Pember, Phoebe Yates, “Reminiscences of A Southern Hospital. By Its Matron.”
The Cosmopolite, Serialized: Vol. I., No. IV. April 1866, pp. 350-369;
First page of memoir has it copyrighted 1865 by T. C. DeLeon in Maryland.
REMINISCENCES
OF
A SOUTHERN HOSPITAL.
BY ITS MATRON.
NUMBER
FOUR.
Though my health had withstood up to this time all
the effects of exposure and exertion, the strain had become too great, and the
constantly recurring agitation excited each day on receiving the returned
prisoners, broke me down completely. A visit to the Surgeon-General, with a
request for a month's leave of absence, met with a ready acquiescence. The old
gentleman was very urbane, even making one or two grim jokes, and handed me not
only permission to leave, but the necessary transportation. Very necessary in
this case, as traveling expenses were enormously high at this time, and the
Government had also seized, for the whole month of October, the railroad for
military use, putting a complete stop to private travel.
It had been like tearing body and soul apart when
necessity compelled me to leave the Hospital, from which I had not been
separated but one day in three years; and when all the arrangements for
departure had been completed; Miss G. urged, implored, entreated and commanded
to keep a sharp look out on the whiskey, and be alike impenetrable to
stratagems, feints or entreaties, my heart began to sink. A visit to the wards
did not tend to strengthen my resolves. The first invalid to whom I communicated
the news of my intended departure, burst into a passion of tears, and improved
my wavering intentions by requesting me to kill him at once, for he would
certainly die if left. Standing by his bedside, unsettled and irresolute, all
the details of my daily life rose before me. The early morning visit to the
sick, after their feverish, restless night, when, if even there was no good to
be effected, every man's head would be uncovered as by one impulse, and jealousy
evinced when a longer pause by one bed-side than another would arouse the
feeling. Often has the ward-master of “A” recalled me when a quarter of a
mile distant from his ward, at the request of a patient, and when going back to
find out what was wanted, a hearty convalescent would explain that I had passed
through and omitted to speak to him.
Farewells were exchanged at last, and the 6th
of October found me at the railroad station. A search at the last moment for my
keys, discovered that they, together with my watch, were still at the Hospital;
while, as an equivalent, remained in the bottom of my basket half of a salt
mackerel (a rare luxury in the Confederacy,) begged for a sick man the day
before, and forgotten in the hurry of departure; so the start had to be
postponed till the 7th.
There is some school day's reminiscence hanging
around Hannibal, and the softening of a rugged journey by the use of vinegar,
but what acid could soften the rigors of that trip to Georgia! They can hardly
be recounted. With the aid of two gentlemen and every disengaged man on the
road, a safe and happy termination was effected, and a delicious nineteen days
passed in idleness and “Confederate” luxury, free from the wear and tear of
feelings constantly excited; then came the stern reflection of Dr. Moore's face
when he accorded but the soldier's furlough of thirty days. A useless search
after an escort for immediate use, resulted in advice unanimously given, to
“go alone,” on the grounds that “women had grown so independent during the
war, and no man knowing the object of your return would fail to give you all the
assistance in his power.”
Fired with this Quixotic sentiment, an early start
was made. Finding that, in the confusion of adieu making, no checks had been
given me for trunks, I ventured while the afflatus lasted to touch a man on the
arm who sat in front of me, and request that he would call the conductor. “I
am sorry that I am not acquainted with him,” was the answer; and down I went
to zero, never rising again till my journey was accomplished.
Perhaps the details of my progress may give an idea
of the state of the country. At West Point, which it took an hour and a half to
reach, we had to sleep all night. There were no bed-rooms and no candles, and
female travelers sat in the little bar of the tavern (the leading hotel being
closed,) only brightened by a pine knot, and at what they had provided
themselves with out of their baskets. Another two hours travel to Opelika the
next day, and another detention of half a dozen hours. At Columbus, a rumor that
the cars had been seized for Government transportation was very alarming; so,
long before starting time, I was waiting in the depot, seated on my trunk, half
amused and half mortified at the resemblance thus offered to an emigrant Irish
servant woman. The depot was crowded with invalided soldiers, for the Government
was moving the hospitals from upper Georgia and Tennessee, and passers-by seeing
my evident alarm, volunteered all kinds of irrational advice. A suggestion was
made, that by seeking the most helpless among the wounded, and passing .as his
nurse, my object would be effected but every man to whom I opened my proposals
seemed alarmed at the idea. The confusion became terrible towards .the last;
everybody calling for the conductor, who having no power, the cars being under
military control, first denied his identity and then hid himself. Help came at
the last moment, in the shape of a red-faced, half-tipsy Irish porter. “Lit me
put yer trunks on,” he said, “and thin go to Col. Frankland at the back of
the ladies' car; sure he will help the faymales.”
The forlorn hope, Col. Frankland, was standing on
the platform at the extreme rear of the cars, surrounded by a semi-circle below,
about twenty-five deep, all pressing on to get seats which were already too
full, he screaming and gesticulating like a madman. The lame, the halt and the
blind stood around-crutches, splints, huge sticks – green blinds over eyes,
faces peeled from erysipelas, and still leaving variegated hues of iodine, gave
picturesqueness to the scene; had he borne Caesar and his fortunes he could not
have been more in earnest. For four hours he had been stemming this living tide.
I had met and fraternized with a lady and gentleman
who appeared as anxious as myself to get forward, so telling her not to move
until I had achieved my object and then join me, I essayed a first faint call
upon the Colonel. The sound died away in my throat, but my Irish friend (I am
sure he took me for one of his countrywomen) was by my side and repeated the
call; a hundred voices took up the refrain – “A lady wants to speak to the
Colonel,” and universal curiosity as to the subject of my business being
exhibited by a dead silence, I raised my voice, as Manse Headrigg said, “like
a pelican in the wilderness.”
“Col. Frankland, I must get on to-night.
Government business requires me to be in Richmond by the 30th.”
