The Last Hours of Kit Carson.
The following letter, received since the publication of the first
edition, gives an interesting account of the last hours of Mr.
Carson from the physician who was with him when he died.
"Fort Wadsworth,
New York Harbor,
January 7th, 1874.
"Mr. John S.C. Abbott,
Fairhaven, Conn.
"Dear Sir:--
"I have just read your interesting life of Kit Carson, and write to give
you a short account of his last sickness and death. I first met him at the
house of a mutual friend, not far from Fort Lyon, C.T., late in the Fall
of 1867. He had then recently left the service of the U.S., having been
colonel of a regiment of New-Mexican volunteers during the war of the
rebellion.
"As I was a successful amateur trapper, he threw off all reserve, and
greeted me with more than usual warmth, saying, 'the happiest days of my
life were spent in trapping.' He gave me many practical hints on trapping
and hunting.
"He was then complaining of a pain in his chest, the origin of which he
attributed to a fall received in 1860. It happened while he was descending
a mountain. The declivity was so steep that he led his horse by the
lariat, intending, if the horse fell to throw it from him.
"The horse did fall, and although he let go the lariat, it caught him and
carried him a number of feet, and severely bruised him.
"In the Spring of 1868, he took charge of a party of Ute Indians, and
accompanied them to Washington and other cities, going as far east as
Boston. He consulted a number of physicians while on the trip.
"It was a great tax on his failing strength to make this journey; but he
was ever ready to promote the welfare of the Utes, who regarded him in the
light of a father.
"I saw him in April, 1868. His disease, aneurism of the aorta, had
progressed rapidly; and the tumor pressing on the pneumo-gastric nerves
and trachea, caused frequent spasms of the bronchial tubes which were
exceedingly distressing.
"On the 27th of April, Mrs. Carson died very suddenly, leaving seven
children, the youngest only two weeks old. Mrs. Carson was tall and
spare, and had evidently been a very handsome woman; she was thirty-eight
years old at the time of her death, and he informed me that they had been
married twenty-five years. Her sudden death had a very depressing effect
upon him.
"I called frequently to see him; and as he was living on the south side of
the Arkansas River five miles from Fort Lyon where I was stationed, and
the Spring rise coming on, making the fording difficult, I suggested that
he be brought to my quarters, which was done on the 14th day of May.
"This enabled me to make his condition much more comfortable. In the
interval of his paroxysms, he beguiled the time by relating past
experiences. I read Dr. Peters' book, with the hero for my auditor; from
time to time, he would comment on the incidents of his eventful life.
"It was wonderful to read of the stirring scenes, thrilling deeds, and
narrow escapes, and then look at the quiet, modest, retiring, but
dignified little man who had done so much.
"You are perfectly correct in describing Carson as a gentleman. He was one
of nature's noblemen--a true man in all that constitutes
manhood--pure--honorable--truthful--sincere--of noble impulses, a true
knight-errant ever ready to defend the weak against the strong, without
reward other than his own conscience.
"Carson had great contempt for noisy braggarts and shams of every sort.
"His disease rapidly progressed and he calmly contemplated his approaching
death. Several times he repeated the remark, 'If it was not for this,'
pointing to his chest; 'I might live to be a hundred years old.'
"I explained to him the probable mode of termination of his disease: 'that
he might die from suffocation or more probably the aneurism would burst
and cause death by hemorrhage.' He expressed a decided preference for the
latter mode. His attacks of dyspnoea were horrible, threatening
immediate dissolution. I was compelled to give chloroform to relieve him,
at considerable risk of hastening a fatal result; but he begged me not to
let him suffer such tortures, and if I killed him by chloroform while
attempting relief, it would be much better than death by suffocation.
"Once, he remarked: 'What am I to do, I can't get along without a doctor?'
"I replied, 'I'll take care of you.'
"He, smiling, said, 'You must think I am not going to live long.'
"The night preceding death he spent more comfortably than he had for days
before. He was obliged to sit up nearly all the time. He coughed up a
slight amount of blood during the night, and a very little in the
forenoon.
"In the afternoon, while I was lying down on his bed and he was listening
to Mr. Sherrick, he suddenly called out 'Doctor, Compadre, Adios!'
"I sprang to him and seeing a gush of blood pouring from his mouth,
remarked, 'this is the last of the general;' I supported his forehead on
my hand, while death speedily closed the scene.
"The aneurism had ruptured into the trachea. Death took place at 4.25
P.M., May 23rd 1868.
"Mr. Carson was a small man not over five feet six inches tall, with gray
eyes, light-brown hair tinged with gray; his head was large; forehead high
and broad; his nose somewhat _retroussé_. He had a good broad chest and a
compact form. He had been a remarkably quick active man and what he lacked
in strength, he made up in agility. It is related of him, that while he
was in command of his regiment and on a campaign against the Navajo
Indians, he would leave camp very early each morning, taking his Ute
Indian scouts, and let his lieutenant-colonel take charge of the regiment;
before the command would have time to come up with the fugitive enemy,
Carson and his Utes had finished the fighting.
"I am under the impression that the Navajo nation, numbering 8,000 or
10,000 people were so severely pressed by Kit Carson, that they
surrendered to him, and were put on a government reservation, where they
remained under military control, for several years. Within the last three
years they have been permitted to return to the country formerly occupied
by them; but I am not positive of the above.
"Carson was made a brigadier-general of volunteers by brevet, at the close
of the rebellion.
"Shortly after coming to my quarters he made his will, and left property
to the value of seven thousand dollars to his children.
"No post-mortem was made. The pulse at the right radial artery was very
indistinct, while the left continued good.
"I have been thus minute, thinking that while writing his life, you had
grown to love him, as all who knew him certainly cherished great affection
for him.
"Yours Truly,
H. R. Tilton,
Ass't Surgeon U.S. Army."