(A.) _May 31st._—Sick men arriving Friday night by the railroad could
not be provided for in the crowded field-hospital ashore, which still
remained of but one fifth the capacity in tent-room which I urged it
should be made three weeks ago. To make more room, on Saturday morning,
31st, we were ordered to take off four hundred upon the _Elm City_. They
were sent to her by smaller steamboats, and the last load, which brought
the number up to four hundred and fifty, arrived so late Saturday night
that she could not leave till daylight Sunday morning. The orders were
to deliver the men at Yorktown and return immediately. I urged Dr. ——,
who was the surgeon in charge, and the captain and engineer to do their
best, and telegraphed to have every preparation made at Yorktown.
_June 1st._—We had sent out two parties to look for straggling sick, and
visit the hospitals in the rear of the left wing. One of these returned
at noon, having been by Cumberland to New Kent Court-House. From Dr. ——,
who was in charge of the other, I received a despatch about sunset,
stating that his party were assisting the surgeons in a field-hospital,
to which wounded were crowding from a battle then in progress. Soon
after midnight this party arrived on board, having come from the front
with a train of wounded, and we then had our first authentic information
of the fierce battle in which our whole left wing had been engaged.
* * * * *
On that Sabbath day, after the departure of the _Elm City_, the wounded
of the battle of Fair Oaks began to arrive in large numbers by railroad.
After energetic remonstrances, with the responsible medical officer, on
the part of the Commission, and a vain struggle to secure an adherence
to some plan by which care and method in their shipment could be
expected, a frightful scene of confusion and misery ensued at the
landing, in the midst of which three government boats and two of those
assigned to the Commission were loaded with wounded. We omit the painful
particulars, because they could not be given without casting the gravest
censure where censure would now be useless.[6] To understand the
extracts which follow, it is only necessary to know, that so well were
things managed on the _Elm City_ (which, it will be remembered, left,
loaded with sick, in the morning), that she had proceeded to Yorktown,
discharged her sick, and returned with beds made, reporting ready to
receive wounded at White House before sunset the same day.
Footnote 6:
Some idea of the causes of the confusion at White House at this time
may be formed from a communication addressed by the representative of
the Commission to the Medical Director, of which a copy is given in
the Appendix (C), together with a memorandum of arrangements suggested
subsequently, to provide against its recurrence. The officer who seems
to have been most palpably at fault at White House has since been
publicly disgraced for a similar offence.
* * * * *
(M.) The Commission boats were all here, and ready to remove the wounded
of the battle of the 1st and 2d of June. They filled and left with their
accustomed order and promptitude. After that, other boats, detailed by
government for hospital service, were brought up. These boats were not
in the control of the Commission. There was no one specially appointed
to take charge of them, no one to receive the wounded at the station, no
one to ship them properly, no one to see that the boats were supplied
with proper stores. Of course the Commission came forward to do all it
could at a moment's notice, but it had no power; only the right of
charity. It could neither control nor check the fearful confusion that
ensued, as train after train came in, and the wounded were brought and
thrust upon the various boats. But it did nobly what it could. Night and
day its members worked, not, you must remember, in its own
well-organized service, but in the hard duty of making the best of a bad
case. Not the smallest preparation was found, in at least three of the
boats, for the common food of the men. As for sick-food, stimulants,
drinks, &c., such things scarcely exist in the medical mind of the army,
and there was not even a pail or a cup to distribute food, had there
been any.
* * * * *
(N.) _June 5th...._ We had been helping the ladies on the _Elm City_ all
night, had returned to our quarters, and just washed and dressed, when
Captain —— came on board, to say that several hundred wounded men were
lying at the landing,—that the _Daniel Webster_ No. 2 had been filled,
and the surplus was being sent on board the _Vanderbilt_,—that the
confusion was terrible; there were no stores on board either vessel. Of
course the best in our power had to be done. Our supply-boat _Elizabeth_
came up. We begged Mr. —— not to refrain from sending us because we had
been up all night; he said that he wouldn't send us, but if, in view of
so much misery, we chose to offer our services to the United States
surgeon in charge, he thought it would be merciful. We went on board,
and such a scene as we entered and lived in for two days I trust never
to see again. Men in every condition of horror, shattered and shrieking,
were being brought in on stretchers, borne by contrabands, who dumped
them anywhere, banged the stretchers against pillars and posts, and
walked over the men without compassion. There was no one to direct what
ward or what beds they were to go into. The men had mostly been without
food since Saturday, but there was nothing on board for them, and the
cook was only engaged to cook for the ship, and not for the hospital.