“Impossible, madam. I would like to oblige you,
but it is against my orders, the cars are for the use of the wounded and sick
alone.”
“But, Col. Frankland, seven hundred men are
waiting for their dinner, breakfast and supper in Richmond. I am the matron of a
hospital.”
“Cannot help it, madam. – If you men do not
keep off I will put the front rank under arrest.”
“Cannot you let me stand on the platform, if
there are orders against our using the cars?”
The steam whistled fearfully and the bell clanged
an uproar of sound.
“Oh! Col. Frankland, let me go in the mail car, I
won't even open my eyes to look at the letters!”
“Against the law, cannot be done; you must not
expect me to infringe on my orders. - Will no one keep those men off?”
“I will, Col. Frankland, if you will let
me stand by you on that platform. I wear very long hair pins.''
“Thank you, madam, thank you. Now, men, this lady
wears long hair-pins, so you had better keep off.”
My friend, the red-nosed Irishman, had never left
my side. He whispered that the trunks were all right, and helped me to get on
the stand. Another moment and my female companion was by my side.
“This is not fair,” said the Colonel, “you
promised that you would not let any one come in.”
“Oh, no, I promised that not a single man
should do so; this is a woman. Will you let her husband join her? He is not a single
man for he has a wife and nine children.”
The result may be imagined; our party, very much
relieved, were soon inside, where we found four comfortable seats reserved for
Gen. Beauregard and staff, which were unoccupied, those gentlemen being detained
at Macon.
At that city, where we were compelled to pass the
night, the same state of things existed, and with depressed spirits I drove to
the cars to see if any arrangement could be made by which I could still get
further. As the road would not be thrown open-to the public for a month, an
effort had to be made. An appeal to the authorities resulted in defeat, so I
tried the former manoeuvre of appealing to subordinates.
Baffled in all my attempts, and again seated
emigrant-like on my trunk, the mail agent caught my eye, as he stood in the
door-way of his car. Improving the opportunity, I commenced a conversation,
ending in an insinuating appeal to be taken in the mail box. Success and
installation in his little square domicile followed and my friend passing out
immediately locked the door on the outside. There were no windows and no light
whatever; the hour six o'clock. Seated in loneliness and darkness till the town
clock struck eight, every fear that could arise in the brain of a silly woman
assailed me. Did the train I was in go to Augusta, and if not, would I be where
I was all night? Was the man who locked me in really the mail agent? If he came
back and robbed and murdered me, would any one ever miss me? Having eaten
nothing but a biscuit or two for twenty-four hours, my brain being
proportionably light, imagination seized the reins from common sense, which fled
in the presence of utter darkness and loneliness.
At last the lock turned, and a lantern dispelled
some of my terrors. The cars started, and the agent commenced sorting his
letters, first locking us in securely. A couple of hours passed, and my mind was
gradually losing its tone of unpleasant doubt as to the wisdom of my
proceedings, when my busy companion knocked off work and essayed to play the
agreeable. He was communicative in the extreme, giving me his biography, which
proved him a Connecticut man, and very much dissatisfied with the Confederacy,
particularly the state of the money market. As long as he kept to his personal
recollections all was right, but he soon claimed a return of confidence, and
grew hourly more patronizing and conversational. The tone and manner, the
loneliness of the position, a rd the impossibility of any fortunate interruption
became unbearable at last, and there is no knowing what I might have been
tempted to do in the way of breaking out, if the cars bad not fortunately run
off the track. On we bumped, happily on level ground for ten minutes or more.
The engineer entirely unconscious of the fact, and no way of communicating with
him, as the soldiers were lying over the rope on the top of the cars, so that
pulling was in vain. At last a pause, and then a crowd, and then a familiar name
was called, most welcome to my ears. I repeated it till its owner was by my
side, and the rest of the night was spent in asking questions and exchanging
information. At daylight he left me to rejoin his command, while we continued on
to Augusta. As usual, no vehicle of any kind at the depot, but being the only
woman to be seen, the mail driver offered me a seat on the mail bags, and in
this august style we reached the hotel by breakfast time. All military
suspension ceased here, but there was two hours detention, and this was
enlivened by an amusing episode.
Directly in front of me sat an old Georgia
up-country woman, placidly regarding box cars full of men waiting, like us, to
start. She knitted and gazed, and at last inquired “who those were in the
parallel cars, and where were they going?” The explanation that they were
Yankee. prisoners startled her considerably. The knitting needles ceased
abruptly, (all the old women in the Confederacy knitted socks for the soldiers
in the cars) the cracker bonnet of dark brown homespun was thrown back
violently, for her whole system seemed to have received a galvanic shock. Then
she caught her breath, lifted up her thin, trembling hand, accompanied by the
trembling voice, and made them a speech
“Ain't you ashamed of youans,” she said, “a
coming down here a spiling our country and a thieving in our hen-roosts? What
did we ever do to you that you should come a killing our husbands and brothers
and sons? Ain't you ashamed of youans? What do you want us to live with you for,
you poor white trash. I ain't got a nigger that would be so mean as to force
himself where he war'nt wanted, and what do weuns want with you? Ain't you
–” But here came a roar of laughter from both cars, and, trembling with
anger and excitement, the old lady pulled down her spectacles, which, in the
excite meat, she. had pushed up on her forehead, and tried in vain to resume her
labor with shaking hands.
From here to Richmond there occurred the usual
detentions and trials of railroad travel under the existing circumstances. The
windows of the cars were more or less broken, sometimes no stoves for fires, and
the nights very chilly; all in utter darkness, for the lamps had been broken;
could they have been replaced, there was no oil. We crawled along, stopping
every now and then to tinker up some part of the car or the road, getting out at
times, when announcements were made that the travellers must walk a mile or
more, as the case might be. Crowds of women were getting in and out all the way,
the male passengers grumbling half aloud that “the women had better stay at
home-they had no business to be running around in such times.” This was said
so often that it became very unpleasant, till the tables were turned early one
morning at Gainsborough, when a large-sized female made her way along the centre
of the car, looking from the right to the left in vain search of a seat. None
being vacant, she stopped short and addressed the astonished male passengers:
“What, for pity sake, do you men mean by running all around the country
instead of staying in the field, as you ought to do? You keep filling up the
cars so that a woman can't attend to her business, when your place should be
opposite the Yankees.” This diversion in our behalf was received silently, but
many seats were soon vacated by their possessors on the plea of “taking a
little smoke.”
