HAMPTON HOSPITAL
In March, 1864, Edward began his duties as chaplain of Hampton
Hospital, having been appointed to this position before the raid
described in the preceding chapter was undertaken. Mrs. Roe joined him
at Washington and they went to Hampton together. A tribute is here due
the brave young wife, who, leaving a home of luxury, accepted without a
word of regret the privations of hospital life and was untiring in her
devotion to the sick and wounded. The letters which follow show what
that life was during the last two years of the war. The first is an
appeal for books for the sick soldiers made through _The Evangelist_,
and is preceded by a note of explanation from the editors of that
paper.
"We have received the following letter from the esteemed and
efficient chaplain of the Hampton Hospital, Virginia, Rev. Mr. Roe,
who, as it will be seen, is desirous of securing a well-selected
soldiers' library for the use of the hospital. Many of our readers
formed an agreeable acquaintance with Mr. Roe, through his
correspondence with _The Evangelist_ while chaplain of the Harris
Light Cavalry; and we would refer all others for an estimate of the
man, as also of the nature and extent of his duties in his new
position, to an interesting paper in the August number of _Harper's
Magazine_, on the Chesapeake and Hampton Hospitals. We shall take
pleasure in aiding this praiseworthy object in every way in our
power, and we trust that the money required for the purchase of
these books will be speedily contributed.
'U.S. GENERAL HOSPITAL, FORTRESS MONROE, VA.
July 27, 1864.
'READERS OF THE EVANGELIST:--Pardon me if I say a few plain
words in preface to a request. I wish to appeal to a quality
that I hope is universal--gratitude. That the North is grateful
for the self-sacrifice of its soldiers is well proved by its
noble charities in their behalf. But, my Northern friends, you
who dwell securely in beautiful and healthful homes, can you
not give a little more for those who are giving all for you?
'_The U.S. General Hospital at Hampton, Va.,_ is very large
this summer. The average is two thousand five hundred patients,
and we often have three thousand. Accommodations are in process
of construction for still larger numbers. This is now the
nearest permanent hospital to General Grant's army. Almost
daily transports from the front leave at our wharf sick and
mutilated men by hundreds, and we in turn send those North who
are able to bear further transportation. Thus our wards become
mainly filled with what are termed the "worst cases"--men with
whom the struggle for life will be long and doubtful. I could
take you through our wards, and show you long rows of men with
thigh amputations, fractured thighs; men who have lost arms,
hands, and both their feet; and in short, men with great
gaping, ghastly wounds in every part of the body. With such
injuries nothing will sustain but cheerful courage; despondency
is almost always fatal. The only true basis of such courage is
God's religion, but to this all-important condition much can be
added that is most excellent. But could you ask for more than
these men have done and suffered? I think they have done their
part. Yours is not so hard, but it is important. In your
abundant provisions for their suffering bodies, do not forget
rations for their minds. There are hundreds in this hospital
who must lie upon their beds, weeks, and even months, before
they can even hope to hobble out into the world again with
crutch and cane. How shall they spend these long, hot, weary
days? Give them cheerful, entertaining, instructive books, and
the question is about solved. Who can calculate the value of a
brave, cheerful book? It stimulates and strengthens the mind,
which reacts upon the weakened body, and the man is at once
made stronger, wiser, and better. I felt that first of all I
ought to have a religious library, and through some effort, and
the kindness of friends, have obtained a very fair collection.
But cheerful, light, entertaining books are few and far
between, while there is almost an entire dearth of histories,
travels, etc. I find that sick soldiers, even the best of them,
are like good people North, they do not like religious reading
all the time. The works of Irving, John S. C. Abbott, Dickens,
Cooper, Scott, and T. S. Arthur, would be invaluable from both
a sanitary and a moral point of view, for they would remove the
parent of all evils--idleness. Poetry also is very much asked
for. My simple request, therefore, is that out of gratitude to
the brave suffering men who throng the wards of Hampton
Hospital, you would send them good cheerful books. I have an
excellent librarian, and I promise that they shall be carefully
looked after and preserved. Among the thousands who have been
here and gone away, I have scarcely lost a book.
