Showing posts with label Civil War letters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Civil War letters. Show all posts

Friday, March 8, 2013

Virgil Sees No Prospects for a Settlement of Our National Difficulties




Remember Virgil? It’s taken a while to decipher the following letter, written to Dan Carpenter (Pauline’s husband.) Though Virgil is very wordy and repeats himself a lot, as I labored through (with the help of a full page magnifier,) I realized what a cry from the heart this letter is – written to a man he’s never met -- and Virgil came alive for me.

And at times I was reminded of our nation's present divisions. . .
I’ve put question marks after words I guessed at and have left blanks where I couldn’t even guess. Virgil writes on and on without starting a new paragraph but I think this is to save space (prisoners were limited in how many pages they could write) and I have kept his spacing, along with his spelling and punctuation.

Oct. 21, 1863
Dan Carpenter Esqr.
                                         Dear Friend:
                                         Your favor of 13th came safe to hand on 21 inst (go HERE for explanation of this term) containing $5.00 the receipt whereof is hereof acknowledged and at the same time, you will allow me the pleasure of returning herewith the sincere thanks of a grateful heart, I am humbled (?) to think that I have a friend in the United States that (if they do not sympathize with me politically) sympathize with my sufferings as a prisoner of war. Philanthropy is philanthropy under any and all circumstances, and it matters not whether I differ in politics with others, it is not magnanimity in them to treat me with contempt (or cruelty.)  It is a pleasure to me to know that I have acted, during this war, in such a manner, that I was not ashamed to meet my enemy on any occasion. Federal prisoners have frequently fallen into my hands since the war commenced, and I was willing for them to say what kind of treatment they have received at my hands. I do not blush to meet and recognize them out in the country, it is a relief to connect with them, while they, on their part, were bound to do me the justice to say that I have always treated them with all the kindness in my power.  Any instances I could enumerate, but all this would (?) be uninteresting to you.




One instance I cannot forbear mentioning. Last Spring it happened that a Union soldier fell into my hands, he was an artilerist from the state of Ohio, he was lamenting his misfortunes and was  terrified/horrified(?) at the idea of being confined in the South as a prisoner, saying, at the same time, that he was bound to suffer a great deal in consequence of being destitute of money, in the means of procuring luxuries of any description. I saw, at once, his helpless condition and knowing that a man, _______ without money _______ to ___      from governmental accommodations would be bound to suffer. Accordingly, I gave him Fifty Dollars. It so happened that he was not long detained in the South. After I was captured and brought to Camp Chase in Ohio, I met and Recognized the same man. He asked me if I wanted anything. I remarked that I was in the same situation as he was, the last time I saw him.  He said that he would assist me and went for his money, which was some distance off, but before he returned I was hurried off for this place, so I have not heard from my friend since, I have the misfortune to have very few friends living within the federal lines, you may, therefore, imagine the assistance I receive is quite small. I have been here ever since the last of July, during which time, I have not had “a red” (he probably means a red cent) – the remittance you sent me being the first. The government furnishes us with a subsistence diet – and nothing else. This, though substantial and necessary to sustain life, is rough, and, in the course of time, grows very monotonous, and a person who had been use to having all that a healthy appetite could crave, feels the affect. Those who can afford it,- lives as well as heart could ask, wanting for nothing in the eating line as wearing apearel; but those who cannot furnish “The Spondulix”   to purchase these fastidious comforts –realize all the ill consequence of a prison here, though however comfortable will finally grow irksome. There are those here who, judging from their outward appearances, and the circumstances surrounding them, scarcely realize the fact that they are prisoners; they seem to enjoy themselves as though they were in the midst of fashionable society – and surrounded with their friends enhaling the air of freedom. I must say that there are men here as prisoners, who do realy enjoy themselves better that they did when at home and at liberty; but for my unworthy self, I see but poor enjoyment nor do I anticipate a change until I am released from imprisonment; be that event long or be it short.
        Those who have not tried a life of imprisonment know but little of the feelings of a prisoner. Did you ever imagine yourself as a prisoner? deprived of your liberty? cut off from social relations with those so dear to your heart? surrounded by an enemy on all sides? No prospect of being liberated soon, and last, but not least of all, no person or friend to whom you can look for sympathy of assistance? If so, your feelings, I dare say, was not pleasant; but the imagination can in no respect be equal to experiencing the reality. Accustomed, as I have always been, to want for nothing that money could procure, never having a whim that was not satisfied, my liberty not being restrained from my earliest recollection, you will readily imagine how I am cramped in the present occasion.
       I regret very much that I have never had the pleasure of meeting with you, consequently I feel a delicacy in having written such a letter, but it is my nature and must therefore plead my excuse. I had, however, the pleasure of meeting your most excelent lady, in company with her noble mother several years ago in North Carolina. She has probably forgotten me long ago. I was only a school boy then. I think I would recognize Mrs. Carpenter were I to meet her in a strange land. I am sure I will never forget the important circumstances that was transpiring at the time. I was in trouble then but not such as being a prisoner of war. I was in a difficulty with my sweetheart – (now my wife) perhaps Mrs. Carpenter is acquainted with the circumstances.
       There is no knowing when I will get to leave this place – not soon I guess –at least it looks dark now – and from all appearances it will get darker. Our authorities can’t agree on an exchange of prisoners and of course we are “going up the spout” till they do agree. I hope they will agree soon, for sure and certain, I am getting tired of this prison life. I do hope you may never be a prisoner.
       I received a letter from Aunt Eliza at the same time I received yours –answered hers yesterday. Tell her, if you please, that I have seen the two Gash boys – they have both been sick. Thomas is about well – the other, St. Gash, I think has pneumonac fever; he is in the same mess with me—I will see as far as I am able that he is well cared for – I hope we will have peace soon but I look upon it as a hope without foundation for I see no prospects for a settlement of our national difficulties. I wish I could see a prospect and that peace could be made and our once happy nation, once more and rest, and basking in the sunshine of peace and quiet-- our trouble is indeed great – our nationality is gone. We have no security for our persons or our property but all, all is rout and confusion. Though rich today, we may be poor tomorrow, though free at noon, night may find us prisoner. 
Oh! peace, peace, when will she return---
                                                Yours Truly,
                                                       Virgil S. Lusk
 