The first thing _wounded_ men want is lemonade and ice (with the sick,
stimulants are the first thing); after that, we give them tea and bread.
Imagine a boat like the _Bay State_, filled on every deck, every
berth,—and every square inch of room covered with wounded men,—even the
stairs and gangways and guards filled with those who are less badly
wounded,—and then imagine fifty well men, on every kind of errand,
hurried and impatient, rushing to and fro over them, every touch
bringing agony to the poor fellows,—while stretcher after stretcher
still comes along, hoping to find an empty place; and then imagine what
it was to keep calm ourselves, and make sure that each man on our own
boat, the _Elm City_, and then on this, was properly refreshed and fed.
We _got through_ about one o'clock at night, Mrs. —— and Miss —— having
come off other duty, and reinforced us. We were sitting for a few
moments resting and talking it over, and bitterly asking why a
government, so lavish and so perfect in its other departments, should
leave its wounded almost literally to take care of themselves, when a
message came that one hundred and fifty men were just arriving by the
cars. It was raining in torrents, and both boats were full. We went on
shore again; the same scene repeated. The _Kennebec_ was brought up, and
the one hundred and fifty men carried across the _Daniel Webster_ No. 2
to her, with the exception of some fearfully wounded ones who could not
be touched in the darkness and rain, and were, therefore, left in the
cars. We gave refreshments to all; a detail of young men from the
_Spaulding_ coming up in time to assist, and the officers of the
_Sebago_ (gunboat), who had seen how hard pressed we were in the
afternoon, volunteering for the night-watch. Add to this sundry members
of Congress, who, if they talked much, at least worked well. We went to
bed at daylight with _breakfast_ on our minds. At half past six we were
all on board the _Webster_ No. 2, and the breakfast of six hundred men
was got through with before our own.
* * * * *
(A lady on the _Knickerbocker_.) _Sunday._—"Three hundred wounded to
come on board!" I wish you could see the three hundred white beds, with
a clean shirt and drawers laid ready for each man.... They began to
bring them in about noon. Many of them were shockingly hurt; but the men
were proud of their wounds, and one of them, an artist, private of a New
York regiment, was thankful that he had only lost a leg,—"so glad it
wasn't his arm!" We went directly at work washing them, doing what we
could, too, at dressing wounds which had been hastily bandaged on the
battle-field thirty-six hours before. Men very patient and grateful
always.
* * * * *
(A.) _Sunday Night._—The _Knickerbocker_ had, by estimate, three hundred
and fifty on board. The night being fine, many were disposed of on the
outer decks, and before I left, at eleven o'clock, nearly all had been
washed, dressed, and put to bed decently, and were as comfortable as
circumstances would admit of our making them. All had received needed
nourishment, and such surgical and medical attention as was immediately
demanded. Leaving the _Knickerbocker_ in this satisfactory condition, I
came back in a small boat, at midnight, to the landing, where I found
that the _Elm City_ already had five hundred wounded on board. I ordered
her to run down and anchor near the _Knickerbocker_. There had been a
special order in her case from the Medical Director to go to Washington.
(I judge that this was given under the misapprehension that she had
failed to go to Yorktown, and had her sick still on board.) She was
unable to go at once for want of coal, which could not be furnished her
till the evening of the next day (Monday). This finished the
Commission's boats for the present. The _State of Maine_ had been
ordered to the landing by the Harbor-master, and the wounded remaining
on shore, excluded from the _Elm City_, were flocking on board of her.
