best; and has chosen the Eighteenth, Twenty-first and Thirty-first—all from New York. So on Wednesday I suppose they will move over the bridge, and then we shall deliver our letters of introduction and plunge into occupation of some kind.

Washington is the stillest place for a city I have ever been in; nobody knows anything, or has anything to say. Everything is guess work. A few doleful little boys call the evening papers round the doors of the hotel, but in a tone that fixes a gloom upon you. I hate the “Eve-ening Star” already, and our only news comes via New York. The Tribune, Times and Herald have a great deal of information about what goes on here, and it generally proves true. . . . One longs now and then for a real living and lying “Extra” boy, with his mouth full of fearful statements, all disproved by his paper which you imprudently buy. We went, of course, to the opening of Congress and also to hear President Lincoln’s message, read on the fifth.

Charley has been about visiting the camps at Alexandria, Georgetown and Arlington, but for all this a pass is necessary, which can only be procured through General Mansfield on introduction by some one known to him. If Lenox knows anyone at home who knows the General it would save him half a day to get his letter before coming on. Charley got his through Colonel Davies who is a relative of the General’s. I hope Lenox will come on, but it is too bad that he will not see Joe. . . .

Here comes a regiment down this street. About 15,000 men have gone over into Virginia since we came on. Joe goes up in rank with his Colonel as his aid — is now Captain and Assistant Adjutant General—and the Brigade will be in McDowell’s Division. . . . The regiment has marched past— the Massachusetts Eleventh just from Harrisburg, all in beautiful order, gray uniforms and large clean havelocks. New England doesn’t do anything by halves. . . . And here goes another company, guarding thirteen well-filled baggage wagons and followed by its regiment. We have only to flourish our handkerchiefs and the dear fellows will kiss their hands, twirl their hats and manifest affection for the entire woman population of the North. They are the Fourth Maine, and are going over into Virginia. I must put up my letter and watch them marching along. Our love to the Doctor and the boys.

New York, July 3, 1861.

My dear Joe: It was a satisfaction to us, at least, to receive your telegram of yesterday morning about half-past four in the afternoon. I was sorry that Eliza could not have seen it before she and Georgy left, at 3 p. m. But she was in good spirits, having received your letter with the account of your strange, safe march “through Baltimore,” “that luke-loyal, flagless city,” as somebody from the Garibaldi Guard, writing to the Post, calls it. By the way, I think your camp and the Babel-camp of the Garibaldians must be near each other, from the accounts. I am glad yours is on that high open ground— a hitherto undefended part of Washington, too, I think. “Camp Woolsey,” has a strange sound to us, there never having been any military association with the name in our family. Naval officers you know we have had, and there is a little village of five houses down at Pensacola named after the Commodore “Woolsey.”[1] I send by this mail some maps for Georgy and Eliza. Carry, Jane and I are living very quietly and miss you all sadly. Mother and Hatty intend to spend the Fourth at Astoria.

Every morning I wake up to bright sunshine and familiar sounds and sights, and think for a second that perhaps all this pageant and preparation of war has been a horrid dream! A busy reality to you I dare say, hardly giving you time to read this or even to remember

Yours affectionately,

A. H. W.

[1] Abby forgets the service during the Colonial wars of Colonel Melancthan Taylor Woolsey (brother of our great-grandfather, Benjamin Woolsey), who, according to the inscription on his tombstone, at Dosoris, L. I., “departed this life 28th of September, 1758, in the service of his country against the French in Canada.”

There was also our great ancestor, Captain George Woolsey, our grandfather’s great-grandfather, who was commissioned Captain in the Burgher Guard of New York, in 1696; and a brother of our great-grandmother, Anne Muirson Woolsey, Heathcote Muirson, a revolutionary soldier, was mortally wounded in an attack by the British on Lloyd’s Neck, L. I., July, 1781.

Washington, June 3o, 1861.

