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took with all the allied armies against Napoleon? Do they remember that
186,000 color'd men fought under our flag against the rebellion and for
the Union, and that of that number 90,000 were from the States which
went into rebellion?"
HOSPITALS ENSEMBLE
_Aug., Sept., and Oct., '63._--I am in the habit of going to all, and
to Fairfax seminary, Alexandria, and over Long bridge to the great
Convalescent camp. The journals publish a regular directory of them--a
long list. As a specimen of almost any one of the larger of these
hospitals, fancy to yourself a space of three to twenty acres of ground,
on which are group'd ten or twelve very large wooden barracks, with,
perhaps, a dozen or twenty, and sometimes more than that number, small
buildings, capable altogether of accommodating from five hundred to a
thousand or fifteen hundred persons. Sometimes these wooden barracks or
wards, each of them perhaps from a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet
long, are rang'd in a straight row, evenly fronting the street; others
are plann'd so as to form an immense V; and others again are ranged
around a hollow square. They make altogether a huge cluster, with the
additional tents, extra wards for contagious diseases, guard-houses,
sutler's stores, chaplain's house; in the middle will probably be an
edifice devoted to the offices of the surgeon in charge and the ward
surgeons, principal attaches, clerks, &c. The wards are either letter'd
alphabetically, ward G, ward K, or else numerically, 1, 2, 3, &c. Each
has its ward surgeon and corps of nurses. Of course, there is, in the
aggregate, quite a muster of employes, and over all the surgeon in
charge. Here in Washington, when these army hospitals are all fill'd,
(as they have been already several times,) they contain a population
more numerous in itself than the whole of the Washington of ten or
fifteen years ago. Within sight of the capitol, as I write, are some
thirty or forty such collections, at times holding from fifty to seventy
thousand men. Looking from any eminence and studying the topography in
my rambles, I use them as landmarks. Through the rich August verdure
of the trees, see that white group of buildings off yonder in the
outskirts; then another cluster half a mile to the left of the first;
then another a mile to the right, and another a mile beyond, and still
another between us and the first. Indeed, we can hardly look in any
direction but these clusters are dotting the landscape and environs.
That little town, as you might suppose it, off there on the brow of a
hill, is indeed a town, but of wounds, sickness, and death. It is Finley
hospital, northeast of the city, on Kendall green, as it used to be
call'd. That other is Campbell hospital. Both are large establishments.
I have known these two alone to have from two thousand to twenty-five
hundred inmates. Then there is Carver hospital, larger still, a wall'd
and military city regularly laid out, and guarded by squads of sentries.
Again, off east, Lincoln hospital, a still larger one; and half a mile
further Emory hospital. Still sweeping the eye around down the river
toward Alexandria, we see, to the right, the locality where the
Convalescent camp stands, with its five, eight, or sometimes ten
thousand inmates. Even all these are but a portion. The Harewood, Mount
Pleasant, Armory-square, Judiciary hospitals, are some of the rest, and
all large collections.
A SILENT NIGHT RAMBLE
_October 20th_.--To-night, after leaving the hospital at 10 o'clock, (I
had been on self-imposed duty some five hours, pretty closely confined,)
I wander'd a long time around Washington. The night was sweet, very
clear, sufficiently cool, a voluptuous halfmoon, slightly golden, the
space near it of a transparent blue-gray tinge. I walk'd up Pennsylvania
avenue, and then to Seventh street, and a long while around the
Patent-office. Somehow it look'd rebukefully strong, majestic, there in
the delicate moonlight. The sky, the planets, the constellations all
so bright, so calm, so expressively silent, so soothing, after those
hospital scenes. I wander'd to and fro till the moist moon set, long
after midnight.
SPIRITUAL CHARACTERS AMONG THE SOLDIERS
Every now and then, in hospital or camp, there are beings I
meet--specimens of unworldliness, disinterestedness, and animal purity
and heroism--perhaps some unconscious Indianian, or from Ohio or
Tennessee--on whose birth the calmness of heaven seems to have
descended, and whose gradual growing up, whatever the circumstances of
work-life or change, or hardship, or small or no education that attended
it, the power of a strange spiritual sweetness, fibre and inward health,
have also attended. Something veil'd and abstracted is often a part of
the manners of these beings. I have met them, I say, not seldom in the
army, in camp, and in the hospitals. The Western regiments contain many
of them. They are often young men, obeying the events and occasions
about them, marching, soldiering, righting, foraging, cooking, working
on farms or at some trade before the war--unaware of their own nature,
(as to that, who is aware of his own nature?) their companions only
understanding that they are different from the rest, more silent,
"something odd about them," and apt to go off and meditate and muse in
solitude.