Our ladies on the _Elm City_ sent them some food, and we put on board
from our supply-boat bedding and various stores, of which there was
evident need, without waiting to be asked, and without finding any one
to receive them, the surgeons being fully engrossed in performing
operations of pressing necessity.
The battle had been renewed in the morning of this day (Sunday), and we
had sent a relief party, composed of medical students and male nurses,
with supplies of stimulants, lint, etc., to the battle-field hospitals.
A portion of this party returned about midnight, with another large
train of wounded. All our force that could possibly be withdrawn from
duty on the boats was immediately employed in distributing drink, and in
carrying the wounded from the railroad to the boat. Some men died on the
cars. I made another visit to the _Knickerbocker_ in the morning, and on
my return (Monday), found that a train had just arrived, and the wounded
men were walking in a throng across the scow to the _Webster_ No. 2,
Government Hospital, the only boat remaining at the landing. I knew that
she was not prepared for them, and sent for Dr. S., the representative
of the Medical Director. Dr. S. could not be found. I asked for the
medical officer in charge of the _Webster_ No. 2. The Captain said there
was none, and that he had no orders except to bring his boat to the
landing. I inquired for the surgeon in charge of the railroad train, but
could find none. There was no one in charge of the wounded. Meantime
they were taken out of the cars, and assisted towards the landing by
volunteer bystanders, until the gang-planks of the boat, the
landing-scow, and the adjoining river-banks were crowded. I finally
concluded that Dr. S. must have intended them to go on board the
_Webster_ No. 2. I could find no one in the crowd who professed to have
received his orders, but, as many were nearly fainting in the sun, I
advised the Captain to let them come on board. He did so, and they
hobbled on, till the boat was crowded in all parts. The _Small_ was
outside the _Webster_ No. 2, and our ladies administered as far as
possible to their relief. Going on shore, I found still a great number,
including the worst cases, lying on litters, gasping in the fervid sun.
I do not describe such a scene. The worst cases I had brought upon the
_Small_. Two died on the forward deck, under the shade of the awning,
within half an hour. One was senseless when brought on; the other
revived for a moment, while Mrs. G. bathed his head with ice-water, just
long enough to whisper the address of his father, and to smile
gratefully, then passed away, holding her hand.
... At the time of which I am now writing (Monday afternoon), wounded
men were arriving by every train, entirely unattended, or with at most a
detail of two soldiers, two hundred or more of them in a train. They
were packed as closely as they could be stowed in the common
freight-cars, without beds, without straw, at most with a wisp of hay
under their heads. Many of the lighter cases came on the roof of the
cars. They arrived, dead and living together, in the same close box,
many with awful wounds festering and swarming with maggots. Recollect it
was midsummer in Virginia, clear and calm. The stench was such as to
produce vomiting with some of our strong men, habituated to the duty of
attending the sick. How close they were packed, you may infer from a
fact reported by my messenger to Dr. Tripler, who, on his return from
Head-quarters, was present at the loading of a car. A surgeon was told
that it was not possible to get another man upon the floor of the car.
"Then," said he, "these three men must be laid in _across the others_,
for they have got to be cleared out from here by this train!" This
outrage was avoided, however.
Need I tell you that the women were always ready to press into these
places of horror, going to them in torrents of rain, groping their way
by dim lantern-light, at all hours of night, carrying spirits and
ice-water; calling back to life those in despair from utter exhaustion,
or again and again catching for mother or wife the last faint whispers
of the dying?
One Dr. —— was at this time the only man on the ground who claimed to
act as a medical officer of the United States. He was without
instructions and without authority, and, though miraculously active,
could do nothing toward bringing about the one thing wanted, orderly
responsibility, and while he was there, ——, who might otherwise have
done something, would not interfere. Dr. Ware, of our party, was at one
time the only other medical man on the ground. The _Spaulding_, Dr. ——
in charge, arrived Monday night, but not in a condition to be made
directly useful, being laden with government stores, which could not at
once be removed by the quartermaster. Her physicians and students,
however, could never have been more welcome. I put one half her eager
company at once at work on the _Webster_ No. 2. Captain Sawtelle, at my
request, pitched a hospital tent for the ladies at the river-bank by the
railroad, behind which a common camp-kitchen was established. To this
tent quantities of stores have now been conveyed, and soup and tea in
camp-kettles are kept constantly hot there. Before this arrangement was
complete, and until other stores arrived, we were for a time very hard
put to it to find food of any kind to meet the extraordinary demand upon
us. Just as everything was about giving out, B. found a sutler, who told
him that he had five hundred loaves of bread on board of a boat which
had just arrived at Cumberland, but he had no way of getting it
immediately up. A conditional bargain was immediately struck, and the
_Elizabeth_ hastened off to Cumberland to bring up the bread. When it
arrived, to our horror, it proved to be so mouldy it could not be used.