'Messrs. Harpers, and Appletons, and other prominent city
publishers, have generously offered me their books at half
price for hospital purposes. All contributions in money sent
to me, or to the offices of the New York _Evangelist_, _The
Observer_, and the Brooklyn _Daily Union_, will be promptly
and judiciously laid out for such books as are needed. All
contributions in books sent to the above-named places will be
forwarded to the hospital in my care.'"
Some years after the war was over, my brother took a trip to Fortress
Monroe and visited the scenes of his former labors. I quote from a
letter telling of the result of his appeal for a soldier's library and
of the subsequent use that was made of the books.
"We entered the fort, presented our letter to General Barry, in
command, who received us with the utmost courtesy. The band
discoursed delightful music. We examined the mitrailleuse, of which
the world has heard so much of late. One of the most interesting
points to me was the Post Library. Here among many others I found
all the books that once formed our hospital library. Loyal Northern
friends, who were ever caring for the soldier's well-being, enabled
me to gather and purchase about three thousand volumes. I know that
it will be gratifying to them to learn that their gifts, so far
from being lost or destroyed, are all here in excellent order, and
still doing the work for which they were designed. When a book
becomes badly worn it is sent away and rebound. The private
soldiers, of which there are several hundred, as well as the
officers, have free access to them. I was told by the soldier in
charge that between two and three hundred of these books were taken
out and read monthly. Under General Barry's careful supervision
they will be in use for years to come. He evidently regards his men
as something more than machines."
It was inevitable that my brother should witness many sad partings
during those long years of conflict, and the strain upon his sympathies
was very great, as may be seen from the letters that follow.
"Among the painful and tragic events that occurred in our hospital
at Fortress Monroe, there was one wherein heaven and earth were
strangely mingled. The arm of a strong, powerful man had been
amputated at the shoulder joint. He was full of vitality and made a
long but vain struggle for life. Day after day, and week after
week, he lay, scarcely daring to move, lest the artery should break
and his life blood ebb away. But ever at his side (it seemed to me
that she almost never left him) sat his true, patient wife. Strange
and incongruous did her slight and graceful form, her pale,
beautiful face appear in that place of wounds and death. The rough
soldiers were never rough or profane in her presence, and their
kindly sympathy often touched me. For long weeks the scale turned
for neither life nor death, but at last the sharp agony of hope and
fear ended in the dull pain of despair. He must die. The artery
broke and bled again and again, and skill would soon be of no
avail. Some time previous to this, a message had come to the poor
wife that her mother was dying, and she was requested to return
home immediately.
"'No,' she said, 'my mother is among friends; my husband is alone;
I must stay with him.'
"Late one night, when the certainty of death was apparent, they
sent for me, and we three had a long, calm talk in the dim, crowded
ward. The brave, true soldier did not regret that he had entered
his country's service, though it cost him so dearly, but he spoke a
few words in regard to those who caused the war that must ever hang
upon them like millstones. Turning to his young wife with an
affection beautiful to look upon, he said:--
"'Mary, you have prepared me to die, now you must go home and do
the same for your poor mother.'
"These brief words revealed a world of meaning. She had not been
sitting at his side in helpless pain, looking with fearful eyes
into the dreary future when she should be alone and dependent with
her child in a cold, selfish world. Forgetting her own heart-break,
she had been untiring in her efforts to brighten his pathway down
into the dark valley with the hope of heaven. God had blessed her
angel work, for he seemed a Christian. I went away from that
bedside more awed than if I had come from the presence of a king.
