Woolsey family letters during the War for the Union

Eliza Howland to Joe, Howland, her husband.

Wilson Small, June —.

This morning I have your Sunday note with the charming little poem. Who wrote it? Be sure and tell me. It is a poem, and though entirely undeserved, I value it very much indeed.

[Poem by a Lieutenant of the 16th N. Y., dedicated to Eliza Woolsey Howland]

To Mrs. Joseph Howland.

From old Saint Paul till now,

Of honorable women not a few

Have quit their golden ease, in love to do

The saintly works that Christ-like hearts pursue.

Such an one art thou, God’s fair apostle,

Bearing His love in war’s horrific train;

Thy blessed feet follow its ghastly pain

And misery and death, without disdain.

To one borne from the sullen battle’s roar,

Dearer the greeting of thy gentle eyes,

When he aweary, torn and bleeding lies,

Than all the glory that the victors prize.

When peace shall come, and homes shall smile again,

Ten thousand soldier hearts, in Northern climes,

Shall tell their little children, with their rhymes,

Of the sweet saint who blessed the old war times.

From Edward Mitchell.

White House, June 20, 1862.

My dear Father: Heavy firing in the advance this A. M. Since writing to Fred. I have had no time to write another word. Sitting up late that night, I was waked up, with Drs. Jenkins and Haight, to go ashore for 24 hours at 3 A. M. In consequence of being routed out at this unusual hour, yesterday was spent, so far as leisure hours were concerned, in deep sleep. . . . I now write to thank you for your kind expressions of regard for my health, and of love for me; and for your desire to see me with you once more. . . .

My health—it is excellent. . . . And so far it has been possible to find an assistant, who though stupid to an extent and lazy, is willing to go twice a day to wait an hour or more for commissary stores;—it would be perfectly disgusting to me. . . . I doubt much if Mr. Olmsted will be willing to let me go home for some months at least. The staff is now well organized, and the departure of one would throw very much labor on another who would not understand it at all. This is especially so in my case. The drawing of rations requires much care, and to know what stores the Commission has, and where they are, one must be continually among them. . . . You were right about the rebel cavalry, not I. It was very bold. Gen. Stuart commanded. In case we had been called out, I had intended to use only the bayonet and to creep round if possible on the flank of the enemy and charge at my own time—have lain in ambush, in other words. I think Sawtelle would have been willing to allow me my own way, for as he was a regular, he of course placed not much reliance, if any, on such a Falstaff army. . . .

Olmsted has a deal of tact; as much as a woman. Also much shrewdness and a very quiet manner. In some characteristics he reminds me a little of you, or rather what you would have been if you had been called more actively into public life. . . .

A battle is predicted to take place in three days, by Capt. Sawtelle; time will show.

The Webster and Spaulding go to New York. Dr. —— goes in charge of the latter. In my capacity of aide I delivered his sailing orders to him. He may be a very nice man and an excellent physician, but he has an unquenchable and unalterable desire to spread himself and his authority. I received instructions to bully him into staying on board in case he should attempt to come back to the White House! Some funny things occur here!

I regret immensely that I will be unable to be present at Neil’s commencement. I would rather loose $50 than not to be there. . . .

Sarah C. Woolsey to Georgeanna Muirson Woolsey.

New Haven Hospital, June.