B., almost crying with disappointment, started again to make a search
through the exhausted sutlers' stores of the post. While doing so, he
came upon a heap of boxes and barrels unopened and "unaccounted for."
"What's all this?" "Sutlers' goods." "Who owns them?" "I do. I am the
sutler of the —— New York, up to the front. I want to get them up there,
but I can't get transportation." "What's in here?" said B. in great
excitement. "Mack'rel in them barrels." "What's in the boxes!" "That's
wine biscuit. There's two barrels of molasses and a barrel of vinegar.
I've got forty barrels of soft tack, too." "Where's that?" "That's one
of 'em"; and B., hardly waiting for leave, seized a musket, and jammed a
head off. It was aerated bread, and not a speck of mould upon it! He
bought the sutler's whole stock on the spot, and in half an hour the
ladies were dealing out bread spread with molasses, and iced vinegar and
water....
The trains with wounded and sick arrive at all hours of the night; the
last one before daylight, generally getting in between twelve and one.
As soon as the whistle is heard, Dr. Ware is on hand, (he has all the
hard work of this kind to do,) and the ladies are ready in their tent;
blazing trench-fires, and kettles all of a row, bright lights and savory
supplies, piles of fresh bread and pots of coffee,—the tent door opened
wide,—the road leading to it from the cars dotted all along the side
with little fires or lighted candles. Then, the first procession of
slightly wounded, who stop at the tent-door on their way to the boat,
and get cups of hot coffee with as much milk (condensed) as they want,
followed by the slow-moving line of bearers and stretchers, halted by
our Zouave, while the poor fellows on them have brandy, or wine, or iced
lemonade given them. It makes but a minute's delay to pour something
down their throats, and put oranges in their hands, and saves them from
exhaustion and thirst before, in the confusion which reigns on most of
the crowded government transports, food can be served them. When the
worst cases have been sent on board, those which are to go to the shore
hospital the next day are put into the twenty Sibley tents, pitched for
the Commission, along the railroad, and our detail of five men start,
each with his own pail of hot coffee or hot milk, and crackers and soft
bread, with lemonade and ice-water, and feed them from tent to tent, a
hundred men every night; sometimes one hundred and fifty are thus taken
care of, for whom no provision has been made by government. Dr. Ware
sees them all, and knows that they have blankets, attendants,
stimulants, &c. for the night. When the morning comes, ambulances are
generally sent for them from the shore hospital, but occasionally they
are left on the Commission's hands for three days at a time. They would
fare badly but for the sleepless devotion of Dr. Ware, who, night after
night, works among them, often not leaving them till two or three
o'clock in the morning. The ladies from the _Webster_, and other
Commission boats, visit the shore hospital between their voyages, and
carry to the sick properly prepared soups and gruels.
_June 3d._ I cannot disentangle now the events of the last few days, nor
have I a very exact idea of the numbers we have taken care of. We put
two hundred and fifty on _Webster_ No. 1 on Monday, among them General
Devens and Colonel Briggs of Massachusetts, and, fearing that all
intermediate hospitals would be full, and the weather continuing very
hot, sent her, in the absence of orders, to Boston. The same day the
_Vanderbilt_ and _Knickerbocker_ were filled, and to-day the
_Spaulding_. Between two and three thousand wounded have been sent here
this week, and at least nine tenths of them have been fed and cared for,
as long as they remained, exclusively by the Commission.
