Item No. 7074882

Edgar W. Irish was a private in the newly formed 85th New York Infantry when he wrote this letter to a cousin “Charlotte,” possibly his future bride Charlotte Elizabeth Maxson, on November 1, 1861. While Irish would serve in the 85th for the majority of the war, including a time as a prisoner at the infamous Andersonville Prison, in this letter he discusses his earlier experience at the First Battle of Bull Run while a member of the 1st Rhode Island Volunteers. He provides a very vivid account of his regiment’s role in the battle, which took them from the thrill of victory to the agony of defeat in a single afternoon. The full transcript reads:

Barracks No. 4
Elmira, Nov. 1st, 1861

Sister Lottie
I received your kind letter about half an hour ago and as I have nothing much to do I’ll try and begin an answer now. I’m in the Hospital recovering from a run of the measles. I came here last Sunday evening and since the next day I have been getting better fast.

You say I never told you anything about the battle in which I was an actor. I really wish I had an opportunity to tell you the whole yarn from beginning to end; you would hear some hard things I tell you. I never expect to see another such a scene as that Bull Run battle and retreat. The night before the battle, at 10 o’clock, I was sleeping soundly with my cartridge box for a pillow, when someone brought me a letter from Arny. I opened and read it by the bright moonlight without raising my head from my pillow or stirring my body, and went to sleep again. At 2 a.m. next morning we were called up and marched off with very little noise and no breakfast except what we carried in our haversacks in the shape of pilot bread and boiled beef. We marched along in the darkness awhile. Then in the dim daylight we passed Centreville, where there had been a battle a few days before. Troops were everywhere to be seen all moving or preparing to move. On we went through the dust and over the pebble stones—across the bridge where there was so much excitement on our return. Men were there engaged in strengthening the bridge, and as I passed over it I wondered within myself why the rebels did not destroy this bridge too. They knew what they left it for and in the evening they gave us a practical illustration of the advantage it gave them over a flying foe.

After passing the bridge a little way, we turned off the main road to the right and soon after we heard the two shells fired from the 32 pounder Parrott gun, which you will remember were fired that morning to make the old bear—Beauregard—growl.

On we went through field and forrest and hot sunshine till half past nine, when we came out on a hill where we could see the smoke and hear the noise of distant battle.

We were nearly worn out with marching then, but the growing excitement began to make us forget ourselves and we hurried on. A farmer whose house we passed told us they were ready for us down there a mile or two and would give us a warm reception. That was just what we wanted. The 2nd R.I. Regt. was first in the column and was suddenly attacked from an ambuscade. The 1st R.I. was just behind and came up in fine shape with the N.Y. 71st and 2nd N.H. regiments. We were formed in line of battle, our batteries were got into position and set to work, and at half past ten we were advanced to the front through a perfect shower of round shot and shell with some musket balls. When we came to the right spot, we put in our plea against secession. Lottie, don’t it make you shudder to think you have a cousin who stood and fired fourteen or 15 shots at individuals in full view, and quite likely more than half the shots effective? I say is it not revolting? Several men fell very near me. Some of them friends and acquaintances, but the greatest slaughter was done there in front of us. The R.I. rifles were aimed with care and the carnage was awful.

In about an hour and twenty minutes the rebels fled beyond the range of our rifles. Gen. McDowell sent word to us that we had gained the victory and to retire and rest. Oh Sister, you cannot guess how happy I felt. The tears came to my eyes for the first time in months, and the cheer which resounded along our line was mingled with many a prayer of thanksgiving.

Then we marched off to the rear and stacked our armed, called the roll, and found that 18 men were missing from our company. Of course we were very anxious to learn their fate and several of us—myself one of the number—were sent off to learn their fate. In half an hour we had found them all. One dead, one dying, and another badly wounded, and several others suffering from fatigue.

During my search I saw many sad sights—men cut and mangled in all manner of ways by musket and cannon shots, some groaning and calling upon their friends in their agony, and others cold and pale in death. I uncovered the faces of not less than a dozen persons as they stretched out in death, in search of my companions. I passed over a portion of the field recently occupied by the rebel infantry and saw many of their dead and wounded men laying just as our bullets left them. I felt sorry for the poor fellows. During all this time and until the retreat commended, stray shots from the rebel batteries very frequently passed or lodged close by us and one man was killed at the well when he was filling his canteen. Another six pound ball came bounding along and I caught it just before it would have stopped of its own accord. But I guess you are getting tired of this long story by this time, for I am a very poor hand to tell a story.

The march back to Washington was a sad and sorrowful one to me. I felt ugly and it would have been dangerous for any rebel to have molested me on the way. How glad I am that they did not.

I am sorry that one so young as you should be burdened with troubles of any kind, and especially those that will leave a withering trace to last through life. Oh Sister, shine against them, turn your back to them, and stride through your tears. “There is a better time coming.”

Sabbath day.
Our regiment is organized now and about a week from today our company is to elects its officers. After that I expect to have a furlough to go home to Genesee. Charlotte do you suppose a few good men could be got about DeRuyter to join our company? Ask your father what he thinks about it, will you? I am feeling very well today, only a little hoarse. I have to hold my paper on my knee to write, so excuse the looks of it if you can. Give my love to your father, brothers, and sisters, and remember me as your brother
Edgar W.

Later in April 1864 Edgar and his brother Hadwin were both captured when the 85th New York was surrendered at Plymouth, North Carolina. They would be imprisoned at Andersonville, where Edgar’s skills as a bookkeeper were put to use in administration of the camp. Disgusted at the conditions under which Union soldiers suffered at Andersonville—the 85th New York had more men die at the camp than any other regiment—Edgar made copies of records that would later be used in the prosecution of Henry Wirz, the Confederate commandant of the prison. While Hadwin Irish would die at the camp, Edgar would survive. His health, however, was permanently affected. He died in Hammond, Louisiana, in 1897.

The 8-page letter was written on two separate letter sheets—the first being 5” x 8” and the second shortened to about 5” x 6”. Excellent condition as shown.