Woolsey family letters during the War for the Union

June, 1861.

We are gradually growing accustomed to things that a few weeks ago would have appalled us, or which we should have received as horrid jokes—such, for instance, as Georgy’s training at the hospital. She comes home fagged-looking but determined to “stick it out.” Did you know, Carry, that Miss Bessie and Miss Mattie Parsons are walking the hospitals in Boston? Some of the ladies there fainted every day for a week, when Dr. Bigelow made them very mad by telling them “they had tried it long enough; they were unfit for it and must go home.” It will not surprise us if by and by Georgy starts for the wars. Nothing astonishes us nowadays; we are blasées in revolutions and topsy-turvyings; or, as Joe elegantly expresses it: “How many exciting things we have had this winter! First, parlor skates, and now, civil war!”

I am reminded to say that the best thing that Theodore Winthrop has ever done, after volunteering for this war, is to write an account of the eventful journey of the Seventh Regiment in “The Atlantic” for June. You will get it in England—Sampson and Low no doubt receive it. It is very bright —just sentimental enough—and has its value given it in the fact that his feelings went along with it in the writing and our feelings go with it in the reading. He describes the fraternization of the New York Seventh with the Massachusetts Eighth, and says they began to think that there was nothing the Eighth couldn’t do. All trades and professions were represented. The man that helped to build the locomotive, you know, stepped out of the ranks to repair it, at Annapolis; others sailed the good ship Constitution; others laid rails; others mended leaky canteens, as tinsmiths; and Theodore says he believes if the order had been given, “poets to the front!” or “sculptors! charge bayonets!” a baker’s dozen would have stepped from each company in answer to the summons.

Don’t let me forget to give you Charley’s message which is to countermand the purchase of his carriage blanket and to beg you to buy his gloves a trifle larger than the size he mentioned, as his hands have spread, as well as his appetite, since he began to drill.

Mr. Dayton, the new French minister, will have arrived in Paris before you leave, and perhaps Mr. Charles Francis Adams may be in London in time for you to see him. I hope Robert will see and consult one or both of them as to the state of things at home and the safety of taking passage in an American steamer. You can do nothing, of course, but take the best advice and then do what seems best to yourselves. The summer is going to be a broken one at any rate. We have given up our rooms in Conway. We cannot leave Eliza entirely alone, as she will be at Fish-kill. Joe has gone “for the war” if he lives and it lasts, and Eliza reverts to our love and protection. The summer will be harassed by skirmishes in Virginia—possibly a great battle may be fought if General Scott thinks we are ready. He is bothered more than anything by the haste of ignorant, injudicious men who think they are great military geniuses, and want to push the matter on. June is a great month for battles in the world’s history— we may add another to the catalogue — but it looks more as if the hard work, especially that in the far South and in the gulf, would be postponed till fall. A rebellion that has been thirty years in maturing isn’t going to be put down in a day.

We went on Sunday night to a grand meeting of the Bible Society where reports were read of the distribution of Testaments and Bibles to the volunteer troops. Twenty-three thousand have been given away, and many interesting anecdotes were told and most stirring addresses made by Professor Hitchcock and Dr. Tyng. They began in a very sober Sunday-night spirit, but before we got through there was the most rampant patriotism — stinging sarcasms about Jeff Davis; kissing of flags which draped the platform; storms of applause, and a great time generally. . . . You would not judge by the streets that we were at war. The shops are thronged by gay women making cheap purchases. Indeed, it seems difficult to pay more than two and sixpence a yard for a new dress— double width at that.

June 1, 1861.

Dear Eliza: We had a funny communication from Theodore Winthrop this morning written at Fortress Monroe, where he is acting as Military Secretary to Major General Butler, in the very middle of the middle of things— “Headquarters Department of Virginia.” He tells about the negroes who are flocking to them, and begs that on the sly we will manage a patriotic job for them—get some sort of kepi, turban or headgear, which shall make them more respectable to look at and more formidable to the enemy. Of course, General Butler is to know nothing of it officially, but since the poor ragged fellows must be clothed they will be glad to have a sort of coarse uniform for them—shirt, trousers and cap—if the ladies will do it privately, and forward to Fortress Monroe.

Last night and night before G. and I each made three havelocks, and Georgy is going to take them down to the Battery Encampment and distribute the six to the six men who fled the hospital. They, at least, must be supplied, as they had had inflamed eyes already from wearing the hot caps. If the Fishkill ladies want work say there is a demand for 3,000 havelocks, 3,000 grey flannel shirts and 3,000 grey or red drawers, and more will be needed. Those are needed today.