* * * * *
(M.) Generally the government hospital boats are ready and glad to
accept our assistance, but now and then one will stand off in the stream
"all ready," needing no help, till finally, and when the sick are coming
on board, at the last moment, not a pound of bread or ounce of meat will
be found ready for them. The men are expected to bring rations for a day
or so, in their haversacks, haversacks meanwhile being lost at the
front, and men being too badly hurt to think of any such provision....
This is where the Commission comes in, and kettles of soup and tea, with
fresh soft bread, gruel, and stimulants, are sent to all these boats
from the tent kitchen, and with them go cups and spoons, and attendants
to distribute the food. Many hundreds of men have been helped in this
way, who, without such a provision, would, to say the least, have
greatly suffered. Two days ago there was a hospital transport near us,
"all ready," according to their own account, and after the wounded men
came on board, before the first surgical case could be attended to, they
had to rush over to our boat for lint, bandages, rags, pins, towels, and
stimulants. One man had been without the slightest nourishment all day
until an hour before his shoulder was taken off; then, when it was too
late, the surgeon hurried over to ask us to take him beef-tea and
egg-nog, and we crossed the coal-barges and administered it; all this
after the Doctor had himself told me that morning that they needed no
help. It is just the same with lint and bandages, sponges and splints,
all which the Commission supplies freely. There was another boat near us
with a good staff and plenty of assistants, and everything looking so
fair that we supposed it all right, particularly as we were assured that
she had been "preparing" for some weeks, and had "all that was
necessary." All day last Sunday they were putting men on board,
selecting four hundred from the five hundred sick and wounded who came
down on Friday to the post hospital, and who were all received on
arrival and taken care of by Dr. Ware and his assistants. When they had
been put on board, and wanted food at the moment, it was not
ready,—plenty of it in the rough, but nothing cooked in anticipation;
and at six o'clock in the evening, as we were crossing the boat from the
_Small_, which lay outside, we found the boat full of very sick men,
feverish and thirsty, and calling for water, and no help at hand. We
asked for basins; there were none on board; and to add to the rest, the
forty "Sisters," who had come down unexpectedly, by some one's order,
had all struck for keys to their state-rooms, and sat about on their
large trunks, forbidden to stir by the Padre, who was in a high state of
ecclesiastical disgust on the deck of the _Knickerbocker_, at not
finding provision made for them, including a chapel. —— labored with the
indignant old gentleman upon the unreasonableness of expecting to find
confessionals, &c. erected on the battle-field, but to no purpose. There
sat the forty "Sisters," clean and peaceful, with their forty umbrellas
and their forty baskets, fastened to their places by the Padre's eye,
and not one of them was allowed to come over and help us. So our boat's
company went to work, Dr. Ware getting for us all we needed from the
Commission's supplies, and before the boat left, the sickest men were
washed and fed; large pails of beef-tea, milk-punch, and arrow-root were
made, enough to last for the worst cases until they reached Fortress
Monroe, and at half past seven we climbed over the guards to the deck of
the _Small_, and the boat cast off. We wrote all the names and
home-addresses of the sickest men, who might be speechless on their
arrival, and fastened the papers into their pockets. It was hard to have
the "Sisters," who would have been so faithful, and who were so much
needed, shut away from the sick men by the etiquette of their confessor.
It is unpleasant to abuse people for inefficiency. Possibly they _have_
all that is necessary on these government boats, stowed away in boxes
somewhere, but at the precise moment when it is needed no one knows
anything about it. Such boats either have no one at their head, or where
there is one there are many, which is worse than none.
We have, up to this time, sent away on the Commission's boats, since
Sunday, 1,770 patients. These, after having once been got upon beds,
have been all methodically and tenderly cared for. The difficulties to
be overcome in accomplishing it were enormous, and the greatest of them
of a nature which it would now be ungrateful to describe. We have also
distributed to government boats and hospitals an immense quantity of
clothing and hospital stores.
