It is a painful comment upon the state of society, or the character of
our civilization, that our most cherished literature, both of poetry
and prose, has its origin in human woes and wrongs. "Man's inhumanity
to man Makes countless thousands mourn." Dickens, with all his wealth
of genius, so much prized, would have found no use for it in a decent
world, unless, perchance, it might have shone as brightly upon the face
of Joy, as it beamed pathetically upon the tortured visage of Misery.
Hood, in his immortal "Song of the Shirt," and the "Bridge of Sighs,"
and in many other of his verse; Tennyson, in the best of his poems;
Mrs. Browning, with her vast power of thought and feeling, to say
nothing of many other great writers of the past and present; our own
blessed poet Whittier, etc., have given us their noblest works with
pens dipped in human tears, or sharpened by human sufferings. So, too,
of the great good deeds of the other philanthropists--the Howards, the
Nightingales, the McWatterses. They could only have had their origin in
the wrongs which man does to his fellow-man; in the outrages which the
tyrant classes do to the weaker; in the riot of wars for governmental
supremacy; in the sufferings of the outraged, trampled into the dust by
the powerful robbers of society in their mad greed for wealth, or
cheated by pious and talented hypocrites out of their moral as well as
physical rights.
Society should be so ordered, as it might readily be, that all the
pathetic literature now so much cherished, would be obnoxious to us, as
belonging to a state of things which once existed, but which all were
anxious to forget; when only the songs of joy should find birth, and
when the basilar principles of Christianity should be practically
recognized, and everywhere expressed in our institutions, or organic
social life. But this we cannot hope for till superstition shall be
done away with, the "money-changers" driven from the porches of our
"temples;" the poor and ignorant made aware of their rights, and
earnest in claiming them; and the tyrant classes come to learn the
falsity of their chief "motto," namely, that 'tis "better to rule in
hell than serve in heaven."
We had thought to give in the foregoing Biographical Notes some
touching instances of the experiences of the good women of the "Ladies'
Union Relief Association" and Officer McWatters, in their noble work of
succoring the needy, and binding up the wounds of the suffering. We
have before us, furnished by the kindness of a friend, a partial record
of the Association's deeds (never intended for publication), freighted
with notes of bitter sorrows which they have assuaged, and which,
written out, would fill pathetic volumes; but we have no space for them
here. One, however, so enchains our interest that we cannot forbid
ourselves to recite it here, as an exemplary instance, which, if
multiplied in his mind by hundreds and thousands, will give the reader
something like an adequate understanding of the vast work of kind and
tender ministrations which these philanthropists have done, and are
constantly doing.
Officer McWatters had two or three times visited a poor, sick,
emaciated veteran soldier, by the name of Patrick O'Brien. Of course
Patrick could earn nothing for his own support, and depended wholly
upon what little his good wife (a comparatively young and fragile
woman) could earn by washing and scrubbing, and which she shared with
him and their three young children. McWatters was greatly moved by the
condition of this family. He saw that the wife could not much longer
sustain the burden she was bravely attempting to bear, and finally
advised that, as the best thing to be done, the veteran should be sent,
at the expense of the Ladies' Union Relief Association, to the
Soldiers' Home at Dayton, Ohio. This was consented to by the soldier
and his suffering wife, but not without great reluctance. The sympathy
of sorrows is tenderly cohesive and sensitive. After leaving with the
family some money for their aid, and fixing upon a time, two or three
days thereafter, to call with a carriage, and take the soldier to the
cars, Officer McWatters bade good day to the family. They expected him
to come for the veteran in the night, for the poor man preferred
travelling then, as he got no sleep in the night season.
Officer McWatters was so greatly impressed by the innate pride, high
spirit, and profound love of the soldier for his family, so deeply
reciprocated by them, that he could not bear to see that poor household
separated, and at once interested himself to get an allowance for the
soldier from the Association, and thus enable him to stay with his
family; and he succeeded in procuring ten dollars a month for him,
assurance of which he received by letter, just at the time appointed
for taking the soldier from his poor home to the cars. He went to bear
the good news to the family. It was so late when he got to their
miserable little room (for one room, one bed, served them all), that
they had retired, thinking that he would not come that night. He
rapped, and announced his name, and the poor wife arose from the bed,
and admitted him. The poor children awakened before he could announce
the good news, and supposing that he had come to take away their
father, rushed off from their couch, and sobbing and weeping, implored
him not to take their father off, the violence of their and their
mother's grief preventing Officer McWatters explaining his present
errand for the space of a full minute or two. The poor soldier, moved
by his family's grief, had risen from that one bed, and added his
prayer to the rest, for something else possible to be done than the
sending of him away.
[Illustration: TEN DOLLARS A MONTH!]
At last Officer McWatters succeeded in quelling the passionate storm of
wailing and grief for an instant, which he seized to tell them his
errand in. It is not probable that pen or pencil could ever do faintest
justice to the picture of the gleeful, tearful gratitude which that
family exhibited in their sudden revulsion from broken-hearted grief to
wild joy, as McWatters finished reading the letter he had received
assuring the monthly allowance.
"Ten dollars a month!" A pitiable sum, yet it brought joy to that whole
household at that dead hour of night, in the city of mingled sorrows,
and vanities, and debaucheries, when hundreds and thousands of the
pampered sons and daughters of luxury (worthless members of society)
were wasting each more than ten dollars an hour in worse than useless
ways,--in riot and "ribald revelry."
The poor man remained with his family nearly two years; when he died,
and was buried by the Association. Upon his death his grateful widow
wrote to the ladies a letter (a copy of which was taken from the
archives of the Association without their special knowledge, it must be
confessed, but by "no robbery" after all), and which we think most
worthy a place here, in honor of the good ladies whose charities it
acknowledges.
"NEW YORK, May 3, 1870.
"_To the Ladies Union Relief Association_:
"LADIES: It is my painful duty to inform you of the death of my
husband, Patrick O'Brien. Allow me to express the deep sense of
gratitude that I and my children feel towards your Association
for the assistance you have generously extended to us during
the last two years of his illness. The value of that assistance
has been enhanced by the manner of its bestowal. Mr. McWatters,
the kind dispenser of your bounty, has smoothed to the grave
the pilgrimage of a proud spirit; but for the many delicate
assurances he gave my husband that your generous assistance was
not charity, but the poor soldier's rightful due, the last
years of his life would have been embittered by a sad sense of
destitution and dependence.
"My husband served the republic for nearly four years, during
which service he was maimed in its defence, and died at last of
disease contracted in the service. He could not have borne the
thought that he and his little ones were subsisting on the cold
charity of the world, and thanks to the delicate tact with
which your aid was bestowed his mind was smoothed, and his last
days on earth made peaceable.
"Please accept the sincere gratitude and blessings of a
soldier's widow and three children.