“I would rather write to you than to eat when hungry,” expressed a Confederate sergeant major from Texas named James Black to his wife, Patience. Letters were one of the few, tangible connections soldiers and their loved ones could look forward to and cherish during their separation. (Recognizing it was unnecessarily cruel for families of soldiers to receive death notices and other devastating news at postal service windows, the U.S. Government inaugurated free home mail delivery in about fifty Northern cities in 1863.) Letters also offered soldiers—who endured long periods of boredom interrupted by moments of sheer terror—a quiet time to reflect on their lives before the war. Few luxuries bolstered a soldier’s morale more than a personal missive from a sweetheart or family member back home, even if there was little to repon. Patience Black wrote the following letter to her husband on February 22, 1862, reassuring him with an understated poignancy that, although away, he was not forgotten.
My Dear Husband
This is a Saturday evening and every one is as merry as they well can be, all but me and my heart is aching with sadness I have been in the deepest blues all day. I did not expect a letter this evening as Mr. Riley wrote you had a bad rising on your hand which excused you not writing. I have nothing to write to you, my darling, but judging you by myself I will write something if it is not much.
We had an egg nog this evening all the children are slightly intoxicated. Ida is the funniest thing alive. Mat is in the same situation. Uncle Jasper is here he and Hatt will leave for Henderson next Tuesday morning. Hatt is in ecstacies. Aunt Mary has moved to the Brazos. We will be all alone soon. I wish you would come up some evening and spend the night with us. I for one will appreciate your presence very highly. I have been expecting a letter from Sister Mollie but have received none. I will write to her again before long, perhaps she did not get my last letter. Pap brought his sheep home again. Good many of them died while Mr. McDaniel had them. They are doing tolerably well now.
I see so many things to remind me of you every day. I walk the same road that I have walked with you though by myself I thought for some time past my health was improving but this week I have been able to do nothing but nurse my knitting and look at others work. I have knit you two pair of cotton socks. Mother is spinning thread for pants. My tonsils are sore and I will have to burn them again.
Jess Ellison has returned on furlough of forty days, he looks rather worsted I suppose his health is far from being good. He is gone to see his Mother now; he left all the Boys in fine health. Two of Widow Anderson’s sons Jim and Anges were captured while in a scouting party in Kansas and shot for refusing to be loyal to Northern power also one Murphy who once lived with McFall’s wife here on Bosque.
Dunk McLennan was here last Sunday he has no idea of going to war. Mr. Alexander and Mrs. Taylor called to see us this morning. Bell looks very much like herself though some what older. I sympathize with her exceedingly for Mr. Taylor has enlisted for the war. Mrs. Carter has a Miss Jessie Beauregard in her family. Will Dutch is dead. I do not know with what disease he died unless it was Strychnia. She left seven little ones to mourn her loss though we have distributed them among kind friends who doubtless will do their duty by them.
I do wish you would come to see us. I find my subject to be uninteresting and inexhaustable so I will leave it as it is getting late. Do not let anyone see this letter. Hatt wishes you to write to her. Pap and Mother send their love to you all. Present my love to Jim and Will. Take care of yourself Jimmie. Now I shall soon meet you in the land of dreams so Good Bye Bless you
Yours
Patience
Write soon tell me how you are pleased
James reminisced in his correspondences as well, and in the following letter, he also gently teased Patience about her suspicions he was being unfaithful while away.
Lone Some Camp
Dearest Patience:
I received your welcome letter of the 15th inst two days ago, and I was indeed glad to hear from you, for I was afraid you were sick when you only have a scratched ankle.
I have nothing interesting to write you. Everything here is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Patience what shall I write you? Shall it be more word of friendship? Oh no, my heart prompts my pen to the most wedded love. If I had never known you that flame would have been unkindled in this bosom but once set burning it will burn forever. You are associated with every thought and every action of my existence.
Last night while lying on the parapit (for I slept there) viewing the starry heavens, I almost lived over the last two years. They were associated with many happy recollections. There was but one solitary cloud to mar my future happiness (this bloody war) and I hope very soon it will be dissolved. I will then be the happiest of the happy.
Patie, I sometime think of our Government affairs and the way they are carried on until I am half crazy; and the present moment is the time of times I write and hardly know what I have written. I do so much wish I were at home with you and little Joel. I know he looks mighty funny in his little trousers. I can imagine I see him tottering around.
You will hear if I make love to the girls, ha. I would like to know how you would hear it. There is not one hear that would dare tell it, for they are guilty of the same crime, if it be a crime to love a pretty woman. We have not been visited by the Ladies for the last few days.
I have heard not talk for the last few days of our regiment leaving here though we are subject to be ordered away at any hour. There are no leaves of absence given to any, but those that get sick furloughs.
It is very warm here. There is no shade except the tents, and they are so low that I had almost as soon be in the sun.
The men are still deserting from here occassionally There were seven Yankee negroes deserted two nights ago. I hav’n’t heard whether they went to the Yankee Fleet or no. There is a great deal of dissatisfaction among the troops here. Many of them are whipped
I don’t know whether you can read this letter or not. I have to write on my knees and it is very badly written.
You say you are sorry I can find nothing more interesting than your letters. You know you are telling a story for you wouldn’t have me think otherwise than my interests were in you and your letters.
Although there is no indication that James Black, who returned home alive and well after the war, was ever unfaithful, infidelity was a problem confronted by many couples. Upon hearing through word of mouth that his wife had been seen with another man, Union soldier William Mayberry dashed off the following terse rebuke. (It is not clear to whom or what the phrase “Smack Rits” refers.)
Culpeper Court House Va
August 7th 1862
My Dear Wife
I was glad to hear from you and that you were pretty well but I suppose that beau of yours that you picked up on the picnic fanned you so much that you caught cold,
He better look out I know how to shoot or I’ll box your ears when I come home you never said whose picnic it was, or who you knowd that I knowd or anything about it I heard of it last Saturday night
I hope you are better and Willie and Mary are ditto. Glad to hear you got the money.
Smack Rits—for me I dream of being home nearly every night but when the drum beats in the morning I wake up and find I ain’t there
Your loving husband
WWM