* * * * *
(A.) Rustic Sidneys are so common we have ceased to think of it. "I
guess that next fellow wants it more'n I do,"—"Won't you jus' go to that
man over there first, if you please, marm; I hearn him kind o' groan
jus' now; must be pretty bad hurt, I guess: I ha'n't got anythin' only a
flesh-wound!" You may always hear such phrases as these repeated by one
after another, as the ladies are moving on their first rounds.
There is not the slightest appearance of a conscious purpose to play the
hero or the Spartan. Groans, and even yells and shrieks, are not always
restrained, but complaint is never uttered, though the Irish, especially
when not very severely wounded, are sometimes pathetically despondent
and lachrymose, and the Frenchmen look unutterable things. But gratitude
and a spirit of patience never fails, a cheerful disposition seldom....
In this republic of suffering, individuals do not often become very
strongly marked in one's mind, but now and then one does so
unaccountably. I am haunted by the laughing eye of a brave New Hampshire
man,—laughing I am sure in agony,—whom I saw on the ——. [This was one of
the worst of the government transports, badly managed, hastily loaded,
and densely crowded.] He was lying closely packed among some badly
wounded rebels, and in giving them some little attention I had passed
him by, because he looked as if he wanted nothing,—so differently from
the others. Afterwards returning that way, they seemed to have all
fallen asleep; but this man's strange, cheerful eye met mine as I was
carefully stepping over his feet. "Do you want anything, my man?" "Well,
now you are there, I don't care if you h'ist that blanket off my leg a
piece; the heft on't kind o' irks my wound." "Certainly," I said;
drawing it down, and knowing at once that he must be painfully wounded;
"is there nothing else I can do for you? wouldn't you like a cup of
water?" "If you've got some cool water handy, I should be obliged to
you. I've got some in my canteen they give me this morning, but it's got
warm." I brought him some, as soon as I could. "That tastes good," says
he. "Do you know where this boat's goin'?" "She goes first to Fortress
Monroe; whether they will send her on from there to New York, or take
you ashore there, I don't know. It will be decided when you get there."
"They mustn't keep me there. I must go home." "Where is your home?"
"It's a place called Keene, up in New Hampshire." "What's the matter
with you?" "Got a ball through my thigh." "Did it touch the bone?" "Yes,
broke it snap off." "Rather high up the thigh, isn't it?" "Just about as
high as it can be; the doctors, they tell me,—well, first they told me
that 'twould kill me if they didn't take it off, and then they told me
'twould kill me if they did take it off, it's so high up, they say they
can't do it. So, accordin' to their account, I've got to go anyhow.
That's what the doctors make out; but I'll tell you what I think: I
think God Almighty's got something to say about that. If he says so,
well and good, I ha'n't got nothin' to say. But I'd like to get back to
Keene. They must send me. I know I'll die if they don't. They must."
"I'm afraid it would hardly do to send you out to sea,—the motion of the
vessel—" "O, I a'n't a bit afraid of that, I don't mind the hurt on't.
The old doctor, he wasn't a goin' to send me; he said 'twan't no use,
and there wasn't no room. But after they'd got about loaded up, the
young doctor came along, and I got hold o' him, and I told him they must
send me, and finally he told 'em they must get me in somehow. That did
hurt, that 'are. Fact is, I fainted away when they put me in, it hurt
so. I never felt anything like that. But I tell you, when I come to, and
found I was rattlin' along down here, I didn't mind how much it hurt."
"Is it painful now?" "Well, when they step round here, and when the
engine goes, it's kinder like a jumping toothache, down there. Well,
yes, it does hurt pretty bad, but I don't mind, if they'll only let me
go home. I guess if they'll let me go home, I can pull through it
somehow; and if I don't,—that's God Almighty's business, too; I a'n't
consarned about that." And he smiled again, that brave, man to man,
knowing New England smile. I found that his wound had not been dressed
in three days; fortunately there was time for me to get Ware to dress it
before the boat left.
* * * * *
(N.) ... We lie here just outside some other vessels at the railroad
wharf. The one nearest the wharf is the _Knickerbocker_ (one of our own
boats, a refreshing sight to sick and well). On it we are placing the
wounded as they now come in, somewhat slowly.[7] Since last night at ten
o'clock there have been one hundred and sixty-five brought on board.