 
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Thursday, January 17, 2013

A Lettter from Johnson's Island




This is the first of Virgil’s letters. To learn more about Johnson’s Island, go HERE,  the site from which these pictures came.
Johnson’s Island, Ohio, January 1st – 1864
Pauline: My Dear Cousin:  
                  I received a letter from you sometime since and answered the same immediately, simultaneously with one from Mr. Carpenter, both of which I answered subsequently I received an answer from Mr. C informing me that you had not received my answer. I hope you will not censure me for the failure for clearly it was no fault of mine. Truly I was very ____ that such a thing should happen, being highly interested in the correspondence that was about to spring up between us, as I had congratulated myself upon the pleasure derived (desired?), or about to be derived (desired?), from your kind and highly interesting letters, imagine my mortification on the reception of the information that you had not received my answer and too, just at the time when I was looking your answer to the correspondence I was so much interested in.

 I wrote you the information that James Gash was dead. He was moved to the hospital shortly after his illness made its appearance. He only survived a short time, notwithstanding the utmost and kindest (?) attentions of his friends- we done all we could to save him, but the destroying epidemic was more powerful than all our ______ as the skill of our hospital Physicians. I do not think he was in his right mind at the time of his death as he spoke of his wife and children being present, remarked that his oldest daughter had grown considerably since he had seen her last. We buried him the best we were able to do- his grave is marked, and if you ever hap this way, you may see his resting place in the Rebel grave yards on the North East end of Johnson’s Island. Thomas Gash left here on the same day that James died- we have not heard from him for some time, and we fear that he is also dead, as he was in very bad health when he left here; while we learn that a great many of our friends have died at Mt. Lookout. 

I have not been enjoying good health for some time. I have cronic sore throat, which is very painful at times, and owing to the cold and damp ____ of the weather I am worse more than usual – Though I feel very thankful that I am living. Christmas has come and gone, and instead of it being a day of pleasure and enjoyment as usual, I think it was one of the most disagreeable days I ever spent. It was not only very cold and disagreeable in that respect, but it was a day on which I use to spend in luxurious (?) living and mirthful amusement, but how unlike that was spent the present Christmas. A prisoner of war, half frozen to death, subsisting on the very substantial but plain diet of beef and bread as a principle diet. 

Others of my fellow prisoners, however, were more fortunate and had a tolerable pleasant Christmas, making merry over boxes of nicknacks  and whisky sent them by their friends, not being fortunate enough to have a friend to supply me with nice things to eat, and having no desire to drink, I sat back and enjoyed myself as best I could, thinking of pleasures long past, and feasting upon the hope that better days would come, when, like Robin Roughhead, “I shall be as rich as any in the land.”

