The Wound Dresser Part 3

WALT.

IV

_Washington, Monday morning, Feb. 9, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--I write to enclose you a letter I have just received from George. His corps (Ninth Army) and perhaps one other are to move either to Fort Monroe, or somewhere down there--some say Suffolk. I am in hopes that when they get there, George will still have a sight for a furlough. I have written him I should think four letters since the 27th Jan. (and have sent him Han's letter to you in one). I hope he has got most of them before this. I am afraid the $3 change I sent him is gone. He will write to you as soon as he gets settled wherever they go to. I don't know as it makes any difference in respect to danger, or fighting, from this move. One reason they have to move from the Rappahannock, up there, is that wood is all gone for miles, forage is scarce to get, and I don't know as there is any need of their staying there, for any purpose. In some haste, dearest mother, as I am off to visit for an hour or so, one of my hospitals. Your affectionate son,

WALT.

V

_Office Major Hapgood, cor. 15th & F sts, Washington, Feb. 13, 1863._ DEAR BROTHER[12]--Nothing new; still I thought I would write you a line this morning. The $4, namely $2 from Theo A. Drake and $2 from John D. Martin, enclosed in your letter of the 10th, came safe. They too will please accept the grateful thanks of several poor fellows, in hospital here.

The letter of introduction to Mr. Webster, chief clerk, State department, will be very acceptable. If convenient, I should like Mr. Lane to send it on immediately. I do not so much look for an appointment from Mr. Seward as his backing me from the State of New York. I have seen Preston King this morning for the second time (it is very amusing to hunt for an office--so the thing seems to me just now, even if one don't get it). I have seen Charles Sumner three times--he says ev'ry thing here moves as part of a great machine, and that I must consign myself to the fate of the rest--still [in] an interview I had with him yesterday he talked and acted as though he had life in him, and would exert himself to any reasonable extent for me to get something. Meantime I make about enough to pay my expenses by hacking on the press here, and copying in the paymasters'

offices, a couple of hours a day. One thing is favorable here, namely, pay for whatever one does is at a high rate. I have not yet presented my letters to either Seward or Chase--I thought I would get my forces all in a body, and make one concentrated dash, if possible with the personal introduction and presence of some big bug. I like fat old Preston King very much--he is fat as a hogshead, with great hanging chops. The first thing he said to me the other day in the parlor chambers of the Senate, when I sent in for him and he came out, was, "Why, how can I do this thing, or any thing for you--how do I know but you are a Secessionist? You look for all the world like an old Southern planter--a regular Carolina or Virginia planter." I treated him with just as much hauteur as he did me with bluntness--this was the first time--it afterward proved that Charles Sumner had not prepared the way for me, as I supposed, or rather not so strongly as I supposed, and Mr. King had even forgotten it--so I was an entire stranger. But the same day C. S. talked further with Mr.

King in the Senate, and the second interview I had with the latter (this forenoon) he has given me a sort of general letter, endorsing me from New York--one envelope is addressed to Secretary Chase, and another to Gen.

Meigs, head Quartermaster's dept. Meantime, I am getting better and better acquainted with office-hunting wisdom and Washington peculiarities generally. I spent several hours in the Capitol the other day. The incredible gorgeousness of some of the rooms, (interior decorations, etc.)--rooms used perhaps but for merely three or four committee meetings in the course of the whole year--is beyond one's flightiest dreams. Costly frescoes of the style of Taylor's saloon in Broadway, only really the best and choicest of their sort, done by imported French and Italian artists, are the prevailing sorts. (Imagine the work you see on the fine china vases in Tiffany's, the paintings of Cupids and G.o.ddesses, etc., spread recklessly over the arched ceiling and broad panels of a big room--the whole floor underneath paved with tesselated pavement, which is a sort of cross between marble and china, with little figures, drab, blue, cream color, etc.) These things, with heavy elaborately wrought bal.u.s.trades, columns, and steps--all of the most beautiful marbles I ever saw, some white as milk, other of all colors, green, spotted, lined, or of our old chocolate color--all these marbles used as freely as if they were common blue flags--with rich door-frames and window-casings of bronze and gold--heavy chandeliers and mantles, and clocks in every room--and indeed by far the richest and gayest, and most un-American and inappropriate ornamenting and finest interior workmanship I ever conceived possible, spread in profusion through scores, hundreds, (and almost thousands) of rooms--such are what I find, or rather would find to interest me, if I devoted time to it. But a few of the rooms are enough for me--the style is without grandeur, and without simplicity. These days, the state our country is in, and especially filled as I am from top to toe of late with scenes and thoughts of the hospitals, (America seems to me now, though only in her youth, but brought already here, feeble, bandaged, and b.l.o.o.d.y in hospital)--these days I say, Jeff, all the poppy-show G.o.ddesses, and all the pretty blue and gold in which the interior Capitol is got up, seem to me out of place beyond anything I could tell--and I get away from it as quick as I can when that kind of thought comes over me. I suppose it is to be described throughout--those interiors--as all of them got up in the French style--well, enough for a New York.