This nearly completes the list of the wounded by the Saturday and Sunday
engagements, excepting some two or three hundred who are in a hospital
on the extreme right, some ten miles from the railroad. There have now
been brought in to the hospital boats about three thousand seven hundred
men, of whom six or eight hundred were rebels. It has been touching to
hear the expressions of surprise and gratitude from some of these young,
fresh-looking Southerners, as they received tender care from the hands
of those who were ministering to them in their sad suffering. Of course
our own wounded were carried off the field first, and this left the
others with wounds for some time not dressed.
Footnote 7:
This refers to the second loading of the _Knickerbocker_ after the
battle.
* * * * *
(M.) Among the sick and wounded who came on board last night were
several Secessionists. One whom I was attending took my hand, with tears
in his eyes: "God bless you, Miss." Another, who was near death,—he had
the most terrible wound I ever saw,—said, gently: "God forgive me,
honey, if it was wrong. I thought it was right, but I don't like it,
that's the truth. I would rather have died for the old flag, but—I
thought it was right. There, let them bury that with me" (showing me a
bracelet of hair on his arm). "It's my wife's, honey; it is. My watch
you may keep, and if ever the time should come when you can send it to
her, please do so."
* * * * *
(A.) Naturally enough, the prisoners do not "bear up" as well as our own
men. There is not only more whimpering, but more fretfulness and
bitterness of spirit, evinced chiefly in want of regard one for another.
* * * * *
(N.) On board the _Commission's boats_ we see the _unavoidable_ miseries
of war, and none other. So soon as the men come on board, all suffering
except that of illness ceases, and we know and see that every comfort
and every chance for recovery is freely supplied. I have a long history
to tell, one of these days, of the gratefulness of the men.... I often
wish,—as I give a comfort to some poor fellow, and see the sense of rest
it gives him, and hear the favorite speech, "O, that's good! it's just
as if mother was here,"—that the man or woman who supplied the means for
the comfort were present to see how blessed it is. Believe me, you may
all give and work in the earnest hope that you alleviate suffering, but
none of you realize what you do,—perhaps you can't even conceive of it
unless you could see your gifts _in use_. I often think of the money and
supplies which, by the goodness of others, passed through my hands
before I left home. How little I then knew their value! How little I
then imagined that each article was to be a life-giving comfort to some
one sufferer!
The object of the Commission is not clearly understood. Those who admire
its noble, wise work naturally feel the wish that larger power _should_
be given to it. But the object of the Commission itself is not this. It
seeks to bring the government to do what the government should do for
its sick and wounded. Until that object is accomplished, the Commission
stands ready to throw itself into the breach, as it did during that
dreadful battle-week, and as it does, more or less, all the time. The
thing it asks for is not the gift of power, but that the government
should come forward and take the work away from it.... There are rumors
that this much-desired change will be effected. I am not afraid to say
that no enterprise ever deserved better of the country than this
undertaken by the Sanitary Commission. Alive to the true state of
things, ever aiming at the _best_ thing to be done, and striving to
bring everything to bear upon that, it has already fulfilled a great
work,—let those who have reaped its benefits say how great and how
indispensable.
Since yesterday morning we have been leading a life which Mr. —— feels
to be one of such utter discomfort that we all try to make the best of
it for his sake, though I will admit to _you_ that it _is_ very wearing
to have no proper place to eat, sit, or sleep. No matter! our _Wilson
Small_ will be back soon, and we shall resume our happy _home_ life on
the top of the old stove. We had luxury which did not please us on board
the ——, and piggishness which pleased us still less on board the ——, and
yet we are the most cheerful set of people to be found anywhere. This
morning, just as Mr. —— was sitting with his head on his hand, sighing
over the horrid breakfast to which we ladies had been subjected, some
one looked up and spied the _Daniel Webster_ coming up. Such vitality as
seized us! The good _Webster_! always perfect, prompt, and true. In a
moment, Dr. Grymes and Captain Bletham were on board, and didn't we
shake hands all round! I suppose you know the _Webster_ had to put into
New York in consequence of a storm, which would have perilled the lives
of many of the sick if they had pursued the voyage to Boston.