I have been so very busy that my conscience does not reproach me at all for not writing. . . . A fortnight ago our wounded came—240 of them, all dreadfully neglected and needing attention of every kind. I cannot just this moment recollect the name of the ship which brought them, but there was only one surgeon on board to care for them, no nurses and hardly any provisions; the wounds of many had not been dressed for nearly a week when they got here, and seven or eight died on the passage. For the first few days most of them were placed in tents on the hospital grounds, but since then the new Barrack Hospital has been finished, and all except about twenty very bad cases are quartered there and doing very well. They would not let any young ladies enter for the first three or four days, the sights and sounds were too bad for them. Such was the enlightened decision of the excellent incapable in charge, but Friday I worked my way in, and since then have been there nearly every day, taking charge of the linen room and giving out clothes, etc. to the men. At first everything was in dreadful confusion, but gradually our department is getting into order, and in the course of three or four days will be thoroughly systematized. A good old lady and myself are to take turns in presiding over the clothing supplies, and as she is rather inefficient and feeble, I hope to take a very big half of the time. The small corner they give us as a store-room was yesterday all shelved and cupboarded under my direction, and will be capable of holding three times the supply it did before. . . . I go up at nine and stay till seven, and all day long the nurses are coming after sheets, and shirts, and bandages, and rags, and towels, and soap, and the men stopping at the door to ask for trousers or coats, and in time I hope to get the true tailor’s measure in my eyes. Such fine, manly, patient fellows as they are. Many of them, almost all, from Michigan and Pennsylvania and New York; not one Connecticut man among them. From the linen room one can organize little rushes into the wards to see special cases, etc., so it is not to be despised even though not as satisfactory as the actual nursing would be. Just outside of our long wooden barrack is a small wooden kitchen, and there Harriet Terry and Rebecca Bacon preside over the diet for the special cases who cannot eat the hospital rations, and if one looks in there about twelve, such a smell of good things greets the nose as it does one good to experience; and arranged on the table are such nice little messes all labelled and numbered—such brown crisp toast and savory chops, and smoking beef-tea, and little messes of this and that; and later the great trays come in and carry them off down the long entry, and so, many poor fellows are made comfortable. One building, which holds eight wards, and comprises four tents full of sick, is all well managed, orderly and thriving, with good paid and excellent unpaid nursing; but in the main hospital where the housekeeper has control, it is all mismanagement, confusion and waste; really sickening to see. The men are doing pretty well though, and all of them are so happy and grateful for the care taken of them. A very nice man from the 105th Pennsylvania, for whom I was writing a letter yesterday, told me to tell his mother not to feel anxious about him, for he was cared for just as if he was at home, and had everything he desired.

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.

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.

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.

Harriet Roosevelt Woolsey to her sisters on the Virginia Peninsula, Georgeanna Woolsey and Eliza Howland.

New York, June.

Dear Girls: I write more for the sake of sending a letter by Dr. Draper, than because there is anything to tell you about. . . . I think Abby looks miserable and needs rest. I don’t believe even you, “the working sisters,” as Dr. Ferris calls you, do as much as Abby does, for there is certainly something that pays in giving nice little things to soldiers and having them so grateful to you and seeing them get well under your care,—there is an excitement in it all which cannot be got out of homely unbleached cotton, yards and yards and hundreds of square yards of shirts. . . .

Think of my having a chance of becoming a nurse up at the Mott Hospital in Fifty-first street. Mrs. Ferris offered me a place of that kind, out of consideration for my merits and the one hundred dollars Uncle E. had given them the week before, but I foolishly gave in to the family row. They had me laid out and buried twenty times over of malignant typhoid, diphtheria, and other ills which flesh is heir to.

. . . Carry is engaged in finding a summer retreat for the family. . . . The combinations absolutely necessary are: sea and mountain air, a place near the city with speedy communication, and no New Yorkers.

I send Charley’s wine, Dr. Draper having offered to take anything for us.

While we were lying at White House in the Wilson Small, one day, Mr. Olmsted came to G. with the statement that “young Mr. Mitchell of New York, who had come down to help in the Commission’s Quarter-master’s department, was ill on the supply boat Elizabeth.” G. went across the plank to him at once, and found a most attractive six or seven feet of future brother-in-law cramped into an uncomfortable little hole of a cabin. This was E. M.’s first introduction to the family; he was looked after a little, and sent home in a returning hospital ship to recruit. Mr. Olmsted had his father’s private instructions to keep him out of the army.

Abby Howland Woolsey a little later, writes:

Mr. Mitchell called yesterday afternoon to say good-bye and to offer to take anything to Georgy. Dr. Agnew had sent for him in a great hurry to go back as quartermaster on the Elm City. He had promised to go back on three or four days’ notice, and had hoped to spend those at the seaside, where his physician had told him he ought to go. We had nothing for Georgy, the Elm City lying at Jersey City, it would not have been convenient anyhow—but Carry took to his house in 9th street a letter to Georgy and a large bundle of candy for himself.—(C’s first present to her future husband).

Hatty writes (Harriet Roosevelt Woolsey to her sisters):

June 10.

We shall send you the things you ask for by the steamer St. Mark to-morrow, and hope you may get them, though I have my doubts as to Charley’s wines making a sea journey safely with government employees on board ready to drink them up. William Hodge has just walked up the street with me, says Lenox has come back for an appointment in one of the government Hospitals in Philadelphia.