We have a variety of characters on Johnson’s Island, a collection of people of all professions, and, I might say, from all parts of the world, of all collors (sic) and nations. The busy brane (sic) can find space and material sufficient to afford ample employment in the study of human nature, if nothing else. Imagine twenty five hundred or three thousand men, of all characters, thrown together without employment and without the restraint of social society, and you have a comparative menagerie, upon which the philosopher’s mind can find pleasure in contemplating. Barnum’s museum will afford no comparison to Johnson’s Island. That you may have a better comprehension of what I have been trying (to) write you, I will give you an example.
 

The house in which we stay is about one hundred feet long, two stories high. One room below which is used as a sleeping and dining room also. In this room on Christmas eve, commencing at the upper end was music and dancing, lower down was a faro bank in full blast, while in the same vicinity not less than half dozen smaller card games in progress, still lower down and in less than twenty five feet of the card table, so close together that the observer could only distinguish one observer from the other save by the way the faces were turned, was the people of God, singing and praying, returning thanks to God, in the same room and but a short step away, was eating and drinking. Such, dear Cousin, are the people with whom I stay. I wish I  could write more but I am limited – write me soon and often—you have the material and leisure to write me once a week. Respects to all, especially to your mother and noble husband.
                               Yours truly,
                                        Virgil S. Lusk

(added to previous letter)  
January 3rd
I receive a letter from Mrs. Lusk (?). All well –it is very cold here-I understand the thermometer is 20 below zero—nothing like this in the South. I think I’ll freeze to death in spite of all my efforts to the contrary. Virgil
 
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Sunday, January 13, 2013

A Window to the Past


Susan Moore, a 7th generation native of Madison County, got in touch with me back in November and, knowing that I was at work on a book about Madison County during the Civil War, offered to share some family history. She brought me copies of letters written by her great, great, great grandfather's brother. Virgil S. Lusk (1836 - 1929) was a colonel in the Confederate Army and these letters were written while he was a prisoner of war,

I'm just now finding the time to read them -- the penmanship is beautiful but the copies are a little pale.  But how worthwhile to spend time with Virgil S. Lusk! He was an amazing person who really deserves a book of his own. But just now,  I expect that his voice will influence the voice of one of my characters.

In my transcription below, I think his personality comes across loud and clear. 




                            Johnson’s Island, Ohio, March, 29th 1865

Cousin Pauline: Your letter of the 17th inst has just come to hand and as your kind letters heretofore highly appreciated. It is not necessary to say that I am not exchanged yet as you will readily perceive that I am not seeing by the caption that I write from the city of incarceration. I am looking to leave here every day. I was paroled (?) on the 11 inst (?) for Exchange, but the long looked for time has not come. This will perhaps be the last letter you receive from me written from this place, that is if my hopes are realized. The exchange has been reduced to a reality and many thousands here enjoy its benefits though it may be possible that many long and weary days of prison life are yet in store for me. I have schooled myself to not be surprised at anything and so I’d not be surprised to hear at anytime that the exchange was stop(p)ed. Human nature is so fickle and the times so changeable that it is unsafe to count on anything certain. Cousin Pauline, you and Cousin Dan have been very kind to me, and I wish it was in my power to convince you how truly grateful I feel, but ‘tis (?) impossible. I’ll never forget you, whatever my fate (?) may be, and I hope --  I pray that I will yet live to prove to you that I am not unworthy of your friendship and that the Rebels are not as bad as you have been taught to consider them. I know you are my true and faithful friend – such as true hearted woman alone can be, and I’m sorry that we can’t agree politicly -- but ‘tis differences of opinion that make up the world. ‘Twould not do for us all to be alike, the world would be too monotonous—but we’ll not fall out on that point. When I am convinced that I’m wrong and you are right – I’ll come over and jine ye – till then I hope dear cousin you will be charitable enough to pardon me for being a Reble. I hope we will yet meet in­­­­­_____ and discuss this matter when peace is made. I wish I could write you a long letter but I can't. I’m well, will write you good by when I leave here. God bless you Cousin – respects to Cousin Dan.              
                       Virgil S. Lusk
                       No news from home since I wrote you last --
   

What I found really interesting as I read on is that Virgil was writing to a cousin who was NOT a supporter of the Confederacy. And his tone was so polite --  a 'we'll agree to disagree" attitude -- toward the end of a bloody combat.This was the last letter in the collection -- I'll go back and read the others and find out more.

Thank you, Susan, for sharing this window into the past!
 
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