CATTLE DROVES ABOUT WASHINGTON
Among other sights are immense droves of cattle with their drivers,
passing through the streets of the city. Some of the men have a way
of leading the cattle by a peculiar call, a wild, pensive hoot, quite
musical, prolong'd, indescribable, sounding something between the cooing
of a pigeon and the hoot of an owl. I like to stand and look at the
sight of one of these immense droves--a little way off--(as the dust
is great.) There are always men on horseback, cracking their whips
and shouting--the cattle low--some obstinate ox or steer attempts to
escape--then a lively scene--the mounted men, always excellent riders
and on good horses, dash after the recusant, and wheel and turn--a
dozen mounted drovers, their great slouch'd, broad-brim'd hats, very
picturesque--another dozen on foot--everybody cover'd with dust--long
goads in their hands--an immense drove of perhaps 1000 cattle--the
shouting, hooting, movement, &c.
HOSPITAL PERPLEXITY
To add to other troubles, amid the confusion of this great army of sick,
it is almost impossible for a stranger to find any friend or relative,
unless he has the patient's specific address to start upon. Besides the
directory printed in the newspapers here, there are one or two general
directories of the hospitals kept at provost's head-quarters, but they
are nothing like complete; they are never up to date, and, as things
are, with the daily streams of coming and going and changing, cannot
be. I have known cases, for instance such as a farmer coming here from
northern New York to find a wounded brother, faithfully hunting round
for a week, and then compell'd to leave and go home without getting any
trace of him. When he got home he found a letter from the brother giving
the right address.
DOWN AT THE FRONT
CULPEPPER, VA., _Feb. '64._--Here I am FRONT pretty well down toward the
extreme front. Three or four days ago General S., who is now in chief
command, (I believe Meade is absent, sick,) moved a strong force
southward from camp as if intending business. They went to the Rapidan;
there has since been some manoeuvering and a little fighting, but
nothing of consequence. The telegraphic accounts given Monday morning
last, make entirely too much of it, I should say. What General S.
intended we here know not, but we trust in that competent commander. We
were somewhat excited, (but not so very much either,) on Sunday, during
the day and night, as orders were sent out to pack up and harness, and
be ready to evacuate, to fall back towards Washington. But I was very
sleepy and went to bed. Some tremendous shouts arousing me during the
night, I went forth and found it was from the men above mention'd, who
were returning. I talk'd with some of the men; as usual I found them
full of gayety, endurance, and many fine little outshows, the signs of
the most excellent good manliness of the world. It was a curious
sight to see those shadowy columns moving through the night. I stood
unobserv'd in the darkness and watch'd them long. The mud was very
deep. The men had their usual burdens, overcoats, knapsacks, guns and
blankets. Along and along they filed by me, with often a laugh, a song,
a cheerful word, but never once a murmur. It may have been odd, but I
never before so realized the majesty and reality of the American people
_en masse_. It fell upon me like a great awe. The strong ranks moved
neither fast nor slow. They had march'd seven or eight miles already
through the slipping unctuous mud. The brave First corps stopt here.
The equally brave Third corps moved on to Brandy station. The famous
Brooklyn 14th are here, guarding the town. You see their red legs
actively moving everywhere. Then they have a theatre of their own here.
They give musical performances, nearly everything done capitally. Of
course the audience is a jam. It is good sport to attend one of these
entertainments of the 14th. I like to look around at the soldiers, and
the general collection in front of the curtain, more than the scene on
the stage.
PAYING THE BOUNTIES
One of the things to note here now is the arrival of the paymaster with
his strong box, and the payment of bounties to veterans re-enlisting.
Major H. is here to-day, with a small mountain of greenbacks, rejoicing
the hearts of the 2d division of the First corps. In the midst of a
rickety shanty, behind a little table, sit the major and clerk Eldridge,
with the rolls before them, and much moneys. A re-enlisted man gets in
cash about $200 down, (and heavy instalments following, as the pay-days
arrive, one after another.) The show of the men crowding around is quite
exhilarating; I like to stand and look. They feel elated, their pockets
full, and the ensuing furlough, the visit home. It is a scene of
sparkling eyes and flush'd cheeks. The soldier has many gloomy and harsh
experiences, and this makes up for some of them. Major H. is order'd to
pay first all the re-enlisted men of the First corps their bounties and
back pay, and then the rest. You hear the peculiar sound of the rustling
of the new and crisp greenbacks by the hour, through the nimble fingers
of the major and my friend clerk E.
RUMORS, CHANGES, ETC.
About the excitement of Sunday, and the orders to be ready to start,
I have heard since that the said orders came from some cautious minor
commander, and that the high principalities knew not and thought not of
any such move; which is likely. The rumor and fear here intimated a long
circuit by Lee, and flank attack on our right. But I cast my eyes at the
mud, which was then at its deepest and palmiest condition, and retired
composedly to rest. Still it is about time for Culpepper to have a
change. Authorities have chased each other here like clouds in a stormy
sky. Before the first Bull Run this was the rendezvous and camp of
instruction of the secession troops. I am stopping at the house of a
lady who has witness'd all the eventful changes of the war, along this
route of contending armies. She is a widow, with a family of young
children, and lives here with her sister in a large handsome house. A
number of army officers board with them.
VIRGINIA
Dilapidated, fenceless, and trodden with war as Virginia is, wherever
I move across her surface, I find myself rous'd to surprise and
admiration. What capacity for products, improvements, human life,
nourishment and expansion. Everywhere that I have been in the Old