Yesterday Charley went about a good deal trying to find a room as a depot for receiving and distributing books and magazines for the troops. He had seen one or two notices on the subject in the papers, but last night’s Post showed us that some gentlemen of the Evangelical Alliance are already in the field.

Sunday (between churches), May 26.

I am going over to the Dutch Church at the Corners more, I confess, to hear the news from Washington than for the sermon’s sake. The rumor by telegraph this morning was that Washington was on fire. I am restless and anxious. There must be important movements on one side or the other before long, now that we have advanced beyond the Potomac.

In yesterday’s papers the great camp preparing on Staten Island is described — 10,000 acres on the southeast slope of the island, with room for the tents and evolutions of an army of 60,000 men. Is it likely that you will be ordered there?

Mr. Masters told me this morning to tell you you were not forgotten in the village, for the boys have organized a company and are drilling under the name of the “Howland Guard.” Mother thinks it should be called Mrs. Howland’s Guard. . . . .

May 27. This morning I deposited Mother with the papers at the old chestnut tree seat and helped Thomson and Mechie get a good line for the turf on the carriage road. It is not right yet, but shall be made so. Thomson says: “We’ll na gie it up, ma’am, till you say it’s right.” The sodding round the door and kitchen end[1] is a great improvement and gives quite a finished look. We all took a turn in the wagon after dinner, stopping for me to get some cut-out work from the Women’s Army Association, which is fairly under way now, with Mrs. David Davis as President, Mrs. James Kent Secretary and Miss Rankin Treasurer. Five or six dozen shirts were given out today. . . . I have a note this morning from L. H. H. asking me to make them a visit at Newport and saying Mr. H. would come on for me and bring me back. It is very kind, but I shall stand by my post here this summer. . . .

Mr. Masters told us an anecdote of old R_______ who was in a tavern barroom the other day with a party of rough fellows discussing the war, when one of them declared that “any man who would refuse to go now that Mr. Howland had gone ought to be drummed out of the community.”

[1] Where the rhododendrons are now twelve to fifteen feet high.

[Robert and his family and Hatty and Carry were still in Europe, but hurrying their return on account of the breaking out of the war.]

New York, May 21, 1861.

Dear Girls: We hope soon to have more particulars about your interview with Mrs. Browning, what she said, and “said he” and “said they.”

I hardly know what to tell you about home. I have been trying to think what questions about public affairs you are longing to have answered, the whys and wherefores of things, but am afraid I might hit on the very wrong ones. We cannot see into details ourselves; we live only on newspaper rumors, and the only peace of mind we get is by mentally consenting to leave everything in the hands of Scott, satisfied of his patriotism, wisdom and skill. The best statesmanship of the country is at work for its good; many knowing heads are contriving and planning; many brave hearts and steady hands are executing the will of government; the monied men, who have so much to save or lose, feel that their only hope of extrication is in the vindication of our laws and constitution; the military men know the true weakness of the South and predict its ultimate ruin; and above all and over all, as Mr. Prentiss preached to us on Sunday, “this continent belongs to Christ. He has a greater stake in it than any of us, who are here only for our little day, can have. If it should be destroyed, where on earth has God such another country so suited to His great providential designs? Be sure He will see to it that America is delivered out of all her troubles in His own time.”

We hear the bugle-call now constantly floating down the streets. It is used as a rallying sound in the field — as in Europe —by the French and the German volunteers, and by some of our own regiments, I think. Going down Broadway you pass a great many “headquarters” or recruiting offices, and the crossed bayonets at the door or the sentry marching up and down have a very foreign look. You should see Charley in his Home Guard martial array. It is a sight to strike awe into feeble sisters— a grey tight-fitting coat, with red cuffs and collar edged with white cord, and a red and grey cap trimmed with white braid.

From Eliza and Joe at Albany we hear as follows: Joe was summoned there to report for duty, as the regiment is quartered in barracks, along with others, four thousand troops in all. The regiment and officers were sworn into United States service last Wednesday, drawn up in a long line, and the sound of their cheers rolling down the field like thunder. Two men refused to swear from some cause or other, and a third, who had hesitated but finally stepped into the ranks, was cheered by his comrades till the tears ran down his cheeks.

They say they are “able to lick their heft in wild cats “ and are pronounced the finest regiment so far accepted—all six feet or more high and experienced riflemen. Joe is well, so far, and busy, and does not for a moment regret the step he has taken. The duties of adjutant are honorable and responsible ones, and purely military.

Friday, May 17, 1861.