VI

_Washington, March 31, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--I have not heard from George, except a note he wrote me a couple of days after he got back from his furlough. I think it likely the regiment has gone with its corps to the West, the Kentucky or Tennessee region--Burnside at last accounts was in Cincinnati. Well, it will be a change for George, if he is out there. I sent a long letter to Han last Sat.u.r.day--enclosed George's note to me.

Mother, when you or Jeff writes again, tell me if my papers and MSS. are all right; I should be very sorry indeed if they got scattered, or used up or anything--especially the copy of "Leaves of Gra.s.s" covered in blue paper,[13] and the little MS. book "Drum-Taps," and the MS. tied up in the square, spotted (stone-paper) loose covers--I want them all carefully kept.

Mother, it is quite a snow-storm here this morning--the ground is an inch and a half deep with snow--and it is snowing and drizzling--but I feel very independent in my stout army-boots; I go anywhere. I _have_ felt quite well of my deafness and cold in my head for four days or so, but it is back again bad as ever this morning.

Dear mother, I wrote the above in my room--I have now come down to Major Hapgood's office. I do not find anything from home, and no particular news in the paper this morning--no news about the Ninth Army Corps, or where they are. I find a good letter from one of my New York boys, (Fifth avenue) a young fellow named Hugo Fritsch, son of the Austrian Consul-General--he writes me a long, first-rate letter this morning. He too speaks about the Opera--like Jeff he goes there a good deal--says that Medori, the soprano, as Norma made the greatest success ever seen--says that the whole company there now, the singers, are very fine. All this I write for Jeff and Mat--I hope they will go once in a while when it is convenient.

It is a most disagreeable day here, mother, walking poshy and a rain and drizzle.

There is nothing new with me, no particular sight for an office that I can count on. But I can make enough with the papers, for the present necessities. I hear that the paymaster, Major Yard, that pays the 51st, has gone on West, I suppose to Cincinnati, or wherever the brigade has gone--of course to pay up--he pays up to 1st of March--all the Army is going to be paid up to 1st March everywhere.

Mother, I hope you are well and hearty as usual. I am so glad you are none of you going to move. I would like to have the pleasure of Miss Mannahatta Whitman's company, the first fine forenoon, if it were possible; I think we might have first-rate times, for one day at any rate.

I hope she will not forget her Uncle Walt. I received a note from Probasco, requesting me not to put his name in my next letter. I appreciate his motive, and wish to please him always--but in this matter I shall do what I think appropriate. Mother, I see some very interesting persons here--a young master's mate, who was on the Hatteras, when surprised and broadsided by the Alabama, Capt Semmes--he gave me a very good acc't of it all--then Capt. Mullen, U. S. Army, (engineer) who has been six years out in the Rocky mts. making a Gov't road 650 miles from Ft. Benton to Walla Walla--very, very interesting to know such men intimately, and talk freely with them. Dearest mother, I shall have great yarns to spin, when I come home. I am not a bit homesick, yet I should like to see you and Mat very, very much--one thinks of the women when he is away.

WALT.

Shall send the shirts in a day or two.

VII

_Washington, Wednesday forenoon, April 15, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--Jeff's letter of the 11th, acknowledging the books, also the one about five days previous, containing the $10 from Van Anden, came safe. Jeff's letters are always first rate and welcome--the good long one with so much about home, and containing Han's and George's, was especially so. It is a great pleasure, though sometimes a melancholy one, to hear from Han, under her own hand. I have writ to George--I wrote last Friday. I directed the letter to "Lexington or elsewhere, Kentucky"--as I saw in a letter in a Cincinnati paper that Gen. Ferrero was appointed provost marshal at Lexington. The 51st is down there somewhere, and I guess it is about as well off there as anywhere. There is much said about their closing up the regimental companies--that is, where there are ten companies of 40 men each, closing them up to five companies, of 80 men each. It is said the Government purposes something of this kind. It will throw a good many captains and lieutenants out. I suppose you know that Le Gendre is now colonel of the 51st--it's a pity if we haven't Americans enough to put over our old war regiments. (I think less and less of foreigners, in this war. What I see, especially in the hospitals, convinces me that there is no other stock, for emergencies, but native American--no other name by which we can be saved.)