"Early one morning I was hastily summoned to the ward. It was
crowded and confused. The last hours had now come. The artery had
broken away beyond remedy, and from the ghastly wound the poor
man's life-blood poured away in torrents, crimsoning the floor far
and near. His face was pale and wild, for death had come at last in
an awful form. In mistaken kindness they had kept his wife from
him, fearing the effect of the scene upon her. Drawn by her frantic
cries to the ward-master's room, I went and said to her--'My poor
friend, you can go to your husband, but for his sake you must be
perfectly calm. We can do nothing for him if he is excited.' For
his sake, ah! yes, for his sake she could do anything, even master
the whirlwind of sorrow at her heart. In a moment she became as
quiet and gentle as a lamb, and crept noiselessly to his side. The
man rallied and lived a short time, and husband and wife were left
alone. We may well draw the veil over that last solemn farewell.
"For a brief space the pair sat on the shores of time, the extreme
cape and promontory of life. All around rolled the ocean of
eternity. Then one went forward into the unknown, and the curtain
between the two worlds fell. In wild agony she clasped his lifeless
form. The ward-master sought tenderly to lift her and lead her
away. For a moment the tempest in her soul found expression and she
sprang upon him like a tigress. Then came again the strange,
unnatural calm like that when the Master said, 'Peace, be still!'
Quietly, thoughtfully she made all her arrangements and soon went
northward to her dying mother, taking the precious dust of him she
had loved with her, and we saw her no more. But her sad, pale,
patient face will haunt me through life.
"If all the bits of romance in these hospitals were gathered up
they would make volumes. I will instance only two cases.
"It is somewhat common to get shot now, and yet for all that it is
none the less rather a painful and tragical experience. Well, two
of our soldiers were shot; one had his arm taken off, and the other
lost an arm and a leg also. They both wrote to their respective
fair ones, expressing the fear that they would no longer wish to
unite themselves with such mutilated specimens of humanity, and if
such were their feelings they were free. The female engaged to the
man who had lost an arm availed herself of his release. She could
not think of marrying him under such circumstances. The blow was
fatal to the poor fellow. He became hopelessly deranged, and is now
in the asylum in this city. Still, considering her character,
perhaps he escaped a worse fate.
"The lady engaged to the soldier who had lost both his arm and leg
replied that she honored him for his wounds; that she loved him all
the more for his patriotism and the heroism which led him to incur
them; and that if he would permit her she would come on, and take
care of him. She did so, and married him."
One turns with a feeling of relief, after the harrowing details in the
letters already given, to this account of the Christmas festivities at
Hampton Hospital.
"We are told that 'the desert shall blossom as the rose.' We
believe it, for even the hospital,--the house of disease and
wounds, the spot ever shadowed by the wings of the dark
angel,--even this place of sombre associations can wreathe itself
in festive garlands and resound with songs. Doctor McClellan,
surgeon in charge, has the enlightened opinion that pills and
physics are not the only health-restoring influences that can be
brought to bear upon his patients. All efforts to celebrate the
holidays with spirit have received his hearty sympathy and
cooperation. The joyous season, so full of happy memories, has not
passed in dull monotony. Though winds blew high and cold, still,
throughout Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, the axes rang merrily in
the woods. Huge masses of holly, cedar, and pine might be seen
moving towards the different wards, and approaching near you would
find a nurse or convalescent staggering along beneath the green and
fragrant burden. Under the magic of many skilful hands the pliant
boughs are soon tied and twisted into a thousand devices. Men with
only one hand worked with the rest. Men possessing but a single leg
were busy as the others. Thump, thump, over the floor go the
crutches, as old battered veterans hobbled about in all directions,
to view in different lights the artistic and fantastic results of
their labors. Even the dull face of chronic pain lights up and
wanly smiles, while dim eyes, fast closing on earthly scenes, gaze
wistfully on the fragrant evergreens and query to themselves if
they are to be the symbols of their memories at distant homes.