The thirtieth of October found me, weary, hungry,
cold, exhausted, and with that most terrible of scourges, a very bad, nervous
headache, at the Richmond depot, four hours after the schedule time. The crowd
was immense, so that when it had opened or dispersed sufficiently to let me get
through, every vehicle had left, if any had waited there till that hour. As
usual, my telegram had not been received, so that there was no one to meet me;
and pain rendering me indifferent to everything, I quietly laid my shawl upon a
bench in the station-house, and myself on it. For how long I cannot say, but at
last a voice asked what was wanted. “Any kind of a vehicle.” After a few
moments my new friend returned with the information that there was only a market
cart, which, if I was willing to use, was for hire. If it had been a balloon or
a wheelbarrow, it would have been all the same. My trunks were put on, and then
I was deposited on them: the hour, eleven o'clock at night.
I looked first at the horse; he had a shadowy, grey
skin stretched over his prominent bones, and, in the dim, misty light, seemed a
mere phantom. The driver next came under observation. A little, dried-up black
man, with a brown rag tied around his head for shelter; but, like all of his
species, he was kind and respectful. Directions were given him to drive to a
friend's house, but he said that his horse was too tired; if I was willing, he
had another at “his place,” where he would like to go and change.
Quite willing, or rather too weary to assert any
authority, on we rumbled and rattled twice the distance I was first bound,
changed one skeleton for another, and started for my friend's house. At last the
blessed haven was reached, but the sight of a new face in answer to our summons
made my heart sink. “Moved yesterday.”
“Drive to Miss G.'s house,” was the next
direction, for we were by this time out of the way of hotels or boarding houses.
The same answer, and very near twelve o'clock. Had all Richmond moved?
The fresh air, to say nothing of the novelty of nay
position, had improved my headache and given me courage to make a proposition I
dared not attempt before: “Could not you drive me to the Hospital?” was the
next demand in a most ingratiating tone.
The old man untied the rag off his head and
smoothed it on his knee, by way of ironing the creases out and assisting
reflection; replaced it, taking up the reins before he answered, for we were now
at a standstill at the foot of the hill in Broad street.
“Missis,” said he, “de way is long, and de
bridges is mighty bad; if you will drive over dem and let me git out, and pay me
fifty dollars, de ole horse might go up de hill.”
The bargain was struck and the Hospital reached
after midnight; the key of my apartment sent for, when the last hair that broke
the camel's back was laid upon mine.
“Miss G. had taken it away with her.”
The key was gone but the carpenter was not, and
with his help the door was broken open. When a fire had been made, a delicious
piece of cold, hard corn bread eaten, and the covering of the first bed I had
slept in for ten days drawn around me, all the troubles of a hard world melted
away, and the only real happiness on earth, entire exemption from mental or
bodily pain took possession of me.
There was now a great difference perceptible in the
manner of living between Virginia and the more Southern States. Even in the best
and most wealthy houses in Richmond, many every-day comforts had become
luxuries, and been dispensed with early in the war. Farther south, they still
sent to Nassau for what they needed, taking the risk of blockade running. Tea
and coffee were first dispensed with, at the Capital then many used corn flour
exclusively, wheat was so high. Gradually butter disappeared from the breakfast
table, and even brown sugar when it reached twenty dollars a pound shared the
same fate. But farther south, no such economy appeared necessary. The air of the
people in the cars and around the railroad stations was tit that time hopeful
and courageous to an extreme; there was no fear ever expressed even as late as
this as to the ultimate success of the Southern cause.
The Hospitals though, did not compare with those I
had left, either in arrangement, cleanliness, or attendance. Long before this,
the matrons' places in Virginia had been filled with ladies of the very first
class of life, but this had been the case alone in Virginia, and such
supervision made a very great difference, as may be supposed.
During my absence, all the patients left a month
before had either recovered or died, so that it was irksome to resume my usual
duties, a few days visiting rectifying this, however. The happiest person to see
me was Miss G., as she resigned the key of the liquor closet with a sigh that
spoke volumes. From what could be gathered she had been equal to the occasion,
and summoned determination to suit the exigencies of her position, though
naturally of a very gentle, yielding nature.
The health of the army was now so good, that except
when the wounded came in there was but little to do. That terrible scourge,
pneumonia, so dreadful in its typhoid form, had almost disappeared. The men had
become hardened and inured to exposure.
Christmas passed pleasantly. The Hospital fund,
from the depreciation of the money, being too small to allow us to make any
festive preparations, the ladies of the city drove out in carriages and
ambulances laden with good things. The previous year, we had been able to give
out of our own funds a bowl of egg-nogg and slice of cake to every man in the
Hospital, as well as his turkey and oysters for dinner, but times were now more
stringent.
Just after New Year, one of the Committee on
Hospital Affairs in Congress called to see me, wishing to get some information
on the subject before any appropriation had been made for whiskey for the
ensuing year. There were doubts afloat as to whether the benefit conferred upon
the patients by the use of stimulants, counterbalanced the evil effects it
produced upon those surgeons who were in the habit of making use of them.
It was a hard question to answer, particularly as a
case in point had just come under my observation. A man had been brought into
our Hospital with a crushed ankle, the cars having passed over it. It had been
dressed and put in splints before he was sent to us; so the surgeon in
attendance ordered that he should not be disturbed. The nurse came over to say,
in a few hours, that the man was suffering intensely. He had a burning fever,
but complained of the fellow v leg instead of the injured one. The common idea
of sympathy was suggested, and a narcotic given, which failed in producing any
effect. On my second visit he induced me to look at it, and finding the foot and
leg above and below the splints, perfectly well, the natural thought suggested
itself of examining the other. It was a most shocking sight – swollen,
inflamed and purple – the drunken surgeon had set the wrong leg! The pain
produced low fever, which took a typhoid form; and the man eventually died. With
this instance still fresh in my memory, it was hard to give an opinion. However,
the appropriation was made.