My dear Eliza: Your nice long letter of yesterday from Albany came this morning at breakfast. I say your “nice” letter in the sense of its being long and circumstantial. That anything concerning Joe’s going off is nice, I shall never be brought to say. It seems as if you both had been snatched up and swept away from us by some sudden and awful fate. No time for thought about it and no use for regrets! I hardly think he himself realized all he was pledging himself to—the bothering duties, I mean, of an Adjutant’s office, a great deal of work and no glory; a sort of upper servant to an exacting Colonel; though some people tell us that the Adjutant’s post is a highly military one, requiring fine military education — a knowledge, at least, of theories and laws, etc.  I am glad that Colonel Davies impresses you pleasantly.

Do find out from Joe’s Dr. Crandall what style of garments he thinks best for hospital wear, as we are constantly cutting them out, and may as well make them with reference to his wants. Should the nightshirts be of unbleached or canton flannel, and drawers ditto? Should the shirts be long or short? and are extra flannel shirts necessary for hospital wear? I am going to the Cooper Union today to try and get some simple pattern for calico gowns. They advertise to supply paper patterns of garments to ladies, and their published circular, a copy of which I have seen, is far more particular and satisfactory in its directions than the one we have had.

I went to Astoria day before yesterday and came back yesterday noon. Aunt E. and I spent all the time in Casina library. The women dusted the books and I checked them off on the catalogue to see if they were all right and to leave them in good order for G. G. Howland, who moves up next week. I saw the transport go up to Riders’ Island with George Betts’ Zouaves—the Hawkins’ Zouaves as they are called. We can see the barracks built for them from Casina. I thought if Robert were at home he would be flying about in his sailboat, visiting these points, and could make many a call on Joe if he were to be at Fort Schuyler. I found on coming home from Astoria that Georgy had fairly begun at the hospital — the City Hospital on Broadway—but as she has requested me not to “discuss her” with anybody I had better leave her to tell her own story. She and Mrs. Trotter go down daily at twelve o’clock, and yesterday, Mother tells me, they went before breakfast beside, at 6 a. m. Two such visits a day, when a singing lesson and a German lesson come in between, are rather too much, I think, but this insane war is making men and women insane,— Mr. ___________ of Alexandria, for instance. Mother had a letter from him this morning written in the true Southern style — so highfalutin — with abuse and melancholy, martial ardor and piety, beautifully commingled. Mother wrote the other day to find out something about them, and this letter was to say that her’s had been received and forwarded to his wife and daughters at Lexington, Va., where he had removed them “to be out of the reach of the licensed outrages of our Northern outcasts, who make up the Northern army!”

Today we are going to try and decide on our wedding presents for Jenny Woolsey. Just think of Susan Johnson, too! and now Sarah Winthrop tells us of her engagement to Mr. Weston, a friend of her brother Will’s. It reminds me of the days of Noe when there was marrying and giving in marriage and the flood came and drowned them all. Love to Joe. What is his title now? We cannot call him plain Mister!

As soon as J. H. was mustered in, G. began to urge that she and E. should go as army nurses. Mother writes: “Georgy is more earnest than ever about being a nurse for the soldiers. I shall never consent to this arrangement unless some of her own family go with her.”

May 15, 1861.

I supposed you would go to Albany; I am sure I should, and I hope you will take into serious consideration the small plan I suggested to you about being a nurse — at any rate about fitting yourself as far as you can for looking after the sick, if you go, as I suppose you will want to, to Washington in the fall with Joe. I invite you to join me. Mrs. Trotter and I were yesterday examined by the Medical Committee, Drs. Delafield, Wood and Harris, and with ten other women admitted to the course of instruction at the New York Hospital. We are to learn how to make beds for the wounded, cook food properly for the sick, wash and dress wounds, and other things as they come along in the proper care of the wards — fresh air, etc. Not that we have any idea of really going south now, no one will till the fall, and two or three companies of ten each who are fitting themselves at Bellevue Hospital will at any rate go first. Then if there is really a necessity for more nurses we shall send substitutes agreeing to pay their expenses,—unless the opposition in the family has come to an end, in which case, having tested our strength and endurance a little in this training, we shall be very glad to carry out our plan and go. We three might very usefully employ ourselves in Washington if we went no further south, and I shall not be satisfied at all to stay at home while Joe is down there. So, my dear, be keeping the little plan in view in making your arrangements, and don’t say a word to anybody about our being at the Hospital; I don’t want to have to fight my way all through the course, and be badgered by the connection generally, besides giving a strict account of myself at home. We all mean to be very brave about Joe, and I am sure you will be;—it’s a way you have; especially as you and I, and perhaps Mrs. Trotter, will be near him in Washington at one of the hotels or hospitals.