Mother, I feel quite bad about Andrew--I am so in hopes to hear that he has recovered--I think about him every day. He must not get fretting and disheartened--that is really the worst feature of any sickness. Diseases of the throat and bronchia are the result always of bad state of the stomach, blood, etc. (they never come from the throat itself). The throat and the bronchia are lined, like the stomach and other interior organs, with a fine lining like silk or c.r.a.pe, and when all this gets ulcerated or inflamed or what-not (it is Dr. Sammis's _mucous membrane_, you know) it is bad, and most distressing. Medicine is really of no great account, except just to pacify a person. This lining I speak of is full of little blood vessels, and the way to make a _real cure_ is by gentle and steady means to recuperate the whole system; this will tell upon the blood, upon the blood vessels, and so finally and effectually upon all this coating I speak of that lines the throat, etc. But as it is a long time before this vital lining membrane (_very important_) is injured, so it is a long time before it can be made all healthy and right again; but Andrew is young and strong enough and [has a] good const.i.tution for basis--and of course by regular diet, care, (and nary whiskey under any circ.u.mstances) I am sure he would not only get over that trouble, but be as well and strong as he ever was in his life. Mother, you tell him I sent him my love, and Nancy[14] the same, and the dear little boys the same--the next time you or Mat goes down there you take this and show him.

Mat, I am quite glad to hear that you are not hurried and fretted with work from New York this spring--I am sure I should think Sis and housekeeping, etc., would be enough to attend to. I was real amused with Sis's remarks, and all that was in the letter about her. You must none of you notice her smartness, nor criticisms, before her, nor encourage her to spread herself nor be critical, as it is not good to encourage a child to be too sharp--and I hope Sissy is going to be a splendid specimen of good animal health. For the few years to come I should think more of that than anything--that is the foundation of all (righteousness included); as to her mental vivacity and growth, they are plenty enough of themselves, and will get along quite fast enough of themselves, plenty fast enough--don't stimulate them at all. Dear little creature, how I should like to see her this minute. Jeff must not make his lessons to her in music anyways strong or frequent on any account--two lessons a week, of ten minutes each, is enough--but then I dare say Jeff will think of all these things, just the same as I am saying. Jeff writes he wonders if I am as well and hearty, and I suppose he means as much of a beauty as ever, whether I look the same. Well, not only as much but more so--I believe I weigh about 200, and as to my face, (so scarlet,) and my beard and neck, they are terrible to behold. I fancy the reason I am able to do some good in the hospitals among the poor languishing and wounded boys, is, that I am so large and well--indeed like a great wild buffalo, with much hair. Many of the soldiers are from the West, and far North, and they take to a man that has not the bleached shiny and shaved cut of the cities and the East. I spent three to four hours yesterday in Armory hospital. One of my particular boys there was dying--pneumonia--he wanted me to stop with him awhile; he could not articulate--but the look of his eyes, and the holding on of his hand was deeply affecting. His case is a relapse--eight days ago he had recovered, was up, was perhaps a little careless--at any rate took cold, was taken down again and has sank rapidly. He has no friends or relatives here. Yesterday he labored and panted so for breath, it was terrible. He is a young man from New England, from the country. I expected to see his cot vacated this afternoon or evening, as I shall go down then.

Mother, if you or Mat was here a couple of days, you would cry your eyes out. I find I have to restrain myself and keep my composure--I succeed pretty well. Good-bye, dearest mother.

WALT.

Jeff, Capt. Muller remains here yet for some time. He is bringing out his report. I shall try to send you a copy. Give my best respects to Dr.

Ruggles.

Mother, my last letter home was a week ago to-day--we are having a dark rainy day here--it is now half-past 3. I have been in my room all day so far--shall have dinner in half an hour, and then down to Armory.