The poor fellow was the most dependent patient I
ever had, and though entirely uneducated, won his way to my sympathies by his
entire helplessness and dependence upon my care and advice. No surgeon in the
Hospital could persuade him to swallow anything in the shape of food, unless he
first sent for and consulted me; and a few soothing words or an encouraging nod
would satisfy and calm him. His ideas of luxuries were very peculiar, and his
answer to my daily inquiries as to what I should give him to eat, was invariably
the same – he would like some “scribbled eggs and flitters.” This order
was carried out till the surgeon prescribed stronger food, and though beef steak
was substituted, he always called it by the same name, leading me to suppose
that scribbled eggs and flitters were a generic term for food generally. I made
him some jelly: Confederate jelly, with the substitution of whiskey for Madeira
wine, and citric acid for lemons, but he said he did not like it, there was no
chewing in it, and it all went he did not know where; so there was no use trying
to tempt his palate.
It was very awkward visiting the wards after my
return. Before this, the departure of old patients and the arrival of new, was
hardly noticeable, as there were always enough men left to whom I was known to
make me feel at home, and to inform the last comers why I came among them, and
what my duties were. I now found the Hospital filled with a very superior set of
men, Virginia cavalrymen, and many of the Maryland infantry. They were not as
considerate as my old friends had been, and rather looked with suspicion upon my
daily visits. One man amused me particularly, keeping a portion of his food
every day for my particular and agreeable inspection, as he thought, and my
particular annoyance as I felt. Everything unpalatable was deposited under his
pillow awaiting my arrival, and the greeting given was invariably:
“Do you call that good bread?”
“Well, no not very good; but the flour is very
dark and often musty.”
Another day he would send for me, and draw out a
handful of dry rice.
“Do you call that properly boiled ?”
“That is the way we boil rice in Carolina, each
grain to be separated.”
“Well, I didn't wish mine to be boiled that
way.”
And so on through all the details of his food,
somebody, he felt, was responsible, and unfortunately he determined that I
should be the scape-goat. His companion, who laid by his side, was even more
disagreeable than he was. He was a terrible pickle consumer, and indulged in
such extreme dissipation in that luxury, that a check had to be put upon his
appetite. He attacked me on the subject the first chance he had, and listened to
my explanations without being convinced that pickles were luxuries to be eaten
sparingly, and used carefully. “Perhaps,” he said at last, sulkily, “we
would have more pickles if you had not so many new dresses.” There was no
doubt as to my having on a new calico dress, but what that had to do with the
pickles was rather puzzling. However, that afternoon, came a formal apology,
written in quite an elegant style, and signed by every man in the ward, (except
the pickle man) in which they laid the fault of this cruel speech on the bad
whiskey.
All this winter the city had been unusually gay.
Besides parties, private theatricals and tableaux were inaugurated. Wise and
thoughtful men disapproved openly of this mad gaiety. There was, certainly, a
painful discrepancy between the excitement of music and dancing, where one could
hear in a momentary lull the rumble of the ambulances carrying the wounded to
the different Hospitals. Young men advocated this state of affairs, arguing that
after the fatigues and dangers of a campaign in the field, that some relaxation
was necessary on their visit to the Capital.
To thinking people this recklessness was ominous:
and, by the end of February, 1865, I began to feel that all was not as well as
might be. The incessant moving of troops through the city from one point to
another shewed weakness, and the scarcity of rations issued told a painful tale.
People spoke of the inefficiency of the Commissary General, and predicted that
the change made in that Department would make all right. Soon afterwards, the
truth was told to me, in confidence, and under promise that it should go no
farther. Richmond was to be evacuated in a month or six weeks. The time might be
lengthened or shortened, but the fact was established.
Then came the packing up, quietly but surely, of
the different departments. Our requisitions on the Medical Purveyor were
returned unfilled, and an order from the Surgeon-General required that herbs
should be used in the Hospitals. There was a great deal of merriment elicited
over the “yarb teas” drawn during the time by command of the surgeons,
without any one knowing why the substitution had been made.
My mind had been much harrassed as to what I should
do, but my duty seemed to be to remain with my sick, as no general ever deserts
his troops; but to be left by all my friends amidst the enemy, with every
feeling antagonistic to them, and the prospect of being turned away from the
Hospital the day after they city surrendered, was not a cheering one. Even my
home would no longer be opened to me, for staying with one of the Cabinet
Ministers, he would certainly leave with the government. I was spared the
necessity of decision by the sudden attack of Gen. Grant and the breaking of the
Confederate lines. This necessitated the evacuation of Richmond sooner than was
expected, and before I had time to think about the matter at all, the government
and all its train had vanished.
On the 2d April, 1865, while the congregation of
Dr. Hoge's church in Richmond, were listening to the Sunday sermon, a messenger
entered and handed a telegram to Mr. Davis, then President of the Southern
Confederated States, who rose immediately, without any visible signs of
agitation, and left the church. No great alarm was exhibited by the
congregation, though several members of the President's Staff rose and followed,
till Dr. Hoge brought the service to an abrupt close, and informed his startled
flock that Richmond would probably be evacuated very shortly, and they would
only exercise a proper degree of prudence by going home immediately, and
preparing for that event.
This announcement, though coming from such a
reliable source, hardly availed to convince the Virginians that their beloved
Capital, assailed so often, defended so bravely, surrounded by fortifications on
which the engineering talents of their best officers had been expended, was to
be surrendered. Some months before a few admitted behind the veil of the temple
had been apprised that the sacrifice was to be accomplished; that Gen. Lee had
again and again urged Mr. Davis to give up this Mecca of his heart to the
interests of the Confederacy, and resign a city which required an army to hold
it, and pickets to be posted from thirty to forty miles around it, weakening the
comparatively small force of the army – and again and again had the iron-will
triumphed, and the foe beaten and discomfited retired for fresh combinations and
fresh troops.