I often feel the pleasantness of our (the ladies') footing amongst all
these people, official, military, naval, and medical. They clearly
respect our work, and rightly appreciate it; they strengthen our hands
when they can, they make no foolish speeches, but are direct and
sensible in their acts and words, and when work is over, they do not
feel toward us as "women with a mission," but as ladies, to be with whom
is a grateful relaxation. I must say our position here is particularly
proper and pleasant.... I suppose from eight to ten thousand troops have
arrived here within a week. At first, I scarcely noticed their coming. I
heard their gay bands, and the loud cheering of the men as the
transports rounded the last bend in the river, and came in sight of the
landing, but such sounds of the dreadful _other_ side of war filled my
ears, that, if I heard, I heeded not. For the last night or two, the
arrivals by moonlight, with the cheers and the gay music, have been
really enlivening. _We_ see the dark side of all. You must not, however,
gather only gloomy ideas from me. I see the worst—short of the actual
battle-field—that can be seen. You must not allow yourself to think
there is no brightness because I do not speak of it.
* * * * *
(M.) We have on two of our boats nine contraband women, from the Lee
estate,—real Virginia "darkies," and excellent workers,—who all "wish on
their souls and bodies" that the Rebels could be "put in a house
together and burned up." "Mary Susan," the blackest of them, yielded at
once to the allurements of freedom and fashion, and begged Mr. K. to
take a little commission for her the next time he went to Washington. "I
wants you for to get me, sar, if you please, a lawn dress and
hoop-skirt, sar." The women not working on our boats do the hospital
washing for us in their cabins on the Lee estate, and I have been up
to-day to hurry them with the _Knickerbocker's_ eleven hundred pieces.
The negro quarters are decent and comfortable little houses, with a wide
road between them and the bank which slopes to the river. Any number of
little darkey babies are rushing about, and tipping into the wash-tubs,
and in one cottage we found two absurdly small babies taken care of by
an antique bronze, calling itself grandmother. Babies had the measles,
which wouldn't "come out" on one of them. So she had laid him tenderly
in the open clay oven, and, with hot sage-tea and an unusually large
brick put to his morsels of feet, was proceeding to develop the disease.
Two of the colored women and their husbands work for us at the tent
kitchen, close by the shore, and entertain us by their singing. The
other night Molly and Nellie collected all their friends behind their
tent and commenced, in a sort of monotonous recitativo, a condensed
narrative of the creation of the world; one giving out a line and all
the others joining in. They went straight through from Genesis to
Revelation, following with a confession of sin and exhortation to do
better,—till suddenly their deep humility seemed to strike them as
uncalled for, and they rose at once into the "assurance of the saints,"
and each one instructed her neighbor at the top of her voice to
"Go tell all the holy angels,
I done, done all I ever can."
Just as they came to a pause the train arrived; midnight, as usual, and
the work of feeding and caring for the sick began again. Dr. Ware was
busy with his nightly work of seeing that the men were properly lifted
from the platform cars and put into the Sibley tents; H. was
"processing" his detail with additional blankets and quilts; and Wagner,
our Zouave, and his five men, were going the rounds with hot tea and
fresh bread, while we were getting ready beef-tea and punch for the use
of the sickest through the night. By two o'clock we could cross the
gang-plank to the _Small_ again, feeling that all the men were quiet and
comfortable.
We women constantly receive noble and patriotic letters from the parents
and friends of the soldiers who have died here among us, one of our
duties being to write to the families of those we have had care of. Mrs.
—— had sent her the other day, from one of the —— Regiment, a little
poem in such delicate acknowledgment of kindness received that I must
copy it:—
"From old St. Paul till now,
Of honorable women not a few
Have left their golden ease in love to do
The saintly work that Christlike hearts pursue.
"And 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,
A thousand soldier-hearts in Northern climes
Shall tell their little children, with their rhymes,
Of the sweet saint who blessed the old war-times."