VIII

_Washington, April 28, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--A letter from Jeff came this morning. Mother, I was sorry to hear you had a return of your rheumatism--I do hope you will favor yourself more, it depends so much on that--and rheumatism is so obstinate, when it gets hold of one. Mother, you received a letter from me sent last Wednesday, 22nd, of course, with a small quant.i.ty of shinplasters. Next time you or Jeff writes, I wish you would tell me whether the letters come pretty regularly, the next morning after I write them--this now ought to reach you Wednesday forenoon, April 29th. Mother, did a Mr. Howell call on you? He was here last week to see about his boy, died a long while ago in hospital in Yorktown. He works in the Navy Yard--knows Andrew. You will see about him (the boy) in a letter I sent yesterday to the _Eagle_--it ought to appear to-day or to-morrow.

Jeff, I wish you would take 10 I send in this letter and get me ten copies of the _Eagle_ with it in--put in five more of my pictures (the big ones in last edition "Leaves"), and a couple of the photographs carte visites (the smaller ones), and send me to the same direction as before; it came very well. I will send an _Eagle_ to Han and George. The stamps and 10 are for Jeff for the papers and postage.

I have written to Han, and sent her George's last two letters from Kentucky; one I got last week from Mount Sterling. I write to George and send him papers. Sam Beatty is here in Washington again. I saw him, and he said he would write to George. Mother, I have not got any new clothes yet, but shall very soon I hope. People are more rough and free and easy drest than your way. Then it is dusty or muddy most of the time here. Mother dear, I hope you have comfortable times--at least as comfortable as the law allows. I am so glad you are not going to have the trouble of moving this 1st of May. How are the Browns? Tell Will I should like to see him first rate--if he was here attached to the suite of some big officer, or something of that kind, he would have a good time and do well. I see lots of young fellows not half as capable and trustworthy as he, coming and going in Washington, in such positions. The big generals and head men all through the armies, and provosts etc., like to have a squad of such smart, nimble young men around them. Give my respects to Mr. and Mrs. Brown.

Tell Jeff I am going to write to Mr. Lane either to-day or to-morrow. Jeff asks me if I go to hospitals as much as ever. If my letters home don't show it, you don't get 'em. I feel sorry sometimes after I have sent them, I have said so much about hospitals, and so mournful. O mother, the young man in Armory-square, Dennis Barrett, in the 169th N. Y., I mentioned before, is probably going to get up after all; he is like one saved from the grave. Sat.u.r.day last I saw him and talked with him and gave him something to eat, and he was much better--it is the most unexpected recovery I have yet seen. Mother, I see Jeff says in the letter you don't hear from me very often--I will write oftener, especially to Jeff. Dear brother, I hope you are getting along good, and in good spirits; you must not mind the failure of the sewer bills, etc. It don't seem to me it makes so much difference about worldly successes (beyond just enough to eat and drink and shelter, in the moderatest limits) any more, since the last four months of my life especially, and that merely to live, and have one fair meal a day, is enough--but then you have a family, and that makes a difference.

Matty, I send you my best love, dear sister--how I wish I could be with you one or two good days. Mat, do you remember the good time we had that awful stormy night we went to the Opera, New York, and had the front seat, and heard the handsome-mouthed Guerrabella? and had the good oyster supper at Fulton market--("pewter them ales.") O Mat, I hope and trust we shall have such times again.

Tell Andrew he must remember what I wrote about the throat, etc. I am sure he will get all right before long, and recover his voice. Give him my love--and tell Mannahatta her Uncle Walt is living now among the sick soldiers. Jeff, look out for the _Eagles_, and send the portraits.

Dearest mother, I must bid you and all for the present good-bye.

WALT.

IX

_Washington, Tuesday, May 5, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--Your letter came safe, and was very welcome, and always will be. Mother, I am sorry about your rheumatism--if it still continues I think it would be well for me to write a line to Mrs. Piercy, and get Jeff to stop with it, so that you could take the baths again, as I am sure they are very beneficial. Dear mother, you write me, or Jeff must in the next letter, how you are getting along, whether it is any better or worse--I want to know. Mother, about George's fund in the bank; I hope by all means you can scratch along so as to leave $250 there--I am so anxious that our family should have a little ranch, even if it is the meanest kind, off somewhere that you can call your own, and that would do for Ed etc.--it might be a real dependence, and comfort--and may-be for George as much as any one. I mean to come home one of these days, and get the acre or half acre somewhere out in some by-place on Long Island, and build it--you see if I don't. About Hannah, dear mother, I hardly know what advice to give you--from what I know at present I can't tell what course to pursue. I want Han to come home, from the bottom of my heart. Then there are other thoughts and considerations that come up. Dear mother, I cannot advise, but shall acquiesce in anything that is settled upon, and try to help.