But the hour had come, and the evacuation was but a
question of time. Day and night the whistle of the cars told the anxious people
that brigades were being moved to strengthen that point, or defend this, and no
one was able to say where exactly any part of the Army of Virginia was situated.
That Grant would make an effort to strike the South-side railroad – the main
artery for the conveyance of food to the city – every one knew; and that Gen.
Lee would be able to meet the effort and check it, everybody hoped, and while
this hope lasted there was no panic.
The telegram that reached Mr. Davis that Sunday
morning, was to the effect that the enemy had struck, and on the weakest side of
the Confederate forces. It told him to be prepared in case a repulse failed; and
two hours after came the fatal news that Grant had forced his way through, so
that the city must be evacuated that night. What is meant by that simple
sentence, “evacuation of the city,” few can imagine. The officers of the
different Departments hurried to their offices, speedily packing up everything
connected, with the Government. The quartermasters' and commissary's stores were
thrown open, and thousands of the half-clad and half-starved people of Richmond
rushed to the scene. Delicate women tottered under the weight of hams, bags of
flour and coffee. Invalided officers carried away little articles of luxury for
sick wives or children at home. Every vehicle was in requisition, commanding
fabulous prices, and gold or silver were the only currency that would pass. The
immense concourse of strangers, Government officials, speculators, gamblers,
pleasure and profit lovers of all kinds that had been attracted to the Capital,
were “packing,” while those who had determined to stay and await the chances
of war, tried to look calmly on and draw courage from their faith. in the
justness of their cause.
The wives and families of Mr. Davis and his Cabinet
had been fortunately sent away some weeks previously, so no provision was made
for the transportation of any particular class of people. All the cars that
could be collected were at the Fredericksburg depot, and by three o'clock the
trains commenced to move. The scene at the station was one of indescribable
confusion. No one could afford to leave any article of wear or household use,
going where they knew that nothing, ever so trifling, could be replaced. Baggage
was almost as valuable as life, and life was represented there by wounded or
sick officers and men; helpless women and children – for all that could
be with the Southern army were at their post.
Hour after hour passed, and still the work went on.
The streets were strewn with torn papers, records and documents of all
descriptions, and people still hurried by with the stores, until then hoarded by
the Government and sutler shops. The scream and whistle of the cars never ceased
all that weary night, and was perhaps the most painful sound to those left
behind, for all the city seemed flying; but while the centre of Richmond was in
the wildest confusion, the suburbs were very quiet, and even ignorant of what
scenes were enacting in the heart of the city. Events crowded so quickly upon
each other that no one had time to spread reports.
There was no change in the aspect of the city till
near midnight, and then the school ship, the “Patrick Henry,” formerly the
“Yorktown,” was fired at the wharf in “Rocketts,” the extreme east end
of the city. Her magazine blowing up seemed a signal for the work of destruction
to commence. Explosions followed from all points. The blowing up of the large
magazine at Drewry's Bluff was most terrific. The warehouses of tobacco were
fired next and communicated the flames to the adjacent houses and shops, which
were soon in a flame along Main street. The armory, which was not intended to be
burnt, either caught accidentally or was fired by mistake, the shells exploding
and filling the air with their hissing sounds of horror, no one knowing how far
they would reach. Fortunately, Col. Gorgas had had the largest rolled into the
canal before he left, or the city would have been leveled with the dust.
No one slept during that night of horror, for,
added to the present scenes were the anticipations of what the morrow would
bring forth. Daylight dawned upon a wreck of desolation and destruction. From
the highest point of Church Hill and Libby Hill, the eye could range over the
whole extent of city and country – the fire had hardly abated and the burning
bridges were adding their flame and smoke to the scene. A single, faint
explosion could still be heard at long intervals, but the Patrick Henry was low
to the water's edge, and the Drewry but a column of smoke. The whistle of the
cars, and the rushing of the laden trains still went on-they had never ceased,
but clouds hung low and draped a great part of the scene as morning advanced.
Before the last star had faded from the sky, two
carriages rolled along Main street, and passed through Rocketts, carrying the
Mayor and Corporation to the Federal lines with the keys of the city, and half
an hour afterwards, over to the east a single Federal blue jacket rose above the
hill and stood still with astonishment; another and another sprung up, as if out
of the earth, and still all was quiet. At seven o'clock, there fell upon the ear
the steady clatter of horse's hoofs, and under Chimborazo Hill, winding around
Rocketts, came a small but compact body of Federal cavalrymen, on horses in
splendid condition, riding closely and steadily along; they were well mounted,
well accoutred, well fed – a rare sight in Richmond streets; the first of that
army that for four years had knocked so hopelessly at the gates of the Southern
Capital.
They were some distance in advance of the infantry,
who came on as well appointed and well dressed as the cavalry. Company after
company, battalion after battalion, regiment after regiment, brigade after
brigade, pouring into the doomed city – they seemed an endless horde. One
detachment separated from the main body, and marching to Battery No. 2, raised
the United States flag, their band playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” –
then they stacked their arms. The rest marched along Main street, surrounded by
fire and smoke, over burning fragments of buildings, emerging at times when the
wind lifted the dark clouds like a phantom army; while the colored population
shouted and cheered them on their way.
Before three hours had elapsed, the troops had been
quartered and were inspecting the city. They swarmed in every high-way and
bye-way, rose out of gullies and appeared on the top of hills, emerged from
narrow lanes and skirted around low fences. There was hardly a spot in Richmond
not occupied by a blue coat, but they were quiet, orderly and respectful.
Thoroughly disciplined and careful of giving offense, they never spoke unless
addressed first; and though the women of Richmond contrasted with sickness at
the heart the difference between the splendidly equipped army and the war-worn,
wasted aspect of their own defenders, they were grateful for the consideration
shown to them; and if they remained in their homes with closed doors and
windows, or walked the streets with averted eyes and veiled faces, it was that
they could not bear the presence of invaders, even under the most favorable
circumstances.
