American Civil War Letters - June 16, 1864 - Resentments, a Missed Funeral, and a Cure for Diarrhea
I glory in being able to do for myself. Sometimes I think folks are afraid to do for me, for fear I shall call on them too much. They need not borrow much trouble. If it is inconvenient for them once or twice, I shall know better than to ask again.
Marcia is in a worse mood than usual, in this letter. But since she's gone six months without complaining, I think she's allowed to express some ill-feeling by now.
When Marcia writes "Money makes the mare go" in this letter, I at first assumed it was an earlier version of "Money makes the world go 'round." I was wrong. It actually comes from this 17th century nursery rhyme:
Will you lend me your mare to ride a mile?
No, she is lame leaping over a stile.
Alack! and I must go to the fair!
I'll give you good money for lending your mare.
Oh, oh! say you so?
Money will make the mare to go.
Springfield June 16 1864
My Dear Husband
I received a letter from you last night. It seems good to get a letter so often. You received three from me in one week. Now I get three from you!
I am glad you got the two dollars, but I think strange that the officers and chaplains should come to you for stamps. It must cost you something to send for them, and every cent counts here - and I suppose, does there. I am willing to do anything for the comfort of soldiers that I can, but I should not be willing to keep stamps to accommodate those who are receiving such pay that they can afford to have luxuries to eat and a fine saloon to eat in, while my husband must eat such as he can get, whether it is suitable or not.
You say you wish you had 5 dollars for capital to work on. I should think those who wish for stamps might find the money to send for them. The Chaplain, for instance, has money. He could send and let you distribute them to those who put letters in the office. I think that would be much more sensible than for a poor man like you to do it for him.
I expect you will think I am very natural tonight, and so I am. I sent the money for your comfort, not for others better able to be to the expense than you. Now you say it did not cost but six cents, and I like to accommodate. I should be willing to spend it for some poor bloke.
I will stop - for I know you do not like to hear such talk - and say that Sarah G was very glad of that letter. I hope it may do her good.
Sophia is dead.
Her funeral was this afternoon. No one asked me to ride up there with them, and I did not feel able to hire a team myself, or to drive if I had a team, so I am at home.
She has been sick two months since she took her bed, and they say it has been a great job to get along with her. I want you should write to Joshua and send it to me, and I will write some and send it to him. I wish to express my sympathy, for I think he is a good fellow.
There is another thing I want to say tonight, for fear I shall not think of it in the morning.
Mr Coffin told me he used to put a very little alum in the water he used, and it would be as clear as could be. Not but a very little. Not enough to make any difference in the taste, and he never had any trouble with diarrhea. He said, put a few grains of alum in a tumbler of water, and in a short time it would be clear, while the bottom would be covered with clay - which he thought caused the diarrhea.
It is past ten and I must go to bed. Good night.
Alum is an astringent, and it seems reasonable to suppose it would be good prevent that disorder. I hope you will try it.
17 Friday
Geo has cut his foot pretty bad with a piece of glass, so that he cannot step on it very well.
We have some difficulty in getting the cows drove. The first morning I took the cows and went up Grout's and asked if Frank might drive till Geo could, and they said he might, but he has not. Yesterday morning, Everett Cook put them in. Last night I went after them. This morning, Abbie drove them. I was in hopes some of the boys would take them, but they did not, and she would not ask them. Neither would I. Mr Haywood told her where the pasture was, so she had no difficulty.
I glory in being able to do for myself. Sometimes I think folks are afraid to do for me, for fear I shall call on them too much. They need not borrow much trouble. If it is inconvenient for them once or twice, I shall know better than to ask again.
"Money makes the mare go," and I wish I had enough to drive mine with, and I would have gone up to that funeral.
Grout and his wife, and Robinson and his wife went up in covered carriage, so I have heard. I think they just said to me, you are not one of us - and it is not the first time.
I cannot help feeling bad, for it leaves me so entirely alone. I do not know who would help me if I needed.
You will see that I am on the wrong side of the cloud to see the silver lining, but I suppose there is one. There is one bright spot. When I look that way, I can see it: we are all well. Shew me that the Lord is merciful.
Perhaps you would like to know what great things the universalist are doing? Yesterday closed their convention. 23 joined their church. Mrs Keyes, and her sister, some from out of town did. Mr Chickering's ministry increase their numbers so much.
We fared better than you, for Mrs Keyes brought in some freshened fish for our breakfast - some she did not use for her company. A pie, and some very handsome tarts. We do not have such things, so it is a rarity.
Mr Powers is sick. I do not know what ails him, but he was quite sick yesterday. So I heard.
Our Friday evening meeting is stopped for the present. I, for one, am sorry. It is so long since I have made all my arrangements to attend taht meeting, that I feel lost not to have it.
Aunt Betsey says she laid awake all night thinking of you sleeping in your rough blankets, and contrasting her comfortable bed with the poor soldiers'. She sends her love and hopes you may do a great deal of good. She is expecting to go to Grafton today, perhaps.
This letter - I fear you will think I had better not written. You may throw it in the fire and forget it.
Abram is in Brattleboro, very feeble, so S. Cook says.
Your wife,
M S Grennell
[Postscript added to top page:] I put a letter in the office every tuesday and Friday, so you may know when to expect if the mails are regular.
M S Grennell
This is a transcription of a letter that my great-great-great grandmother sent to her husband during his service in the American Civil War. It was written with minimal punctuation, so I have made regular edits for readability while keeping the content of the letter as close to the source as possible.
You can click on the original letters to see a high resolution scan for comparison.
I have dozens of letters from Marcia Spencer Grinnell to her husband Abel from this period, and will continue to share them as time and interest permit. The letters make for fascinating reading, and provide an intimate look into domestic life at the time of this conflict.
CLICK HERE to read more letters from Marcia Spencer Grinnell and her family during the civil war.
Or CLICK HERE for a complete catalog of my work on Steemit, so far.
I like the way that people used to pass knowledge through nursery rhymes, like "Money makes the mare go". It reminds me that I once read that the poem, Jack and Jill, was an underground tax protest against a whisky tax by King Charles I.
Also, in these letters, the apparent rivalry between your great-great-great grandmother's church and the Universalist church is an interesting ongoing theme. If that's the same Universalist church as today, it surprises me that they've been around so long. I don't know much about them, but I had thought that their history began in the 20th century.
A whiskey tax? Fie on King Charles!
According to Wikipedia, the first American Universalist church was founded in Gloucester, MA, in 1774!
Donna and I went to a couple different Universalist meeting houses when we first met 20+ years ago. (Faith shopping, I guess.) We could never pin down what the beliefs were. One service was like a cantankerous town meeting with no talk of faith or God at all. The other was more of a new-age-hippy sort of prayer meeting.
But we were told each church pretty much did their own thing and that was kind-of the point. So I can see how Marcia would resent the appeal of such an organization.
Don't know if you'll see this reply or not, but I just had your post come across my feed, through here. In case you do happen to see it, I just wanted to mention that all these years later, this series still ranks among my personal favorite articles on the Steem chain.
I think Marcia definitely deserves to complain. I suspect she has become very tough and probably outspoken, and not that well liked by her community.
She always apologizes when she complains, but she doesn't let that stop her from reporting to her husband how things are.
I get the impression she was sensitive about her social position within the community. They had a house and land, but had to work it, and to work hard. But I also get the impression that they were more respected than she gives herself credit for - at least among the members of her church.
I also detect that sensitivity, though I haven't picked up yet on the respect of her church members.
Great and good are seldom the same man.
- Winston Churchill