The condition of things here in the hospitals is getting pretty bad--the wounded from the battles around Fredericksburg are coming up in large numbers. It is very sad to see them. I have written to Mr. Lane, asking him to get his friends to forward me what they think proper--but somehow I feel delicate about sending such requests, after all.

I have almost made up my mind to do what I can personally, and not seek a.s.sistance from others.

Dear mother, I have not received any letter from George. I write to him and send papers to Winchester. Mother, while I have been writing this a very large number of Southern prisoners, I should think 1,000 at least, has past up Pennsylvania avenue, under a strong guard. I went out in the street, close to them. Poor fellows, many of them mere lads--it brought the tears; they seemed our flesh and blood too, some wounded, all miserable in clothing, all in dirt and tatters--many of them fine young men. Mother, I cannot tell you how I feel to see those prisoners marched.

X

_Washington, Wednesday forenoon, May 13, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--I am late with my letter this week--my poor, poor boys occupy my time very much--I go every day, and sometimes nights. I believe I mentioned a young man in Ward F, Armory-square, with a bad wound in the leg, very agonizing--had to have it propt up, and an attendant all the while dripping water on night and day. I was in hopes at one time he would get through with it, but a few days ago he took a sudden bad turn and died about 3 o'clock the same afternoon--it was horrible. He was of good family--handsome, intelligent man, about 26, married; his name was John Elliot, of c.u.mberland Valley, Bedford co., Penn.--belonged to 2nd Pennsylvania Cavalry. I felt very bad about it. I have wrote to his father--have not received any answer yet; no friend nor any of his folks was here, and have not been here nor sent--probably don't know of it at all. The surgeons put off amputating the leg, he was so exhausted, but at last it was imperatively necessary to amputate. Mother, I am shocked to tell you that he never came alive off the amputating table--he died under the operation--it was what I had dreaded and antic.i.p.ated. Poor young man, he suffered much, very, _very_ much, for many days, and bore it so patiently--so that it was a release to him. Mother, such things are awful--not a soul here he knew or cared about, except me--yet the surgeons and nurses were good to him. I think all was done for him that could be--there was no help but take off the leg; he was under chloroform--they tried their best to bring him to--three long hours were spent, a strong smelling bottle held under his nostrils, with other means, three hours. Mother, how contemptible all the usual little worldly prides and vanities, and striving after appearances, seems in the midst of such scenes as these--such tragedies of soul and body. To see such things and not be able to help them is awful--I feel almost ashamed of being so well and whole.

Dear mother, I have not heard from George himself; but I got a letter from Fred McReady, a young Brooklyn man in 51st--he is intimate with George, said he was well and hearty. I got the letter about five days ago. I wrote to George four days since, directed to Winchester, Kentucky. I got a letter from a friend in Nashville, Tenn., yesterday--he told me the 9th Army Corps was ordered to move to Murfreesboro, Tenn. I don't know whether this is so or not. I send papers to George almost every day. So far I think it was fortunate the 51st was moved West, and I hope it will continue so. Mother, it is all a lottery, this war; no one knows what will come up next.

Mother, I received Jeff's letter of May 9th--it was welcome, as all Jeff's letters are, and all others from home. Jeff says you do not hear from me at home but seldom. Mother, I write once a week to you regular; but I will write soon to Jeff a good long letter--I have wanted to for some time, but have been much occupied. Dear brother, I wish you to say to Probasco and all the other young men on the Works, I send them my love and best thanks--never anything came more acceptable than the little fund they forwarded me the last week through Mr. Lane. Our wounded from Hooker's battles are worse wounded and more of them than any battle of the war, and indeed any, I may say, of modern times--besides, the weather has been very hot here, very bad for new wounds. Yet as Jeff writes so downhearted I must tell him the Rebellion has lost worse and more than we have. The more I find out about it, the more I think they, the Confederates, have received an irreparable harm and loss in Virginia--I should not be surprised to see them (either voluntarily or by force) leaving Virginia before many weeks; I don't see how on earth they can stay there. I think Hooker is already reaching after them again--I myself do not give up Hooker yet. Dear mother, I should like to hear from Han, poor Han. I send my best love to sister Mat and all. Good-bye, dearest mother.

WALT.

XI