Before the day was over, the public buildings were
occupied by the enemy, and the citizens entirely relieved from all fear of
molestation. The hospitals were attended to, the ladies allowed to nurse and
care for their own wounded; but rations were very scarce – in a few days they
arrived and were issued generally. It had been a matter of pride among the
Southerners to boast that they never had seen a greenback, and the entrance of
the Federal army had also found them almost entirely unprepared with gold or
silver currency. People who had piles of Confederate money, and were wealthy a
day previously, looked around in vain for wherewithal to buy a loaf of bread.
Strange exchanges were made on the street of tea and coffee, flour and bacon.
Those who were fortunate in having a stock of household necessaries were
generous in the extreme to their less wealthy neighbors, but the destitution was
terrible. The Sanitary Commission stores were opened and commissioners appointed
to visit the houses to distribute tickets to draw food, but to draw from the
first named place required so many appeals to different officials, that decent
people gave up the effort, and the rations issued of musty corn-meal and codfish
were hard on Southern stomachs – few gently nurtured could live on such
unfamiliar food.
In the meanwhile, there had been no assimilation
between the invaders and the invaded. There had appeared in the daily paper a
notice that the military bands would play in the beautiful capitol grounds every
evening, but when the appointed hour came, except the musicians, officers and
men, not a white face was to be seen. The negroes crowded every bench and path.
The next week brought out another notice, that “the colored population”
would not be admitted; and the absence then of everything in the shape of a
bonnet or female hat was appalling the entertainers went to their own
entertainment. The third week and still another notice appeared, “colored
nurses were to be admitted with their white charges,” and, lo! each fortunate
white baby was the cherished care of a dozen finely dressed black ladies – the
only drawback being that in two or three days the music ceased, the entertainers
feeling at last the ingratitude of the subjugated people.
Despite the courtesy of manner – for however
despotic the acts, the Federal authorities maintained a respectful manner –
the new comers made no advance towards fraternity. They spoke openly and warmly
of their sympathy with the sufferings of the South, but advocated acts that the
hearers could not recognize as “military necessities.” Bravely dressed
Federal officers met their former old class-mates from college and military
schools, and enquired after the families, to whose home they had ever been
welcome in days of yore, expressing intentions of “calling to see them,”
while the vacant chairs, rendered vacant by Federal bullets, stood by the hearth
of the widow and bereaved mother. They could not be made to understand that
their presence was offensive, that the acts they excused as “military
necessities,” were the barbarous warfare of midnight burnings and legal
murders. There were few men in the city at this time, but the women of the South
still fought their battle; fought it silently, resentfully but calmly! Clad in
their mourning garments, overcome but not subdued, they sat within their
desolate houses, or if compelled to leave that shelter, went on their errands to
church or Hospital with veiled faces and swift steps. By no sign or act did the
possessors of their fair city know that they were even conscious of their
presence. If they looked in their faces they saw them not; they might have
almost supposed themselves a phantom army. There was no stepping aside to avoid
the contact of dress, no feigned humility in giving the inside of the walk; they
simply ignored their presence.
Two particular characteristics followed the
invaders – the circus, and booths for the temporary accommodation of petty
venders. These small speculators must have thought there were no means of
cooking left in Richmond, from the quantity of “canned edibles” they
brought. They inundated the city with pictorial canisters at exorbitant prices,
which no one bought. Whether there was a scant supply of greenbacks, or the
people were not disposed to trade with the new-comers, the stores remained empty
of customers. The most remarkable fact was, that from the shop-keeper to the
lowest private, none were Northern – they all sympathized with the South. They
carried their sympathy, it may be supposed, in their army trains, it was so very
cumbrous. The officers had all been in the regular army, and staid there to
prevent by their influence any bloodshed the first year, afterwards they were
too poor to resign, but they “felt so much for the Southern people, and
despised the Administration, Black Republicanism, and volunteer commission
holders.” The shop-keepers had all come from Baltimore, and aided the South to
the extent of their power, though unable to get across the Potomac. The soldiers
had all been forced into the invading army, being too poor to hire substitutes.
Even the black allies, when questioned, involuntarily spoke of the “Yankee men
and the Southern gentlemen,” and paid the deference of habit to the one not
accorded to the other; never was there so much sympathy on one side and such
black ingratitude on the other.
By this time, steamboats had made their way to the
wharves, though the obstructions still defied the iron-clads, and crowds of
curious strangers thronged the pavements, while squads of mounted
pleasure-seekers raced along the streets of the city. Gaily dressed women began
to pour in, with looped-up skirts, very large feet and a very great
preponderance of spectacles. The Richmond ladies, sitting by desolated
fire-sides, were astonished by the arrival of former friends, people moving in
the best classes of society, who had the bad taste to make a pleasure trip to
the mourning city, calling upon their former friends in all the finery of the
last New York fashions, and in many instances forgiving their entertainers the
manifold sins of the last four years, in formal and set terms.
From the hill on which my Hospital was built, I had
sat all the Sunday of the evacuation, watching the turmoil and bidding friends
adieu. Till twelve in the day on Sunday, many were still unconscious of the
events which were transpiring; and as night set in, I wrapped my blanket shawl
around me and continued my lonely watch, seeing all that is here related. An
early visit to the wards found them comparatively empty. Every man who could
walk or crawl away had gone. Beds in which paralyzed, rheumatic and helpless
patients had lain for months were empty. The miracles of the New Testament had
been re-enacted. Those poor fellows who were left were almost wild at the idea
of getting again into a Northern prison, having only been exchanged, in many
instances, the month before. They received all the comfort in my power to give,
and with it their usual breakfast, while the shouts of the invading army and
their negro sympathizers were filling the air just below. There was a great deal
of difficulty in managing matters, for all the nurses, with very few exceptions,
had followed Gen. Lee's army. We made the sick wait upon those in worse
condition, and waited the turn of events.