"But though many wards blossomed out into holiday garlands, the
crowning glories of the kind were to be found in Ward C. Quaint
devices, hanging festoons, wreaths and shields and graceful arches,
draped the place in varied beauties like the tapestry of old, which
turned rough and gloomy apartments into warm and silken bowers. The
feathery cedar, tasselled pine, and far-famed laurel formed the
rich background for the bright berries of the Christmas holly which
glistened like rubies set in emerald folds. Flags were looped
across the stage, and the curtains in the rear also showed the
stars and stripes. The hospital choir and glee-club had here
prepared an entertainment most agreeable to the tastes of all.
Their motto, a beautiful transparency, explains its character, 'We
come with songs to greet you.' As darkness fell a throng surrounded
every door. Up the high steps to the main entrance, an hour before
the doors were opened, crowding, jostling hundreds gathered,
seeming like a human wave lifted by some powerful impulse from the
sea of heads below. Around the building in circling eddies, knots
of men sauntered talking, wondering, and anticipating concerning
the pleasures of the evening. Above the swaying masses numerous
crutches might be seen. Thus raised aloft they seemed like
standards, showing well the spirit of our soldiers. It is not in
wounds to keep them at home. If they have the sad misfortune not to
have two legs beneath them, they are sure to go on one if anything
unusual calls them out. Within, now, the lamps are lighted, down
the long and echoing ward, and through the festoons and glistening
arches, they wink and twinkle like fireflies in a cedar forest. The
doors are opened and, under Doctor McClellan's wise and careful
supervision, at least a thousand persons are soon admitted and
seated. Those not so fortunate as to get seats fill every space of
standing room. The hall is full, and those who cannot gain
admittance crowd around outside the windows, where faces gleam in
the fitful light, like framed and grotesque pictures.
"At a given signal the orchestra commenced, and the hum and buzz of
many voices died away like a breeze in the forest. But it is
useless to attempt to describe music--songs and anthems that seem
like living spirits which by powerful spells may be called up to
float and pass before you, and stir the soul with magic influences.
It was no rude affair. Ears that have been educated at the Academy
of Music would have tingled with novel and delightful sensations,
could they have heard those deep, rich soldiers' voices accompanied
by our lady nurses, and the lady teachers of the Tyler House,
chanting our national anthems, or exciting irresistible mirth by
their comic songs. Mr. Tilden's ripe, powerful, mellow voice moved
every heart, and more than satisfied the nicest and most critical
ear. Mr. George Terry, changeful as an April day, now convulsed the
audience with laughter, and again, a moment afterwards, caused all
eyes to overflow. Mrs. Meachann, Miss Eastman, Mr. Sears, and Mr.
Allen sustained their parts with marked ability, and little Miss
Mary White brought down the house by singing a ballad whose simple
beauty was universally appreciated. But where all perfectly
performed the parts assigned to them, it is almost invidious to
make distinctions. Mr. Metcalf, the leader of the choir, must have
been satisfied with the performances, as certainly all others were.
'Home, Sweet Home,' closed the entertainment, and carried us all
back to that dear and never-to-be-forgotten place. Again in fancy
we gathered around the familiar hearthstone, made warm and bright
by blazing fire and sweet memories of other days. God grant that
another Christmas day may find us all there.
"But in the hospital there were hundreds confined by sickness,
wounds, and weakness to their beds. However good their will may
have been they were physically unable to join with their more
fortunate companions in outside enjoyments. They were not forgotten
or neglected. On Sabbath afternoon the choir again assembled, and
commencing with Ward One, we passed through fourteen wards, making
the old walls ring again with Christmas anthems. This, with wishing
the patients a merry Christmas, and that another return of the
happy day might find them all safe at home, and the reading, in
Luke ii., of the angelic announcement to the shepherds of the
'unspeakable gift' to us all, constituted the simple service. On
Monday there was much high feeding. Sleek cattle and corpulent pigs
were roasted whole, and there was a powerful mortality in the
hospital poultry-yard. Men who could never carve their fortunes
showed wonderful ability in carving turkey. These substantial
luxuries, seasoned by the recent victories, made for us a royal
feast, to which the sovereigns in blue sat down with unmingled
satisfaction."