Our journey on was a hard one. We reached Harrisburg late Friday p. m., and Baltimore at sunrise Saturday. Our passage through Baltimore was unmolested, but was one of the most impressive scenes imaginable. We marched through about 8 o’clock without music and with colors furled, in perfect silence, marching in quick time, only pausing once to rest. The streets were full of people, but we did not get one word of welcome or a single smile except from two little girls in an upper window and half a dozen old darkies standing in doorways. At the head of the column of eight hundred stern-faced men walked the Colonel with his sword sheathed and a hickory stick in his hand. Once a rough fellow in the crowd (a city official) asked tauntingly, “Where’s your music?” and Colonel Davies, gritting his teeth, replied, “In our cartridge boxes!” We were all fully armed and supplied with ammunition, and had received full instructions how to act in case of an attack. Tramp, tramp, tramp, went the Sixteenth through Baltimore in the early morning, and the crowd looked cold and bitter at us, and we looked stern and ready at them. All the road from Harrisburg to Washington is guarded by strong bodies of federal troops, and they are needed.

We got here safely at noon yesterday, and, after a couple of hours’ delay under the shade of the trees of the Capitol grounds, we marched out to “Camp Woolsey,” for so this camp is named in your honor! There are 100,000 soldiers in Washington.

I hope to see you very soon. I don’t know what you will do with yourself here, but, if you want to come, your coming will make me very happy. God bless you!

New York, Sunday.

My dear Eliza: In anticipation of a possible march on Tuesday I have got myself ready and hold myself under orders for any moment. As for some sort of a hospital costume, if we chance to need one, I have two grey cottonish cross-grained skirts, and a Zouave jacket giving free motion to the arms—so the skirts can be, one of them, always in the wash; and a white Zouave will take the place of the waist when that is in the tub. Four white aprons with waists and large pockets; two stick-out and washable petticoats to take the place of a hoop, and a nice long flannel dressing-gown, which one may put on in a hurry and fly out in, if the city is bombarded or “anything else.” Then for quiet and civil costume, I have only one dress made of black grenadine, like Mary’s, and a black Neapolitan straw with green ribbon will make it all very nice. I shall make up a trunk of towels and old scraps of linen and cotton, soap, cologne, oil-silk, sponges, etc., and have it stored away in the hotel in Washington for use, if necessary. Any towels or old sheets you may have to dispose of we shall probably find useful if we are able to do anything for the sick. I have also under consideration a small camp cooking affair, about two feet square, with lamp and all complete, which I shall probably get—cheap and very useful in an emergency—could cook up little things for ourselves at any rate. If we find that we shall be allowed to march with the regiment, or rather ride, we could easily have grey flannel skirts and shirts made in Washington. So I don’t see that we may not be very comfortable and useful, and consequently happy, even in following the war.

from Tioronda, June 20:

We will go together, as you say, and will keep as near Joe as possible, though where it may be is entirely uncertain. They will march like others, with sealed orders. I go to Albany on Friday to see them in camp again before they leave. Will you go too? Joe has ordered a mess-chest and camp-table, and wants a cookery-book. I think I have seen one for army use advertised. Will you get me a simple one of any kind, civil or military, and send or bring it up? Simple directions for soups, gruels, stews, etc., are all he wants. His advice to me is to close up my affairs here and go to Mother for a while, till he can reach Washington and spy out the land. He wants us to be all ready to move but not to move hastily, and he says we must take Moritz with us as body-servant wherever we go. If any of you are near Tiffany’s the next few days you might hurry the flags up.

Wednesday.

My dear Eliza: You must feel that I am ready and glad to go anywhere and at any time with you and dear Joe. You will probably go with him to Washington, at any rate. You and I could be companions for each other at the hotel as long as the regiment camps near the city, and, judging from the way the other regiments have been disposed of, that is likely to be the arrangement for them for some time. We should be able to see them every day and perhaps go even farther south. Since Joe has taken the sick under his care we perhaps shall be able to be a part of the regiment, as other women have been, and may keep together in this way, doing what we can.

You know we three have travelled over rough roads together before, and have now only to take up our little bundles and commence our march again. We shall like it and we will do it if possible. Two of our bands of nurses have been sent on from the Hospital already, and with a letter of introduction from our association (which is accepted by government) I shall probably be able to go where I please, as far south as hospitals have been established; and so we may be able perhaps to keep up with the Sixteenth. If you can, don’t you think you had better come down and be introduced to Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell and others, and go for a few days to one of the hospitals opened to us, so that you may be able to give references from our association, if necessary? It may save you some delay and be useful to you in other ways. I am ready, or shall be at the shortest notice, to do as you say. I cannot tell you how we all feel about this. We shall try and not feel at all, only our hearts are with you and Joe always.