At eleven o'clock on Monday morning, the fourth of
April, the first blue uniform appeared at our office – three surgeons walking
around inspecting the Hospital. There was an amiable understanding apparently as
our surgeon was with them. One of the divisions was required for the new comers
and cleared out, the patients divided among the different wards, and soon wagons
arrived laden with necessaries for their own sick. We still had commissary
stores on hand of our own, and no change was made. Three days afterwards an
order came that all the patients should be transferred to Camp Jackson, the
Surgeons going with them, so that the Hospital should be empty in four hours.
Driving over to Camp Jackson, in the ambulance, I found the Confederate
Surgeon-in-charge, and stating who I was and what I wanted, merely to remain
with my sick and nurse them, was received so rudely, that his conduct combined
with the excitement and annoyance of the day, was more than I could bear.
Discourtesy from our invaders was to be expected, but that a Confederate
gentleman should fail at such a time to render a kindness under the
circumstances, was very hard. He took no measures to assist me, so that all I
could do was to take a sad farewell of my sick, returning again to my old
quarters at my own Hospital till other arrangements could be made.
It was fortunate that this result followed for
there were still left in the wards many very sick men, too ill to be removed
even on a bed. To them I devoted my time, for the surgeons, obedient to orders
received had left hours before, and the place looked deserted; Miss G., myself
and the old black cook only remaining. They also left at dark and I sat in my
room, endeared by retrospection and the knowledge that in a few days I should
have to leave forever.
The Federal authorities had as yet placed no guards
around, and our own had been withdrawn, or rather had left, being under no
control or direction, and not a sound broke the stillness and solitude around.
This quiet was interrupted suddenly by a crash in my adjoining pantry, and
passing into it instantly, I came upon a group of seven men, who had burst in
the outer door which opened upon the yard. As my eye travelled slowly from face
to face I recognized them as a set of “Hospital rats,” who had never been
gotten rid of, for if even sent to the field one week they would be sure to be
back the next, on some trifling pretext of sickness or disability. The
ringleader was an old enemy who had stored up many a grievance against me, but
many acts of kindness paid to his sick wife had naturally made me suppose his
wrath had been disarmed. He was the spokesman, and the trouble was the same old
one. Thirty gallons of whiskey had been received into my pantry the day before
the evacuation.
“We have come for that barrel of whiskey!”
“You cannot and shall not have it.”
“It does not belong to you?”
“It is in my charge and I intend to to keep it.
You must go out of my pantry: you are all drunk now!”
“Boys?” he said “pick up that barrel and
carry it down the hill, I will attend to her.”
But the habit of obedience still had its effect on
the “boys,” for they did not move except in a retrograde direction.
“Wilson,” I said, “ you have been in this
hospital for four years; do you think from what you know of me that I will allow
you to take that barrel away without my consent?”
He became very insolent.
“None of your domineering,” he said, “all
your great friends have gone and we wont stand it now; move out of the way.”
He walked up to the barrel and so did I, only being
in the inside, I interposed between him and the object of intention. The
ungovernable temper blazed up in his face, and catching me roughly by the arm,
he called me a name which a decent woman seldom hears, and even a wicked one
always resents.
Fortunately, I had a little friend, which had been
kept quietly in my pocket since the evacuation more from a sense of protection
than from any idea that it ever would be called into use; and before he had time
to push me one inch from my position, or to see what kind of an ally was in my
hand, that sharp click-a sound so peculiar and so different from any other –
struck upon his ear, and sent him back among his friends, very pale and much
shaken.
“You had better leave,” I said very composedly,
considering all the circumstances, “for if even the first shot misses you,
which it is very likely to do, I have five more here ready, and the place is too
small for even a woman to miss six times.”
He could hardly speak from rage, but after some
conversation with the rest, concluded to leave, but turned wrathfully at the
door.
“You think yourself very brave now,” he said,
as he left, “but wait until to-night, perhaps others may have pistols, too,
and you won't have it all your way.”
My first act was to take the round head of a barrel
and nail the door as tightly as I could, using a two-pound weight for a hammer,
and then still warm with excitement and victory gained, I sat down by my Whiskey
barrel, and felt the affection which we all have for what we have cherished and
defended, but as my blood cooled, affairs wore a different aspect. There were no
fastenings on either doors or windows, and as my little bed was just under one
of the latter, which was only four feet from the ground, unpleasant memories
beset me of a fairy picture I had once seen of a fire-cloud griffin dragging an
enchanted princess through just such an opening by the hair of her head. This
idea was so absurd, that it produced a strong inclination to laugh, and having
once got to laughing, nervous terrors became dispelled, so putting a candle, a
box of matches, and the pistol within reach of my hand, I went quietly to bed,
and what is more, to sleep, never waking until the sun was high, and hearing
nothing more of my visitors. The next day the hospital was guarded by
Federal-sentries. Perhaps in telling my story (and it is not every woman who has
had a chance of drawing a pistol without a certain degree of ridicule attached,)
not only the whole truth, but all the truth should be told, and I confess that I
did drag away my bed from under that window and put it right in the middle of
the room, so that no griffin, were his claws ever so long could reach me.
The next day, the steward informed me that our
stores had been taken possession of by the Federal authorities and we could not
draw the necessary rations. The surgeons had all gone, the steward, a very good,
honest, quiet man, was not calculated to give any help in such an emergency, so,
though very averse to any intercourse with the intruders, I walked up to
headquarters, formerly Dr. M.'s office and making my way through a crowd of
strange blue coats, accosted the principal figure seated there, with a demand
for food, and rather a curt enquiry whether it was their policy to starve the
captured sick. He was very polite, but said that their transports had not been
able to get through the obstructions in the river, and until they did so the
army would be straitened for food. Fortunately, having been fearful of this
need, I had kept a large quantity of coffee, partly saved from rations drawn,
and partly from donations to the hospital, so I requested the loan of my own
ambulance, which was under Yankee lock and key, to take this coffee to market
and exchange it for necessary food. This was acceded to, and an order given me
to that effect, which I passed to an orderly, and having gained one point,
proceeded to try the ingratiating style if necessary.
He asked if I “was a Virginian.”
“No a South Carolinian.”
He had “lost a brother at Fort Sumter.”
“Ah! I was very sorry. Why did he go there?”
He regretted that “it was out of his power to
assist me in any way, for he saw in the pale faces and pinched features of the
Richmond women how much they had suffered?”
I retorted quickly this wound to both patriotism
and vanity. He may have meant to be polite, but that he was unlucky was proved
by my answer-
“If he saw anything in my features that was
pinched, or any paleness of face, it was not what had been suffered under the
Confederacy, but the horror and dread of seeing our Capital in such hands.”
But my ambulance was once more under my command,
and putting a bag of coffee and a two-gallon jug of whiskey in, we drove to the
market. The expedition was entirely successful, as I returned with a live calf,
bellowing all the way. Striking up an acquaintance with my Vermont driver, he
informed me that they had “no such real ladies in their Northern hospitals as
we had at the South.” The drink of whiskey offered to him was refused, perhaps
from a latent fear of danger, some foolish story of poisoned pies having been
reported.
My next visit was to the Commissary Department of
the hospital in search of sugar; but two Federal guards were seated in the
adjacent room, the officer in charge having left for a moment. A fortunate
moment for me, as the key was lying on his desk.
In a minute an empty basket was filled, and the
door relocked. An expostulation from one of the astonished guards met with an
explanation that I was always at my kitchen and could be arrested there if
necessary. After this no one opposed my erratic movements, the new comers giving
me a wide berth. No explanation of this line of conduct was made, and all I ever
gathered was from a young boy who had fraternized with a Yankee sutler, who did
me the honor to ask my name and tell his informant, confidentially, that the
Federal Surgeon in charge, thought “that little woman in black had better go
home,” to which he added on his own responsibility, “He's awful afraid of
her!''
Away was I compelled to go at last, but took a room
near, and still visited my sick who had now been' removed to another division.
There daily congregated all the ladies in the neighborhood, bringing what
delicacies they could gather, and nursing indiscriminately any patient that
needed care. This continued till the sick were either convalescent or dead, and
at last my vocation was gone and not one patient left to give me a pretext for
daily occupation.
And now, when the absorbing duties of the last
years no longer demanded my whole thoughts and attention, the difficulties of my
own position forced themselves upon my mind. Whatever food had been provided for
the sick since the Federal occupation, it had been sufficient for me to eat and
drink; but when that failed I found myself with a pocket full of Confederate
money and a silver ten cent piece; some former gage d'amitié, which
puzzled me much, not knowing how to expend it. It was all I could depend on, so
I bought a box of matches and five cocoa-nut cakes. The wisdom of the purchase
there is no need of defending. Should any one ever be in a strange country where
the currency of which he is possessed is entirely valueless, and ten cents be
his only available funds, perhaps he may be able to judge of the difficulty of
expending it with judgment.
But of what importance was the fact that I was
houseless, homeless and moneyless in Richmond, the heart of Virginia. Who ever
wanted for aught that kind hearts, generous hands or noble hospitality could
supply, that they did not receive it all without even the shadow of a patronage
that could make it distasteful. What women were ever so refined in feeling and
so unaffected in manner, so willing to share all that wealth gives, and so
little infected with the pride of purse, that bestows that power? It was
difficult to hide one's needs from them; they found them out and ministered to
them with their quiet simplicity of manner and the innate nobility, which gave
to their generosity the coloring of a favor received, not conferred.
I laughed at the careless disregard shown by myself
for the future, when every one who remained in Richmond apparently had laid by
stores for daily food, but they detected with quick sympathy the hollowness of
the mirth, and each day at every hour of breakfast, dinner or supper would come
to me a waiter, borne by the neat little Virginia maid in her white apron, with
ten times the quantity of food I could consume, packed carefully on. Sometimes
boxes would be left at my door, with packages of tea, coffee, sugar and ham or
chicken, and no clue to the thoughtful and kind donor. Would that I could do
more than thank the dear friends, who made my life for four years so happy and
contented; who never made me feel, by word or act, that my self-imposed
occupation was otherwise than one which would ennoble every woman. If ever any
aid was given through my own exertions, or any labor rendered effective by me
for the good of the South – if any sick soldier ever benefitted by my pleasant
smiles or happy face at his side, or a death-bed was ever soothed by gentle
words and kindly treatment, such results were only owing to the cheering
encouragement I received from them. They were gentle women in every sense of the
word, and though they may never have remembered that “noblesse oblige,”
they felt and acted up to the motto in every event of their lives. Would that I
could live and die among them, growing each day better, from contact with their
gentle kindly sympathies, and heroic hearts.
It may never be in my power to do more than offer
my heartfelt thanks, which may reach their once happy homes; and in closing the
plain “reminiscences” of hospital experience, let me beg them to believe
that whatever kindness it may have been in my limited power to show the noble
soldiers of their State, it has been repaid tenfold, leaving with me an eternal
but grateful obligation.
There is one other subject connected with hospitals
on which a few words may be said – the common and distasteful idea that a
woman must lose a certain amount of reticence and delicacy in filling any office
in them. This is an entire mistake. There need be no unpleasant exposure, under
proper arrangements, and if even there be, the circumstances which surround a
wounded man, far from friends and home, suffering in a holy cause and dependent
upon a woman for help, care and sympathy hallow and clear the atmosphere in
which she labors. That woman must indeed be hard and gross who lets one material
thought lessen her efficiency. In the midst of suffering and death, hoping with
those almost beyond hope in this world; praying by the bed-side of the lonely
and heart-stricken; closing the eyes of boys hardly old enough to realize man's
sorrows, much less suffer by man's fierce hate, a woman must soar beyond the
conventional modesty considered correct under different circumstances.
If the ordeal does not chasten and purify her
nature; if the suffering and endurance does not make her wiser and better, and
the daily fire through which she passes does not draw from her nature the sweet
fragrance of benevolence, charity and love, then indeed a hospital has been no
fit place for her!
